Pestilence: The Infection Begins

by Craig A. McDonough

  Three

  Monday morning. D-day, or as Grace Delaney preferred, V-day. She’d spent the previous days getting acquainted with the hospital surrounds, her office and some of the staff. After a restless Sunday night, she marched into the hospital ready to get things done. She couldn’t afford to entertain more thoughts of a collusion between private companies, government departments and medical professionals.

  “Good morning, Dr. Delaney. It’s so nice meet you again,” an olive-skinned dark-haired man with a touch of gray on the sides came up behind her in the hallway just before the nurses station.

  The voice sounded familiar, but at this hour and without much sleep—and definitely not enough coffee—she was at a loss. She turned around casually. “Yes, I’m Dr. Delaney. And—Dr. Moya?”

  “Pasquali, most call me Paz!”

  She was stunned by the sudden appearance of her European counterpart. She spoke to him on the phone just days ago now here he was in person. Though they had briefly met at a seminar some years back Delaney struggled to remember him—but not so for him it seemed. She finally took the hand held out in a greeting after an uncomfortable pause.

  “Err… Dr. Moya, y-you… what are you doing here?” she managed.

  “Overseeing the operation. Thorn Bio-Tech has a considerable investment in this, and I’m here to make sure it runs smoothly.”

  “Don’t worry, Dr. Moya, the company will make its money I’m sure—”

  “I resent that remark, Dr. Delaney. Though you may not think it to be the case, the company, and myself, are very concerned about the patients’ response to the vaccine, and I’m here to observe it!”

  Delaney knew her quip wasn’t called for, but with all that had transpired in recent days it was on the tip of her tongue; she couldn’t control herself. But Moya’s excuse was less than credible; if he intended to be present for the vaccinations, surely he would have known and told her over the phone. That he arrived on the day the shots were to commence suggested he’d probably been ordered by Thorn to safeguard their investment.

  “Are you just here to watch, or do you plan to assist in any way?” She avoided the potential confrontation; there was no time for it.

  “I would love to help, but the rules of the AMA state—as I’m sure you are well aware—that I cannot practice in an American hospital without the proper certification or licensing, so I’m strictly an observer, Dr. Delaney.”

  Let’s hope it remains that way, she told herself.

  “Well, I believe it’s time to get started, Dr. Moya, perhaps we can catch up later?”

  “Certainly, I would love to… over coffee?”

  Delaney smiled and this time she was first to hold out her hand. As she strolled to her temporary office at Riverside Hospital, she weighed the options.

  What is he really doing here? Did he come of his own accord or was he ordered? She believed it to be the latter, considering his ties to Thorn but would have to wait for that answer; she had more important matters to attend to.

  After a drink of water in her office to cool herself down, Delaney prepared for her day ahead. The extra personnel from the CDC had arrived as Calgleef had promised, and along with the members of her group, she had an ample-sized force to start the initial series. An unmarked CDC van of vaccines had arrived over the weekend—in the dead of night with a police escort. The orders from the CDC were to start the vaccination on outpatients who weren’t suffering from any respiratory or heart conditions and definitely not on anyone already showing symptoms of a standard cold or flu. Hospital staff allocated to Delaney would take vital signs and document names and addresses—there would be follow-up shots in the coming months. When Delaney walked into the first consultation room, in the outpatients’ clinic, she met Dr. Isaac Tilford.

  “Dr. Delaney.” He stood up from the swivel chair. “Dr. Delaney?” he said again, tilting his head to one side, his right eyebrow turned in lower than the other.

  “Err, yes, yes… you are?” She almost forgot her reason for being here when she laid eyes on the younger doctor before her. The issues that had plagued her over the last weeks seemed to vanish. One corner of her full red lips curled upward ever so slightly.

  This assignment is showing some promise at last…

  “Dr. Isaac Tilford.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “My name, I’m Dr. Isaac Tilford. I’m a first-year doctor, and I’m to assist you with these inoculations.” He held out his hand cordially, she didn’t hesitate to accept.

  “It’s a pleasure to-to meet you.” Her breath was short and she struggled for words. After her mandatory count to ten and a deep breath—her way of combating overexcitement—she regained some composure and hoped her interest wasn’t too obvious.

  “Thank you and you as well.”

  The young doctor’s hand was strong, but his skin was soft and warm. She entertained thoughts of being caressed by these hands, in a bubble bath perhaps with a glass of…

  Don’t be silly, he’s at least ten years younger and, and… oh, what the hell. You’re only here for a few days; you owe it to yourself to live a little, girl!

  “Yes I do, I do!” she whispered.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  “Oh, I just said ‘and you too,’ that’s all. I have a habit of repeating myself.” Her eyes wandered about the room—there was nowhere to hide.

  The unopened containers of vials on the dark marble counter marked Thorn Bio-Tech, reminded her why they were here.

  It had been almost a decade since a man had such an effect on her. It would have been just before taking the position at CDC, before her life became so serious.

  “We should get started, I suppose…”

  Delaney had no sooner made her suggestion when the door to the consultation room burst open. The hospital CEO, Albert Gerard, stormed in. His mere presence telegraphed all that was dark and gloomy in the world.

  “A word please, Doctor.” His voice demanding and far from agreeable. “Leave us, Tilford.”

  He had no respect for new staff members, nurses or first-year doctors. They all got a taste of his less than cheerful persona—and often.

  “If you have something you wish to say, Mr. Gerard, you can say it in front of Dr. Tilford. He’s my assistant and I’m about to begin a long and trying day. I can’t have him in and out of the room at this critical juncture.” She exaggerated of course, but she wasn’t about to let a mere hospital CEO undermine her authority, not in the consultation room and not in front of a colleague. She operated under the direction of the Center for Disease Control, who had a mandate from the federal government, it made no difference to her if he was in charge of the hospital, the county morgue or of shelling peanuts for monkeys at the zoo.

  “Very well,” retorted Gerard. “What evidence is there for an outbreak of the Baltic flu, I’ve not seen any cases of it anywhere in the United States? I demand to know why these pre-vaccination shots—as you call them—are starting here in Des Moines—and in my hospital?”

  “You’re correct, Mr. Gerard, there are no cases reported thus far of Baltic flu anywhere in the country. While we can never say for certain that we can prevent it from occurring, we can significantly lessen the chances by instigating a nationwide vaccination program. The president thought it would look good to start from here, in the center of the country, and fan out. You’ll have to question him if you want a further explanation than that. You do know the president is from here, don’t you?”

  While she waited for his answer, Delaney was quite impressed with her party-line speech. She was sure Calgleef, or even Moya, would have approved if they had heard it.

  “Yes, yes… yes, of course, but why Riverside? Why my hospital?”

  “Sir,” Tilford stepped in, “think of the publicity factor and the high regard Riverside will be held in and will go down in the history books for given its contribution to the safeguarding of Americans against a deadly overseas virus.”

  Gerard
rubbed a hand over his clean-shaven face, straightened the Windsor knot of his white polka-dot tie. “Hmm, yes I see what you mean, I do. Good thinking, err… yeah.” He turned and left as abruptly as he’d entered.

  Delaney raised her eyebrows and looked at Tilford. “What the hell just happened?”

  “Hurricane Gerard. We call him that. Generally blows out of steam before reaching danger point though.” Tilford and Delaney laughed, easing the tension considerably after the intrusion.

  “Shall we start?” she said, a smile still on her face. The day that started out not looking so well had changed for the better. Maybe I could transfer here, after these vaccinations are completed—just to monitor the patients of course! She covered her mouth to prevent her snickering being heard.

  As Tilford went to summon the first patient, Delaney had the glare of a predator in her eyes as she stared at his tight buns. A fleeting thought of her naked thighs wrapped tight around his bare butt passed through her mind.

  Enough of that. I’ve got a job to do and it’s hard enough already…

  It was going to be a long day, but not for any of the reasons she’d first thought.

  After two hours of seeing patients, Delaney and Tilford took a break. They had inoculated more than a dozen people in that time, and Delaney’s concerns weren’t alleviated at all. Each of the patients to receive a shot broke out in a sweat within seconds and complained of a burning sensation, “…like acid, it’s like acid.” Others were unsteady on their feet, and all were told to rest for a while in the waiting room before they went home.

  “I’m quite concerned with the after effects displayed by the patients, Dr. Delaney.”

  “So am I. Reactions to a vaccine can vary, and some can be adverse, but I’ve never known a reaction to occur almost instantly and for every patient to exhibit the same response, never!” She looked back at her assistant after dropping her latex gloves in the yellow disposal container. He had shown no loyalty to the hospital CEO and had a genuine interest in the patients’ welfare.

  Damn it, she said to herself, I’m going to tell him, he needs to know what we’re up against.

  “Let me explain something to you, Dr. Tilford.”

  When she was done Tilford leaned back against the examination table and stared at the floor a foot or so in front of his brown slip-on shoes. He ran a hand through his hair, then allowed it to sit there on top of his head: the personification of bewilderment.

  “So we’ve been injecting these people with an unproven drug developed with God knows what. How can that be?”

  “Essentially that’s what it is. And if my suspicions are correct, we’re up against powerful interests. Very powerful.”

  “And the president ordered this?”

  “It was an executive decision passed down to the FDA, CDC, all hospitals and health clinics. That’s part of why we are starting the program in hospitals.” Delaney moved closer to the young doctor, who was clearly shocked by the revelation. “We need to take a break. Get yourself a coffee. I have a phone call to make.”

  “About the reactions?”

  “Yes, but first I need to check with the others to see if the patients they saw exhibited a similar response. See you back here in… fifteen?”

  Tilford went to the canteen while Delaney counseled with her other CDC colleagues. The news she received—which she suspected would be the case—was that their patients also showed the same symptoms after the injection.

  Her fears had materialized in front of her.

  It was a perfect mess, but this was the one time when she could do without perfect.

  Back in the temporary relief her office afforded, Delaney made a quick coffee, then put a call through to Calgleef. The CDC had to be informed. She suspected that, if this vaccination program was an executive order, then only the president could recall it but would only do so with informed advice. Like from the director of the CDC. Calgleef was a pediatrician with some research experience, but that was about all, and that had little to do with his appointment as the CDC director.

  It was money that got him appointed. He had it and his family had it, and that bought a lot of political connections. As a substantial shareholder in two nationwide pharmacy chains, Andrew Calgleef became a major contributor to the current president’s campaign from the beginning; his reward was the directorship of the Centers for Disease Control. It wasn’t for that reason alone that Grace Delaney didn’t like him. He displayed an air of superiority, so common among the obscenely wealthy, and she had no time for people like that. For all his bad, she doubted he would stand by and allow a drug that was possibly causing complications to proceed.

  “At least he can inform the president,” she said as she pushed the buttons of her cell with the thumb of one hand. Her other held her cup of coffee to her lips for a quick sip.

  “Dr. Delaney, how good of you to call, I was just thinking about you.” Calgleef knew it was her from the caller ID on his phone. “What news do you have?”

  She detailed the events of the morning, including Moya’s unexpected arrival, to the head of the CDC.

  “Adverse reactions are to be expected, Dr.—”

  “To every single patient? And each one exhibit the same response?” She was far from patient herself, and this wasn’t the time; she had already decided to deal with any consequences later.

  “Well, that does seem odd I’ll grant you that. How many do you estimate you have treated so far?”

  “My assistant, Dr. Tilford, and I treated over a dozen, and with ten consultation rooms operating nonstop that would make it over a hundred.” When silence followed she pressed ahead. “You must do whatever’s in your power to bring this to an end—until this vaccine is properly tested.”

  “You’re like a dog with a bone over this test—”

  “Look, Calgleef,” she’d addressed him as such before, “I’m here at ground zero, I saw what occurred before my very eyes, and in my opinion we have an unsafe drug that could possibly cause more harm than the virus. I’m sure the president wouldn’t want that, would he?”

  On the other end of the line, Calgleef fumed. No subordinate spoke to him like that—no one, but there was more at stake than his pride.

  “Perhaps you’re right, Dr. Delaney. Let me make some phone calls. I’ll get right back to you!”

  The moment the conversation ended, Delaney looked at her phone almost in shock; she expected argument from her director not action. “Shit does happen apparently!”

  Before putting the receiver down Calgleef made a phone call just as he’d promised Delaney. This problem with the vaccine had to be addressed.

  “Dr. Moya, it’s Calgleef… it appears we may have a problem.”

  Four

  Her coffee now cold, Delaney rose to make another.

  “All these people,” she stopped and peered through the half-drawn venetian blinds at the traffic going by outside, “going about their business, not knowing that decisions are being made by a few individuals they’ve most likely never heard of. Sad so, so—”

  Delaney reined in her comments. She’d come full circle and now accepted the theories that government, big business and the medical establishment were conspiring to keep the population sick and dependent on medicines and doctors for their entire lives. Not a day would go by without having to take this pill or that pill and don’t forget your monthly doctor visit.

  Yes, it wasn’t hard to see a steady stream of income from a million-odd people.

  Healthy people are of no benefit to the medical or pharmaceutical industry… She recalled that phrase from one Internet site.

  She returned to her desk with a hot coffee just as the intercom phone next to the lime-green-covered desk lamp rang.

  “Dr. Delaney, it’s the patients—they’re worse!” a young nurse who couldn’t hide her panic informed.

  Delaney feared the situation would deteriorate and told the nurse she would be right there. She hoped that Calgleef or even Moya would call bac
k.

  “Please hurry, they all look like they have the flu… and it’s contagious, I know it is!”

  “Okay, Nurse, I’ll be there as quick as I can.” Delaney said as she put the receiver down. “Mm, it’s the flu,”

  Would they have deliberately encouraged the growth of this virus in the US to guarantee sales of their vaccine?

  As abhorrent as it sounded to her, it appeared to be the case.

  Dr. Moya had no answer to give Calgleef for the circumstances that prevailed at Riverside Hospital. He was only grateful he’d left before the vaccinations began. As an expert in his field he was well aware that reactions were common to any vaccine, but every single patient displaying almost the same behavior after a shot was unheard of. He cautioned the director of the CDC against informing anyone higher, especially the president. He told Calgleef he would investigate the matter personally and to not report anything until he could find an answer—if he could.

  The only man that would have an answer would be Noel Thorncroft.

  “Mr. Thorncroft, it’s Moya,” he said into his cell when the international call was answered. As personal overseer for Thorn Bio-Tech in the vaccination program, he now had Noel Thorncroft’s personal number, a major feather in his cap.

  “Yes I know, you have something for me?” Thorncroft answered dryly.

  Moya wasn’t offended, he was getting used to Thorncroft’s rude behavior. “Sir, there is a situation developing with the vaccination program, which we need to address immediately.”

  “And just what would that be?” Thorncroft’s voice changed to urgent.

  Moya heard him tell someone to, “Get off!” and understood Thorncroft wasn’t alone. Moya was among the few who knew of his employers’ passion for young men and of the small fortune he spent acquiring their services and was able to get a picture in his head—it wasn’t a pretty sight. He was also aware of what happened to anyone who mentioned it.