Fatal Deception

by April Hunt

  Behind them, the cabin door opened. Jaz and Isa stepped onto the porch.

  “Clinic time already?” Roman asked.

  Isabel nodded. “Tony’s meeting me there. We’ll take a quick look at today’s incoming patients, and then we’ll head over to the school. Er, hospital. School-turned-hospital.”

  They’d already been hit with that info a few hours ago. An increasing number of patients had meant relocating the sick to a larger venue, and without a local hospital, the next largest building able to handle the load—and the need for infection control—was the school.

  “Jaz takes the clinic’s front entrance. Ryder has the rear. King and I will go ahead to the school and make sure it’s secure prior to your arrival. If you see something you don’t like, say something.” Roman locked Isa in a stern glare. “And all plans get halted until we’re in the clear again.”

  Isa folded her arms across her chest. “Why do I get the distinct feeling you’re trying to tell me something?”

  “Because I am. Your being here hinges on us being able to keep you safe. If that safety becomes compromised, and we tell you to hide in the bathroom for six hours with only your stethoscope for company, then that’s what you’ll do. You drop what you’re doing. You run. And you hide.”

  “And what will you be doing?”

  “Kicking someone’s ass.”

  Roman’s comment earned him three hell yeahs from the rest of the team, but Isa didn’t look the least bit impressed, compressing her mouth into a tight line.

  “Jaz. Ryder. Go ahead and secure the clinic. King, I’ll catch up with you after I grab some coffee.” Roman urged them all to go…except for Isabel.

  Chuckling, King picked up his gear bag and tossed it over his shoulder. “Looks like we’ve been dismissed, boys and gir—uh, deadly sniper. Let’s get to it.”

  “Nice save there, King.” Jaz pushed by the larger man with a roll of her eyes. “Guess you’re smarter than you look.”

  Roman waited until everyone was out of earshot before turning back to Isa.

  “Is this where you dish out your warnings? Again?” Isa waited expectedly. “If you recite them so frequently, you should think about recording them. If not, invest in some throat lozenges.”

  “Depends. Is any of it sinking in?”

  “Stay alert. Report suspicious activity. Don’t wander. Rest. Hydrate. And—”

  “Breathe,” Roman finished her sentence. Stepping close, his boots bumped into hers as he cupped her cheek and angled her gaze toward his. “And remember you’re not walking into this alone.”

  Isabel’s hands, resting on his hips, slid up his torso and around his back. He tried convincing himself to step away, but she had other plans, her fingers caressing the back of his shirt. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, her little pink tongue flicking out to wet her bottom lip.

  Their determination to keep their hands to themselves shattered.

  Isa’s tongue slipped alongside his. On contact, she emitted a breathy groan. Wanting to hear it again, he walked them back against the porch railing and used it as an anchor, crushing his body against hers.

  The days since he’d last had her suddenly felt like forever. It felt like too much and yet not enough. It overwhelmed his senses until he forgot they stood out in the open where anyone with eyes—or a rifle scope—could see them.

  With a reluctant groan, he dragged his mouth away and reveled in the sound of Isabel’s displeased growl. “And we were doing so well with that distance thing.”

  “But were we really? Because I don’t know about you, Doc, but it didn’t keep me from picturing you naked and under me a million times a fucking day.”

  With a resigned chuckle, Isabel dropped her head onto his chest. “And here I thought it was just me.”

  “Not just you, babe.”

  Her big brown eyes looked up into his, and he immediately wanted to kiss her again.

  “So what does that mean?” Isabel asked, her voice unsure.

  Hell if he knew, but they didn’t have time to read too much into it now. “It means we’re screwed. Metaphorically and literally.”

  Isabel laughed, the melodic sound pulling a chuckle from his throat. And once he released it, it was followed by another. And another. The chuckles kept coming from them both until they both stood on the porch of the cabin, tears slipping down their cheeks.

  Roman couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed, and he had a sneaking, underlying suspicion if it wasn’t for the woman in front of him, it would’ve been even longer.

  Chapter

  Twelve

  Bedside medicine challenged Isa right down to her very core, and not just physically. It was emotionally draining. They’d started at the clinic where parents, worried over their little one’s sniffle or cough, flocked to the neighborhood doctor’s office. The staff there triaged the huge influx of patients as best they could, making sure they were either sent to the makeshift hospital for closer examination or sent home to rest and recuperate.

  In the few hours Isa and Tony had been at the school, the clinic had sent over four more potential cases…and yet it could’ve been so much worse if this virus were airborne. Isa was glad that wasn’t the case, but also was more fearful that it meant they could be dealing with FC-5.

  Once they figured out what this was, education would have to be a priority. People needed to know tried and true methods to protect themselves and their families, because even though surgical masks were a good idea with flu outbreaks and the containment of RSV, they didn’t do a damn thing against hemorrhagic diseases.

  “Isa.” Tony, gowned head to toe in a suit not unlike those worn by healthcare workers in the 2014 Ebola outbreak, nodded toward the second staged ward of sick patients.

  In the short time he’d been in Beaver Ridge, he’d done an amazing job setting up the school to suit their needs, triaging patients into separate rooms based on the severity of their symptoms. They’d been through the first two rooms—with about five patients each—for the better part of the morning, assisting the care volunteers and taking new batches of blood samples. Now it was time to do the same to zone 3—the sicker of the Beaver Ridge residents, and Isa knew from reading Tony’s reports that it was also the largest group.

  It made sense medically speaking because FC-5—unlike Ebola—was contagious even when the patient showed no physical symptoms. That’s what made it so deadly. With no obvious illness, people go about their normal daily routine.

  Lovers have sex without protection. Mothers and fathers change diapers without gloves. Children share snacks out of each other’s lunch boxes, which were made with love—and possible germs—of an infected parent or caregiver. In close communities like Beaver Ridge, it didn’t take long for entire families to fall ill, quickly, and one right after the other.

  “You ready?” From behind his hood, Tony’s blue eyes studied her so as to make sure she wasn’t about to lie to him.

  “Let’s go.” Isa braced herself to leave the locker room, which was being used as a clean holding room.

  His gloved hand dropped on her arm. “I can make rounds by myself if you want to go take a rest. We have more volunteers manning zone three than we do the other units, so I’ll be fine.”

  Always out to protect her. She shook her head. “There’s more volunteers in there because there’s more patients. I’m fine. It’ll go quicker with the two of us.”

  And not to mention that the sooner they collected all of the samples, the sooner she could leave the patient care area and get those samples under a slide.

  Tony looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Nodding, he opened the door, and the scene in front of Isa took her breath away.

  What was once a gymnasium had been transformed into an emergency shelter with medical equipment. At least sixteen cots filled the room, twelve of which were occupied. Intravenous lines hung from IV poles and, in some cases, coat racks, which made administering medications and fluids a lot easier.


  In most hemorrhagic diseases, the deadly culprit wasn’t the actual virus itself; it was what the virus did to the body. It damaged vital organs and disrupted the body’s routine response and coping mechanisms for dealing with a foreign invasion. This meant fevers spiking to dangerous, seizure-inducing levels. It meant blood serums that didn’t clot, or that clotted in organs unable to handle the increased load.

  In dealing with hemorrhagic diseases, the goal was to keep the patient alive long enough for the virus to eventually wear out its welcome, and that outcome was a lot harder to achieve in the elderly, the young, and the immunocompromised.

  “Tag team or splinter off?” Tony asked.

  Isa took a deep breath and temporarily fogged her hood. “We can help more people if we splinter apart. Let’s start at the far end and work our way inside.”

  “Sounds like a plan. And hey.” He flashed her a wink. “Easy does it.”

  For the next four hours, Isa worked directly with one of the volunteers. Hopping from patient to patient, she performed and documented assessments. She drew blood. And with each person she spoke to, it got harder and harder to remain emotionally detached.

  Maybe it was the exhaustion.

  Maybe it was the people.

  Maybe it was her.

  By the time she reached her second-to-last cot, Isa was a half conversation away from bursting into tears.

  “You okay, Dr. Santiago?” Marie, her assistant, stayed close. A first-year college student who had just happened to be visiting her family while on break, Marie handed her the audible stethoscope that would allow her to hear her patient’s heart and lung sounds.

  “I’m good.” She smiled at the mother and small toddler sitting on the cot in front of her, worry and exhaustion on both their faces. Kneeling down to the child’s level, Isa kept her voice light. “And who do we have here?”

  “I’m Beth.” The mother rubbed her daughter’s back. “And this is Abby. She’s two.”

  “Hello there, Abby-who’s-two. I’m Isa-who’s-a-lot-older-than-that.” She gently brushed her gloved finger along the little girl’s foot and immediately got a cringe in return. “I know this big ol’ suit probably looks scary to you, but I promise I’m not that scary under here. Do you like balloons? Do you want to hold one for me while I take a listen to your heart?”

  Abby nibbled her bottom lip, deep in reflection, before she finally nodded.

  “Marie, can you hand me one of the purple gloves?”

  The young girl handed her a purple nitrile glove. Using the spare portable oxygen tank on her hip, Isa blew it up until all five fingers wiggled. She drew a silly face on it before dancing it toward a curious Abby. “You’ll have to think up a name for him, okay? And if you’re a good girl for me, we’ll make him a dance partner when we’re all done. Would you like that?”

  Abby stole a quick glance at her mom before tentatively reaching out for the wiggling glove, and as Isa hoped, it distracted the little girl long enough for her to slide the audible stethoscope around her back.

  “How has she been doing?” Isa asked Beth as she turned off the machine and handed it back to Marie.

  “She’s not eating much, and she’s slowed down on her drinking…even the juice.”

  Isa nodded and reached out to rub the small girl’s back. “That’s understandable. Your throat’s pretty sore, huh, sweetie?”

  Hugging her new friend, Abby nodded.

  Isa kept wave of tears at bay as she stood, addressing both Marie and Abby’s mom. “I’ll have someone bring some electrolyte popsicles. It’ll help restore lost fluids and also ease her throat.”

  “This isn’t just the flu, is it?” Beth’s voice was thick with tears.

  “No, it’s not. But we’re doing everything in our power to figure out exactly what it is, and how we can help you. Okay?”

  It wasn’t enough—by a long shot. But Beth nodded, looking the smallest bit relieved.

  With her mom’s encouraging words, Abby was a brave little trooper through her blood draw, which was an expected challenge due to slight dehydration.

  “If those popsicles don’t come in ten minutes, ask one of the volunteers, okay?” Isa stood up, already mentally preparing herself for the next patient.

  Beth’s hand snaked out, squeezing Isa’s fingers…hard. “Thank you, doctor,” she sniffled. “Thank you so much.”

  Isa nodded, unable to form words. Thankfully, while she’d been handling Abby, Tony had seen to the last patient and waited for her near the rear exit. Even with his gear on, he looked as tired as she felt.

  “You okay, kiddo?” he asked.

  “Nothing about this is okay…even if this isn’t FC-5. No one should worry if the kiss they gave their children the day before will be the last.”

  An hour and a hazmat suit change later, it was confirmed.

  They all needed to worry…because FC-5 found its way to Beaver Ridge, Alaska, and unlike the men who’d already tried to nab Isa once, it would make sure it didn’t leave any prisoners behind.

  * * *

  After being up since before the crack of dawn and setting up game cameras along the town’s perimeter, Roman was more than ready for a shower, food, and some shut-eye. Not necessarily in that order. Sinking onto the couch, he groaned. The four hours he had before relieving Ryder at his post on the lakefront would come way too fucking fast.

  He was dead on his feet, his stump protesting the excessive use of his prosthesis. He’d no sooner leaned over to tug off his shoes than Isa and Jaz, who’d been on clinic duty, came through the door with a grim-faced Tony on their heels.

  “You’re just getting in?” Roman tossed an annoyed glare at Jaz before sliding it to Isabel. “You’ve been up and moving just as long as I have. What the hell happened to taking care of yourself first?”

  “Hello to you, too, dear. My day was just great. How was yours?” Isa’s edgy tone contrasted with her look of physical exhaustion.

  There wasn’t a single sign of the nervous but hopeful woman who’d left the cabin that morning. Instead, Isa sunk into the chair across from him as if the weight of the world had dropped onto her shoulders.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “What isn’t wrong would probably be the shorter list. It’s FC-5. Here. In Beaver Ridge.”

  Fuckin’ A.

  Even though they knew this was a possibility, it took an extra moment for Roman to wrap his head around the news. “How many?”

  “Twenty-four at last count, but more come into the clinic every day. And they range from two years old to eighty-one.” Isa’s lips quivered seconds before she steeled her jaw. “Two years old, Roman. Those bastards unleashed this virus knowing innocent people would get hurt.”

  Jaz leaned against the back of the couch. “I know we talked about this before, but what are the chances FC-5 showed up here on its own?”

  Tony was already shaking his head. “Nil. The handful of FC-5 outbreaks that have happened since its discovery have always been locations with a significantly higher median temperature. If it’s in Alaska, it had help.”

  “So how did it get here?” Roman thought aloud.

  “Isa’s practically the only person on this hemisphere who’s properly trained on what to do with this virus, right?” Jaz tossed out. “Maybe one of the bastards got infected in the lab theft…or in however they’ve handled it since. That would definitely be karma coming back to bite them on the ass.”

  Isa rubbed her temples as if staving off a brewing headache. “It would, but it’s not that, either. Blood and body fluids are the main modes of transmission from person to person. Even if one of the guys from the lab calls Beaver Ridge home, we wouldn’t see this kind of a spread in a short period of time. There are people in the hospital who have no real connection other than they live in the same town.”

  Roman nodded. It made sense. “So how did FC-5 pop up those other times?”

  “Like most other hemorrhagic diseases…a transmission from animal to
human. Usually when people digest contaminated…” Isa jumped to her feet, all her earlier exhaustion gone. “It’s the meat. Tony, call Mayor Rutledge. We’ve got to get everyone in Beaver Ridge to toss out any beef products that they may have in their fridge right now.”

  With a curse, Tony yanked his phone out of his pocket and rushed into the other room, his fingers immediately dialing.

  “What the fuck am I missing here?” Roman asked.

  Isa’s face went ashen. “Ebola. Marburg. An outbreak nearly always starts from a tainted food source. Beaver Ridge gets food flown in—according to Roger the pilot—at least twice a week. It makes sense. Everyone in that hospital does have one thing in common. They rely on supplies that are brought into town. It’s why there’s so many sick in such a short period of time. They became infected roughly around the same time. Hell, they were infected while they ate their damn dinner!”

  “These bastards really did do this on purpose.” White hot fury burned through Roman’s veins.

  “Why here?” Jaz asked. “If it’s to terrorize people, why not do it in a bigger city? More bang. More of a show.”

  “Because this is the pregame,” Roman admitted. “This is either the precursor to a bigger venue, or someone’s idea of a deadly show-and-tell. Either way, it means that this isn’t stopping at Beaver Ridge. These guys will either do the deed themselves, or they’ll sell FC-5 to someone who will.”

  Tony returned, stuffing his cell back into his pocket. “Rutledge wasn’t happy about this to say the least, but he’s calling a town meeting.”

  “When?” Isa asked.

  “Tonight.”

  It was Roman’s turn to get on the phone. “I’m bringing in Ryder and King from their posts because we’ll need all hands on deck at that meeting.”

  “I’m not arguing, but why?”

  “Because frightened people tend to do stupid things…and we’re about to throw fuel onto their worst nightmares.”

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  It was the ground beef. Isa confirmed the transmission route with an hour to spare before the town hall. And as a testament to everyone’s concerns, nearly the whole town, other than those in quarantine, were in attendance.