by Lara Lacombe
“I don’t understand,” he said, pulling his arm free from Jesse’s grip. “Why can’t they amplify the virus off-base? I don’t really have the equipment or facilities to do the job properly.” It was the truth—the lab wasn’t set up for generating a large batch of viral material. The chances of success would be much greater if he had access to the right equipment. Not to mention the safety concerns that went along with concentrating a dangerous pathogen. He’d been lucky so far, but given the lack of appropriate safety equipment, he was essentially playing with fire. Pretty soon he would get burned, and then how could he help his son?
“That’s above our pay grade,” Jesse replied, the latex of his gloves snapping as he pulled them off. “All I know is they want you to smuggle it back to the States on the supply ship. They want you to hide it in the equipment going for auction.”
Paul’s stomach churned as he connected the dots. One of the quirkier things the government did to raise money for the base was to send back furniture or equipment that was no longer needed and auction it off to the highest bidder. Since the items came from the US base in Antarctica, they weren’t subject to rigorous inspections before entering the country. It would be child’s play for a representative of the Organization to access the items in the US and retrieve the virus.
“How much?”
Jesse lifted one shoulder. “A liter. Two would be better.”
“Fine.” It wasn’t an impossible task, but it would take some finesse to keep his activities secret from his coworkers in the lab. Still, his fear of discovery paled in comparison to his worry over Noah. “When will they release my son?”
“As soon as I verify the agent is on board, they will let him go.”
Jesse looked away as he spoke, and Paul knew he was lying. But what choice did he have? If there was even a chance Noah was still alive, he had to do what they said. And there was also Lisa to consider...
“I need a week. Maybe a few days extra.” There was no way he could make the process go any faster, despite his gnawing sense of urgency. Could Noah last that long? Please, don’t take my son from me, too...
“I’ll let them know.” Jesse scooped up the vials of blood and the used supplies. “Oh, and one more thing.”
Paul went still, his sleeve still partly rolled up his arm. “What?”
“I need you to dose the doctors. Get them out of the picture.”
“Why?” He balked at the request. If the Organization no longer wanted him to infect people, it was highly likely his involvement in the outbreaks would remain a secret. It felt wrong to target the two who were doing their best to save others, especially when he wasn’t acting in self-defense.
“They are too dangerous,” Jesse said simply. “If Dr. Jones and Dr. Thatcher remain, they won’t stop looking until they get answers to their questions. But if they are lost in the outbreak, the remaining medical staff will simply focus on survival. By the time other investigators are sent to the base, we’ll be long gone.”
His words made a sick kind of sense. Dr. Jones was a leader—he had displayed an easy confidence at the base meeting that made it clear he was a man who was comfortable with responsibility. And from what Paul had seen of Dr. Thatcher, she was an intelligent and determined woman. If the two of them were out of the picture, it would leave a void, one he could picture Jesse stepping in to fill.
Revulsion filled him at the thought. Despite his earlier sins, Paul refused to do Jesse’s dirty work for him. This was one bridge he wouldn’t cross.
He finished unrolling his sleeve and rose to his feet. Without saying a word, he thrust his hand into his pocket and retrieved the vial of virus. He held it up for Jesse’s inspection, then dropped it on the table, enjoying the quick flash of fear on the other man’s face as the glass rattled against the wood. “Do it yourself.”
*
Grant sank into a chair in the staff break room, his mind and body numb from the events of the morning. As if the shock of Richard’s appearance hadn’t been bad enough, Grant’s little expedition to find the other two men had proved depressingly successful. Tom had been discovered in his bed, and given his body’s state of rigor, he’d likely been dead for several hours. Bradley was still alive, although, given the severity of his symptoms, Grant wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. The poor man was lying in the bay next to Richard, and both patients were struggling to breathe as their lungs filled with blood.
Grant and the team were trying everything to keep them alive, but deep in his heart he knew it was too late. If he’d gotten to them earlier, maybe they would have stood a chance. But the disease had progressed too far, and he was powerless to help. It was like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, and yet he couldn’t give up. As long as they were breathing, he was going to fight for them.
“Hey.” Avery’s soft voice at his side broke into his thoughts, and he turned to find her staring down at him in concern. “You doing okay?”
He nodded mechanically, but inside he was a mess. When he treated the first round of patients, he’d been so wrapped up in the tension of the moment, trying to outwit the pathogen and save lives. He simply hadn’t had time for fear. But now that he knew what was going to happen, terror seeped into his bones, nearly paralyzing him.
Am I infected? Is it only a matter of time before I get sick, too?
The questions circled round and round in his head, a broken record he couldn’t turn off. The thought that he might be the next one lying in a hospital bed, drowning in his own blood, almost made him throw up. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, and he went hot, then cold, as he struggled for breath.
A loud whoosh sounded in his ears, overpowering the noise of the beeping monitors. He closed his eyes, retreating into himself as he fought for control of his own body. Something touched him; after a moment, he recognized it as hands grasping his shoulders, then his cheeks. He forced his eyes open and Avery’s face filled his vision, so close he could feel the whisper of her breath against his lips. He focused on her eyes, their deep blue color as familiar to him as his own hands. How many hours had he spent staring into her eyes, dreaming of their future together? Her touch was gentle as she cupped his cheeks, and the roaring in his ears died down enough that he heard her soft words, meant for his ears alone.
“I’m fine.” His voice sounded scratchy to his own ears, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Really. I just needed a minute.”
Avery studied him a moment, her gaze seeing far too much. But she didn’t push him. She leaned back, her hands sliding off his cheeks. The cool air hit his face, a poor substitute for her touch. But no matter how much he wanted to lean on her, no matter how badly he wanted to curl his body around hers and soak in the feel of her, this wasn’t the place. He had to project a strong front for his team. If they had any idea how terrified he was, it would destroy what little morale they had left. It was bad enough they were facing this unknown pathogen. If he were to break down in front of them, it would make matters even worse.
“Did you find Paul Coleson?” he asked.
She nodded. “He’s getting some blood drawn now. How are the patients?”
Grant shook his head. “Iffy. I’m not sure how much longer they’re going to last.”
“The antiviral medication we brought isn’t helping?”
He shrugged. “It’s too soon to tell.” But he wasn’t holding out hope. If he’d been able to administer it when the men’s symptoms weren’t so severe, they would have stood a better chance. Now he feared they were too far gone for anything to help.
She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, and he felt some of her strength flow into him. “They’re fighters,” she said. “Give them a little time.”
He wanted so badly to believe her, but watching people die from this infection had left him with a healthy amount of skepticism. “I hope so,” he said noncommittally.
“Dr. Thatcher!”
They both turned as a woman stepped into the room,
her eyes wide with excitement. She clutched a notebook to her chest and made a beeline for Avery. This must be the lab tech, he thought, remembering he’d seen her unpacking boxes of supplies on the first day. If her demeanor was anything to go by, she must have found something. Grant felt a stirring of interest as the woman skidded to a stop next to Avery. Had she managed to isolate the pathogen already?
Apparently, Avery’s thoughts paralleled his own. “Please tell me you have something good,” she said, a note of desperation in her voice. They both needed some positive news right about now.
The woman placed her notebook on the table and flipped through the pages as she spoke. “I think we’re dealing with some kind of flu.”
Avery sucked in a breath and went very still. “Are you sure?”
The tech nodded and pointed to a set of photographs. They didn’t mean much to Grant, but Avery leaned over and studied them as if they were the Rosetta stone. “The samples from the initial set of patients were pretty degraded, but I decided to test them anyway,” the tech said. “I ran them through every rapid detection kit I had, and the only one that lit up was influenza.”
Avery hummed thoughtfully. “But the signal isn’t very bright,” she observed. “Do you think that’s because of the poor sample quality, or are we dealing with a virus that’s related to flu but isn’t actually an influenza virus?”
“I’m not sure,” admitted the tech. “Without fresh samples, I can’t make that distinction.”
Grant snorted and the woman glanced at him, frowning slightly as if just now realizing he was there. “You’re in luck,” he observed dryly.
She shot Avery a questioning glance. “There are two new patients,” Avery explained. “I’m sure we can spare some blood for your tests.”
“Oh.” The woman appeared sobered by this news, but after a few seconds her mood shifted back to professional interest. “Once I get the samples, I can have an answer for you in an hour.”
Avery nodded. “Excellent. I’ll have one of the nurses drop off the samples.”
The woman gathered up her notebook, clearly excited to get back to her lab. “Jennifer,” Avery called out before the tech could leave. “Be careful.”
Jennifer waved and headed out, stepping to the side to avoid bumping into one of the new nurses.
“Hi, Jesse,” Avery acknowledged.
“Hey,” he said. “Crazy out there.”
“Any change in the status of our patients?” Grant asked. He held his breath, bracing himself for bad news.
Jesse shook his head. “Holding steady so far.” He reached for the coffeepot, sniffed and grimaced. “I’m going to make a fresh pot. Want some?”
“That would be great, thanks,” Avery replied. She turned to face Grant while Jesse busied himself with the coffee. “What do you think about Jennifer’s results? Do they match with the clinical picture you’ve seen?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I know the more virulent strains out there have a high mortality rate, but I’ve never encountered one in my practice before. It seems hard to believe the flu can take down a healthy man in a matter of hours.”
“It happens more than people realize,” Avery said. She was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking. “Jennifer’s data isn’t conclusive, but I think we can safely assume that we’re dealing with something that is at least related to influenza. Do you think increasing the dose of the antiflu drugs I brought might help the men?”
He considered her question, mentally weighing the pros and cons of the approach. A higher dose of the medication might be the only chance the men had. But could they risk depleting their limited supply of the drug when there was a very good chance other people on the base were going to fall ill? How should he prioritize the needs of his current patients with the needs of the larger population, especially when there was no guarantee that increasing the dosage of drugs would help the men?
“Let’s give them another dose and see what happens,” he said slowly. “If they respond, we’ll continue the therapy. But...” He trailed off, and Avery nodded.
“They might be too far gone to help,” she finished.
“Exactly.”
Jesse slid a cup of coffee in front of Avery. “Here you go, Doc,” he said quietly. “Sorry it’s not that hot. I think the machine is on the fritz.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “Thanks for making it.” She took a large gulp and shuddered. “It’s really strong.”
Jesse grinned. “Is there another way to make coffee?” He lifted his cup in salute and walked out of the room, leaving Grant alone with Avery once again.
She took another sip of coffee and studied him over the rim of the mug, her gaze surprisingly heavy. He could tell from the expression on her face that she wanted to say something, but she apparently wasn’t sure how to express herself.
Join the club, he thought wryly.
He let her think, his own mind working busily as he tried to figure out what was troubling her. Did she want to talk about the patients and the resurgence of the outbreak? Or did she have something more personal on her mind? Were they finally going to talk about what had happened between them last night?
His stomach flipped over at the possibility, and he silently wished that wasn’t the case. He knew it was cowardly of him, but the morning had been rough enough already—the last thing he wanted was to hear Avery reject him again.
There was a soft thud as she set the ceramic mug on the table, and she drew a breath as if preparing herself to walk into the lion’s den. “I have an idea, and I want you to really think about it before you reject it outright.”
That was an interesting preamble. Grant’s curiosity prickled and he sat forward, meeting her gaze. “All right,” he said slowly. She’d never started a conversation like this before. What was she going to say, and why did he get the feeling he wasn’t going to like it?
She took another deep breath. “I want you to start taking the antiflu medication.”
“No.” His refusal was reflexive and instant, the word leaving his mouth before he’d fully considered the idea.
Avery lifted an eyebrow and stared at him archly. “You said you’d at least consider the idea.”
He nodded. “You’re right. I did.” He waited a beat, then said again, “No.”
Now her expression turned obstinate. “You’re not thinking clearly,” she began, but he cut her off.
“Avery, I’m not going to take medicine away from my patients. It’s my duty to care for them, and I can’t do that if all the medication has been wasted.”
“You can’t take care of anyone if you’re sick,” she snapped. “And given your recent exposures, it’s in your best interest to take a few prophylactic doses. It might save your life.”
Grant opened his mouth to argue, but she made a good point. He had taken a few risks when caring for the first set of patients, and he’d definitely been exposed to the pathogen when helping Richard. He shuddered as he recalled the man’s hot breath on his cheek as Grant had struggled to keep him upright. Was the virus now in his system, silently multiplying as he sat here thinking?
If there was a chance the antiflu drugs could keep him healthy, it would be foolish to refuse to take them. But would there be enough left for the team and the rest of the base if necessary?
Avery’s words echoed in his mind: You can’t take care of anyone if you’re sick. She was right, of course, but was his life really worth more than the life of another person on-base? If he took some of the drugs from the limited supply, was he dooming a patient to a horrible death? What gave him the right to make that decision?
But on the other hand, if he did die, who would be left to help people? The nursing staff was top-notch, but there were limits to their capabilities. If he were to fall sick or even to die, it would drastically impact the hospital’s ability to treat patients—not just those with the mystery pathogen, but people with any condition or injury. Maintaining the supply of antiflu drugs seemed like the immedi
ate right decision, but could he ethically take such a risk, knowing it might result in more harm than good?
He glanced at Avery, who sat silently, sipping her coffee. He appreciated the fact that she wasn’t trying to pressure him or rush him into making a decision. But he would have to make one soon.
Grant ran a hand through his hair, wanting suddenly to talk things over with Avery. She’d always been his moral center, and there were many times he’d turned to her for advice and insight. She always seemed to know the right thing to do, and more important, she’d always helped him find the courage to act accordingly. He’d missed her guidance over the past ten years. One more thing he’d lost thanks to his careless words...
He pushed aside the thought and focused on the question at hand. He hated the idea of potentially depriving patients of medication, but the alternative was much worse. The fact that the greater good demanded he act a little selfishly was a bitter pill to swallow, but it really did seem to be the best solution.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’ll take them.”
Avery nodded, her expression serious. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. She held his gaze, relief and gratitude shining in her eyes. A surge of warmth rose in Grant’s chest, and for a moment, the years of separation melted away and it was like they’d never been apart. He wanted so badly to touch her, to fold her into his arms and feel the weight of her against his chest. She belonged in his arms—no one else fit him quite the way she did.
The silence was broken by a whisper-soft gasp as Avery drew in a breath between her lips. Awareness flickered across her face, and for a second, Grant could have sworn she wanted him, too. But then she looked away, and the moment dissolved like ice in the sun.
“I—uh—” she stammered, clearly shaken. She pushed away from the table and stood, then swallowed the last of her coffee and took the mug to the sink. “I’ll just go and grab the drugs now.”