2. Eliza
2
ELIZA
T he emergency room at Holy Souls Hospital had become a living nightmare. What had begun as a typical day, which was about as busy as Eliza could generally handle, had rapidly taken a downward spiral into fear and confusion. Eliza Carter, the chief resident, had barely taken a breath since the outbreak of the mysterious virus. The once-familiar buzz of the ER was now more than she could handle as alarms blared, distressed relatives and patients cried out for help, and nurses and doctors ran from one room to another.
Eliza tried to move down the overcrowded hallway, her eyes darting left to right as she realized that more and more desperate people were flooding into the building.
We don’t have enough beds. We can’t handle this…
Night shifts were always chaos. Eliza liked to think of her professional (and private) life as organized chaos. But this…situation…was fast becoming a frenzy. Eliza rarely felt overwhelmed—in fact, the need to move fast and make even faster decisions was what made working in the emergency room so thrilling. Nurses and doctors tended to bustle about, their faces etched with worry, but this was something different. She stopped in her tracks and joined a crowd of people whose heads were craned upward to look at the TV mounted on the wall. All she felt in that moment was dread.
“Breaking News,” the anchor’s voice crackled, her face a mask of anxiety. “Reports are pouring in about violent attacks by individuals infected with an as-yet-unidentified virus. The situation appears to be rapidly deteriorating, with no clear understanding of the virus’s nature or how to control it. Authorities are urging everyone to stay indoors, to avoid contact with anyone displaying symptoms, and to wait for further instructions. Emergency alerts have been issued, but solid, reliable sources of information remain scarce.”
Avoid contact? Well, it’s a little too late for that.
Eliza’s stomach churned as she watched footage of the chaos unfolding on the screen. The streets in Campdale and beyond were filled with panic-stricken people running aimlessly, some pushing others with an aggression that seemed almost primal. The camera panned to police and firefighters struggling to manage the crowds, their faces lined with pure exhaustion.
This can’t be right. It looks like a movie…but that’s downtown Campdale. What the fuck is going on?
Yann Lopez, one of the ER’s junior doctors, stood beside her. His ordinarily calm and casual demeanor was replaced by what Eliza recognized from her years working at Holy Souls as physical distress. He was visibly sweating, and his top lip quivered.
“What is this, Lopez? One of those mockumentaries? Why’s everyone staring at the TV? This isn’t the real news, is it?” Eliza asked, sensing the rising alarm in her voice.
“I checked my socials. Apparently, it’s some sort of mass hysteria,” he replied, his voice tight with nerves despite trying to sound relatively assured. “It looks like something out of a dystopian nightmare. Way worse than last time. Am I right, Eliza? It wasn’t like this last time. But I just called my buddy, Josh. You know Josh, right? He’s a midwife up on G-wing. But he’s big on Twitter or X—I don’t even know what it’s called now—and he said we’d be going into lockdown, Covid-style. It’s this virus. But it might just be a new strain of the flu. People are getting the wrong idea, and…”
Eliza nodded as she touched his elbow and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Look, from what I can gather, this virus is nothing like Covid. We’re not seeing the same symptoms. This isn’t respiratory. We’ve got fever, dehydration…and what else have you been seeing, Yann? Jesus. It is a virus, right? It’s hard to believe this is actually happening. Why is it all over the news?”
“I have no idea. I think this is a pretty big deal. Shit. But the reports are so inconsistent, and the information is all over the place. It’s making everything so much harder. My lab results are coming back with ‘unknown pathogen’ written all over them,” Yann said in a low voice.
“Listen up,” replied Eliza, trying to keep a level head. “This is nothing we haven’t seen before. We get people on drips. Everyone wears a mask. We’ve done it a thousand times. This is all just media exaggeration. Let’s not panic. It must be a slow news day, and you know how?—”
“But…” Lopez interrupted, shaking his head. “But people out there are losing their minds. We’re getting conflicting info and no real guidance. It’s a nightmare.”
“IV lines. Masks. Calm. Got it? There’s your guidance.”
As Eliza turned on her heel to see her next patient, the ER doors swung open and a new wave of patients poured in. She started in disbelief, but then rushed into a cubicle to tend to a young woman who was barely conscious.
“I’m so sorry for the wait. It’s been such a busy night. I don’t know…” Eliza stopped talking. She didn’t know how to finish her sentence. She put a hand on her patient’s forehead. Her skin was clammy and she clearly had a high fever. The nurse beside her caught her eye, looking harried and out of breath.
“It’s Dr. Sharples. She was found collapsed on the street,” the nurse explained, her voice tinged with panic. “Her vital signs are all over the place. I’d say she’s been exposed to the virus, but we’re not sure.”
Eliza stared at the nurse in disbelief. “This isn’t Dr. Sharples. You must be mistaken. I saw her about a half hour ago. She’s working on trauma. Listen…this woman looks nothing like her. What are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Carter,” the nurse said slowly, shaking her head. “This is her. This virus seems to…I don’t know…the shape of her face has changed.”
“Jesus,” muttered Eliza under her breath, feeling a knot form in her stomach. “Get her on a monitor and start an IV drip. We need to stabilize her. I’ll be back in five.”
As the nurse got to work stabilizing their colleague, Eliza stepped outside and stumbled down the hallways, pushing past people as she went. As she reached the door to the staff locker room, she punched in the code on the keypad and hurled herself inside. She collapsed onto a bed and put her head between her knees, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm her nerves.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Her mind drifted to her family. They were out of town, weren’t they? Where had Michael said he was going? She knew he and his wife were taking their parents away on a short vacation, but she’d paid absolutely no attention to what her brother had said on the phone.
Where are you guys?
She tried calling Michael’s number, her father’s, and then her sister-in-law’s. There was no answer. She hadn’t been able to reach them all evening. There was a chance the networks were overloaded, but a gnawing sense of helplessness pushed down on her shoulders as she went over every conceivable scenario in her head.
Maybe they’re in the mountains with zero reception. Maybe their phones are switched off because they’re on holiday. Maybe the electricity went out, and their phones weren’t charged. Maybe they’re all just asleep after a long day, and their phones are on silent. Maybe one of them got sick. Maybe they had a car accident. Maybe they fell off a cliff. Maybe they got abducted.
Eliza stood up, the quiet of the locker room feeling unnatural, almost suffocating. She couldn’t shake the memory of the dinner she’d had with them a few months ago, the image of her parents and brother vividly replaying in her mind. The smells of her mother’s homemade pot roast had filled her senses as she opened the oven door, the heat blasting into the small kitchen.
Her mother had smiled at her from across the table, but there was something different in her eyes—something Eliza hadn’t noticed when she’d first arrived at her childhood home. It was only when they’d all settled down, wineglasses in hand, that the real conversation began, one that now echoed in Eliza’s mind like a haunting melody.
“I can’t remember the last time we did this, Lizzy,” her mother had complained, her tone soft but heavy with emotion. Eliza could still hear the way her mother’s voice had cut through the air like a knife. “Marlene across the street…her daughters, both of them, come home nearly every weekend. Isn’t that right, Henry?”
“Come on now. Eliza’s nothing like those girls. She’s got a whole truckload of responsibilities, Anne. But she hasn’t forgotten about us. I’m right, Liz, aren’t I?” her father had asked, looking over at her with a wink.
Eliza remembered how the words had hit her, how her chest had tightened with a mix of guilt and defensiveness. As she closed her eyes to steady herself, she could almost feel the wineglass in her hand, its smooth surface grounding her as she struggled to find the right words to explain herself. “You guys know I’m trying to build a life for myself,” she’d said, her tone firmer than she’d intended, as if she needed to convince herself as much as them. “It’s a goddamn balancing act every single day, but I’m doing my best.”
The room had fallen into a tense silence for a moment, the kind that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her father looked at her with those same concerned eyes he’d always had, the ones that could see right through her. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she’d noticed her brother sitting quietly, his hands fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth.
Eliza had always known Michael to be the calm one, the peacekeeper, but when he finally spoke, it was like a wave crashing over Eliza, unexpected yet undeniably powerful. “Life can’t always just be about work, Eliza. Look, we get it. You’re a bigwig surgeon,” her brother had said softly, but with a hint of sarcasm. “But we miss you. These guys miss you a ton. And they want to spend time with you, not just hear about your successes.”
Eliza had felt something inside her crack at those words, a deep, uncomfortable feeling she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. But instead of letting it show, she nodded and mumbled a response under her breath: “I’m not a surgeon anymore.” The rest of the evening had passed in a blur, with smiles and laughter that now felt strained and distant as she remembered them.
She’d brushed off their concerns at the time, telling herself they didn’t understand the pressure she was under or the weight of her responsibilities. But now, with her family unreachable and her beloved ER plunging into chaos, the guilt settled in her stomach like a stone.
“Dr. Carter!” Carla, one of the senior nurses, shouted, her voice cutting through the din like a siren. Eliza turned to see Carla bursting into the room, her face pale and lined with worry.
“We’ve got more patients coming in, and something’s up with the power,” Carla said breathlessly, her eyes wide with urgency. “The north wing is almost completely dark, and we’ve lost the computer system.”
Cold sweat started to form at the back of her neck, but she forced herself to stay focused. “Right. We need to start moving patients to a safer area,” she instructed, her voice steady despite the chaos around them. “Can you coordinate with the other departments and let them know what’s happening? Anyone who doesn’t need a bed doesn’t get a bed. Send as many people home as you can. What’s going on at the triage station?”
Carla nodded, determination replacing some of the fear in her eyes. “I’ll go find out. We’re running out of space and resources, though.”
As Carla dashed off, Eliza stepped outside of what had briefly served as her safe space and turned her attention back to the crowded ER. The smell of fear hung heavy in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. The faces of the patients blurred together—some flushed with fever, others pale and clammy, their eyes wide with confusion and fear.
As Eliza moved through the hordes of people, she heard the low but constant ringing of high-pitched voices alongside the soft beeping of machines that seemed to punctuate every second. She noticed a small group of patients huddled together near the far wall, their faces a mix of dread and confusion. Their fear was palpable, a living, breathing thing that seemed to hang in the air around them.
She approached them slowly, trying to soften her expression and exude calm even though her heart was pounding. “We’re doing everything we can to help,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. The words felt heavy on her tongue, each one a fragile attempt at comfort. “Please stay calm. We’re facing some challenges, but we’re here to support you.”
A middle-aged man, his clothes disheveled and stained, looked up at her with eyes that seemed too large for his gaunt face. His voice was rough and edged with desperation. “What’s going on? Is it really as dangerous as everyone’s saying?”
Eliza hesitated, feeling the weight of his question settle like a lead blanket over her shoulders. She searched his eyes for anything that might help her find the right words. “It seems like the situation is serious,” she finally said, her voice quieter now, tinged with the gravity of the moment. “But we’re doing our best to manage it. Right now, our focus is on providing the best care we can. Just try to stay calm and follow any instructions we give you.”
The man nodded slowly, though the panic in his eyes didn’t lessen. Eliza gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before moving on. Her thoughts kept drifting back to that night with her family and what they’d tried to tell her. The guilt gnawed at her, a constant, nagging presence that refused to be ignored.
As she attached a fluid line to a young man who was barely conscious, Eliza’s thoughts flickered to another memory—this time of Daniel, her ex-fiancé. They’d been sitting in their favorite café. The soft clink of spoons against porcelain cups had been the only sound between them for what seemed like an age.
“I just can’t seem to get you away from the hospital,” Daniel had said finally, his voice tight with frustration. Eliza could still see the way his hand had clenched around his coffee cup, the white of his knuckles standing out against his tanned skin. “When was the last time we spent any quality time together, Eliza? You never have time to plan this wedding. How will you ever marry me if you’re married to your job?”
She’d felt a familiar defensiveness rise in her, the same one that had surfaced during that dinner with her family. “Can’t you see that I’m working hard for our future?” she’d tried to explain. “You love your job. You know what it’s like. I want to be dedicated to my career. It’s important to me, Dan.”
But the words had hung heavy, lifeless and hollow, failing to bridge the growing chasm that had opened between them. Their morning coffee that day had ended with the same suffocating silence that had become all too familiar.
Their relationship had crumbled after that, and the love they’d once shared was now a distant memory. But as Eliza ran through that conversation in her mind, the breakup felt like a fresh wound, the pain of it sharper in the face of the crisis unfolding around her.
The situation in the ER was deteriorating rapidly. The power outages were growing more frequent, the lights flickering in and out like a failing heartbeat. Eliza jumped every time thunder rolled outside the hospital with a deep, bone-shaking rumble.
“Dr. Carter! Come! Quick! We’ve got another issue!” Lopez’s voice croaked as he ran toward her, his brow slick with sweat. “The telephone lines are down now. The internet…I don’t know. We can’t contact the outside world or get any updates. I tried to phone people to come in to help, but my calls aren’t going through.”
Eliza’s stomach twisted, a sick feeling spreading through her as the gravity of the situation sank in. “Well, this is just fucking great, isn’t it?” she swore under her breath, her mind trying to imagine the implications of all this. “Listen, there’s not much I can do about it right now. We need to focus on keeping our patients safe and stable.”
Lopez nodded, his mouth turning downward. “I’ll take a couple of the boys and see if we can secure backup generators, but we might need to start thinking about evacuating if things get worse.”
The idea of evacuating the ER was terrifying, and the logistics were nearly impossible, but she knew it was a possibility they couldn’t ignore.