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Friday - September 17

"Dr. Bennett, what's wrong?" Jeff asks.

I look down the hallway, then back to Jeff, and say, "The last office. It's... Jim Boyle. He's infected."

"He's what!" Jeff exclaims.

"He's infected. He's dying."

"Shouldn't we help him, Dr. Bennett?" he asks, as he starts to make his way down the hallway.

I grab his arm, and say, "No! It's too late. He's most likely dead by now."

Jeff releases himself from my grip. I ask him, "Jeff, is Julie in her office?"

He gives me a puzzling look, and says," Dr. Bennett, you know Dr. Nguyen's not at the CDC. Are you all right, Dr. Bennett?"

"I don't understand. I received a call from her office not more than ten minutes ago from my aunt's landlord," I tell him.

"Impossible! Her office is totally locked down, and no one has entered, or left, since Dr. Nguyen fell ill," he assures me.

"Are you sure, Jeff?"

"Positive, Dr. Bennett. Would you like to check for yourself?"

"No, no. That's okay. I believe you. Thanks anyway, Jeff."

"What should we do about Mr. Boyle?" he asks.

I look down the hallway, and say, "There's nothing we can do for him. Call security and have them lockdown this corridor. If they ask why, tell them I said so. Okay?"

Jeff says, "Yes, sir," then leaves.

I think about Jim and his wife Theresa. Their first anniversary was to be next month. I hope Theresa survives this plague. I only know Jim didn't. I glance at my watch and notice that it's nearly noon. While I should go and see if Julie's office is secure, I decide to go take a shower to refresh myself. I pass my office to get to the elevator. As I press the button, an enormous chill comes over my whole being. Feeling as if someone's watching me, I circle around to see if anyone is around. There's no one. Yet I can't shake this feeling that there's someone watching me.

"Don't be so damn paranoid, John," I reassure myself.

The elevator door opens. The showers are on the second floor, but I find myself compelled to press number eight instead. As I wait for five flights to pass, my phone begins to buzz, alerting me that I have received a text.

We need to talk.

I check the phone number, but it's blocked. I know that my cell can't receive calls or messages from the outside since lockdown began.

"Who the hell's trying to reach me? And how can they reach me?" I ask myself.

The elevator reaches the eighth floor. I step out and look down the corridor. The silence is unnatural. The Atlanta CDC employs over 1,700 people, where the hallways were bustling every day. Today, the CDC shelters less than one-fifth of the workforce.

I go to the conference center where I had attended many meetings. I peer through the glass doors and comprehend how massive the room is without people. One side of the eighth floor is completely engulfed by this single room. I command the door to open, and then enter. Our name tags for our assigned seats are still displayed on the table. Julie and I always sat next to each other. I rub my fingers over the top of her chair. I hope she's doing better. I pull my chair out and sit. Spinning around a couple of times, I realize that this room wasn't even used for the crisis we're experiencing. Guess it doesn't matter now. A conference wouldn't have helped.

I spin my chair around like a giddy child, when I notice that the emergency exit door is ajar. Slowly, I stand to my feet to see if anyone left any signs of being here. It doesn't look like it. Contemplating whether I should go check out why the door is open, I instead decide to go see if somebody is on the other side.