Pathogen

by Jessica L. Webb

“Sure. I worked it this year,” he answered.

  “Did Keith?”

  Riley shook his head. “No, he was supposed to have the weekend off. He kept ribbing me about being behind the scenes and missing all the fun.” Riley stopped and took a breath, again like his memory had just kicked him into recalling that his friend was gone.

  “So he attended the fair,” Andy prompted.

  “No, he ended up trading weekends with someone. He wanted the following weekend to go camping with some friends who were coming up from Vancouver. He worked at the Cardiffs’ that weekend, I think.”

  “You never saw him at the Fullworth farm, then,” Andy said.

  Riley shook his head again.

  “What about that night? Where was Keith that night?”

  “We had a party here that night, sort of a last-minute thing. Keith came in late with one of the girls we hang out with.”

  “Name?” Andy pulled out her notepad.

  “Alicia. She works at one of the coffee shops downtown.”

  Andy looked at him, waiting.

  “Alicia Davidson,” Riley said hurriedly. “The coffee shop’s called the Green Bean. It’s just a few blocks from here,” he added helpfully.

  Andy flipped her notepad shut and stared silently at Riley. Kate watched Riley shift nervously under her glare. Finally Andy took a card out of her pocket and handed it over.

  “If anything else comes to mind, give me a call.”

  They walked back outside, a quick gust of wind cutting through Kate’s jacket. At least it was sunny out today. Andy indicated they should walk the three blocks to the coffee place.

  “You didn’t need me after all,” Kate said, hunching her shoulders up around her ears. “He was very cooperative.”

  “Of course he was. It was that or get busted for possession of marijuana. Cooperation was clearly the better choice,” Andy said, zipping her own jacket up higher. “I’ll talk to this Alicia Davidson, but I’ll need you to take the lead on talking to Al Sedlak. That might require some more delicacy.”

  “Are you saying you’re not delicate, Sergeant Wyles?” Kate teased.

  “You think you’re pretty funny today, don’t you?”

  “Let’s call it lack of sleep,” Kate said. “And maybe an act of contrition for not having told you about my latest run-in with the troll,” she added.

  Andy looked at her as they walked the few short blocks back towards the main street of Hidden Valley. “Can I confess something to you? Promise you won’t judge,” Andy said to Kate.

  “Of course,” Kate said, curious.

  “I want to punch Mona Kellar in the mouth every time I see her. Hard. Broken teeth, split lip, ten stitches, not able to eat for a month kind of hard,” Andy said, her voice cold. Then she looked quickly back to Kate, gauging her reaction.

  “Not bad,” Kate said casually. “Every time I see her I think about forcing her to run a comb through her hair for the first time in a decade, and then tell her she has to perform her next autopsy in six-inch stilettos.”

  Andy stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, threw back her head, and laughed. Kate loved that sound, loved how in that moment Andy’s shoulders relaxed and her eyes glinted mischievously. Kate suddenly, without thinking it through, balanced up on her toes and gave Andy a light, quick kiss on her still-laughing lips. Then she took a step back, almost shy, wishing she could kiss Andy without wondering in the back of her head who might be watching or what they might be thinking.

  “I love you, Andy Wyles,” Kate said quietly. “I know I’m doing a shitty job of showing it these days, but I love you.”

  Andy smiled and reached out to run her finger over Kate’s cheek, tucking an escaped curl back behind her ear. “I love you too, you know. And I’m glad you’re here.”

  Kate took that moment to look into Andy’s grey eyes, not caring that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk. She could almost hear the rain hitting the roof of their cabin in Montana, almost feel the damp wood of the porch swing and Andy’s arm wrapped protectively around her. Perfect.

  The Green Bean coffee bar had a classic green awning over the front entrance, the letters slashed across it in a slanting, almost impossible to read font. The windows were steamed, but Kate could see large, glinting machines and even from outside could hear the sharp motorized hum of a milk frothing machine. There were three people behind the counter, all extremely serious looking. Coffee baristas. This was definitely not Kate’s kind of coffee place.

  Just as Andy was about to open the door, Kate’s phone rang in her pocket. She checked the caller ID.

  “It’s the hospital, I better take it,” Kate said, looking up at Andy.

  “Sure, I’ll meet you back out here,” Andy said, the bells on the door jangling cheerily as she walked inside.

  Kate hunched her shoulders against the cold as she connected the call. It was the Ward B nurse with an update. Harris Trenholm’s O2 saturation levels had slipped just below the normal range. They had returned to baseline since then, but she thought Kate would want to know. Kate thanked the nurse and told her to call again if his numbers dropped, adding that she should take him down for an x-ray next time he woke up. She thought about Jack and wondered if his algorithm could possibly predict or confirm her instinct.

  Kate disconnected her phone, running her fingers over the blank screen as she processed the new information, trying so hard to figure out what she was missing. She watched Andy distractedly through the window, not really paying attention, barely remembering what they were doing here in the first place. There was something critical, something the NML had covered but Kate hadn’t understood. Something…

  The bells jangled again, Andy making her exit, just as Kate’s phone rang for the second time. The hospital, again. Kate answered it and listened with a sinking heart, asking rapid-fire questions to the person on the other end. She was vaguely aware that as they walked back towards the Yukon, Andy’s phone had also rung and she was talking in a clipped tone. Kate hung up first, thinking hard, still tuning out Andy’s conversation beside her. They climbed into the Yukon, Andy still talking, reading now from her notes. Finally she hung up, and the air was heavy with news.

  “You first,” Andy said, starting the engine.

  “Harris Trenholm is losing the battle, and I’ve got a fourth Ward B patient,” Kate said, looking up at Andy. “It’s Serena Cardiff.”

  “I thought she was discharged,” Andy said, frowning.

  “She was. Readmitted by Dr. Doyle about a half hour ago,” Kate said, for some reason holding up her phone as evidence. “Serena is showing all the signs of the HV1A virus, and we already know she has two risk factors. I need to get back to the hospital.” Kate hated to say it, to draw up her mental image of Serena’s chest x-rays, the crack in her ribs from a fall, the imagined bruising of the lung tissue. That, along with her recent bout of pneumonia, put her at higher respiratory risk. “Your turn,” she said to Andy.

  “Alicia Davidson places Keith Grange at the Fullworth farm the night of the fall fair. She called him for a ride and he stayed to help with the clean-up before they left,” Andy said, like she was reading from her notes. Her voice was distracted, though, and Kate could tell she wasn’t thinking about Alicia Davidson’s information.

  “What else?” Kate asked.

  “The phone call was from Slater. They think they found the viral containment device at the Fullworth farm. I think we might have our point of origin.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kate looked at Serena Cardiff’s pale face through the oxygen mask. So little had changed in the nine days since Kate had stood right here at the foot of Serena’s bed, flipping through her medical chart. She felt absolutely no farther ahead, had no better plan for dealing with this virus than they did nine days ago. Kate pushed away the thoughts of helplessness. Instead, she thought about the samples Dr. Doyle had sent down to the lab, the chest x-ray results which should be up any moment, the O2 saturation numbers she
had already memorized, and the high-dose steroids that they’d slammed Serena’s body with the second she’d been admitted. And still, Serena’s pale face, her breathing careful and shallow through the mask, felt like an accusation of inaction.

  “No tough-guy act this time, Serena,” Kate warned, putting down the chart. “You need to let someone know if there are any changes to how you’re feeling. I don’t have Nathan or your sister around this time to act as interpreters.”

  Serena nodded, her eyes slightly wide.

  “How are you feeling right now?” Kate asked, testing her.

  “Tired.”

  No wonder, thought Kate. She’d come in with low O2 sats, and they’d only marginally improved on a hundred percent oxygen.

  “Dizzy?” Kate checked.

  Serena shook her head. “Not anymore.” Serena’s voice was muted through the mask.

  “And if you start to feel dizzy again?” Kate knew she was pushing, but Serena’s history of hiding her symptoms scared Kate. Serena had been feeling sick again for two days before she told Nathan. Apparently, Nathan had immediately phoned Mrs. Cardiff, knowing she was the only one who could force Serena to get to the hospital.

  Serena reached out to the buzzer clipped to the white sheets of the bed, and she held it up to Kate as an answer.

  “Good.” Kate nodded approvingly. “Use it. I’m going to go see if your chest films are up, I’ll be back.”

  “Dr. Morrison?” Serena asked, just as Kate turned to go.

  “Call me Kate, it takes less time,” Kate said to the girl, smiling.

  “No visitors?”

  Kate shook her head. “I’m afraid not. This is a closed ward, only medical personnel are allowed on this level of the hospital.”

  Serena nodded, then closed her eyes, and Kate’s stomach twisted with worry. She added it to the pile.

  Back at the nurse’s station, Kate scratched at her face mask and wrote in Serena’s chart. She thought about Andy out at the Fullworth farm, directing the team sent up from Vancouver, as they secured the property. Checking her watch, Kate decided she should probably eat before meeting the rest of the medical team down in the PHEM meeting room. She gave her orders to the nurse and headed back down to the main floor of the hospital, nodding politely to the masked RCMP officer standing outside the doors of Ward B.

  Kate grabbed a sandwich and headed into the meeting room. Jack was still there or he was back again, either way looking like he hadn’t moved in days. Impossibly, he had three laptops open and the hospital computer monitor was on behind him, streaming seemingly senseless reams of data.

  “How are you doing, Jack?” Kate said, dropping into a seat near him.

  “You know me, Katie. Never happier than when I’m multitasking.”

  “Good. Have you heard from Andy?”

  “She called about a half hour ago for some information from Constable Ferris’s notes.” Jack leaned in, looking excited. “Looks like they pulled a print off the viral containment device.”

  “Already?” Kate asked, surprised. Things finally seemed to be moving on the criminal investigation end of this health crisis. Unfortunately, it put Kate and her patients no farther ahead.

  “Wylie also told me to find somewhere else to work ’cause you and the medical team are taking over the room,” Jack said, peering at her from over one of his laptops.

  “Doesn’t bother me. You can stay,” Kate told him distractedly.

  “Good, I’m just mining the medical files from the NML for information around the pattern, like you asked me to,” Jack was saying excitedly, and Kate forced herself to tune back in. “There wasn’t enough data in the charts, so I thought about what other information you had in your head that could be considered a variable. So I created a search based on the same parameters you gave me.” Jack tapped a few buttons on one of the laptops. “Should be done soon,” he finished.

  “So you basically created an algorithm to run a pattern search on my brain?”

  “Yes!” he said happily.

  “Huh. Okay.” Kate didn’t really want to think about all the information in her head and how little of it was useful.

  “Hopefully it will give you what you need,” Jack said as he picked up his sandwich and took a bite.

  Eric MacKay entered the room without his usual smile and swagger. He immediately reached for the coffee, pouring himself a cup and taking three long gulps of the hot, dark liquid before leaning his head back against the chair and closing his eyes.

  “That was the longest fucking morning of my life,” he groaned, keeping his eyes closed. “And there have been a lot of long days recently, but this one wins, hands down.”

  “Dr. Kellar?” Kate asked, sympathetically.

  “Yes.” Eric shuddered. “I know she’s the brilliant eccentric and all that, but does she have to be so nasty?” he asked, opening his eyes and looking at Kate.

  “Did she give you a hard time?”

  “A hard time?” Eric repeated, sitting up. “It felt like medical school. I couldn’t do anything right, always handed her the wrong thing, and I swear I got every answer wrong. And it’s creepy down there. And cold.” He sat up, taking another long gulp of coffee.

  “If it makes it any better, it’s not about you,” Kate told him.

  “Whatever it is, if I wasn’t motivated to keep the residents of Hidden Valley from the morgue before, I’m doubly motivated now. No way do I want to be on morgue duty with that woman again,” he said and shuddered one more time.

  Kate couldn’t help feeling guiltily glad that it wasn’t her just surfacing from the morgue after five hours with Mona Kellar. As her phone rang on the desk in front of her, Kate silently thanked Andy for keeping her above ground today. She checked the caller ID. It was the NML.

  Kate was expecting to hear Dr. Levesque’s warm, accented voice on the other end of the line, but it was Rayna. She sounded awkward at first, like a kid learning to use the phone for the first time. But as she updated Kate, giving her the details of their most recent discovery of the HV1A virus, she became more animated. She answered Kate’s questions precisely, and just before they hung up at the end of their short conversation, Kate thanked her profusely.

  “Seven to ten days,” Kate said to the room, which now included Jack, Eric, and Dr. Salinger. “From exposure to onset of symptoms, it’s seven to ten days.”

  “Original virus or mutated strain?” Dr. Salinger said, taking a seat.

  “Original. Mutated strain they are estimating four to six.” He looked surprised, echoing Kate’s reaction when she’d heard the news.

  “Interesting,” Dr. Salinger continued, his eyes bright. “So it’s longer than the influenza A virus but considerably shorter than hantavirus.”

  Mona Kellar opened the door, looked around the room with her mean eyes, and chose a seat across from Dr. Salinger.

  “What’s interesting?” she barked. She did seem to be in a worse mood than usual.

  “The NML in Winnipeg just called. Original strain of the virus, exposure to onset of symptoms they are estimating at seven to ten days. Four to six for the mutated strain.” Kate tried to include every detail, to avoid the angry, commanding voice. But Dr. Kellar seemed almost uninterested in this detail. Maybe if it didn’t affect her autopsy results, she didn’t really care. “Dr. Kellar, are there any more details to report from your most recent autopsy?” Kate asked, aiming for a tone that walked the careful line between meekness and hostility.

  “Not much,” Mona Kellar grunted. “Except Jim Beckett wins for most fluid pulled off a patient’s lungs. The combination of emphysema and HV1A is not for the faint-hearted.” She smiled cruelly, aiming it at Eric, who picked up his mug to avoid eye contact.

  “Mr. Beckett was given high-dose steroids in the ER. Did you see any effect at all?” Kate asked. She knew the answer already; there was a reason she aimed the question at the forensic pathologist, the dead man’s doctor.

  “No,” Mona Kellar said shortly. “
No effect. Looks like you’re back at square one.”

  “But that might have been the emphysema,” Dr. Salinger cut in. “I’m not sure we should throw out the initial high-dose steroid protocol based on this one patient. If he presents atypically—”

  “They all present atypically, Dr. Salinger,” Mona Kellar sneered. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we haven’t had one patient who presented the same.”

  “I recognize that,” Dr. Salinger said evenly. “I’m just saying we need more data to either support or negate our current protocol.”

  “I agree,” Kate added in. “But let’s lay out the protocol, see if we can add to it or adjust. Let me pull up Harris Trenholm’s most recent results. He’s been on the newest protocol the longest.”

  As Kate was pulling up the files she wanted to see, the intercom in the room made her jump.

  “Dr. Morrison, code blue to Ward B. Dr. Morrison, code blue to Ward B.”

  Kate was completely unaware of the faces around her as she opened the door to the meeting room and took the stairs two at a time. It wasn’t until she was at the top of the stairs, fumbling with her ID to show the RCMP officer stationed there, that she realized Eric was right behind her.

  Kate took the corner into Harris Trenholm’s room quickly, the picture of him sitting up in his hospital bed, laptop open not making any sense.

  “Dr. Morrison, down here!” Eric called from down the hall.

  Kate followed his voice one room over to the double room of Jackson and Trent Ross. The nurse was calling out vitals, saying they’d all been in the normal range twenty minutes ago. Kate pulled out her stethoscope, listening to the sharp crackle of fluid, and watched as the man strained for each wet breath.

  “There’s no point in tubing him without getting some of this fluid off,” she said to Eric, who was reading the EKG printout. Kate read the printout upside down, judged that his heart was holding up. For now.

  “Drain first, then tube?” Eric asked, pulling over a cart, adjusting the light.

  Kate looked at the man’s face, scared, half-there eyes too far gone already to even plead. “Same time,” she said shortly, then looked up at the nurse.