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Sergeant back on his heels.
    “Sir! Nothing! Sir!”
the Sergeant stuttered, his attention turning to the now petrified
looking soldier closest to the door, “What are you doing? Open the
door for the Colonel and his staff!” Bob stepped back clearing a
path in front of the open door. Dr. Grace led the team inside the
lobby and down the hall to the main elevators. As they stepped inside
the elevator, Bob caught Sophie staring at him.
    “Yes, Dr. Simone?”
    A smile stretched
across Sophie’s face, “Hmm… very impressive Colonel.”
    When the elevator doors
opened, the sight was almost unbearable. Bodies were wrapped in white
sheets and stacked on gurneys just outside the elevator doors. Major
Besson lost his composure for the first time and stepped back against
the back wall of the elevator clawing at his hood. Sophie grabbed
Jean-Luc’s hand through the protective suit. “Jean-Luc close your
eyes, take a breath and concentrate on my voice. Have you ever seen
the deceased body of an Ebola patient?”
    Jean-Luc’s eyes were
still forced closed, and his breathing was beginning to steady,
“They’re still bleeding from their faces.”
    “Jean-Luc, keep
listening to my voice. You have to understand, during the last stage
of Ebola, the body releases all of its natural anti-coagulants
causing the eyes, nose, mouth and ears to bleed. Don’t think of
them as people any longer but rather, a shell.”
    Jean-Luc slowly opened
his eyes and looked at the stacks of bodies and back at Sophie again,
“but how can they bleed? They're dead.”
    Dr. Marcil stepped into
the hallway examining the bodies, “Major Besson, don’t look at it
as bleeding, think of it as more of a draining effect. Fluid from a
bag.”
    Sophie placed her hand
on the side of Jean-Luc’s hood and turned his head toward hers. For
a moment, they stared at each other through clear plastic, “Jean-Luc,
they’ve passed on. We need to focus on the living. There are people
in there who need our help. Your help.” Jean-Luc took an
exaggerated deep breath and collected himself for a moment, “Okay,
Sophie. I'm ready. Let’s go.”
    Sophie walked into what
must have been the entire floor of the hospital. There were hundreds
of patients. Most were on gurneys and cots while some were just lying
on the floor, wrapped in sheets. They were all covered in their own
vomit and feces. Sophie was sure that if it were not for her suit,
the smell of this room would be unbearable.
    The first patient
Sophie saw was a little blonde girl. Sophie guessed she was about
seven years old. “Hi honey. Is there anything I can do for you?”
The girl had a single drip of blood that ran from the corner of her
mouth, down her face and dried leaving a grotesque trail of death.
The girl continued to stare blankly, looking at Sophie without
blinking, “Where are your parents, honey?” The girl’s bottom
lip quivered as she tried to get out the words. A dry breath uttered
a single word, “dead,” as a tear of blood ran down the girl’s
cheek.
    Sophie felt the
pressure building behind her own eyes as she wiped away the girl’s
bloody tear. Sophie scanned the room, “How is this possible?” The
pressure had released and now her tears were flowing.
    Bob shuffled between
the gurneys and patients on the floor, making his way to the only
other yellow suit in the room who had their back to him. The suit was
pulling a white sheet over a gray-haired man's face, “Miranda!”
The suit turned, Bob was embraced with a hug.
    “Bob, thank god
you’re here. There’s nothing more I can do for these people.”
Miranda released Bob and he grabbed onto her shoulders, “Miranda,
you look exhausted. When was the last time you slept?”
    Miranda looked up at
the clock on the wall, “I don’t remember. Hell, I don’t even
know what day it is anymore. I don’t need rest right now. I need
you to tell me you have a plan.”
    Bob scanned the room
and stopped when he was back on Miranda, “I’ve