Mark looked up, relieved, and said, “You’re doing great, Chloe. Next contraction you can push!”
I could see a little fist waving in the air as the baby let out a cry. I grabbed the warmed large towel I had set nearby between two more heated ones, and held it out for James to wrap the baby. Mark took the baby and set him in the new mother’s arms.
“Congratulations, you have a beautiful baby boy.”
~~~
“I have to ask, Allex, how did you know what to do about the breathing? I will admit I have never delivered a baby under those conditions before. Of course, I haven’t delivered very many babies at all. It was unnerving! Was that a Lamaze method?” Mark asked.
“Yes, it was Lamaze. Eric was born the same way. The umbilical was wrapped around his neck twice. I literally had to stop breathing so my son could live to take his first breath. A mother doesn’t forget moments like that,” I said, remembering that morning like it was last week.
“How is Dr. James doing?” I asked. “Was this his first delivery?”
Mark laughed. “Yes, this was his first and he’s feeling a bit green at the moment. He’ll be fine. I sent him back to the loft with a couple of books on obstetrics. We have four more pregnancies to get through and likely lots more after that.”
“I didn’t know he was staying here,” I commented. I’m not sure how I feel about this arrangement, but it was Mark’s call to make, not mine.
“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you,” he replied. “It seemed logical that someone should be here most if not all the time, and there certainly is enough room. If we need to stay, too, Allex, we have my place next door over the clinic.”
November 15
“Mother and baby are doing quite well,” Mark informed me. “I think they should go home this morning.”
“That’s good news. It will give me enough time to pick up a couple of things for them,” I replied. “Like cloth diapers, some baby clothes, and a baby bottle. I saw some at the gift shop.”
“Chloe is already breastfeeding the baby,” Mark let me know.
“I know, but you can’t breastfeed water and apple juice,” I laughed. “After I pick those up I have a meeting with Jim and Tom across the street in case you need me.”
~~~
“What is on the table for discussion today?” I asked, sitting down at the large conference table with Tom White and Colonel Jim.
“You look in a good mood,” Tom observed, shuffling some papers. I think that’s a nervous habit he has.
“Babies do that,” I said. “We had our first delivery yesterday: A healthy little boy to one of the Mathers Lake women.”
“We’ll have to come up with a suitable gift,” Jim said. “For now, though, we need to make some decisions about the rest of our supplies.”
“Which supplies? I thought all the trucks were already being inventoried and made available?”
“Those supplies, yes, but I’m talking about the fuel,” Jim answered. “We have tankers of diesel, gas, and propane. It’s the propane I’d like to discuss first. Where would it be best utilized?”
I thought for a moment. “The township should have a refill of the thousand gallon tank out back. It’s the heat for here and it powers an automatic generator in case the power goes out.”
“Good start and I agree. Where else? You know this town better than either of us,” Tom said.
“The Inn has the same situation: heat and a generator, plus the kitchen. It’s become a focal point in the community. I’ve seen people there just hanging out, chatting or playing chess and checkers in the lobby. If we lose power before someone comes up with a simple wood burner design, those that need to can stay warm there,” I explained.
“Does the hospital use propane?” Tom asked.
“Yes, however there’s no generator there that I know of. Same for the school: propane heat but no generator.” I leaned back in my padded chair, thinking. “I also think that the house you two share should be on the list for topping off the fuel tank. You’re both highly important to the community now.”
“I’ve seen lots of the blue tanks around, mostly on the edges of town, none in Moose Creek proper, other than the Inn,” Tom observed. “How can we justify getting fuel when others don’t?”
“That’s why we’re here today, to prioritize the distribution where it does the most good for the most people,” Jim reminded us.
“Then we should add the house next door to you. There are five people there, and the priest and nuns have become a vital part of the town’s functioning,” I said. “As for your house, there’s a gas fireplace in the basement that doesn’t need power. It kept Bob and Kathy comfortable all last winter. In using that as heat you won’t be using any wood that someone else might need. It’s a tradeoff, guys.”
“She has a point,” Tom said, and kept writing as we bantered about more ideas.
“How much propane is there?” I asked.
“There is a five thousand gallon delivery truck and a fifty thousand gallon tanker, both full,” Jim answered.
“Wow, that’s a lot of fuel. I didn’t realize those delivery trucks held so much. What about the other tankers? The diesel and gas? I know Keith needs diesel to cut and split the wood supply for everyone. Fortunately he won’t need as much since he isn’t going far to deliver. Have you seen the piles he’s making at the ball field? It’s impressive. I say we let him have as much as he asks for.”
Tom and Jim agreed.
“There are also a couple of vehicles that run on diesel, like the Passat that Ken and Karen drive.”
“I think after that we should save the balance of the diesel for the big generator,” Jim said quietly. “Just in case.”
“What generator?” I asked, confused.
“That massive trailer I towed out of Marquette is a city-sized power plant, and it takes diesel fuel.”
I had forgotten about that. “Where is it, Jim?”
“I parked it behind the offices here, on the other side of the bay doors, completely out of sight.”
“That reminds me of something else. The township water. The pumps are powered by the grid of course, and there is a big generator that runs them when the grid is down. I have no idea where it is or what kind of fuel it takes. Pete knows though. I’ll ask him the next time I go up to Mathers Lake.”
~~~
After our brainstorming session, which I found highly productive, I wandered over to the Inn to see how things were going for Marsha and was surprised to see Anna sitting at a table next to the curtained windows, a bowl of half-finished soup in front of her.
“Hi, Anna, how are you feeling today? Is the cough any better?” I sat down across from her. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted, resting against the wall, sleeping, her gray curls stiffly framing her peaceful face.
“Anna?” I repeated and reached out to waken her. She wasn’t sleeping. Anna wasn’t breathing.
I found Marsha, and asked her to be sure no one disturbed Anna, and I ran back to the clinic.
“Mark!” I gasped. “Anna is at the Inn. I think she’s… dead.”
When we arrived back at the Inn, Mark confirmed Anna was gone.
“How long has she been sitting here?” Mark asked Marsha.
“She came in with the early lunch crowd, maybe eleven-thirty, so about two hours,” Marsha replied. “She was coughing something fierce, so I asked her to sit away from everyone else. Is she okay?”
“I have no idea why at this point, but Anna is dead,” Mark answered. He looked at me, “I’d like to do an autopsy.”
~~~
We had Anna on the surgical table. Mark, James, and I were fully gowned, masked and gloved. With all the coughing she’d been doing, Mark felt examination of her lungs was crucial.
“I know this may seem silly to the two of you, but Anna was my friend,” I said, a catch in my voice as I placed a bleached white towel over her still, slack face. Mark made the common Y incision down her chest and I crin
ged.
Mark and James peeled skin and tissue back, held in place with the metal surgical clamps. When the rib bones were exposed, it was obvious there was a massive amount of hemorrhaging.
“Saw,” Mark said, and I handed him a small device with a three-inch diameter circular blade. He turned it on and cut through the bone and cartilage on one side of Anna’s chest cavity. “We only need one side exposed to see the lungs,” he said, mostly to James.
“My God, are those her lungs?” James asked once the ribs were removed, “There’s nothing left of them.”
“No wonder she was always coughing,” Mark said quietly. “I’ve seen enough. Dr. James, will you close?” Mark stepped back and moved to the large stainless steel sink where he washed his still gloved hands twice. He removed his mask, then his gloves, and washed a third time. I removed the clamps holding the skin aside, rinsed them off in the sink and dropped them into a metal bowl for sterilizing. Then I followed Mark’s example of washing even though I didn’t have any blood on me.
~~~
“What are your thoughts, Dr. Mark?” James asked politely. We had adjourned to the kitchen area, leaving Anna in the surgery for now.
“My guess, without having the benefit of a microscope for a biopsy, is a very aggressive virus.” He turned to me. “Anna said she had been sick and had recovered, right?”
“That’s what she told me. Everyone in her household had been sick and died, except she got better,” I recalled.
“I’m guessing that the virus backed off into her lungs. She only thought she had recovered, when she was actually carrying around a time bomb.” Mark looked at both of us. “She has now exposed everyone who was at lunch.”
“And at the town meeting; she was coughing then too! Oh, Anna, what have you brought down on us?” I said to no one.
November 22
The first one to come down sick was Tonya Germaine. As part of a work release program the colonel had come up with, Tonya was let out of jail to help out in the kitchen during meals. She had escorted Anna to a private table and brought her soup. The contact was close enough to infect her with Anna’s newly raging virus. Tonya gave the virus to her son that same day, who took it to school. The newly mutated virus moved fast and they both died three days later.
“After what you told me, Allexa, as soon as the first child got sick I thought it best to cancel school until we understood what was going on,” Sister Agnes explained. “I hope I haven’t overstepped.”
“Oh no, Sister, I think you made the prudent choice. I hope it was in time,” I reassured the nun. “However, it seems to be spreading anyway.”
“How many now?” the nun asked quietly.
“The last count put the numbers over thirty,” I said. One became two, which became six, which turned into two dozen. Two dozen becomes unstoppable in a small town like Moose Creek.
“I have an idea that may or may not help,” Sister Margaret said. “What if we move all the sick people to Camp Tamarack? At least they won’t be infecting anyone new.”
“That’s a really good idea, Margaret,” Sister Agnes replied. “I know that you already buried Anna out there, Allexa, as well as Tonya and her son. There’s bound to be many more causalities and to be practical, they might as well be close to the burial site. I do have to ask why you picked out there and not in the cemetery here or one of the open fields?”
I sighed. “The cemetery is full, Sister. Flu hit us last winter with high losses. When the ash cloud showed up, we turned the baseball field into a mass grave. Camp Tamarack is the only place left and the most accessible, plus there is equipment already there for digging.” What an odd conversation this was. How had we gotten so casual about death and dying?
“We’ll take care of the details, Allexa. It’s what we do. I don’t know if you’ve been told our history, but the four of us met working in South Africa during the last Ebola outbreak. We’ve been through this type of medical emergency before,” Sister Agnes said. She turned to Sisters Margaret and Lynn. “Close down and lock up the school and the supply shop, and meet me back at the house. I need to check on Doris and Father Constantine.”
“Are they okay?” I asked hesitantly.
“Father Constantine is sick,” Agnes frowned. “Doris is tending him.”
~~~
“Mark, I know that little can be done to fight a virus, but can anything be done to help Father Constantine?” I pleaded with my husband.
“I can’t cure the virus, but the subsequent vulnerability often turns into pneumonia, which is bacterial, and that I can fight. Let me grab a few things and we’ll go see them.”
~~~
We let ourselves into the house that was once Carolyn’s and called out, letting Sister Doris know we were here.
“Oh, thank you for coming by, Doctor. I don’t think there’s anything to be done though.” She bit back a sob. “He’s really sick.”
“Help me sit him up more, Allex,” Mark said from behind his mask. “Sister, can you put some extra pillows or anything behind his back to help keep him up? Lying flat will only cause his lungs to fill faster. A forty-five degree angle is best.” Mark listened to Father Constantine’s chest, looked in his eyes, throat, and felt his neck.
“Let’s get a bowl of water and a towel. Keeping his face cool will make him more comfortable,” I suggested, trying to keep the Sister occupied while Mark worked.
“I don’t know what I would do if I lost Connie,” Sister Doris whimpered as we left the room.
“How long have you known him?” I asked, thinking the attachment she had for a priest unusual.
“My entire life.” She looked at me with tear filled eyes. “Connie is my brother, my real brother. There were only the two of us kids and our parents were so proud when we both dedicated our lives to the church.”
“I gave the Father a shot of antibiotics,” Mark said when we returned. “Has he taken any fluids?”
“I can get him to sip some water on threat of telling Mom if he didn’t,” Sister Doris chuckled, and then frowned. “Even though Mom has been gone for five years… he doesn’t remember that. At first he would take some broth, though none today, only the water.”
“Has he had anything like an aspirin?”
She shook her head.
“Then it’s doubtful to I could get antibiotic pills down him. I’ll be back later, and twice a day to give him a shot,” Mark stated. “Keep pushing the fluids down, he’s dehydrating.”
“He will protest getting special treatment, Doctor; that’s just a warning. He can be really stubborn,” Doris said.
“I can be just as stubborn, Sister Doris.” Mark winked at her. “Father Constantine is this town’s spiritual leader now, and we need him. If he protests, remind him he still needs to baptize the new babies.”
I left the Sister two extra masks and more surgical gloves. She’d need them.
~~~
Outside, a confused Mark asked, “What was that about telling Mom?”
“It seems that Father Constantine is Sister Doris’ biological brother. She is totally devoted to his wellbeing, so I don’t think we need to worry about the care he’s getting.”
Mark was reaching for the door to the hospital when James opened it. “I’m glad you’re back. There are five new cases and three more deaths,” he stated. “I don’t know what to do.”
“James, there isn’t anything to do. If anyone shows up here, send them to the camp,” a very weary Mark told him. “It’s late and I’m exhausted. We’re going home. I’ll see you in the morning. Send someone if you need me.”
November 24
The Sisters moved quickly getting the empty Camp Tamarack open and functioning as a field hospital, a triage center, and a morgue.
“Do you have enough supplies, Sister? What about help?” I asked Sister Agnes. I handed her a box each of masks and gloves that we retrieved from the medical supply van.
“So far the only supplies we need are these,” she said, ho
lding up the boxes I’d delivered. “Marsha gave us a number of large jars of bouillon. Most everyone here is too sick to eat, though they do manage to get down a cup of broth. As for help, well, few want to willingly expose themselves to a deadly virus, and we’re making do with assistance from Gray.”
We walked out into the cool afternoon air. The sun was straining to be seen through the ever-present muddy clouds. The fake cobblestone walkways were cluttered with road gravel and stray leaves. The air was strangely quiet, except for an occasional hacking cough from behind closed cabin doors.
“Even though there are enough buildings to separate people, we’re keeping them together for ease of care,” she explained as we passed a dark building. “The men are here, while we put the women next door. They may be sick, even dying, but their modesty is deeply ingrained. The ones that are the saddest are the children. At least one parent is staying when a sick child arrives, unfortunately that parent is usually sick too, and dies before the child.”
This tour was making my heart hurt.
“Over here is the morgue,” Agnes told me when we came to the last building. We rounded the corner and were blasted by an icy chill coming off Lake Superior. The building’s roof hung low and the dirty windows were shuttered closed. “We’ve been open for twenty-four hours and have had that many die. A new mass grave was dug this morning, so Sisters Margaret and Lynn have been busy preparing the bodies.” She stopped and turned to me. “Are you up for this? It’s shocking even if you know what’s coming.”
We stepped inside. Table after table was filled with mounds of lifeless forms covered with unmoving sheets. I lifted a corner and quickly dropped it. Another vision filled my mind, one of lifeless bodies stacked on a mattress in the school gym. I shuddered.
The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3) Page 23
