The pustules on the man’s face, the black bile, the caked blood down his chest, that and the swollen lymph nodes, told her this was no Coronavirus. It was something very different. She had no idea how long the incubation period would last before the horrendous infection struck. But unless she got medical attention, and fast, just one look at the slumped figure at her feet told her all too graphically exactly what the end state would be like.

She could hear one of the scientists behind her calling her name, but she ignored him. She was too busy painstakingly sweeping every last inch of her face with the antibacterial wipes. Blot and rub, just as she had been trained to do. Then, one by one, she dropped the contaminated tissues into a plastic bag and sealed it. She was so focused on her task she barely noticed that outside the wind had picked up and the storm was intensifying. She could hear her name being called above the rising din. ‘Sheila!’ The voice was ever more insistent. It was Chris Coppinger, still standing just inside the doorway, swirls of wind-driven snow circling around his boots. He was on his phone to the research station back at Ny-Ålesund. ‘Are you okay?’ he shouted inside the hut. ‘They want to talk to you.’ He held out his phone and started to move towards her but she put out a hand to stop him. He should have known better.

‘Social distancing, Chris!’ she rebuked him. ‘I’m infected. And, no, of course I’m not okay. What the hell does it look like? I’m contaminated now. It’s possible we all are. You can’t come near me and I definitely can’t touch your phone.’ He took a half-step inside the hut, just to catch her words, but no further.

‘Right. Of course,’ he said. ‘So what do I tell them?’ Even in the dim light from her torch she could see the fear in his eyes, which she felt just as intensely herself. But she wasn’t going to show it.

‘Tell them …’ she began, struggling to keep her voice even. ‘Tell them we have a suspected case of a dangerous pathogen. Symptoms resemble bubonic plague. One patient possibly in final stages. One, possibly three, presumed infected. We need a team here now in full PPE gear. Tell them that.’

Dr Sheila Mackenzie cast her eyes down at the slumped figure on the floor and swallowed involuntarily. Would this be her in a few days’ time? The hell it would, Sheila. Get a grip on yourself. This is not going to happen to you. You’re going to get the best possible medical intervention. So you need to stay calm and get through this.