Transcript #1

(Working in medical reception, I’ve gotten fairly practiced at taking down dictation; the record of my interview with Kyle was typed on-the-go with as much accuracy as I could manage.)

LT: Okay, I’m all set up. Go ahead whenever you’re ready.

KS: I’m still not sure I’m good to talk about this, just yet.

LT: If you want more time, I don’t mind putting it off. Seriously. A case study won’t even come up as a thing for another two years or something, if I’m lucky.

KS: You’ll save enough for school way before two years. No. No, I’ll do it now, I’ve got no *** clue how much longer I’m even going to be living here for.

LT: You know when you’re moving out?

KS: Soon as I find somewhere cheap to rent.

LT: Sorry, um. I mean, I’m sorry in general, about your grandpa…

KS: …But you want to keep the conversation relevant, seeing as you’re typing everything we say? You don’t HAVE to type this up too.

LT: Compulsive habit. So, the doctor at the hospital.

KS: Right. Yeah. ***. It was… Well, it was like I was telling you before. I never got a good look at the doctor, but Grandpa kept telling me – he kept repeating that he didn’t like him, and that he was making it worse.

LT: Did he say how?

KS: Not really. Always vague, like, uh. He’d tell me that he was just poking around with his condition? That’s basically word-for-word what he said. Uh, he said he didn’t like the doctor’s face. And, when I asked which doctor it was, he couldn’t give me a name, said he wasn’t sure, and I’d try to point out doctors – so I could request another one, you know? Grandpa didn’t recognize any of them, and said mostly his face was covered up by a mask.

LT: Like a surgical mask?

KS: Yeah. I mean, uh, I assume? I didn’t think to ask. ***. Leigh, sorry, just –

LT: No, take all the time you want. I’m really sorry, we can stop.

KS: It’s cool. ***.  No, seriously, it’s fine, this *** is important. So we came back from the hospital, and it was like he was this totally different person. I mean, you remember Grandpa, he didn’t take *** from anyone or anything. It’s like, uh, it was like all that was just gone. He threw up everything he tried to eat or drink, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t really move unless I made him. He wouldn’t bathe on his own, I, I had to do that for him. I was picking up adult diapers from the drug store, and it was so *** embarrassing that I wanted to just… ***, I don’t know. I was dragging him to the doctor – you know that already…and then, last week…

LT: I’m so sorry, Kyle.

KS: Yeah. Yeah, me too. ***. I just, I don’t know what happened. He wasn’t that sick before we went to the hospital, then suddenly it’s like…***, he’s dying, and there’s no reason why. And then my boss starts…

LT: And the neighbors. The employees at the drug store. The entire town.

KS: Yeah. They. ***, I’m watching the exact same *** thing happen to everyone around me, and according to you –

LT: Not according to me. According to Dr. Wen. Every test we’re running is coming back normal. So it could be some ultra-rare strain of virus…or something more mundane, but either way, this is weird.

KS: Are you going to talk to Mrs. Booker next?

LT: Don’t know. I haven’t seen her leave the house for the past few days.

KS: Don’t. I wouldn’t. She’s got to still be grieving.

LT: You are, too.

KS: Well, yeah, but ***. Her husband died over the course of like, a week. I had some time.

LT: Bull***.

KS: Yeah, kind of bull***. Still. Wouldn’t talk to her yet.

LT: Mrs. Melissa Booker has been fortunate in the sense that she didn’t present with any of the wasting symptoms. Mr. Booker came into the clinic on Saturday, September 9^th – or, was dragged in, like all the others so far – with an inability to digest his food, spitting up water, and, as noted in a few other cases now, a delayed ability to heal. He’d scraped his leg falling down the front steps two days before, according to MB, and while the wound was starting to fester there was no indication that it was beginning to heal. No scabbing, nothing. Get that look off your face, only talking to myself to get my thoughts in order.

KS: Why don’t you just type them quietly like a normal person?

LT: Because. I don’t know. Habit. Do you want anything?

KS: No. Actually. Wouldn’t suck if Anthony could turn down his *** game. Gunshots are giving me a headache.

(That was the definite end of any relevant conversation; I will be attempting to speak to Melissa Booker at the first available opportunity. Normally I wouldn’t – Kyle hasn’t had the proper time to grieve, either – but the majority of the town is presenting with all the same wasting-without-explanation symptoms. I need to know more. Not just as a matter of interest; this could save lives.)