The Arms of Death

by Maggie Foster

  * * *

  Ginny picked herself up off the pavement, her cheeks glowing from equal parts exercise and embarrassment. She hadn’t fallen off a bicycle in twenty years and shouldn’t have done so now. She hauled the thing back over the curb and onto the sidewalk, assessing the damage. Several small cuts on her hands, one on her shoulder, a scraped knee, but all the joints still working and no damage to the bike. Nothing to keep her from completing the nine-mile circuit of the lake.

  She pulled up at the first water fountain she came to and washed the cuts and scrapes in the cold water, then stashed the bicycle in the shade of a large oak, and climbed atop one of the picnic tables. Turning her back on the houses that ran along this section of frontage road, she stretched her injured leg out and settled down to gaze out over the water.

  It was a brilliant day, the sky swept clean by the freshening breeze. “October’s bright blue weather,” her mother called it. Dark greens still held sway in the trees, it being too early in the year for autumn colors in Dallas. White sails dotted the surface of the lake, heeling over and looking in danger of getting wet. Birds hung on the air, noiseless, defying gravity. In the thick ground cover animals moved incuriously, used to strangers in their park. It was quiet. Calm. Peaceful.

  “Did you hurt yourself?”

  Ginny started, twisting in the direction of the voice. Her eyes widened as she saw Jim Mackenzie, in shorts and a golf shirt. “It’s nothing.”

  He came around and took up a position in front of her, his eyes dropping to her knee. “Mind if I take a look?”

  “It’s just a scrape.”

  “It ought to be cleaned, at least.”

  Ginny nodded. “I plan to do that as soon as I get home.”

  “I can do it here, if you like,” he said. “I brought a first aid kit with me.”

  Ginny looked at him, amused. “Do you always carry a first aid kit around with you?”

  “No. I saw you from Grandfather’s house. He lives just across the way, there.” Jim gestured toward the corner lot.

  Ginny turned and found it was so. Like most of the houses that lined the lakeside, the Laird’s home boasted picture windows that allowed the occupants to sit inside and watch the parade of cyclists, sailors, joggers, and picnickers who enjoyed the park. “How did you know I was injured?”

  “I saw you get off your bike and limp over to the table. It wasn’t hard to figure out what must have happened.” Jim smiled at her. “Now, may I look at that knee?”

  Ginny nodded. “All right, if you want to, but I assure you it’s not necessary.”

  “Then indulge me.” He put the first aid kit down on the table, straddled the bench, and set to work, his gloved fingers exploring the expanding bruise. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not much.”

  He glanced up at her face, then back down at the knee, manipulating the joint skillfully. He sponged the blood off, cleaned the wound and blotted the area dry, then took out an instant ice pack, activated it, and held it against the joint. Ginny winced.

  “It will control the swelling.”

  “I know.”

  While he worked, Ginny took a good look at the man who had spent so much of the last evening at her side. She’d been too busy sparring with him to notice anything beyond the obvious, and the dress clothes hadn’t done justice to the broad shoulders and the strong, muscular legs she now saw planted firmly on either side of the bench. He would look good in his kilt, she thought, then wondered if he even owned one. He’d been away from the Loch for a long time.

  He wrapped an elastic bandage around her knee and anchored it in place. “Any other damage?”

  Ginny held out her hands, palms up. He inspected them and the scrape on her shoulder.

  “When was your last tetanus?”

  “Last year.”

  He nodded. “Okay. It doesn’t look bad, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep some antiseptic ointment on those abrasions for a couple of days.”

  Ginny nodded. “I was planning to.”

  She watched as he rose from the bench and cleared away the mess, putting his equipment back in the pack, and throwing away the bloodied articles. “You handled that as if you knew what you were doing,” she said. Her eyes narrowed as a memory climbed sluggishly towards the surface of her brain.

  He smiled. “I’ve had some practice.”

  “Boy Scouts?”

  “Emergency Room.”

  “Oh!” Ginny sat bolt upright and stared at the man in front of her. “I’ve got it now! Mackenzie. You’ve just signed on at Hillcrest Regional.” She studied him with a good deal more than casual interest.

  He nodded. “Right. Didn’t Hal tell you?”

  “No. Not a word.”

  “Then where—” His brow furrowed.

  “Your name was on Professor Craig’s chart.”

  Jim nodded. “The man the CDC is so interested in. I took care of him when he came through the emergency room, but where did you run across his chart?”

  “In the ICU. He was my patient.”

  Jim’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re a nurse.”

  She nodded. “Critical care, adult, at Hillcrest.”

  He gave her a hard look. “You never said.”

  “You never asked.”

  “No, I didn’t, did I?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “The truth is I was enjoying a night away from it all. It was very pleasant, having you show me around the house, not thinking about medicine, not worrying about—” He stopped suddenly, staring at Ginny. “Your patient.”

  “Yes.”

  “But that means you’re—”

  Ginny nodded ruefully. “—the girl most likely to catch whatever he had. Yes. That’s why I fell off the bicycle. I was thinking about that rather than paying attention to where I was going.”

  Jim Mackenzie frowned. “I don’t suppose there’s any news?”

  “It’s too soon for anything official, but I have my spies working on it.”

  “Your spies?”

  Ginny told him about her brother.

  Jim stood in the shade of the oak tree, his arms crossed on his chest, and chewed his lip. “So he doesn’t think it sounds bad.”

  “He didn’t say that, and he did make a point of my paying attention to any vague symptoms that may develop.” She sighed. “It’s enough to make you a hypochondriac.”

  Jim laughed. “That’s what happened in medical school. Every time we were introduced to a new disease, someone in the class would come down with it.”

  Ginny nodded. “The human mind is so suggestible you can talk yourself into almost anything.”

  “That’s one of the things that makes diagnosing patients so interesting. You have to really listen to them, before you even know what tests are needed.”

  “What about a compound fracture?”

  “Even then, you need to know how it happened to know what collateral damage may have been done.”

  Ginny’s eye had been caught by one of the sailboats. She smiled as the spinnaker was released, exploding into sudden brilliant color.

  Jim followed her gaze out over the water. “Do you sail?” he asked.

  “No. I’ve been out in them, but I don’t know much about it.”

  “I’ll teach you, if you like.”

  Ginny turned and smiled at him. “I think I would like that very much,” she said. “I’ll look forward to it. And now,” she accepted his hand as she climbed down off the picnic table, “thank you very much for the first aid, but I must be getting home. I’ll see you around the hospital, I’m sure.”

  “When do you have to go back to work?”

  “Monday night.”

  “Then, if you have no other plans, may I take you to lunch?”

  She looked at him and hesitated. He was still an unknown quantity and she had a lot to think about. “I was planning to go down to the medical school library and brush up on viruses this afternoon.”

  Jim nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. Maybe I could jo
in you?”

  She studied him for a full minute before answering. “I expect you’d find it quite boring. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “You weren’t the only one exposed, you know. I promise I won’t get in your way.”

  She smiled. “All right. Come along if you want.”

  He smiled in return. “Good! Where shall we meet, and when?”

  “In front of your grandfather’s house?”

  He nodded. “Let’s say eleven thirty. That will give you time to get changed and still give us an hour for lunch and three or four hours in the library. Will that do?”

  “Perfectly. See you then.”

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  Saturday

  Jim stood at the front window of his grandfather’s house and watched the white Volkswagen make its way around the lake and up the hill. His grandfather sat watching him.

  “A woman, is it? Well, ye’ve taken yer sweet time about it, I warrant. Is this the one then?”

  Jim flushed at the straightforward question. “I just met her last night, Grandfather.”

  Angus Mackenzie snorted. “That were enough for your grandmither and me, and yer father, too.”

  Jim glanced at the shrewd expression on the older man’s face and shifted uneasily. “That may be true, but this is a very independent young woman. She may not think she needs a husband.”

  His grandfather lifted his cane, reached over, and poked Jim in the ribs with it. “Nonsense, lad. All a lass needs is a bit of encouragement.”

  Jim laughed. “Not this one.”

  “And who is it, then?”

  “Her name is Virginia Forbes and she works at the hospital.”

  “Ginny Forbes, is it?” Old Mr. Mackenzie’s eye twinkled.

  “Do you know her?”

  “Aye. A fine lass. Ye could do worse.”

  Jim gave his grandfather a sharp look. “She’s a colleague, Grandfather. That’s all.”

  “And is that how ye want it?”

  “I don’t know what I want, but we’ll be working together so I have to be careful.”

  “Careful not to let her get awa’, I should think.”

  Jim sighed at the old man’s ignorance, then explained the situation. “Careful not to do or say anything that would make her report me to the board. I’m the new kid on the block, remember?”

  Angus Mackenzie leaned forward. “I remember when we didna’ ha’e all this foolishness about lads and lasses. We met and we married and that was that.”

  “Well, all we’re going to do today is have lunch and then go down to the medical school library and do some research on viruses.”

  His grandfather nodded. “Tw’ll ha’e to do, fer a start.”

  Jim turned to face him. “If you keep pushing this way, you’ll scare her off and then there won’t be anything to start.”

  “I think ye’ll find that lass does nae scare easy.”

  “We’ll have to finish this discussion later, Grandfather. She’s here.”

  “Weel, ye’d better go, then. I’ll no hae ye keeping her waitin’.”

  “Of course not, Grandfather.” Jim sighed at the eccentricities of ancestors and hurried out.

  * * *

  They lunched on submarine sandwiches, sharing chips and cookies and making small talk about the party the night before. Jim found himself charmed by her light-hearted banter and the habit she had of looking directly into his eyes when she smiled, as if he was the only person in the world. Even as it worked its magic on him, he recalled seeing her do the same last night to each person she spoke to. He had attributed it to the event and her role as hostess. He saw now that it was part of her character. The warmth was genuine.

  When they were in his car and headed for the library, he sneaked a peek at the woman beside him. His grandfather’s attitude had disconcerted him. Modern professionals didn’t rush into things, especially not anything as serious as marriage.

  He’d been attracted to her almost at once. He’d enjoyed their conversation the night before, had found himself drifting back to her during lulls in the party. He’d decided he wouldn’t mind getting to know her better and it had seemed a stroke of luck when he looked up in time to see her coming down the trail this morning. Now it looked more like fate.

  He wasn’t surprised she’d resisted his offer to clean her wounds. She’d shown last night she had a stubborn streak a yard wide. What did astonish him was the change daylight made in her appearance. Last night, under the candles and chandeliers, he had thought her pretty, with good bones and a pleasant smile. Today, he thought he had never seen a more beautiful woman.

  Her cheeks were rosy from the exercise, her lips, too. Her skin was flawless, if you didn’t mind the dusting of pale freckles, which he did not. Her eyes, half-hidden behind long lashes, sparkled with vigor and vitality, a startling shade of green, almost matching the shirt she wore. And her hair!

  Jim had seen red hair in many varieties before, but none like this. It had to be more than one color; burnished reds and golds and chestnuts mingled in the thick braid ending in a sausage curl. He longed to wrap that curl around his fingers, to pull on it and watch it spring back into shape. He smiled to himself, remembering pulling on a girl’s braid back in elementary school, for only slightly different reasons. The smile faded as the medical school complex appeared and he remembered their errand. It would be a damned shame to lose this woman to some unknown virus. He turned into the parking lot, grimly aware he might not be able to prevent it.

  * * *

  Ginny pulled another volume from the shelves and looked at the index. It would have been easier if she could have done this on her computer, but most of these specialized journals and reference texts were not available online. She closed her aching eyes for a moment.

  “Getting tired?” Jim asked.

  “It’s a lot of material to keep straight.”

  He nodded. “That’s because the viruses themselves are so slippery. They always seem to be one step ahead of us.” He settled down on the floor near her. “What do we have so far?”

  She pulled her laptop over and scanned the notes she’d been making.

  “Viruses that affect humans are common. Colds and flu are caused by viruses. So are mumps, measles, warts, cold sores, chickenpox and shingles, yellow fever, smallpox, hepatitis, rabies and mono, to name a few.”

  She scrolled to the next section of her notes.

  “Viruses are very specific. When they infect a human, they can only act in very narrowly defined ways. As a matter of fact, viruses are so specialized that if you swallow a virus that has to be inhaled, you won’t get sick.” She looked over at Jim. “But you knew all this.”

  He nodded. “Go on.”

  “A virus is just a collection of genetic material surrounded by a protein shell. Some researchers think that viruses exist solely to increase genetic diversity.”

  “Interesting theory.”

  “Viruses aren’t really alive. They don’t eat, for instance. All they do is make baby viruses, but for that they need a cell that is alive. So they’ve gotten really good at hijacking a host cell’s resources.

  “The polio, herpes, and rabies viruses are all neurotropic, which means they prefer nerve cells. In the case of herpes, all it does is hide in the nerve cell, without damaging it. In the case of the other two, it destroys the nerve cell and causes paralysis and dementia.” She looked up at Jim. “Should we be looking for a neurotropic virus?”

  “It sounds like it.”

  “In general, viruses are fragile. They can be destroyed by heat, radiation, or drying out, but some can remain infective for days, weeks, even years, depending on the conditions. HIV can survive in laboratory settings at temperatures of minus seventy degrees Centigrade.” Ginny raised an eyebrow. “I looked that up. It works out to minus ninety-four Fahrenheit.”

  Jim nodded. “Hence the numerous Sci-Fi stories in which you find viruses embedded i
n the permafrost.”

  “I always thought the idea was too far-fetched to be credible. I know better now.”

  She went back to her notes. “Viruses are transmitted in a lot of different ways; direct contact with infected fluids, inhaling airborne dust or droplets, or scooping up the virus from surfaces: doorknobs and tabletops, for instance. Pigs can catch both human and bird versions of viruses and act as a place where new strains of virus can evolve, which birds then distribute all over the world.”

  She looked over at Jim. “Since we don’t know how Professor Craig was infected, we also don’t know whether you and I have been exposed.”

  “This is Saturday, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “That makes it three days so far. I feel fine. How about you?”

  “I have a headache, but I think it’s the research rather than the organism.”

  “I’ll get you an aspirin when we get out of here.”

  Ginny smiled and went back to her summary. “Most viruses are conquered by the human immune system and most leave behind enough antibodies to repel another attack by the same virus. That’s how vaccines work.”

  Jim nodded.

  “Unfortunately, there are always plenty of new viruses emerging, hence the two to three colds per season pattern. And there are some really bad bugs in the group. There’s a hantavirus that lives in deer mice, attacks the lungs and kills swiftly and surely. There’s HIV and all of its variants, which are slow viruses and can lie unsuspected for twelve to fifteen years, then break out and kill the victim. And there are the ‘hot agents,’ which, by definition, means a virus that spreads easily, kills swiftly, and has no cure. The most deadly are the hemorrhagic fevers. Most of the hot agents can become airborne. That’s what makes them so dangerous.”

  “But that’s not what killed Professor Craig. We would have seen bleeding.”

  Ginny nodded and continued reading. “There’s been a lot of work done on treating viruses, with some success. Early experiments included using viruses to move specific DNA strands into human cells, but more modern research is focusing on direct manipulation and targeted therapies.”

  She scrolled down the page, nearing the end of her notes.