Unsafe Haven

by Betsy Ashton

A bead of sweat formed on Emilie’s upper lip before she answered. “It’s not just in the hospital. It’s outside, too.”

  “What’s outside?” I shoved the menu aside, no longer interested in food.

  “Something evil,” Ducks and Emilie said in unison.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WHIP HAD ONE last, long talk with Dr. Running Bear after lunch. Alex was making progress and should be released the day after next. The doctor stood firm against releasing him before his lungs cleared, however.

  “You guys can go on home,” Dr. Running Bear told Johnny and me. Johnny insisted that we’d stay.

  I was comfortable with the family leaving. We agreed they should catch their flights as planned. Emilie could do nothing here that she couldn’t do from Richmond or Mississippi. Ducks wanted to get ready for Emilie’s birthday sailing trip, even though it now looked like it, too, would be postponed until Alex could leave New Mexico. That wouldn’t matter—sailing season in the American Virgin Islands lasted all year unless a hurricane was brewing.

  “We won’t be far away,” Ducks said.

  The odd urgency in the hospital didn’t seem to bother Alex. It wasn’t centered on him. Unfortunately, his cough worsened the following night. He complained of muscle aches, ran a fever, and wasn’t interested in eating. I worried his leg had become infected again, so I asked one of the nurses to look at the wound.

  “It’s healing well. No swelling. Does that hurt?” she asked, pressing near the incision. Alex shook his head and coughed wetly. She pulled her stethoscope from a pocket and listened. “I want Dr. Running Bear to check your chest again.”

  “I don’t like this, Johnny,” I whispered in the lounge down the corridor from Alex’s room. The parents whose children had arrived two days before huddled inside themselves, eyes stricken. I nodded at them, but they didn’t respond. I probably wouldn’t have either, were I in their position. Except, I am. “He’s never sick. Do you remember him ever turning down food, the first day notwithstanding?”

  “No. He’d rather try to out-eat me,” Johnny said affectionately.

  “No matter what the nurse said, could the infection Em felt in his leg have returned?” I paced a circle. “Alex doesn’t know what’s wrong or where it’s wrong. He just feels crappy.”

  Johnny made a pest of himself trying to find someone to talk to us. Most of the nurses were swamped, and Dr. Running Bear needed roller blades or a Segway to move any quicker. Johnny returned alone. Even though Alex was sleeping, I wasn’t sure he couldn’t hear us. When Merry was in her coma, Whip and I assumed that she could hear us, so we talked with her all the time. In this case, Johnny and I left the room to speak in private.

  “What’s wrong?” I didn’t like his expression. My big, strong friend looked worried. Very worried.

  “I don’t know. I asked one nurse if Alex could have MRSA, but she said if there’s no rash or other skin discoloration near the incision, we shouldn’t worry.” Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus, or MRSA, had come to the public’s attention recently through several high-profile cases of professional athletes sickened or felled by this new drug-resistant bacterium. According to the newspapers, it flourished in places where groups of people lived or worked in close quarters. College dorms, nursing homes, health clubs, and hospitals were fertile breeding grounds.

  A circuit completed, we returned to Alex and peeled back the blanket to see for ourselves. The bandage showed no bloody seepage, and the skin above and below it felt cool to the touch. Alex groaned and coughed deeply. I grabbed the kidney pan and caught a stream of vomit just in time. Johnny gagged.

  “You are not allowed to vomit in here. Do you hear me?” I called over my shoulder. With my hands full with Alex, I didn’t need Johnny getting sick as well.

  “I feel awful,” Alex said as he fell back, his skin pale and clammy.

  I laid a hand on his forehead. Hot. I looked across the bed at Johnny. Without a word, he turned and left the room. I sponged Alex’s face and gave him water to rinse his mouth. His stomach convulsed with dry heaves.

  An unfamiliar nurse bustled in, Johnny close on her heels.

  “Let’s see what’s going on,” she said.

  I stepped aside and watched her go through her routine. Temp: two degrees above normal. Breathing: raspy. Blood pressure: elevated. Nausea and vomiting.

  “If it’s any consolation, young man, you’re not the only person in this hospital who feels like this. We admitted three more overnight. I’ll send one of the doctors in to see you as soon as one is free.”

  Three other cases? “Is this some kind of flu?” I demanded.

  “We’re not sure. We’re taking blood to see if it’s viral or bacterial, but cultures take time to grow. We’re pretty sure it isn’t food borne, though, since no one ate at the same place. I’ll bring something for Alex’s fever. I’ll also let Dr. Running Bear know to stop by.”

  She returned a few moments later with Tylenol. The pills stayed down about five minutes.

  I laid wet towels on his forehead and the back of Alex’s neck—my grandmother’s tried-and-true method for bringing down fevers. Johnny brought me ice water to keep the towels cold. More than an hour later, an orderly arrived, followed by the lab technician.

  “I have orders to draw a blood sample before we transfer him,” Toby said. “I need a cheek swab as well.”

  “You’re transferring him? Where? Why?” I asked, awaiting an explanation. I also waited for an apology for his boorish behavior yesterday.

  “I don’t know. Decisions like that are above my pay grade.”

  Well, the question wasn’t above my pay grade. Time for tiger mom to appear. I blocked the bed, folded my arms across my chest, and thrust my chin out, my most don’t-mess-with-me pose.

  Toby was having none of it. He pulled on gloves, laid out his tools of the trade, and filled several vials of blood. He pressed a bandage on Alex’s arm and ran a cotton swab around Alex’s mouth, causing him to gag again. All he brought up was a smear of bile.

  “Off to the lab,” Toby said, whisking away the samples.

  The orderly unlocked the wheels on the bed and moved to its head. Knowing he couldn’t answer my questions, I let the bed ease me out of the way. I fell in behind.

  “No one’s told us he’s moving. In fact, he’s supposed to be discharged tomorrow,” I told the orderly.

  “I don’t know about a discharge. I have orders to move your son—”

  “Grandson.”

  “Grandson. Dr. Running Bear wants him closer to three other patients until he knows what’s going on.”

  “What do you mean, ‘until you know what’s going on?’” My heartbeat quickened, and I felt lightheaded. Johnny grabbed my arm, but I shook him off. “I’m not going to faint.”

  We followed Alex and the orderly through several unmarked, automatic doors. At the end of another long corridor, the orderly wheeled Alex into a private room. Not totally private, since one wall was made of glass. I’d been in my share of ICUs before; this sure as hell looked like an ICU.

  “Johnny?” Before I could finish, Dr. Running Bear rounded the corner and beckoned to us. “Alex, we’ll be right back.”

  Alex had dozed off.

  “What the hell is going on?” Johnny burst out before I could. My alpha male left me to recover my composure.

  “We don’t know, Mr. Medina. We have several cases of what looked at first to be bronchitis, but this isn’t the season for upper respiratory ailments. We’ve called around to private doctors, but no one has seen an uptick. Right now, it looks like we have a cluster of flu-like illnesses. I just don’t know which one.” Dr. Running Bear rolled his head around, vertebrae creaking like rusty hinge. “I want Alex close by. If we treat all the patients in one place, it’s easier on the nursing staff.”

  “But why is he in the ICU?” Tiger mom surged. “Is he in any danger?”

  “Don’t read too much into being in the ICU, Mrs. Davies. The suite was empty. When
you think about it, it makes the most sense. We can watch all the children at the same time and in the same place. We’ll have a single, rotating nursing staff keeping everything in order. We’re going to hook each child to a series of machines to monitor vital signs.”

  When Merry was in a coma, she’d looked like the bionic woman. I tried to smile. “Alex will think that’s way cool once he feels better.”

  “It is way cool. Our medical facility is state of the art, so don’t worry.” Dr. Running Bear looked around. “By the way, did you granddaughter leave?”

  My pulse jumped. “Why? Is she in danger?”

  He forestalled my panic with a hand. “Not at all.”

  “You thought if she were still here, you could use her help, didn’t you?” I stared at the tall Native American. I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry,” Johnny said. “She and Mr. Ducks are on duty. They’re there if you need them.”

  I was too distracted processing the situation to realize that Johnny had taken charge again. Had I not known him as well as I did, I’d have felt shoved aside, even marginalized. I didn’t, however; I welcomed his help. Dr. Running Bear patted my shoulder, shook Johnny’s hand, and responded to a bell-like code over the loud speaker.

  “That’s me. See you later.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JOHNNY WENT BACK to the ranch after a skimpy cafeteria meal. I walked him to his truck, patted Gabby on the fender, and waited until taillights faded to black. The Milky Way beckoned. I circled the building, pulled dry, dusty desert air deep into my lungs, and cleansed my spirit. I noticed two dark shapes slip out of the back exit and disappear toward the employee parking lot.

  Since I was walking that way anyway, I followed at a discrete distance. A man climbed into a truck; a woman stood talking to him before vanishing back into the hospital. I continued my walk. An hour later, I re-entered the hospital through the main door and climbed to the second floor.

  “Why don’t you change into something better for sleeping?” A nurse held out a pair of scrubs.

  Grateful, I shed my own clothes and got ready for my recliner. My thriller failed to keep my attention, however; I dozed.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, the atmosphere in the hospital shifted. Not fully awake, yet not asleep either, I sensed the change, but had no frame of reference as to what caused it. I kept my breathing deep and steady as if still asleep, while my hearing picked up tiny sounds; my skin detected air currents that didn’t come from the overhead vents. Fighting the urge to shiver or scream, I waited to see what would happen. My teeth ached in my effort to prevent my jaws from chattering.

  Alex rolled over and got tangled in his tubes, setting off a low, beeping alarm. Quicker than a jiffy, the hospital came back to normal. My cell buzzed with an incoming text.

  The evil left for a while, but it will be back. Stay vigilant. I’m here, Ducks wrote.

  Stiff thumbs worked the keys. Ducks, who is it and what does it want?

  I don’t know.

  A nurse I hadn’t seen before responded to the beeping alarm.

  “Now, don’t pull this out. It’ll help you breathe,” she told Alex, who had briefly roused but was already asleep again. She glanced at the rest of his vital signs, tapped a few keys on her laptop, and turned toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with some things to make him more comfortable.”

  The nurse left before I could read her nametag. Alone, I had nothing to do but wait and fret, fret and wait. An hour after dawn, I called Whip.

  “Dr. Running Bear says he has everything under control, even though they moved him into the ICU. He thinks the fever could just be a temporary setback,” I said.

  “But I thought it broke when Alex started responding to the antibiotics for his leg.”

  “So did I, but what if the two aren’t related? What if this fever wasn’t caused by the leg infection, but by something else?” I wondered.

  “By what else?”

  “I have no clue.”

  “How was he last night?” Whip asked.

  “He was about the same when Johnny left around nine. The medical staff didn’t expect any change in Alex’s condition, nothing serious enough to warrant both of us staying.”

  “Do you think he made the wrong decision? Maybe you both should have stayed?” Whip’s tone carried his disapproval of the “casual” way we were caring for his son.

  “No.”

  “I’d have stayed,” he said.

  I sat in silence for several moments. Is Whip right? Are we somehow shirking our responsibilities? He’d shirked his to Merry often enough before her accident; he once equated being a good husband and father with being a good provider. That didn’t absolve me of laxity, except I hadn’t been lax. I closed my eyes and drew in a single deep breath. “I know you would have, but Johnny’s no more a doctor than you or I are. We deferred to the medical staff about Alex no longer being in danger. I will be here all the time.”

  I stared at the green-and-black LED display and tried to decipher what each blip meant. Temperature, pulse, blood oxygen level, and a couple more I couldn’t interpret. Five separate lines and blips that should tell me if Alex was getting better or worse. If worse, how much worse?

  “I’ll come back.”

  I could hear Whip pacing, boots swishing on the thick carpet, clacking on the hardwood floors. “Whip, be reasonable. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of Alex. We’ve been over this.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have implied you aren’t doing as good a job as I could. I was thinking about Merry.” Whip backed away from what could have turned into a useless, full-blown argument. “You shouldn’t have to shoulder the responsibility alone.”

  “I’m not alone. Johnny’s with me. And I accepted part of the responsibility after Merry died. Let me do my job, okay?”

  “Johnny’s not Alex’s father.”

  “It’s true. He isn’t. But he’s competent in ways Alex needs right now.” I rubbed the back of my neck. Worry kept knotting the muscles in my shoulders. “You’re not a doctor, either. We have to trust Dr. Running Bear’s opinion.”

  “You’re right. It’s not as if I can do anything, medically.” Whip, who hated not being in control of everything, was helpless. He entered a muffled conversation with Emilie. The only word that came through clearly was “Ducks.” I was certain she was reassuring her father that she and Ducks were monitoring the situation. My son-in-law returned to our conversation, sounding defeated. “At least when Merry was in a coma, I could sit and read to her.”

  An incoming text buzzed. Emilie. Call me five minutes after you hang up with Dad.

  “You still can, in a way. Text Alex often. I’ll keep his cell charged,” I said.

  “But you can’t use a cell phone in a hospital, can you? Particularly not in the ICU.”

  “Well, du-uh. Where do you think I am?”

  Whip chuckled. “Point taken. Keep me posted.”

  I texted an update to Ducks, although he probably knew everything already. He responded that he was “on call” as needed.

  Emilie picked up on the first buzz. “I’m in my room. I didn’t want to upset Dad. He’s upset enough already.”

  “I know. He wants to come right out and take over,” I sighed.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let him. So tell me what happened last night,” she said, all business.

  “I don’t know. Mr. Ducks said something evil came and left, but he told me to be alert. I don’t know anything else.”

  “Neither do I. I slept through everything.”

  “How did you do that?” I asked, surprised. Emilie had never been shielded from my emotions.

  “Mr. Ducks blocked me.”

  Hmm. “On purpose? Has he done that before?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  The longer we talked, the less it seemed we knew what was going on.

  “Mr. Ducks is going t
o follow Dr. Running Bear. I’ll stay with you and Alex,” Emilie assured me before we hung up. I could never explain to an outsider how comforting it was to have those two watching over me. With them, I was never alone.

  A nurse, not the one from earlier, entered and apologized as she flipped on the overhead lights. I blinked to adjust my eyes. She set an armload of packets and a washbasin on Alex’s table.

  “Let me change his bed before I walk you through some things you can do to help him,” she said.

  “Anything. I’m not a nurse, but I raised two kids and two grandkids.” I stepped aside to let her change the sheets. Her sure movements told me she’d been doing this for quite a while. She was somewhere in her mid-forties, I guessed, with braided, black hair drawn up in a bun at her nape.

  “We haven’t met,” I said. “Everyone calls me Max.”

  “Alex calls out for Mad Max. That’s you?”

  “That would be me.”

  “I’m Leena,” the nurse said. Nurse Leena laid a warm blanket across the lower half of the bed. When she glanced at me, her dark eyes glistened mysteriously in the overhead lights. “Let me show you what I brought. We don’t do sponge baths anymore.” She pulled the wash basin over and piled packets of wipes on the table.

  “That’s probably for the best, because Alex just turned thirteen. He’d be mortified if I bathed him.”

  “He’s the same age as my younger brother. He’d rather die than let me see him naked,” Leena said. She added cotton towels and alcohol rubs to the stack. “These will help bring down his fever. Follow me and I’ll show you where to find ice. Good, old-fashioned cold compresses on his forehead and the back of his neck will help, too.”

  I walked with her to the ice machine, where I half-filled the blue basin. “When my kids were little and ran fevers, I gave them cool water enemas to help keep them hydrated.” I remembered how much water my babies absorbed through their colons. A lot of water went in; very little came out.

  Leena nodded. “I’ll talk with Dr. Running Bear. We don’t want him to get dehydrated.”

  We returned to Alex’s room. Leena made additional notes on her laptop. At the doorway, she paused. “Um, I may be out of line, but you aren’t alone.”