by Karen Randau
When she suggested the same hotel across the street that the doctor had recommended, I told her I’d stay with Cliff.
She gave a slight shrug and offered a smile that lit up her face. “We find that patients recover faster when their loved ones allow them to sleep as much as possible, but you’re welcome to stay if that makes you more comfortable. I’ll have a sleeper chair brought in for you. Promise me you’ll let your husband sleep, though. He needs it.”
I promised.
“Also, please don’t sleep in the next bed. It’s reserved for patients, even if we have none.” She moved to check Cliff’s IV.
“Before you do that, can you please show me your hospital ID?” I asked.
She tipped her head in surprise. “Sure.” She lifted her badge.
I leaned down to study the photo. Convinced the ID was hers, I asked for details. Was she the overnight nurse? When would she check Cliff’s vitals?
She looked at her watch. “I get off at seven a.m. It’s midnight now. I’ll be checking your husband’s vitals twice during the night.”
“What is the medicine Cliff is getting in the IV?”
“It’s a broad-spectrum antibiotic.” She said the name, but its many syllables slipped right out of my brain.
“Could you write that down for me please? I want to check each time someone brings in more.”
“Good idea. Not everyone is as careful as you. We appreciate that because it keeps us from making mistakes. Besides checking IDs, remember that our hospital’s staff wear purple scrubs.” She wrote the name of the medicine, then checked Cliff’s vitals and left.
The orderly who transported Cliff earlier brought in a sleeper chair and showed me how to set it up. He handed me a sheet, a blanket, and a pillow before leaving.
My body ached everywhere. As I settled in for the night, my muscles relaxed at last. An onslaught of questions kept me from sleeping, despite my fatigue.
To occupy myself, I got online to read about listeria and meningitis. The first often leads to the second. Without treatment, Cliff’s strain of meningitis could be lethal. That was before the added complication of it being a manmade, antibiotic-resistant form. And the doctor said the pathogen resembled listeria, not that it was listeria.
That sounded terrifying. I questioned why someone would do that to a whole town. I couldn’t imagine such evil.
When the reading didn’t lull me to sleep, I pulled out David’s folder about Mary and re-read the doctor’s account of what happened to her in Afghanistan.
The doctor’s intake notes said Mary arrived at the Army base’s hospital lucid and talking. Why did Major Park write that Mary’s description of the incident was unreliable if the doctor noted she was coherent when she arrived? I asked myself again why a doctor's report needed redacting.
I laid the file on the floor beside me and closed my eyes to ponder the questions.
When the door opened, I jerked awake. How long was I asleep? I didn’t see a clock.
Without turning on the light, a man with a goatee and mustache entered, his features hidden by shadows. As he walked toward Cliff’s IV, he slipped a hypodermic needle and a clean wipe from the pocket of his khaki pants.
With a yawn, I stood, stepped between him and Cliff, and asked for the man’s ID.
As he reached around me and grabbed the IV tube, I glimpsed icy blue eyes. Using his thumb, he swiped the end of the IV tube with a clean wipe. “That isn’t necessary.”
The way he chomped down on his r, I wondered if he was Russian as I knocked his hand away. “I’m not letting you give my husband anything until you show me your hospital ID and tell me why you’re not wearing the hospital’s uniform of purple scrubs. I also want to see the label of the medication you plan to give him.”
“That won’t be necessary.” He nudged me aside. “This will make your husband better.”
“Help!” I screamed as I pressed the button to call a nurse to the room.
He seized my arm and tried to reach around me with his needle.
I stomped on his instep. When his pain caused him to bend forward, I kneed his face. As he stumbled back, I kicked him in the groin.
“What’s going on?” Cliff asked as he turned toward us and shielded his eyes from the monitor lights.
Nurse Linda approached the doorway. “Who are you? What are you doing?”
The man ran into Linda, pushing her to the floor as he limped past. “Excuse me, please.”
I darted to my sleeper chair and picked up my phone, sending Katy and David a text.
Someone just tried to give Cliff medicine that wasn’t ordered for him. He attacked the nurse and me. We’re OK. Watch out for a bearded man wearing tan khaki pants and a navy polo shirt. He sounds Russian.
As I clicked on Send and pondered what kind of intruder uses polite language like excuse me and please, an alarm sounded in the hallway.
25
Cliff turned over and grunted something unintelligible.
I touched his arm until I was sure he was asleep, then rushed to the door to find out what was happening. A security guard pushed me back inside and told me to stay while staff searched for the assailant.
Katy called asking what the alarm was about. She sounded freaked out when she said an armed guard was standing outside both Mary’s and Travis’ ICU bays. I tried to stay calm, knowing I wouldn’t be any good to anyone if I lost my cool.
I dialed Taylor’s number, but the call went to voicemail. Taylor never turned off her phone. Why was it off now? I needed to find out if the CDC was restricting her use of the phone while she worked with them.
I hung up and called David.
He sounded groggy as if he was asleep. “I’m not at the hospital,” he said. “A security guard stood outside Mary’s ICU bay and told me to go rest. Depending upon how Mary is today, I might go to Rim Vista. I have to get back to work.”
With guards protecting Mary and Travis, was that proof of a connection between Mary’s attack in Afghanistan and the Rim Vista attack? Did it have to do with the blacked out sections of the Army doctor’s report in Afghanistan?
A man in a lab coat and a full, gray-streaked beard came into Cliff’s room. “Hi, I’m on the team partnering with the CDC to find a cure for your husband.” He removed a legitimate-looking CDC identification badge from his pocket, but his finger obscured all but the final K in his name. The picture matched, so I didn’t worry about the name.
Something about him seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“I have to go,” I said to David.
“What kind of doctor are you?” I asked.
“Biochemist.” He explained that he wanted a sample of whatever the intruder tried to use on Cliff. “Can you tell me what happened when the intruder came in here?” he asked.
I described the attack.
“What did the attacker look like?”
“I don’t know. It was dark in here. He had blue eyes.”
He took out a flashlight and searched the floor. “I think I found something.”
He removed a test tube from his pocket and took out a swab. He touched one end of the swab to the floor, then inserted it into the test tube and replaced the lid.
“Thank you.” He left.
I tried to follow, but an armed policeman stopped me.
“Please stay in your room, ma’am.” He closed my door.
I sat in the darkness watching Cliff until my head felt too heavy to stay upright. I laid it on Cliff’s bed. He responded when I touched his hand.
“I love you, Rita.” His whisper sounded hoarse.
“I love you.” I kissed his hand.
Moments later, someone shook my shoulder. I looked around to get my bearings. It was daylight. I slept through the night? My back and neck hurt from leaning from the chair to the bed.
“Good morning,” Taylor said. “I believe you met my CDC co-worker last night.”
I acknowledged her companion, again wondering why he seemed famili
ar, and hugged Taylor with such vigor she finally pushed me away.
“Are you okay?” she asked as she rubbed my back.
“Not really.” I embraced her again while I told her about the attempted attack on Cliff.
“I heard.” She gave me a pat on the back and nudged me toward my chair. She gestured toward her colleague, but I wasn’t ready to get back into pathogens yet.
“Why is your phone turned off?” I asked. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“We’ve invited Taylor to join our development team because of her expertise in herbal medicine,” the doctor said. “That has had the most significant impact on the Rim Vista patients. This is a highly sensitive effort, and we’re fast-tracking the development of an antidote. We need to complete this project in record time to quell the death rate in Rim Vista. We need to limit your contact with your friend. I’m sorry.”
I accepted the doctor’s handshake. Taylor pulled up the second guest chair and sat beside me. The doctor leaned against the room’s second bed.
He explained that the pathogen from Mary’s attack was like the one used in Rim Vista. “Homeland Security believes Mary’s attack was a precursor to the Rim Vista attack. There have been changes made to the pathogen, and it progresses through the stages much faster than it did with Mary. If we’re right, this is a practice for something bigger.”
“For what?” I asked.
“We don’t know, but I couldn’t tell you if I knew,” he said.
“Someone who sounded Russian attacked my husband. I have friends and family in Rim Vista. If another attack is coming, I need to know so I can warn them. We need to know what we’re up against, so we can protect ourselves.”
“Russian?” Taylor sounded concerned. She locked eyes with the doctor.
Her co-worker stood straight with a deep sigh. “I understand your frustration, but I can’t say more.” He turned to leave, gesturing for Taylor to follow.
I grabbed his arm to stop him. “You need to tell me what’s going on, so I can warn my friends and family in Rim Vista.”
“Didn’t the Russians invade Afghanistan before the Americans?” Taylor asked. “When was that?”
“I think it was the 1980s, before the breakup of the Soviet Union,” the doctor said. With a furrowed brow, he stared at the floor as if pondering something that troubled him. “A few Soviet soldiers deserted because of both the harsh conditions they endured but also the brutality against Afghan civilians. They claimed both the Soviets and the Afghans used chemical weapons.”
“What kinds of chemicals?” I asked.
“Different kinds of gases,” he said. “Nothing like this. And the Russians took their poisons with them when they pulled out in 1989.”
I asked about the dead cow found at the banks of the Rim Vista reservoir. “Was it infected with anything?”
“The same pathogen as the Rim Vista residents,” he said.
“There was a cow in Mary’s attack. What was it infected with?”
“It wasn’t. Mary claims a small drone sprayed the pathogen onto her.”
“They’re changing their mode of operation,” I observed. “Where did you find the cow?”
“I’ve said too much already.” He placed his hand on Taylor’s back. “We must go.”
“But—” I took two steps toward them as they moved toward the door.
As Taylor walked past me, she mouthed, test the water.
What water? The hospital’s water? Should I drink it? Or was she talking about Rim Vista water? Wouldn’t the authorities already have done that?
I tried to convince myself that the threat to Rim Vista was over. Homeland Security and the CDC knew what happened and was protecting the town. But why would Taylor mouth her warning to test the water rather than speak it aloud?
Was Rim Vista under quarantine, or under martial law because they suspected an attack by the Russians?
David had said the authorities suspected the Iraqi-American who worked at the water plant. Someone would intercept his family when they returned from vacation.
Why, if they suspected the Russians?
I powered up my computer and found a document declassified by the CIA. It confirmed what Taylor’s CDC colleague said about the Soviets using chemical warfare in Afghanistan. They also did it in Laos, present-day Cambodia, and Vietnam.
Did they do that in Rim Vista? Our residents had a right to know what had happened in our town.
Did Taylor mean we should test the reservoir water? How could we do that if we didn’t know where they found the cow? Maybe David knew the location.
I called him. He sounded more awake than the last time I talked to him.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I’m with Mary,” he said. “Travis now has a guard in front of his ICU bay.”
“How is Mary?”
“She’s still critical but stabilized. I can hear Travis talking to his wife.”
That sounded encouraging.
“Are you going to go back to Rim Vista today like you thought you might?”
“Maybe later, if Mary turns around.”
“Do you know where they found the cow in the reservoir?”
“Not really. I saw a picture, but it didn’t identify the location.”
“Can you get me the photo? Maybe we can work together to place it in the surroundings.”
“Why?”
I told him what Taylor’s CDC co-worker said and her suggestion to test the water.
“The reservoir is a large body of water,” he said. “It would take too much of the pathogen to contaminate the whole thing. We use the water for the town, but we treat it for common pathogens like e-coli, hepatitis, and giardia. Since we’re near farm country, we also treat for chemicals, sediment, pesticides, and a lot of other things. I don’t know of anything strong enough to stay potent enough in something as large as our reservoir and then get through what we treat the water for.”
“Something got through,” I said. “We need to know what it was and if it spread through the water or elsewhere, so we can protect ourselves from allowing it to happen again.”
“I could test the dirt if I knew where they found the cow.”
Cliff stirred.
I approached his bed and smiled. My heart soared when he smiled back and reached for my hand. His skin no longer felt feverish.
“I heard you talking on the phone about testing the water. What’s going on?”
I told him about the events from last night with David still on the phone. “Why would someone want to harm you?”
“Maybe to throw off the CDC, to make them doubt their cure is working,” he said.
“I have a plan,” I said to both David and Cliff. “As soon as I’m sure Cliff, Travis, and Mary are okay, David and I need to go back to Rim Vista.”
26
The door to Cliff’s room opened, and a purple-clad orderly pushed in a gurney carrying Travis. Katy trailed, her hand on a rolling pole with an IV bag hanging from it.
So much color had returned to my son’s face that relief caused my knees to wobble. I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.
“Hey, Mom,” Travis said with a tired smile. His eyes looked brighter than the last time I saw him, but he still looked groggy. “I’m feeling much better.” He chuckled as he said, “The ride here from the ICU wore me out though. I need a nap.”
The attendant helped Travis into the bed on the opposite side of the room from Cliff. He arranged the IV tube so it wouldn’t get in the way, then left the room.
As the door closed behind him, Katy whispered, “We need to talk.”
I glanced at Cliff’s closed eyes. “Okay, but I’d like to visit with Travis for a minute. I haven’t seen him since the helicopter flew him here from Rim Vista in critical condition.”
Travis didn’t have much more to say other than to express surprise by the speed he’s recovering. “I feel like I was stuck against a hurdle and finally got o
ver it.” He drifted into what looked like peaceful sleep within minutes.
Katy grasped my arm, led me into the bathroom, and shut the door. “While I was with Travis in the ICU, I overheard Mary talking to Taylor. A bearded guy in a white lab coat stayed outside her bay.”
“That was a biochemist I met in Cliff’s room,” I said. “He’s on a team of doctors, engineers, and herbalists partnering with the CDC. They’re working on an antidote. What did Taylor talk to Mary about?”
“She asked about Mary’s attack in Afghanistan. Mary’s voice was weak and quiet, so I had to move closer to her bay to hear the conversation. That CDC guy and a serious police officer glared at me the whole time. I’m not sure, but I think Mary said the guy she was with during the explosion was her commanding officer. Colonel something.
“John Brandish.”
Katy snapped an index finger toward me to acknowledge the name. “Mary said before she and the colonel left the base to talk to the Afghan woman whose cow died, Brandish argued with someone named Major Park about a phone call Brandish overheard.”
“Park? His account of the attack differed from Mary’s. I’ve been wondering why. If he argued with Brandish, maybe he knows something about the attack. Are you sure it was Major Park?”
Katy’s forehead crinkled, and she stared at a crack in one of the floor tiles for a second. “Yes. It was Park.”
“Were Russians mentioned?”
“Why would you think that?”
“I’m thinking the Russians are behind what happened in Rim Vista.”
“Why? The cold war ended decades ago.”
I told Katy about my research, that the Russians had used chemical weapons when they invaded Afghanistan, and the CDC believed the pathogen used in Rim Vista was a more potent version of whatever sprayed Mary.
“But what does Rim Vista have to do with Russia or Afghanistan?”
“That’s what I need to find out. I’m sure Homeland Security is working on it, but from what I hear, it could take years for them to reveal anything to the public. In the meantime, I want to make sure my family and friends in Rim Vista are safe from any long-term impact of this aggression. And if this was practice for something bigger…”