by Barbara Ebel
Danny nodded. “Sounds hopeful?”
“Perhaps. But then even if we get somewhere…”
Danny nodded again. “I know. Then there’s the problem of applying it to humans.”
“Precisely.”
They kept their voices low as Robert took the floor and announced their admission stats on meningoencephalitis patients.
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On the ground floor, Robert Madden, Ralph Halbrow, Pamela Albrink from nursing, and the team of doctors single-filed between the rush of reporters outside the meeting room. A stream of questions bombarded them as well as flashes from cameras.
At the front of the room, two young technical men helped their CEO with a microphone. Robert cleared his throat.
“Thank you all for coming. Today, I have assembled everyone from this hospital who has been directly involved with our cases of PAM - either patient care or research to find a cure. We also have Ralph Halbrow from the CDC in Atlanta. First, for those of you who don’t know him, Dr. Danny Tilson is one of our neurosurgeons. He was responsible for our source case and involved with the initial diagnosis. He has a recent development which we didn’t break yesterday since the family situation was a bit precarious.” Robert handed Danny the microphone and stepped aside.
“As previously reported, the first case which sprouted this outbreak came from a fourteen-year-old named Michael Johnson. Michael came in on a Sunday, seventeen days ago. It is with great sadness that we are reporting Michael’s death yesterday.”
Reporters pushed forward, waving hands and clicking cameras, competing with each other.
“What about that length of time? Wasn’t that longer than other PAM patient hospitalizations?” a reporter asked clearly over the others.
“Yes, Michael’s sixteen days of survival after contracting PAM is the longest so far. Perhaps his age had something to do with it. Michael received the same antibiotics as other patients. And those treatments continue to fail.”
“What were the circumstances under which Michael came to the hospital?” asked a man with a camera crew close by.
“He hit his head on the console while boating with his family. I did surgery on him because he had an acute subdural hematoma. However, something else was going on with Michael and he became the source of a rapidly disseminating infection. He acquired the sinister organism from jumping off a cliff into Center Hill Lake. The amoeba was forced into his nose, which can penetrate the brain by this route.”
“Does this organism only live in that lake?”
“No,” Danny said. “First, it thrives in freshwaters and it is widespread. But, again, it is the mode of transmission which is important. Like most of us, little did Michael’s family know this.”
“Why isn’t modern medicine helping us out here?” a tall female asked. “Is there any progress regarding a cure?”
“I’m sure Dr. Ralph Halbrow has an update.”
Ralph leaned over and said, “We continue twenty-four hours a day at the CDC in Atlanta to discover a treatment. So far, I have nothing substantial to report.”
“Dr. Joelle Lewis struck a small ray of optimism today,” Danny said. “I’ll let Joelle say a word about that.”
Joelle stood next to Danny and took the mike. “I have nothing concrete to tell you. Just a researcher’s gut feeling that we’re working on in the lab. We’ve made two small - yet highly significant independent - steps at disarming this organism.”
“Dr. Lewis, don’t keep it to yourself,” a burly reporter said. “Tell us anything nonsubstantial as well. Is it a breakthrough antibiotic or what?”
“No.”
“Then what’s causing your gut feeling?” he asked, despite other reporters clamoring with their own questions.
Joelle sneaked a peek at Danny and replied. “Dog saliva.”
Indistinct mumbles sounded throughout the room and a throng of reporters yelled out their questions. “That’s really all I can tell you right now,” Joelle added.
Ralph took the microphone from her and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, y’all will have to let Dr. Lewis answer questions at a time when she gets more facts.”
Things quieted down and Ralph continued. His tone turned pensive. “I have today’s CDC numbers to report. Nationwide, the total number of cases reported is two-hundred and eighty-three and there have been ninety-five deaths.”
The stunned news media took a second of silence to absorb the CDC’s count.
“Does that does include Michael Johnson?” a young woman asked.
Ralph carefully scanned the entire room. “Yes. And please advise your viewers and readers if they have a hint of symptoms or signs of this meningoencephalitis as previously reported, then they should immediately seek medical attention because isolation is required. Patients are continuing to spread this brain-eating organism. I can’t think of anything worse to befall anyone.”
Chapter 26
Rachel pulled her CRV into Maxine’s parking lot, shut off the engine, and peered into the visor mirror. She didn’t need to do a thing to her hair, so she got out and smoothed her knee-length skirt and V-neck, long-sleeved top. The temperature had turned a little cooler. She enjoyed it when the weather played cat and mouse, teetering between one season and the next.
Looking around, she spotted Leo’s car two aisles over. Draping her bag over her shoulder, she headed into the restaurant. Her nerves got a bit jumpy when she saw him at the bar where they had previously had dinner. She walked up behind him.
“Hello, Leo.”
“Well, well,” Leo said. “If it isn’t Miss Extortionist.”
Rachel’s heart thumped like a kickstand on an old bike.
“Nevertheless,” Leo continued, “there’s a lot to be said about her.” He slowly looked her up and down then gazed at her face, scrutinizing it in a clockwise fashion. “She’s just beautiful.” He put down his beer mug. “But even beauty can be a mirage.”
“It’s nice to see you, too, Leo.” She climbed onto the bar stool.
“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked, placing a napkin in front of her.
“Get her a double-scotch,” Leo said. “She can handle it.”
“No,” Rachel said, her pulse quickening. “I don’t do scotch. Get me a Bailey’s.”
“Nothing hard core tonight,” Leo said. “You’re going smooth and silky.”
“That’s my style.”
“Bullshit,” Leo said.
Trying not to be obvious, Rachel looked around him. Had he brought her money?
The bartender put down her liqueur as well as two menus, then turned around and focused on the TV screen; Rachel did, too. Live coverage had begun of a news conference in Nashville. The CDC specialist handed over the microphone to the neurosurgeon in charge. Leo’s interest gained momentum when he realized Rachel’s eyes were glued on the news.
“As previously reported,” Danny said, “the first case which sprouted this outbreak came from a fourteen-year old named Michael Johnson. Michael came in on a Sunday, seventeen days ago. It is with great sadness that we are reporting Michael’s death yesterday.”
“So,” Leo said, “I gather that must be Julia’s father. The other man you hijacked.”
Rachel kept quiet.
“Okay, then, what’ll you have?” Leo asked, moving the menu towards her.
“I don’t want anything, especially if you’re not going to be civil.”
“Okay, we’ll call a truce. I was sorry to see you left me like that. You covered all the bases in your letter, however. Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.”
Rachel relaxed enough to take a sip. The drink warmed her tongue and slid down like melted chocolate. She took a deep breath. “Did you bring the money?”
Leo cracked a smile. “You must be destitute to ask for such a thing.”
Rachel flinched; the comment struck a nerve.
“Don’t worry. I decided to give you the present with strings, of course. I don’t expect anyth
ing else to come of this.” He looked questioningly at her.
Rachel swallowed, worried over legalities that could arise from Danny. Would he press charges, in which case she would have to claim her innocence and pin Julia’s abuse on Leo? What if he motioned for change in custody and dragged in the pediatrician’s testimony and she’d again have to pin it on Leo? She couldn’t think about it now. She needed the payoff so she’d just have to stay out of Leo’s way and hope the custody issues didn’t flare up.
“Leo, unless a court forces it out of me, then no one else is going to know what you did to my baby.”
Leo narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ll hold you to it.”
“No problem,” she said.
“I have your money in two small bags. They’re big bills. They’ll fit fine in that shoulder bag you brought on purpose.”
Rachel’s comfort zone returned and she finished her drink.
“If I can’t buy you dinner,” Leo said, “then how about coming back to my place? It would be nice to get my money’s worth.”
Giving him an evil look, she stood and opened her bag.
“I think I’ll skip. I have a babysitter and I want to get back to Julia,” she lied. There was no way she was going to tell him about the recent turn of events.
Leo slipped his hand into the inside pockets of his sports coat. He dropped two plastic bags into her purse; she loosened one and looked in. The cash was there. Thumbing through it the best she could, she felt confident he had made good on her blackmail.
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Danny and Casey lounged in the great room watching the 9 p.m. news recap. Danny kicked off his shoes, startling Dakota, and Casey chugged down the last of his soft drink. The taped press conference on the PAM update began.
“This is historic, you know,” Casey said. “Here we have the first devastating human illness of the third millennium.”
Danny blinked. He hadn’t thought of it that way.
“You don’t look too bad for a normal guy being on television.” Casey peered over at Danny and patted Julia’s diaper as she slept on the coach between them.
“I guess. But I wouldn’t want to make a habit of it. I’ll be glad when this whole mess is behind us.”
Casey nodded. “Me, too. Every time Mark and I make a run, we worry if it’s going to be someone infected.”
Danny reached for his cell phone on the coffee table and lowered the volume on the TV. “I’m going to call Joelle real quick.” Danny hit her number and she answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Danny. You watching our media recap?” She was curled up with Bell in her lap.
“I am. I couldn’t go to bed without putting all my faith in your lab work for tomorrow. Will you call me immediately if you get any breakthroughs?”
“You bet. Especially since all our present hope rests on your dog. Or what his DNA can do.”
Danny smiled at Dakota who rumbled in his sleep. “Thanks, Joelle. They say there is a greater thrust these days towards intertwining human and veterinarian medicine.”
“For sure. And Rhonda has been a big help.”
“Okay, good night,” Danny said.
The news conference coverage had ended so Casey flicked off the television; Danny picked Julia up but she didn’t stir too much. Both men turned off the lights and headed upstairs where Mary was already asleep.
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Joelle helped the young medical-student assistant with the spectrometer samples and results he had worked on. The sun beamed into that area of the lab as she showed him how she wanted the outcomes recorded. He asked her questions about the ongoing medical epidemic.
“I want to be a medical researcher some day,” he said. “I don’t think I can handle listening to people complaining about what aches them here or there.”
“You may make a fine one then,” she responded. “Especially if you like detail.”
He gleamed and pushed back his long hair. “Plus, I’m good with numbers.”
Joelle finished with him, turned the radio up a bit, and went to the other side of the lab. He was probably another student filling his resume by covering all the basics, and then would come to her in a few years to write a recommendation. That’s the way it usually worked.
She couldn’t wait to prepare her slides from the seventh saliva sample and needed to start without Rhonda who had said she’d get over in the afternoon if a small window of opportunity came along.
Joelle moved the base of the light microscope over and sat on the bench. She had several slides of the same thing and slipped the first one under the stage clips, working the knobs to adjust the image. Before looking, she tapped her fingers on the scope in time to the music, praying for an optimistic finding.
Under the scope, what she peered at was a trophozoite whose outer membrane had been breached like what the Newfoundland’s saliva had done. But, in addition, the inside - the cell nucleus - had been decimated like what Joelle had caused to happen with the Labrador retriever’s saliva. One dog, or possibly one breed, had done both.
“Eureka!” she exclaimed. Standing up, she switched to another slide and it showed the same thing. Tears came to her eyes and she sat down again. The tears accumulated and flowed.
Reaching for a tissue, Joelle sobbed and pumped her fists when she stopped whimpering with joy.
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Ten minutes later and with much more composure, Joelle called Danny. When Danny saw her number, he excused himself from speaking with a patient in the preop area and went to the desk.
“Joelle?” he said.
“Guess what?” she sputtered, choking up again.
Danny closed his eyes. “I’m taking your tone to mean we’ve got a positive result.”
“Yes. Your dog’s saliva both penetrates and destroys the inside of this amoeba. In vitro, of course.”
Danny felt his hair stand on end. The implications were staggering. “Joelle, nice work. This is incredible.” He spun the stool around to face the wall, away from staff and patients.
“Nice teamwork for all of us,” she said.
“You know this will go somewhere. It has to. The implication is that Dakota’s saliva probably kept me from getting PAM, or killed the amoeba once I picked it up.”
“I hear you. Let’s see what results we get from Rhonda’s samples she brought me yesterday, although we have a beginning substrate for a cure. But … there’s always the FDA to contend with.”
“However, lives are at stake,” Danny said. “What can I do for you now?”
“I have to call Rhonda right away. Can you call Ralph at the CDC and give him a heads up, too?”
“You got it. I’ll talk to the southern humorist doc anytime.”
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When Joelle called her veterinarian friend with the news, Rhonda confessed, “I’ve never been this happy about results to do with humans! Ever!”
“Why don’t you come see for yourself at the end of the day?” Joelle suggested. “I think we can prepare the next six samples you brought over by then, the other Chesapeakes. I am so curious if it’s just Danny’s dog or indicative of the whole breed.”
“I have my theories about that,” Rhonda said. She stood at an open classroom door monitoring students taking a test.
“Are you going to tell me what they are?”
“I’ll explain later.”
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At four o’clock Danny and Joelle met with Timothy and Peter at the hospital to round on all present patients with PAM. Joelle explained to them how her lab work showed promise and how they had gone down the route they had. They visited Bill Patogue, barely alive, in a deep coma. They each silently said their good-byes, knowing death would come during the night.
Sitting down in a small, empty room for families, Timothy propped his cane in the corner and sat with a heavy heart, “I’m retiring soon, all of you. It is very sad to be leaving under these conditions.”
“Maybe we’ll break ground before we thro
w you a retirement party,” Joelle said, forcing a smile.
“I’ll second that,” Danny said. “Even so, Timothy, I know you’ve had a stellar career. You and I have sent patients back and forth for each other’s expertise for years so I can attest to your neurology skills.”
Timothy grinned, his crow’s feet giving testimony to his seventy-one years. “Thanks, Danny.”
A half-hour later, they broke up their discussions and Joelle and Danny walked over to the lab. A cool, pleasant breeze blew through the wind-tunnel between the medical buildings, hinting of an advancing change in the weather.
Chapter 27
As Danny and Joelle passed the fountain – walking towards their own reflections on the glassed-floor - Joelle pulled out her cell and called Rhonda. “Danny and I will be in the lab in two minutes. Is it a good time for you?”
“I’ll be there in five,” she said and hung up.
After gearing up, Joelle and Danny took a spot at her lab table. “Let me show you what your dog did.” She opened a slide box nearby. “By the way, what’s his name?”
“Dakota.”
“Good name. How did you come up with it?” She set up a scope with the morning slides.
“I didn’t. My baby girl’s mother dumped him on me. Her loss. She then wanted him back after she blew town and got settled.”
Joelle fiddled with her earring. “Well, I can say two things about her. She has good taste in men and dogs.”
“Well, thank you. I think what you mean to say is that she had good taste to figure out a sucker.”
Joelle laughed. “We all make mistakes, Danny. Now you’ll never make that one again.”
“I make a better surgeon than a womanizer,” he said with a smile.
She signaled for him to look under the microscope. “I have a sneaky suspicion it’s your ex-wife that’s your soul mate.”
“Me, too.” Danny replied as he stared at the brain eating amoeba whose insides had been churned to goop.
He whistled. “Hallelujah,” he said.