The lock on the door clicks. Carrie glances over to the door. It opens and standing in the doorway is the same doctor that’s been seeing her. Carrie could tell it was Zelma by her shorter stature and slender figure.
“O-oh it’s you again.” Carrie says. “I-it’s embarrassing to say but I… Only after seeing you twice, I’m recognizing you now underneath all of that garb.”
Zelma chuckles. She walks over to Carrie and takes a seat on the bed next to her.
“I’m flattered. It’s good to see you in somewhat high spirits.” Zelma replies.
“I’ve just been worried you… May be assigned elsewhere and I wouldn’t get to see you again.”
“Oh, you need not to fret my dear. Tending to you all here is my domain. Speaking of which…”
Zelma reaches into her satchel and pulls out a syringe alongside a leather strap.
“It’s time to draw blood to see if Rainmaker is having any effect on you. How are you feeling by the way?”
Carrie is about to speak but then coughs. She shakes it off and smiles.
“Aside from a slight cough and some dizziness… I feel fine overall. My body doesn’t ache as much. I’m not throwing up.”
“Hmm. I see. Very good. May I have your arm then?”
Carrie nods and extends her arm. Zelma then takes Carrie’s arm and wraps leather straps around it. Carrie bites her tongue. Zelma takes an empty syringe and brings the tip of the needle to her vein and gently slits it into her skin. Blood fills up the syringe. Zelma pulls the needle out and swiftly grabs some bandages to wrap around the arm.
Zelma releases the blood into a vial and examines it closely. Carrie puts her palms together. She silently prays in her mind.
“Oh? Your blood. It’s… Different.” Zelma murmurs.
“H-huh?”
“It… Works. Rainmaker works… Your body must be recovering from the aftereffects. That would explain your current symptoms. Carrie… I think we’ve cured your Crow’s Plague.”
Director Weston examines the reports on her desk. Three scientists in gray lab coats stand in front of her desk each looking at her with anticipation in what her next words will be. She glances up at them and adjusts her glasses.
“So, Rainmaker’s new variant is a success then… Thank God. Start preparing vials for shipping I want every single Black Doctor supplied as soon as possible. Keep the test subjects isolated for another forty-eight hours to study for side-effects. I’ll need to make some calls. Let’s get to work people.” Weston says.
“Yes ma’am!” The scientists say in unison.
One-by-one the scientists funnel out of the office. Weston leans back in her chair. She breathes a sigh of relief. She takes a cigar out of the side drawer of her desk and lights it up. A puff of smoke exhales between her dark red lips.
After a brief smoke break, Weston dials on her rotary phone. She starts by calling the mayor of London. He is thrilled to hear of Rainmakers results. She next calls 10 Downing Street and asks for Eliot Keating. The prime minister speaks with a pleasant tone in hearing of the good news and promises to meet in-person for further details. After that she dials one last number. A raspy voice picks up;
“Director? Well, I was not expecting a call from you at this time.” Corbeld answers.
“I think you’ll be pleased to hear that the new Rainmaker variant is a success. Most of our test subjects’ results had come back positive for expulsion of Crow’s Plague from their systems. I recently met with the lead researchers involved with the process.”
“Oh? ‘Most’ you say?”
“A couple of them had infections far too severe to treat in time. The plague had already claimed them before Rainmaker could combat it in time. But everyone else seems to be fine. I’d be happy to show you the reports myself if you have some time.”
“Gladly. I’ll be on my way soon. I’m attending to some errands right now.”
“I will see you then.”
Weston hangs up.
Corbeld stands outside in the rain under an awning. He lights a cigarette to smoke in the meantime. The streets of Bexley are barren with the occasional passing civilian or two. Not even any carriages or wagons roll by where he stands.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
A man in a black trench coat wearing a black hat and a dusty gray cloth covering most of his face approaches. He stands next to Corbeld and gives him a passing glance.
“Well? Do you have it?” Corbeld asks.
The man reaches into his coat and hands Corbeld a small vial filled halfway with a deep purple liquid. Corbeld slyly slips it into his jacket pocket.
“That’s the new variant. Snagged a sample before I clocked out of my shift. As you asked.” The man murmurs.
“Much appreciated. So, it actually works, hm?”
“Aye. That it does. I’m not obliged to ask what your intentions are with the sample so I won’t pry into your reasons for obtaining this.”
“Good. Here.”
Corbeld hands the man a wad of cash. The man quickly pockets it.
“I really shouldn’t be doing this but… I won’t say no to a little bonus. Heh.” He snickers.
Corbeld just nods. He puffs his cigarette before he puts it out on the wet concrete sidewalk. He shoves his hands into his pockets.
“Consider your task accomplished. This exchange never happened.” Corbeld says.
The men part ways from each other. Corbeld hops into his steam carriage parked in a nearby alley. He drives to his home in Westminster. Secluding himself into the study, he takes the vial of liquid out of his pocket and sets it on the desk. Inside his desk is a bronze spyglass etched with golden stripes. He flicks the desk lamp on to examine the liquid closer. Its purple hue reflects off the light alongside the glass of the vial it’s held in.
“Well, I’ll be damned. It’s nearly identical. The hue of this new variant is a bit darker than the original. But to the untrained eye it may as well be the same.” Corbeld mutters to himself. “In a matter of days… Every Black Doctor in the damned city will be carrying this.”
Corbeld puts the spyglass down. He continues to gleam the liquid, turning the vial back and forth. The viscosity of the liquid is thin. It could be compared to that of hard liquor.
“This only means we need to further cull the herd before it’s too late. I’ll have to check on the rat breeding. For now, though… I’ll go ahead and keep this stashed away so any visitors don’t see it. Suppose I should head off to go see Miss Weston then.”
Corbeld puts the vial inside his desk drawer alongside the spyglass. He takes a swig of whiskey from the glass on his desk and gets up to leave the house.
Peter and Marianne stand alongside eighteen other Black Doctors in the locker room within the London Institution of Medicine. Two men in lab coats are going down the line handing each doctor a moderately-sized jar containing the new variant of Rainmaker. They’re also taking any remnants of the old variant for safe disposal.
Peter places the jars into his satchel. As a duo, Peter maintains the storage of their medical equipment while Marianne only carries syringes and her serrated blade. The taller of the two scientists stands to face all of the doctors while the other leaves.
“Now that you all have been equipped with the new Rainmaker variant… It is your duty as doctors to go out there and treat the infected. Continue your usual duties of course. But now you are prepped for any who carry the Crow’s Plague. Of course, side effects are to be expected. But it was the director’s orders to ship the cure out immediately even after but a single day of testing results. The plague only continues to spread. And it is up to us to treat it and stop the spreading. Any questions?”
None of the doctors raise a hand. They just shake their heads.
“Excellent! You all are dismissed. And… Good luck out there. More people are becoming paranoid, angry and even violent. Punish any who stand in the ways of your duty.”
The doctors all nod. One-by-one they walk out of the locker room. Peter and Marianne head to their steam carriage. They get inside and fire it up. Puffs of smoke bellow from the single smokestack behind the cab. The engine roars as the carriage takes off out of the parking lot. Marianne leans her head back in the seat.
“Can’t believe they finally did it… Even if they rushed the distribution.” Marianne says. “But I suppose some side effects can’t be any worse than this damned plague slowly killing you.”
“Agreed. Better to be safe then sorry. You hear how many districts are quarantined now? It’s outrageous. Sooner or later, we’ll be visiting those we haven’t been to yet.” Peter replies.
“I am so glad we aren’t the night shifters.”
“You and me both, dear.”
Crow’s Plague remains an enigma as to how it started. Most believe it to be from dirty vermin that fester in the sewers and dark corners of the city streets. Throughout history from the Black Death to the Great Plague of London, rats and mice were considered a serious threat to the safety of health. Many even considered these epidemics “omen” from God as punishment for humanity’s sins. Crow’s Plague is even touted as an airborne virus with how rapidly it is spreading.
Symptoms of Crow’s Plague vary and because of the multitude of symptoms one can possess, it made creating Rainmaker a real challenge. Coughing. Headaches. Violent vomiting. Seizures. Aches. Bloodshot eyes. Weariness. Shaking. Wavering consciousness. Sniffles. It’s as if the plague itself is a hybrid of every known disease and illness combined into one incredibly virulent virus.
Studies from the London Institution of Medicine show the effects of the plague. It fights the immune system once the blood is infested by killing off white blood cells and infecting red blood cells. As this continues, the plague slowly rots away the internal organs including the brain and heart. Comparable to other lethal diseases, it tears at the insides of the body until it’s unable to persevere. By burning the dead, this effectively stops the remnants inside a corpse from spreading. Hence why Black Doctors dispose of bodies into designated quarantine zones for cremation.
The new Rainmaker variant went through rigorous tests and trials before the final form was concocted. If a test subject died, there was always a replacement. Those who had not succumbed to the plague and lived to have Rainmaker injected into their system showed full eradication of the plague with a few exceptions who were far too severe. Crow’s Plague is different for everyone depending on their immune system and overall state of health. After several successful patient reports, the coats rushed to inform the director of their good news. Miss Weston soon approved of distribution to the Black Doctors.
Now the London Institution of Medicine carries the heavy burden of curing the infected and ensuring everyone gets a dose of Rainmaker to avoid contagion. With the plague still ravaging the population, the clock is ticking.