Chapter 3b: Isolation
DAY FOUR
Friday, February 15th
Ophelia stood, alone, on a patch of grass with her surgical face mask on her head. A white pull-string threaded through the plastic material clinging to her face.
The light cotton shield pressed against her lips as she watched two of her colleagues carrying an infected patient on a stretcher to one of the main, gray tents.
We’re running out of masks. We’re running out of nurses and doctors, specialists and surgeons. Everyone’s beyond tired. Beyond the point of no return. We’re all at risk. They promised us the bare essentials to help the sick and then ailing, and they’re not making good on those promises.
The tents had been erected during the night under intense pressure. Some stood, blowing against the wind, unsecured to the grass
