

67
One Floor
Below
Meredith Rule
Isobelle Carmody Award
for Creative Writing
Runner-Up
‘That’s another.’
The fifth person this week alone. I had been counting, recording
their names in my notebook, if they had them. Numbers were all
that mattered to people here now, numbers were important because
a person’s number determined the cold containment in which their
corpse would eventually be stored.
If things don’t improve soon
, I thought to myself,
it won’t be long before
the whole town would be lining the corridors
. Only a matter of time before
the water coolers sit empty and the arrangement of nourished
flowers wilt, dispirited and neglected.
A corpse was removed, only to be rapidly replaced by another
nearing that lifeless condition. Coughs became the major form of
communication, overpowering the chatter of the nurses, and the
incessant beeping of the machines. I remained quiet, I walked the
halls with my head down, and my hands deep within my pockets. My
satchel contained the few things that I felt I should always keep with
me, its thick strap ensured the protection of these items. Within its
leather bindings lay my notebook pages with names, dates and
numbers, a torch, and hospital papers, and my rowing badge.
The emergency door, wide open. Markings of where trolleys had
frantically been pushed scraped against the walls lay forgotten.
I had never witnessed anything so powerful as this disease. Its
unpredictable qualities scared everyone. Something that has the
ability to eat its way into the living and destroy everything with
sentience. A beat, a blink, a flinch. It was so human-like, yet so
destructive. It pierced one with its unfamiliar presence, moved
quickly and continued to then eat its way at others. It came in many
forms: viruses, pains, always accompanied by an unexplained bite;
but each progressed into something that could cease a heartbeat. I
collected each autopsy, often from the main office bin.
‘Harper! Get this one downstairs, now!’ An unfamiliar voice
demanded. I took orders from many, all of which I obeyed. It was
just like being at school. My knowledge of biology extended to my
half completed year 12 subject – this plague had even killed my
studies. Everything I thought I knew had changed. This outbreak
had become bigger than anything in my textbooks. Resources had
become scarce, rooms were at their capacity, medical services in high
demand, and there hidden within many is something that is growing,
and infecting. People came, sometimes accompanied by a brave
9