Immortality of the dead

Chapter 5

"I'm a reporter from the Shanghai Morning Star. Did you come here specifically because of the infectious disease outbreak inside?" I hesitated for a moment before asking this question.

"Um."

Her cold reaction made me a little embarrassed; she's such an ice queen.

“I am Na Duo, Na Duo’s Na Duo. I will be doing the interviews here by myself for now, so I will have many questions to ask you later.” I extended my hand.

She glanced at my outstretched hand, and for a moment I worried she might just leave it hanging in mid-air. Thankfully, she did reach out and shake my hand. Her hand was cold and slippery.

"What night is this? What night is this?"

"Oh, I thought you weren't Chinese," I said with a smile.

"That's not true."

"Uh..." I was momentarily speechless. Just as I was trying to figure out how to continue the conversation, I suddenly realized my reaction was a bit off. How could I have thought of talking about this with her? Just a moment ago I was worried about my parents in danger, and anxious about the unknown, highly contagious disease I was about to face. Now, having met He Xi, a medical envoy, shouldn't I be asking her about infectious diseases? Instead, I started chatting about everyday things!

I'm not some clueless young man who's never seen a beautiful woman before. I shook my head to myself and was just about to ask the question when a person wearing a sealed protective suit walked quickly out of the community, carrying another protective suit in his hand. When he saw He Xi next to me, he exclaimed "Ah!" with a look of surprise on his face.

This man is the foreigner I met the day before yesterday, Rembrandt.

"He Xi, what brings you here?"

The voice came from inside the hood, muffled. To my surprise, he was speaking Chinese. Although not as fluent as He Xi, it was quite impressive for a foreigner to speak like that.

If these two had been living abroad, they should have been communicating in their own language.

“I spoke with my father on the phone last night, and he said you’ve gone on vacation.”

"Does a vacation have to be in Hawaii or Morocco? Can't we come here?"

“This is outrageous! Don’t you know how dangerous this place is…” Rembrandt exclaimed.

“I’m a researcher, I know more about pathology than you do,” He Xi retorted, ignoring his dissatisfaction.

Rembrandt stared, his mouth agape, looking both annoyed and helpless. It turns out He Xi is this rude to everyone. I had a similar experience just now. To exaggerate a bit, He Xi is adept at throwing dry cloths into the mouths of those she speaks to, not only shoving them shut but also leaving them with a dry throat.

“Ahem, you know you’re a researcher, you’ve never had any experience in frontline rescue work.” He paused for a few seconds before saying this.

“You can guide me, and I’ve received relevant training.” She raised an eyebrow slightly. “What, are you planning to keep me stuck here forever?” Her tone was still calm, yet carried a sharp edge that made one want to avoid her. Thankfully, I wasn’t in Rembrandt’s position, or it would have been incredibly uncomfortable.

“You!” Rembrandt stared at He Xi for a while, then sighed heavily, shook his head and said, “You just need to have your information sent from headquarters and approved by the Shanghai government before you can enter here.”

“Well then,” He Xi glanced at her watch, “I’ll come again at one o’clock this afternoon. No need to prepare any clothes, I’ll bring my own.” Without waiting for Rembrandt’s reaction, she turned and left, giving me a very slight nod as a greeting.

As I watched her retreating figure, I suddenly realized that she wasn't carrying a large bag big enough to hold her protective suit. In other words, she had only come to get Rembrandt the access pass, anticipating that she wouldn't be able to enter the cordoned-off area immediately.

This cold and arrogant woman is very calculating. I've judged her to be an elite. A person's level can be revealed in the smallest details.

She's a rare woman who possesses both beauty and intelligence, though she's a bit cold. Suddenly, it occurred to me that among the women I know, there seem to be quite a few like her. Lu Yun is a typical example, and Ye Tong is also quite quick-witted. Only Shui Sheng's wife, Su Ying, doesn't seem to have much of a schemer's mind.

Just as Yu was marveling at this, Rembrandt asked, "Are you Mr. Nado?"

I then realized there was a man standing next to me, and turned around to reply, "Yes."

“That was my sister, He Xi. She was doing virus research at Heller International, but I didn’t expect this time…” Rembrandt said, spreading his hands and smiling. “However, she is also conducting long-term culture and observation of the virus for Fan syndrome. You can interview her later. But she has a strange temper. You saw it just now, didn’t you? She’s not an easy person to deal with.”

"Fan's disease? You mean the infectious disease that broke out in this community is called Fan's disease?" I asked.

Rembrandt nodded and handed him the clothes: "Put these on first, then I'll lead you inside. Do you know how to put them on? If you don't put them on properly and they're not sealed, the consequences will be severe."

"I'll try it on." I took the clothes. I had worn a similar outfit once, which was much more expensive than the one I had in my hand.

"How fast does the virus spread? How high is the mortality rate?" I asked as I put on my clothes.

“Already…” Rembrandt started to say but then stopped abruptly, looked at the guards who were standing at their posts with their eyes fixed straight ahead, and said, “We’ll talk about this inside.”

Although I had experience before, it still took ten minutes to get everything done. Rembrandt responsibly checked everything before leading me inside.

“The community clubhouse is our temporary center. The entire medical team consists of thirteen doctors and nurses. There are many people who have already fallen ill, as well as those who need close observation, so we are overwhelmed. I am a consultant expert sent by Heller International, so I don’t need to stay on the front line all the time. Otherwise, it would be difficult to find someone to receive you.”

"What did you mean by 'already'?" I asked.

"Twelve people have died."

"What?" I was stunned. I stopped and stared at him. "How could so many people have died in just a few days?"

“I think you should be prepared,” Rembrandt said, turning to look at me. “What you are about to see is the most terrible infectious disease in the world.”

I was speechless for a moment. The morning mist had just dissipated, and the sun shone on the neighborhood, but it was icy cold on me. It chilled me to the bone.

“The most terrifying thing is far more horrible than Ebrahim!” The deep, resonant voice from inside Rembrandt’s hood pounded into my chest.

Third, Fan's syndrome soaked in blood

“I think you should be prepared that you will see the most terrifying infectious disease in the world,” Rembrandt solemnly reminded me, before pulling a stack of photographs from his pocket and handing them to me.

"Several members of the medical team fainted on the spot when the patients died. I'll show you some photos from the scene. I hope you don't faint too. However, vomiting seems unavoidable."

This stack of photos contains more than a dozen images, each about seven inches in size, and they are very clear.

But when I looked at the first picture, I didn't immediately recognize what it was.

It appears to be a corner of a room, but it's unclear what the subject of the photograph is. The photo shows a close-up of a mahogany floor, which isn't very clean; besides some dirt, there are also some unidentified objects scattered on it.

Although the photo captured the objects on the ground quite clearly, I still couldn't immediately identify what they were. The clumps of dark red flesh varied in size, some as big as a fist, others smaller, and still others shapeless, resembling small piles of red minced meat. Next to them were the lower half of a sofa and its two legs, both quite dirty. (This novel was first published on M and will be published by Jieli Publishing House this April. Reposters please do not delete.) There were several dark blue spots on the red sofa and patches of yellowish-brown on the red chair legs, stains of some unknown dye. Along the right edge of the photo, half of a strip of material was visible.

“This…” I looked up, wanting to ask Rembrandt a question, but he gestured for me to continue reading.

As I moved the first photo to the bottom, the contents of the second photo caught my eye, and I immediately felt a tightness in my chest. I quickly looked away, but my stomach was already churning.

I took a few deep breaths and tried to suppress the urge to vomit before I dared to look at the photos again.

The second photo was taken at the same location as the first one. The first photo is a close-up, while this one is a medium shot, which shows the tragedy that took place in the living room more completely.

A man lay on the sofa, his neck and abdomen a bloody mess. His chest and abdomen were turned outwards, as if he had been disemboweled, and his white ribs were clearly visible.

It was then that I realized that it wasn't that the homeowner had a particular fondness for red, using red floors, sofas, and chairs; it was all stained with the blood of the deceased in the photo. All the blood in his body had flowed out, splattering all over the sofa and the chairs next to it. Only in a few places could you still see the original blue of the sofa and the original yellow of the chairs.

"Was this murdered?" I blurted out.

"Such a scene is easy to think of Jack the Ripper. It's a pity that every patient with Fan's disease dies so tragically! This is a photo of the first patient's death; the ones that follow died in the intensive care unit."

I quickly looked at the remaining photos; different victims, but the same blood and flesh torn apart!

"How is this possible? How can an illness cause this? What kind of disease is this?" I was stunned, muttering to myself. I had seen some cruel and disgusting scenes before, but this was the most brutal. Fortunately, I had those experiences, otherwise I would have definitely found a place to vomit.

"This is Fan's syndrome, or Fan's group of organ hyperactivity syndrome."

"Organ hyperactivity?" My brain, which is almost completely shut down right now, cannot connect organ hyperactivity with such a death.

“It’s caused by a rare virus that affects most organs throughout the body. Hyperactivity is a symptom of the affected organs, including the heart, liver, lungs, stomach, kidneys, gallbladder, bladder, and even the large and small intestines. In the early stages of the disease, patients feel exceptionally energetic and have a strong hunger, eating three or four times their usual amount without feeling full. Between 24 and 48 hours, the affected organs become 20% to 30% larger than normal. These organs compress each other, and when the threshold of hyperactivity is exceeded, almost instantly, the compression between the heart, liver, spleen, stomach, and lungs will plunge the patient into severe pain. But the enlargement of these organs will not stop; instead, it will grow at an even faster rate than before, as if they are being inflated. Even more serious is…” Rembrandt suddenly stopped there.

"There's something even more serious?" What he just described was enough to kill someone in a short time, and it sounded like modern medicine would be almost powerless once it reached that stage. That's not enough? There's something even more serious?

“Let’s go,” Rembrandt said. “Don’t waste time standing here.”

I silently followed him toward the community center—or rather, the temporary medical center—while the scenes from those dozen or so photos kept flashing before my eyes.

Not far ahead, I saw two doctors carrying boxes running past quickly.

"What's wrong?" Rembrandt called out to them.

"It's Building 3. The resident of apartment 201 in Building 3 has reported a state of agitation," a doctor replied, without stopping, and quickly ran towards Building 3.

"Damn it, another building is infected." Rembrandt growled, "Every one infected means one death."

"Ah, a one hundred percent mortality rate?" I realized the terrible news hidden in his words. (This novel was first published on M and will be published by Jieli Publishing House this April. Please do not delete if you repost.)

"Yes, one hundred percent. The person who just reported feeling excited, hopefully it's a psychological problem."

"How many buildings have patients now? What about Building 12? Has anyone been infected?" I asked anxiously. My parents live in Room 403 of Building 12.

"This community has a total of 392 households, and there were 1,089 people in the community when it was locked down. Not counting Building 3, there are 18 households with 33 confirmed cases, spread across three buildings. So far, 12 people have died, and since last night, some people have been entering the critical stage of their illness. It is estimated that the death toll will rise significantly today and tomorrow. No infected people have been found in Building 12 yet, but why did you specifically ask about that building?"

“My parents live inside.”

“Oh?” Rembrandt glanced at me. “No wonder you risked your life to come here for this interview. Let me think… Hmm, the nearest infected building is two buildings away from Building Twelve. If we control it well, it will be safe there.”

A dark shadow suddenly fell from the sky and landed in the grass nearby.

"What is this?" I asked.

“A sparrow, the one that was shot down,” Rembrandt explained. “The virus that causes Fan syndrome can be transmitted through animals. Cats and dogs have been confirmed to be infected, but birds… this virus is constantly mutating, and we can’t take the risk. This neighborhood is playing noises that only birds can hear. Occasionally, a bird might wander in, like this sparrow just now. A sniper from the military will take it out.”

"But I didn't hear any gunshots," I asked, puzzled.

"Of course it had a silencer, otherwise the residents outside the cordon would hear it. There must be a lot of rumors going around now, and if they heard gunshots, it would be terrible!"

"Indeed," I agreed.

"You can hardly see any living beings other than humans in this neighborhood anymore. I think you can smell it."

"Is it that smell I noticed at the door? It's very pungent."

"It's a chemical agent used to kill and repel insects. At that concentration, even flying insects will die if they don't avoid it."

"Insects can spread it too?" I was horrified.

"Nothing has been found yet, but considering safety, and given that it's an international metropolis like Shanghai, we can't take any risks. Besides, as I just told you, this virus is mutating."

"Mutation?" I had a vague feeling that this disaster might be more serious than it appeared.

"Could you explain in more detail?" I asked.

"This will take a long time to explain, so let's wait a bit." The temporary center was not far away, and Rembrandt quickened his pace.

"You just asked me why I said that the internal organ damage wasn't the most serious yet," Rembrandt suddenly said to me as we approached the glass doors of the temporary center.

"Yes, I think that was terrible."

"The mortality rate of Fan syndrome is alarmingly high, but any disease can lead to death. A qualified doctor must be accustomed to death. Only by calmly facing death can one navigate the cycle of life and death and treat patients with a normal mental state." Rembrandt stopped in front of the glass door, without any intention of pushing it open to go in.

“But.” He turned around, his back to the buildings behind him, and scanned the silent buildings in the neighborhood, where some people were heading towards death, and others were lingering in fear and despair. His gaze finally landed on my face.

"However, Fan syndrome is different; it is not a simple matter of death. While the organs enlarge, they work frantically. The heart pumps blood at twice the speed, the body's hematopoietic mechanism is activated, the blood vessels dilate, and much more blood flows through them than before. The blood volume increases, but the blood vessels will eventually reach their limit."

“You mean…” I’m thinking of a certain outcome.

Rembrandt ignored me and continued, “This is just blood, and there’s much more. The lungs enlarge, the alveoli become much larger than before, and the person’s lung capacity increases accordingly, inhaling more air with each breath. The worst part is that after the period of heightened arousal passes, the person only loses the feeling of excitement, but the organs’ arousal increases five or ten times more than in the previous dozens of hours. They grow, move, and breathe. In this short period of time, perhaps the lungs begin to have problems, or perhaps for other reasons, air begins to accumulate in the chest and abdominal cavities, forming a pneumothorax, a severe pneumothorax. Of course, at this point, the pain caused by a simple pneumothorax is nothing. This air increases more and more, and together with the internal organs and blood, it gathers strength, compressing the bones, muscles, and skin that surround them.”

Rembrandt's speech gradually quickened, and his voice became sharper. Without realizing it, my breathing also became heavier and more rapid.

"In the final five minutes, everything began to explode. People's breathing became more and more rapid. They would inhale deeply but only exhale halfway before having to inhale again. The alveoli grew larger and larger, the blood was boiling, the organs were struggling and writhing, the muscles and skin had reached their limit, and then in that one second, first blood flowed out of every orifice, and then, bang!" Rembrandt clasped his hands into a ball and made an explosion gesture.

"What is this?" I asked.

“A sparrow, the one that was shot down,” Rembrandt explained. “The virus that causes Fan syndrome can be transmitted through animals. Cats and dogs have been confirmed to be infected, but birds… this virus is constantly mutating, and we can’t take the risk. This neighborhood is playing noises that only birds can hear. Occasionally, a bird might wander in, like this sparrow just now. A sniper from the military will take it out.”