Dossiers Bizarres 2 - L'Étrange et le Réel

Chapitre 6

"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.

I believe my face was deathly pale, and my whole body was drenched in cold sweat. When he said "bang," it felt as if my heart had exploded.

"Now you know what those things scattered on the ground in those photos are, right?" His voice sounded sinister.

Of course I know that those were the internal organs that splattered out of the body at the moment of death.

“I’m sorry, I startled you.” Rembrandt apologized to me in a normal tone: “The photos just now were far from enough. I wanted to help you get used to the pressure first. If you can’t even handle this, I’m afraid you’ll have problems when you actually face such a situation. After all, even professional medical workers faint in such situations. I don’t want you to have permanent psychological trauma because of this interview. However, it seems that your mental resilience is quite good.”

"Thank you." I smiled wryly and reached out to wipe my sweat, but bumped my hand on the hood. I shook my head and put my hand down, saying, "I really don't want to see that kind of scene."

“If you persevere with this interview, I believe that one day you will experience that horror firsthand,” Rembrandt said earnestly, staring at me.

"Alright, alright," I waved my hand. "You've scared me enough. Let's go inside now."

"You should go see your parents first. If you come into contact with frontline medical staff or patients, you are not allowed to go to the isolation area where no cases have yet appeared until your protective clothing has been thoroughly disinfected. After you visit them, come to the center to see me."

"Okay." I suddenly felt that this foreigner, who had just successfully startled me, seemed quite humane at this moment.

After the familiar doorbell rang, the peephole dimmed for a moment. I knew it was my mother behind it; my father, who wasn't used to looking through peepholes, opened the door immediately. I didn't hear my mother say anything; I figured she hadn't recognized me through the peephole and my disguise.

The door opened, revealing her mother's familiar face. She opened her mouth, a sentence she wanted to say stuck in her throat, but then heard her father's voice from inside the room: "Who is it?"

"It's Na Duo, Na Duo's back!" My mother finally snapped out of her daze and pulled me inside.

"Don't be ridiculous, how could he possibly get in? I told you this place has been taken over by the army." The father said as he walked out of the inner room.

My eyes welled up, and I blinked hard a few times to stop the tears from falling. It had only been a few days, but I had been extremely worried. Seeing them safe and sound put my mind at ease. They must have had some suspicions, but they certainly didn't know their situation was so dangerous.

"It's me, I'm back."

"Sit down, sit down." My mother pulled me to sit on the sofa, making me feel like a guest.

"You're here for an interview, right? It's not easy to get you in here," the father said.

"Yes, I asked a friend for help, and now I'm the only reporter here in the whole country."

"Okay," the father smiled.

"What's so good about it?" Mother rolled her eyes at Father. "It's dangerous here. Although I don't know what disease it is, the army has been mobilized, so it must be serious. During SARS, many doctors and nurses got sick. Your father and I are getting old, and you're still young. Listen to me, go out in a bit, don't..."

The mother was still nagging when the father interrupted her, saying, "Oh, let Na Duo decide for herself. What are you nagging about?"

The mother raised an eyebrow: "What do you know?"

I quickly said, "Mom, I'm already a reporter specially approved by the municipal party committee, how could I possibly back down now?"

The mother sighed, "You sit down, I'll go cut you an orange, it's very sweet."

I stopped her with a wry smile: "How am I supposed to eat like this?"

My mother looked at my closed-back hood, sat back on the sofa, and sighed again.

“Why are you sighing? We’re just in quarantine, we haven’t caught anything. Do you even know what disease it is this time? Bird flu?” the father asked.

I shook my head. "It wasn't bird flu, it was a strange disease called Fan syndrome. I don't really know the specifics..." I hesitated, then decided not to elaborate. They certainly weren't considered "unrelated parties" under the gag order, but I thought it best not to let them know about their deaths.

“I was just granted permission to conduct this interview today, and I don’t know the situation yet. I’ve only heard that Fan’s disease is a more terrifying infectious disease than SARS, with a very high mortality rate…” My voice involuntarily softened.

“The mortality rate is very high.” My mother’s expression became tense. “Then you have to be careful, sigh, sigh.” She looked like she wanted to persuade me to give up, but didn’t know how to start.

My eyes welled up again, and I turned my face slightly away, saying, "I know, Mom. I've always wanted to be a war correspondent, and this time my wish has come true."

The mother just shook her head.

“Hello, I’m Na Duo, a reporter from Morning Star. You are the first interviewer I’ve interviewed in the Xinjingyuan lockdown area. May I ask your name?” I suddenly took out my notebook and pen and said to my mother.

"Ah..." The mother paused for a moment, then laughed and said, "You little rascal."

"I'm serious." I raised my pen and made a few strokes in the air, staring at her defiantly.

“My name is Sun Fang. I also have a son who works as a reporter. He’s the same age as you. Just ask me whatever you want.” The mother initially had a stern face, but couldn’t help but smile as she spoke.

I laughed too: "When did you find out that the community was locked down? Were there any signs beforehand?"

“That was the night before last, around 10 or 11 pm. First, there were police sirens outside, then an ambulance arrived, its siren blaring for a long time, keeping us awake. I was thinking, what happened to someone, with police cars and an ambulance? Could it be a murder? Then the next morning, the morning before last, we were still asleep when someone rang the doorbell. What time was it?” She turned to her father and asked, “What time?”

"Five-thirty," the father said.

“Yes, 5:30. I got up and opened the door, and I was shocked when I saw the person, just like you are now.” My mother pointed to the clothes I was wearing: “He gave us an emergency notice from the Shanghai Municipal Center for Disease Control and Prevention.” My mother stood up, went under the glass tabletop of the dining table, pulled out the notice, and handed it to me.

Urgent Notice: A highly contagious infectious disease has broken out in the Xinjingyuan residential community in Shanghai. To effectively control this disease, with the approval of the Municipal Government Office, the Xinjingyuan community will be temporarily locked down starting November 14, 2005. During the lockdown, food and water will be supplied centrally, and external communications will be temporarily suspended. Residents are requested to cooperate. Any personal losses incurred as a result will be compensated by the Shanghai Municipal Government after the lockdown is lifted, depending on the specific circumstances.

Shanghai Municipal Center for Disease Control and Prevention

My mother handed me two more sheets of paper: "These were issued later."

Important notes during the lockdown of Xinjingyuan: First, for the sake of social stability, wired, wireless communication, and internet access services within the community have been suspended. Residents are requested not to attempt to contact the outside world in any other way.

Second, residents are requested to stay in their own units and not wander around the community. Food and water will be delivered to each household's door by designated personnel.

Third, residents are requested to maintain good hygiene habits. Disinfectants and other hygiene supplies will be distributed by designated personnel.

Fourth, each household will be provided with a communication device for the area. If there are any questions or if help is needed, the household can contact the medical rescue center through this device (the community clubhouse has been requisitioned as a temporary medical rescue center).

If you experience any of the following symptoms, please contact the medical center immediately: 1. Fever (above 38 degrees Celsius, including brief fevers that subside after a short period).

Second, hyperactivity and abnormally vigorous spirit.

Third, appetite increases significantly (the amount of food consumed is more than double that of before, and there is always a feeling of hunger).

Fourth, chest and abdominal tightness and pain, and rapid breathing.

"Did the person who posted these say anything else to you?" I asked after reading them.

"They said if we needed to ask for leave from our workplaces, we should write down the name and phone number of our workplaces, and they would handle the leave requests for us. But we're both retired, so we don't have that kind of trouble. I asked him what his illness was, and he said he didn't know, and he didn't know if he really didn't know or if he couldn't say. He said the military had already moved in, it was a very formal martial law, and the situation was quite serious. He told us we had to do exactly what was written on these two pieces of paper."

"How have you been these past two days?"

“It’s a bit strange not being able to make phone calls. I was really nervous at first, but your dad said something. He said there’s no use being nervous. It’s already like this, so just relax. If you’re in a good mood, your immune system will be stronger, and you won’t be as likely to catch it. Besides, he said we’re nervous, but you’re definitely more nervous than us when you’re out there. Luckily, we can still watch TV. I’m used to being lonely at home after retirement, so it’s okay.”

Hearing my mother say that, I felt a pang of guilt. Should I go home to visit more often in the future?

“I often look out the window and I’ve seen it several times,” the father said. “It seems there’s a problem in Building 8 up ahead. A lot of people came out, some with people in protective suits, and once they were carried out on stretchers. Old Li,” he turned to his mother, “is the one who practices tai chi in the pavilion every morning. He’s over seventy and in good health. Sometimes we run into him when we go for an evening walk.”

The mother responded with a sound of agreement, indicating that she remembered.

"What, he got infected too?" she asked nervously.

"Probably, I saw him leave with someone." My father sighed softly, his eyes slightly furrowed, a hint of melancholy in his expression. At that moment, I truly felt he had aged. After a while, he said, "I wonder if Old Li can pull through."

I'm afraid I won't make it. I thought to myself.

Pushing open the glass door, I entered the temporary medical aid center in Xinjingyuan Community.

This used to be the lobby of the clubhouse, but now a section has been partitioned off to the left of the entrance by several tables. Three people in protective suits are sitting behind the tables, talking on walkie-talkies to several residents who need help. Behind them, there is a large pile of items, which at a glance include bottled water, rice, and biscuits.

"This is the emergency center, please speak."

"I'm out of drinking water at home. That bucket is no good; it's all leaking out."

"Okay, I'll send it over right away."

"No, don't be nervous. Vomiting and nausea aren't symptoms of infection. What? Abdominal pain and diarrhea aren't either. How's your appetite? How are you feeling? I'll bring you some antidiarrheal medication once I know." This was another one.

"Okay, please deliver the formula before noon. (This novel was first published on M and will be published by Jieli Publishing House this April. Please do not delete if you repost.) Does it have to be Abbott? Okay, don't worry. Oh, I'm sorry, the child can't be sent out; he must stay with you in this neighborhood."

The sounds of shouting into the walkie-talkie and the voices coming from it rose and fell, as the three of them answered the phone and quickly took notes, their voices already hoarse.

I went up to him and asked, "I'm a reporter covering Fan syndrome. Where is Mr. Rembrandt?"

They didn't even look up. The person in front of me pointed and said, "Go straight and turn left."

"Thank you," I said.

"I'm sorry, that's not what I was talking to earlier," he explained to the person he was on the phone.

I stopped bothering him and walked in the direction he pointed.

"Hey, he's gone out."

"Hey, reporter!"

I turned around and asked, "Are you talking to me?"

The man stood up, covered the microphone with his hand, and shouted to me, "He just went out. Rembrandt isn't here." Then he let go of the microphone, sat down again, and continued with his previous work.

I was stunned, not knowing what to do. I had been at my parents' house for over an hour, only to find that Rembrandt was no longer there.

That makes sense, though. He carries a heavy responsibility, seemingly in charge of the entire medical team, and he's always the last one to be interviewed by me.