Pandemic by Daniel Kalla

recover. But our resources are limited. All the ventilators are in use. We have to guess who has the best chance of surviving. And the others ..." His shoulders sagged. He looked down at the table, as if personally responsible for the lack of resources.
    "Understandable," McLeod said. "How about the town doctor? How long has he been on the ventilator?"
    "This is only Dr. Fung's second day. We will remove the life support in the next few hours." He glanced away in embarrassment. "We need it for one of the others who might have a chance."
    Haldane nodded sympathetically. His heart went out to Wu and the rest of the staff, knowing this kind of life-and-death rationing of resources was the worst kind of decision health-care professionals ever had to face. "Dr. Wu, what measures have you instituted to prevent spread within the hospital and beyond?"
    Wu stiffened in his chair. "I don't understand what you mean by the question, Dr. Haldane," he snapped. "We have not had any spread away from this hospital."
    Haldane was taken aback by the administrator's abrupt defensiveness. "Dr. Wu, we appreciate the excellent work you and your staff have done. What I meant is, can you describe your infection control program?"
    Wu nodded, but he still eyed them guardedly. "We implemented the same precautions the hospitals in Beijing used with SARS. In this hospital, we now only accept patients suspected of having the virus. Other patients are diverted elsewhere. All patient care areas in the hospital have negative pressure airflow and filters. The rooms and wards are sealed behind airtight doors. All staff wear bio-hazards suits in patient care areas. So far we have not had a single incident of transmission to a staff member within the hospital."
    "I thought Dr. Fung followed the precautions, too," McLeod pointed out.
    Wu crossed his arms over his chest. "He was infected at his clinic. He only wore a surgical mask, gown, and gloves. This was proven during the SARS outbreak to be inadequate, especially if the masks were not fitted properly."
    Haldane noticed that Wu's attitude had subtly shifted from that of deferential collegiality to bureaucratic wariness. While he didn't understand the reason for it, Haldane realized that they would learn little more from the associate director. He rose from his chair. "Thank you, Dr. Wu. You have been most helpful," he said.
    Before rising, McLeod looked at Wu and asked, "Between us, how much does this bug scare you?"
    Wu looked away, as if ignoring the question. Finally, he said, "I never saw a patient with SARS, but I believe this virus is worse. I think this is the worst thing to ever strike Gansu."
    "Will it stay in Gansu?" Haldane asked.
    Wu's eyes narrowed to slits. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

    Dr. Ping Wu stood at his window and watched until the car carrying the two WHO physicians pulled out of the driveway. Then he turned down the window shutters, locked his door, and returned to his desk. He left instructions with his administrative assistant that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances.
    He cleared the papers off his desk, cleaned his glasses with his handkerchief, and then folded his hands on the desktop. He sat perfectly still, trying to compose his thoughts before proceeding.
    The two WHO doctors had struck Wu as sincere, but he had his doubts. Their questions and innuendoes about the virus spreading from the hospital and beyond Gansu hadn't come out of thin air. Maybe they already knew?
    How did it come to this? He tried to retrace the steps in his mind.
    For four years of residency at UCLA in the 1970s, he lived below the poverty line, ever the good communist. Never complaining or wanting for the material wealth that was everywhere around him. Returning to China, he continued to live a life of virtual asceticism, forsaking a family of his own to work harder than all his colleagues and subordinates while he watched lazy party officials grow rich from graft and corruption. He