Some of us are strong. Others, weak. Our strength is determined not only by genetics, but by courage.

Not many knew much, other than that it was called SNI, which stood for Subatomic Neurotic Infliction. Those who were infected by this disease do not live long enough to tell. As a result, the government ordered for the affected to donate their bodies to science, allowing researchers to perform various tests in hopes of finding a cure.

As a doctor, I have seen countless patients come and go, and although seeing them suffer causes me tremendous pain, it has become a daily occurrence now. Since the outbreak of SNI, the most challenging part of my occupation is observing the misery that the patients’ loved ones emit as they try to hold on to their last action, last word, last breath.

“Dr. Jones,” a colleague urgently shouted, “Dr. Kent needs assistance with the patient in Room 23A STAT.” I immediately rushed into the room, and saw the doctor and a nurse already overseeing the patient.

“What’s the situation?” I called as I grabbed a pair of gloves and put them on.

“His blood pressure’s at 200/160. Heart rate at 120 beats per minute,” Dr. Kent answered, “We’ve already tried all we can to lower the numbers, but nothing is work-”. He was cut off by the all-too-familiar flatline beep from the EKG monitor.

“Everyone get out of the way,” I yelled as I retrieved the defibrillator. I set everything up, positioned the paddles, and shouted, “clear!”. I looked up at the EKG monitor to see no change. I tried again and again, but the outcome was the same every time- it was to no avail.

“Time of death at 3:39pm,” Dr. Kent stated as he gave me a concerned glance. He was the thirty-eighth patient to die today. Every day, more and more patients were falling to SNI. “We did all we could, Dr. Jones. You know we can’t save everyone.”

“Kent, we’re not talking about a couple, or even a few, patients now. I mean it’s not like we work in a small hospital, but we’re losing around sixty! Every day!” I sighed heavily in frustration while tearing off my gloves. “I just don’t know how much longer of this I can take”, I said before I exited the room. The rest of the day was a blur. Thirty-four more patients lost their battles, making that the record for our hospital.

Later that day, I returned home and was welcomed with a kiss from my wife. Every time I looked at her, it was like I fell in love with her all over again. She always managed to make me temporarily forget about the chaos happening in the world.

“I figured I’d make dinner tonight since you stayed at the hospital so late,” my wife said, walking towards the kitchen.

“Steph, I hope you didn’t burn anything this time,” I joked, as I hung up my coat and took off my shoes.

“Oh, c’mon Terry! That was one time! And, to my defense, I was just following grandmom’s recipe,” she playfully answered back.

“Hun, everyone knows that you don’t put a meatloaf in the oven for five hours,” I laughed, reminiscing about older days, when there was less to worry about. I entered the kitchen, and the permeating smell of baked chicken parmesan instantly hit my nose. I walked towards Steph, who was standing in front of the oven, hugged her from behind, and rested my chin onto her shoulder. “Are you sure you made this?” I laughed again.

“Well I guess you’ll never know unless you sit your butt down and try it out yourself now, will you?” She smiled as she put her hand on my arm and kissed my cheek. “But since you’re already here, why don’t you get the table set up,” she suggested.

I held her gentle, brown eyes in my gaze and smiled back at her. “Okay, fine, anything for you,” I said while walking over to the cabinets and drawers. There was an aura around her that was almost magical. Our love has never diminished in the four years we have known each other. With this thought, I set down our plates, forks, and knives, and sat down at the table, watching as she brought over our dinner. The heavenly smell of tomato sauce, garlic, and chicken was so much more powerful now that it was right in front of me, and I felt myself starting to salivate.

“You better start eating before you start dribbling like Aunt Grace’s St. Bernard.” She giggled. There was no need for her to tell me twice before I dug right in.

In between chewing, I asked her, “So… how was work… today?” She let out a sigh, and I saw her face fall. “Steph, what’s wrong? Is it the kids?” I asked, worried. She put her fork and knife down, and began massaging her temples.

“Terry, it’s getting worse,” her voice quivered, “Six more of them called in sick today.” I reached over and grabbed her hands in mine.

“I know it’s hard, hun,” I started, “But right now no one knows what it even is. It pops out of nowhere. You could be healthy one second, then sick the next.” I looked away, and continued, “I mean, other than that it causes a fever, rapid heart rate, decrease in neural activ-”. I stopped when I heard a faint sniffle. All these years, she was not one to conceal her emotions. Her raw personality was one of the many things I fell for. “Don’t worry. There are many skilled doctors in this area. Your students will get the help they seek, and-”

“So many more people are becoming infected,” she panicked,

“Now it’s irrational not to think about the possibility of either one of us getting it.”

“Stop, Steph,” I closed my eyes. I did not like thinking about the ‘what ifs’ in life. “It’s also irrational to think that we definitely will get it.”

“Not with the number of cases around here lately,” she retaliated. I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying anything else. Tonight was not the night to argue, as we both had had a rough day. We finished the rest of our dinner in silence.
I never would have imagined how relaxed I was when she finally spoke, even though it was to tell me that it was my turn to do the dishes tonight. She grinned, with her nose pink, and eyes slightly swollen. “I’m going to go up and wind down. It’s been a long heck of a day today.” I nodded in agreement, and hugged her once more. Before she disappeared from the kitchen, she could not contain her giggle as she said, “By the way, the chicken parmesan was from the grocery store.”

That night, I had a nightmare. Patches of sickly-colored skin covered the entire bodies of unwanted visitors. I recognized some of them to be past, now-deceased patients. They surrounded our house, wrecking through everything in order to get to my wife and me. They were hungry for flesh. This reckless rummaging went on until, all of a sudden, they released a nauseating moan that shook the whole house. I looked to my right as the glass windows shattered, and the floorboards screeched. I heard a scream, and immediately looked in that direction. My wife was gone.

I was woken up by an inhuman sound. It has been a while since I have been scared awake. I gently rubbed my eyes, and squinted at my alarm clock. It read the time 4:46am. Okay good, I thought, I still have about an hour to sleep. I turned back to my original position, trying not to disturb Steph. I closed my eyes, and tried feeling for her, but only felt the wrinkles on the sheets left behind by her. Where’d she go? I asked myself. I sat up, and attempted to scan around the room. And that was when I saw her. Or at least I saw a figure that was doubled over the sink in the bathroom. At once, I turned on my bedside lamp and got up from the bed. The chilly air caught me off guard, and standing up too fast caused me to become blind for a little while. Once I regained my sight, however, I did not waste another second to rush into the bathroom.

I was greeted with the same inhuman noise that was enough to shake my soul. She coughed into the sink, and her knees buckled. Before I could even think, I threw out my arms and rushed to her side. I held her limp body as she continued wheezing and coughing, “I think th-there’s something wrong… with me.”

“Don’t speak, hun. You need to conserve your energy. I think you just have a fever.” People think doctors know how to handle these kinds of situations, but I can say now that it is very difficult when something like this hits so close to home. I had seen far too many cases to know that Steph was experiencing something much more severe than a mere flu.

“Wh-what is… this? It… hurts.” She broke out in a violent cough.

“Shh,” I whispered. I still held her in my arms, as she was too weak to move. I quickly ran downstairs, got the keys, and carried her into the car. I knew that my only last hope was to get her to a hospital as soon as possible.

“Someone please help me!” I yelled as I charged into the emergency room. I was shocked to see hundreds of sorrowful faces look up at me. I had momentarily forgotten the number of people who came in for yet another SNI case.

“Terry, pl-please,” I looked down at Steph, and noticed how sunken her features were. The SNI virus was moving a lot faster than I thought.

“Anyone, please, can I get a doctor?” I yelled once more.
I was relieved when someone finally responded. “Dr. Jones? Is that you?” It was a familiar voice.

“Yes, Dr. Kent. My wife. It’s my wife. She has a fever, and her heart rate is elevating by the second.” He gave me a sympathetic, almost fearful expression. I knew that face. It was the same face he gave me earlier today when we tried saving the patient in Room 23A.

I knew I had to be strong. For her.