We Are Not Prepared!!!
Dr. Adjoa had finally seen enough. The good doctor, who had been selflessly fighting to ease the suffering of friends and family alike who had all been stricken with Ebola’s death warrant, simply could take no more death on this day. In an insurmountable moment of desperation, nothing sounded better to the doctor than trying to shake off the depression he had accumulated after 10 straight hours in this make-ship hospital.
Ever since the small town of Makeni, in the Northern Provence of Sierra Leone, had developed its first case of this ruthless disease, Dr. Adjoa had worked night and day to try and combat the scourge with all his resources. Yet despite his valiant efforts, each day that passed only further drained both his and the hospitals resources. On this day, his tank was empty, and despite the cries for help from the sad souls laying on every flat surface, he simply could do no more. Without a word, he unceremoniously shed his rudimentary bio-hazard gear, walked home and fell fast asleep on the couch.
Eighteen hours passed before Dr. Adjoa awoke from his sleep, changed clothes, and made his way back to the hospital. Before he could ever get to the infirmary, he encountered a fight between two families and the hospital staff in the lobby. Each family was vociferously intending to take their dead loved ones home for burial, and the staff was trying to impart the importance of cremation so as to not spread the virus that had overcome them to others. The daily fights, the blood, the dirt, the local customs, the fear and the pain on faces of the living, and the blank stares of the dead, were all now ingrained in each long day for Dr. Adjoa.
Dr. Adjoa was trained in France at the University of Paris-Sud. After he completed a decorated and distinguished internship at Bichat Claude-Bernard hospital, Dr. Adjoa gave up a distinguished medical staff position in Paris and returned to his small town of Makeni to administer good works for his people. Many years later, when the Ebola virus had made its debut in Makeni, Dr. Adjoa contacted all his colleagues and contacts in France. At first he was asking, but all too soon he was begging them for help. A few minimally trained aid workers did heed his call, but every doctor, nurse, and administrator from all his travels in Europe turned a deaf ear to his requests. A hospital relief charity did send one shipment of protective clothing and sterilization chemicals, which was promptly detained in customs in Freetown. From there it was stolen by someone feeding the Black Market in Liberia.
In the 12 months since the Ebola outbreak had begun in Makeni, nearly half of the hospital staff had either fallen ill themselves or had left their jobs. As the body count rose, those remaining to care for the sick and the supplies needed to assuage their pain and suffering rapidly dwindled. Dr. Adjoa, a man of science for most of his 36 years, began to lean on his long lost Islamic faith for support. As he did, his anger of the situation, and loathing for the lack of support from his mentors and colleagues, grew in his belly each day. Like a soldier undergoing enemy torture, Dr. Adjoa eventually reached his breaking point. His feelings of fear, anger disgust, and betrayal, began to be intertwined with thoughts of hate for the West, the teachings of Islamic Jihad, and a need of revenge for his abandonment.
The plan Dr. Adjoa concocted was quite simple. He would collect a mix of body secretions and various fat and tissue cells from the ravaged corpses which were all too plentiful in the hospital. He would condense the virus laden material into heavy Pyrex vials and then freeze dry them for storage and shipment. The contagion for his private Jihad was quickly obtained. A single call to his old school, the University of Paris-Sud, set in motion a plan for him to deliver an Ebola situational and education conference with the University staff in Paris. The staff was so eager to have him lecture, they even paid for his trip.
433,000 Sierra Leonean Leone (approx. $100) given to a baggage handler at the airport in Sierra Leone was enough for the doctor to secure his special cargo on the plane. Once identified at his arrival in French customs as a doctor conducting a lecture at a prestigious Paris university, the Gendarmes waved him through with impunity. 16 vials of concentrated Ebola virus, the most deadly pathogen now active on the planet, had safely traveled 2919 miles and was now in the refrigerator of room 117 of the Hôtel D’orsay and was within walking distance of the University.
Vial #1 was opened by the doctor just before dinner. The mixture of the ingredients in the vial, which were just now defrosting, reminded the Dr. very much of the grated cheese the French loved to sprinkle on salad and breads. As luck would have it, the hotel restaurant offered an open salad bar for its patrons. Vial #1, was surreptitiously sprinkled on the hotel food and became the first salvo in the Dr. Adjoa’s silent Jihad. The hotel guests had a meal to die for.
Vial #16 was being reserved as a topping for the luncheon on the day of his lecture at the university, now only four days away. While waiting for his Coup de grâce, Dr. Adjoa visited many of Paris’ major western attractions, including Christian churches, famous historical sites, and even government buildings. At each visit he spread the contents of one of his secret vials anywhere they could be possibly ingested or spread via contact to the passersby.
By the day of his conference, Dr. Adjoa was clearly quite under the weather. He had to continually apologize to his esteemed colleagues for his sweaty palms as he warmly greeted them. As he purposefully kissed both checks of all the administrators and doctors alike, he assured them that he was just nervous after being away from them for so long. His lecture was somewhat bland but still received well by all in attendance. A few in the audience were clearly put off by his final words as he concluded his speech – Allahu Akbar.