by Bobby Akart
A hand rose in the rear of the room. “Dr. Braswell, how does C. auris impact the patient?”
“The fungus is different because it acts like a bacteria, causing serious wound and bloodstream infections in people who are already hospitalized and ill. Like these bacteria, it causes overwhelming infections that overtake the immune system and doesn’t respond to drugs.”
Another question was raised. “What is its lifespan outside of its host?”
Dr. Braswell set down the remote and put his hands in his pockets. He had a grim look on his face. “What’s also unique about this organism is that it can actually stay on skin surfaces for prolonged periods of time, even months, after the initial infection is cured. A carrier of the disease is likely to be discharged from a physician’s care and still be infected with C. auris. What we’ve been able to find out is that, in fact, C. auris is colonized in patients even after they undergo an antifungal drug regimen. The patients still have it on their skin.”
Mac’s mind raced as she thought about the correlation between an antibiotic-resistant fungus like C. auris and an infectious disease like pneumonic plague. Could the two be married together to create a superbug?
*****
Mac arrived back at her office and found Baggett waiting for her. He was sitting quietly in a corner of her office, not saying a word. His sudden appearance startled Mac.
She looked down at her watch. “Were we scheduled for a meeting? I was in a briefing with Dr. Braswell.”
“No, but I needed to see you,” started Baggett with an air of mystery. “Please sit down.”
Mac slowly made her way to her desk, where she eased into her chair. She purposefully left her door open. She didn’t trust Baggett and had no problem with other CDC staff overhearing what he had to say. She might need a witness someday.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Tomorrow, both the New York Times and the Washington Post will be running front-page stories on the disease outbreak in Guatemala. The CDC is going to come under attack for its ineffective response.”
“But we were on top of this from the beginning,” protested Mac. “Because of the long incubation period and the extremely isolated early hot zones, it was impossible to contact trace any potential infected locals. The disease has only mushroomed in the last few days.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Dr. Hagan. However, in an election year, political opponents and the media look for issues to sell whatever they sell. Here’s what I can tell you about the business of politics. When you work for a government agency, your loyalty is to the hand that feeds you. You keep your nose to the wind and follow the lead of the party in Congress who controls appropriations, or the occupant of the White House who dictates policy.”
“Well, how do you deal with a situation like now where Congress and the President are at odds with one another?”
Baggett let out a genuine laugh. “I call it the politics of fence riding. You try your best to be apolitical and focus on the task at hand, but when your funding is on the line, you stand up for your agency. No matter what the circumstances are, when you have an opportunity to speak in front of a President or a congressman, the answer is always the same—more money. You ride the middle of the fence as the power changes hands in Washington. When a new administration or Congress takes hold, you can speak to them as if you’re old pals.”
Mac shook her head and relaxed. This was a side of Baggett she’d never seen before. If the man could just set aside whatever insecurities plagued him, he could be likable. “Well, that’s why I could never enjoy politics. It’s a nasty game that I don’t know how to play.”
“Dr. Hagan, that’s why I’m here. You have to learn to play the game. You’ll represent the CDC in front of the House Committee on Energy and Commerce.”
Mac looked at Baggett and smiled while rocking back and forth in her chair. Ten seconds seemed like an eternity. “What?” was the only word she could muster.
“The chairman of the committee has requested a representative of the CDC to appear before a House panel to discuss the CDC’s response to the outbreak in Guatemala and to answer questions about the possible spread of the disease to the United States.”
“Okay, what’s that got to do with me? I mean, the White House Situation Room was one thing, but Congress. Surely this is something for Dr. Spielman, right?”
“No, actually, he asked me to come see you. He received glowing reports about your performance in the Situation Room, as did I. You’ll be the face of the CDC on this one.”
“When?”
“End of the week.”
“What do I say? I mean, after all of that talk about politics and fence-riding, I’m not sure I’m the one you want.”
Baggett hesitated and then bluntly provided Mac her marching orders. He stood up and approached her desk, looking down at her as he established an intimidating, power position of authority.
“You’ll keep it simple. You’ll complain about lack of funding and resources. You’ll constantly reiterate that there are no active cases of the plague on U.S. soil. You’ll deflect attention to another topic like this new fungus thing, the superbug. You will not be overdramatic or cause a panic.”
Mac glared back. Looked like the old D-Bag was still around.
*****
Baggett dialed the White House before he reached his office. He was finally routed to Chief of Staff Morse.
“Mr. Morse, everything is in place for the committee hearing,” started Baggett. “I believe she has a good understanding of what’s expected of her.”
“What’s she gonna say?” asked Morse, who added an additional comment. “We don’t want any headlines to come of this hearing. You do remember Ebolamania, don’t you?”
“I do. Listen, she’ll be fine. I know what your concerns are, but I don’t believe she’s in the same mold as her mother. Dr. Hagan isn’t interested in politics or grandstanding. She’s more of a science nerd.”
“I hope you’re right, for your sake, Baggett,” Morse subtly threatened. “If she turns out to be a loose cannon, it’s your job on the line. Are we clear?”
“Got it,” replied Baggett as the White House Chief of Staff slammed down the phone.
Chapter 71
Day Twenty-Four
The Ivy
Buckhead
Hunter arrived at The Ivy early. He’d heard about their legendary three-hundred-inch television, which loomed large over the outdoor terrace, and he wanted to secure a table for the two of them outside. In a way, this was their first formal date, unlike the chance meeting in Athens. Hunter hoped this would be an opportunity for the two of them to get to know one another on a personal level, and leave the terror that threatened their existence in another part of the world, at least for one night.
The Ivy was a renovated mansion that was converted decades ago into a Buckhead social fixture. With its twenty-eight flat-screens in addition to the monstrosity that hung on the terrace, the space had become one of Atlanta’s hottest nightspots, especially for those who were looking for a trendy sports bar.
Hunter stood at the rail of the second level, taking in the view of the surroundings. He saw Mac pull into the valet parking stand and get out. She had a certain grace about her, with a strong air of confidence. Perhaps it was her five-foot-ten stature or her physical build, but even to men, she could appear intimidating. Hunter, on the other hand, admired this in a woman. For the first time in his life, Hunter found himself in pursuit of a long-term relationship.
He left the rail and found his way to the Gazebo bar and ordered two Bud longnecks. One thing they had in common—they were both bottle babies. Hunter planned on looking for more common ground tonight.
When she approached the table, he immediately stood and pulled out a chair for her to sit. She reached up and touched his shoulder as she smiled and said thank you. All of these little contacts between them gave Hunter the butterflies. Yes, he thought to himself, even I can have the butterflie
s.
“Hunter, this is one heckuva surprise,” said Mac as she scooted in her chair. “When I received your text a few hours ago, the first thing I thought was here comes my knight in shining armor to save me from this day.”
Hunter provided his best rendition of a medieval knight’s bow. “I am at your service, milady.” Hunter slid into the chair across from Mac.
This drew a smile and a laugh from Mac, who immediately reached for her beer and proposed a toast. “To the good old days!”
Hunter clinked bottles and they both took a swig. “You mean, the good old days of the fourteenth century. Seems like we’re about to relive it.” Darn it, Hunter, that’s borderline shop talk.
“Well, maybe so, but I’ll fight the battles with you, my loyal knight.” Mac laughed as she took another swig. She glanced up to the big screen, which was showing the Braves-Marlins game. “Do you like baseball? Around here, everybody is a Braves fan, naturally.”
Hunter spun around in his chair to get a better look. “That thing’s incredible.”
“Yeah. Why don’t you slide around the side next to me?” offered Mac. “I don’t bite, you know.”
“Okay,” said Hunter, who moved faster than a vampire on True Blood to take up his spot next to her. “I’m kind of a Marlins fan. Growing up around DC, I watched a lot of Nationals games on TV, but when Derek Jeter and Jeb Bush bought the Marlins, I switched allegiances.”
“Do you like Jeb Bush?” asked Mac. “You don’t seem like the political type.”
“That’s true, I hate everything about politics. Everything has become hyper-politicized, especially for those who’re constantly looking for a hidden meaning in everything. One might assume that I’m a Republican because I like the Marlins and they’re owned, in part, by Jeb Bush. But, because I recycle, someone else might assume that I’m a save-the-whales Democrat.”
Mac started laughing. “Do you recycle?”
“No.”
“Then you are a Republican because you like the Marlins!”
“No!” Hunter protested. “I’m not a Republican. I’m a none-of-the-above. I love my country and I do my duty to protect her. I wish the politicians would all go home and do nothing. We’d be better off.”
Mac finished her beer and was studying Hunter. He sensed that she was teasing him.
“So you invite me out for a drink, in the land of the free and home of the Braves, and declare your allegiance to the Florida Marlins, who really should be called the Miami Marlins.”
“You’re the one who asked if I like baseball. Besides, it’s because of Derek Jeter anyway.”
Mac was relentless. “You’re a Yankee fan?”
“Oh my God, no. It’s just that I met him a long time ago and we stayed in touch for a while before I entered the service. He’s a really good guy.”
Mac touched his hand, which had a firm grip on his beer. “You know I’m just bustin’ your balls.”
Hunter laughed after her statement. Mac was a guy’s girl. With every passing minute, he liked her more and more. “I know. You wanna hear the story?”
“If it comes with another beer, I’ll manage to endure it,” she said, laughing. Hunter flagged down a server and ordered two more Buds. Then Mac shocked him by ordering a couple of tequila shots.
“Wait, make those Patron Gran, please,” said Hunter.
“Well, that’s the high-dollar stuff. They must pay you well over at the DTRA.”
“No, not really, considering what I do. I have a little money of my own that I spend wisely.”
“On expensive tequila?” asked Mac.
“I consider it an investment on future earnings.” Hunter laughed as the server returned with their drinks.
“Let’s do this,” said Mac, who immediately licked her hand between her thumb and index finger, doused it with salt and licked it again. Hunter followed her lead and they slammed back their Patron shots and simultaneously sucked their limes. Both of them burst out laughing at their first effort at choreographed tequila shots. “Salud!”
“Salud!” said Hunter. “Now I know where you learned your limited Spanish.”
“Yup, enjoying tequila is a carryover from my college days,” she said, leaning forward on the table with both elbows, her chin resting on her hands. “Now, tell me a story.”
“Back in ’07, I was a junior at VMI when the shooter killed those thirty-two people. It had an impact on me, as well as most of my friends.”
“Wait, you were at VMI in ’07?” interrupted Mac. “I was a sophomore at Virginia Tech when the shooting occurred. Of course I remember it.”
“Wow, small world. I had no idea,” said Hunter. “Okay, so you remember. Were you still there the following year when the Yankees came to Blacksburg to play the Hokies in an exhibition game?”
“I was at the game! Most of us cried during the whole thing because it was so emotional.”
Hunter sat up in his chair and grabbed Mac’s hand. “This is unbelievable. I was there too. That’s when I met Derek Jeter. We used to exchange emails and he’d get me tickets to the Yankees games when they played the Orioles or the Senators. We fell out of touch, but I still admire the guy for his support of the families of the people killed by that crazy idiot.”
“Wow, Hunter,” said Mac, still holding hands with Hunter. “We were both at that game and didn’t know it. This is a really small world.”
“That shooting forced me to grow up that day. Life is short and time goes by fast. There’s no replay or rewind. I vowed to make an impact on the world that day, in whatever way I could.”
Mac looked into his eyes and smiled. “Are you fulfilling your promise to yourself?”
“In part,” he replied.
“What’s missing?”
Hunter shyly looked down at the table and twirled a beverage napkin in a circle. “Someone like you.”
Chapter 72
Day Twenty-Four
Park Place on Peachtree
Buckhead
Hunter and Mac were wrapped in a blanket, holding each other quietly on her sofa. What happened between them was not a tequila-induced booty call, but rather, it was a genuine feeling of love, or at least a budding romance. Sometimes the extraordinary pressure of a career, or a threat upon your life, can cause your emotions to overflow, landing you in the arms of someone. Other times, two people fall in love because they’re meant for each other, and events in their lives nudge them together, allowing human nature to take over from there.
Such was the case for Mac and Hunter. The odds of the two of them being in the same small college baseball stadium so many years ago and then meeting each other in an obscure place like the jungles of Guatemala were too large to fathom. There was only one explanation—fate. Mac believed people didn’t meet by accident. They were meant to cross paths for a reason. She was glad Hunter crossed her path.
Hunter was beginning to stir and Mac knew that potentially awkward moment was about to face the two of them. One of two things would happen. He would have that oh-my-what-have-I-done reaction, which she had felt in the past. Or he’d embrace the moment like she had.
He opened his eyes and squeezed her tight. “Hey, that was awesome. Let’s do it again.”
Then, there was the boy reaction.
“You have to wait, mister,” said Mac as she left him to his devilish devices. “I’ve got to hit the head.” She got up and walked to the bathroom, glancing at the mirror to see if he was watching her. Naturally, his eyes followed her down the hallway.
Mac emerged in a robe and went to the kitchen. She checked the clock. 10:15. Still early, but she debated a nightcap. The congressional hearing immediately popped into her mind. She had a few days to prepare, but maybe she shouldn’t have any more beer. Mac glanced into the living room and saw Hunter. No, this is my time. I have a gorgeous man in my home and I’m going to explore a relationship with him some more. She popped the top on the Budweisers and returned to the sofa.
“Thanks,” said
Hunter as he accepted the cold beer. “Are you okay? I mean, you know.”
Mac dropped her robe and slid under the blanket with him. They easily and comfortably intertwined their legs, as if they’d been doing it for years.
“I’m better than okay, Hunter. I knew this would happen.”
“You did?” asked Hunter as he tipped up his beer.
“Yup, I’m irresistible.”
Hunter busted out laughing and poured beer down his chest and onto the blanket.
“I see that I’ll have to housetrain you, however.” Mac laughed, never taking her eyes off his muscular chest. She told herself this relationship started on several levels, but having seen his physique, she was pleased at the bonus he provided in that regard.
“Sorry about that.” Hunter set down his beer and tried to wipe the mess off the blanket, to no avail.
“Don’t worry, Hunter. It’ll wash.” Mac grabbed his hands and forced him to quit fussing over the blanket. “Let’s talk about something.”
“Are you about to kick me out? Pat me on the head and say that was great but—”
“Would you stop and listen to me, please.” Mac laughed. “This is hard for me, okay?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve thought a lot about you, and a possible us, since Athens. I want this more than anything in the world. But look at our lives right now. I’ve begun to feel the magnitude of what’s happening in the world. I know you are too. How in the heck do we start a relationship under these circumstances?”
Hunter reached for his beer and took a sip. “I personally feel like we’re off to a rousing start, pardon the pun.”
Mac tossed a pillow over his head. “Would you be serious?”
“I don’t know, Mac. I’ve never really had a relationship before, and I’m glad. I’m out-of-my-mind in love with you and that’s the only true love I wanna know.”
“You love me?”