“A little like polio, but it isn’t quite the same. I wish we had a real lab. Then we could find out very fast.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not thinking very clearly, Harry. You might want to get one of the others to look at this. Or do it yourself.” She stood back from the table and let Harry peer into the microscope.
“I see what you mean,” he said in a few minutes. “Maybe he’s got a mild case because he’s partially immune.” He didn’t believe that, but he could not find a better explanation.
“I don’t know, Harry.” She moved away from the table, and as she did, she noticed her hands were shaking. “I’ve got a bad feeling about that, Harry. Don’t ask me what it is, or to explain it, because I can’t. But I have that feeling. I wish I didn’t.”
Harry was too familiar with hunches to doubt hers. “Any idea what?”
“No.” She breathed deeply.“I’m going to have to knock off, Harry. I’ve been doing lab work for the last ten hours, and I’m too tired. I’m not thinking clearly. I’d better quit now.” She shook her head slowly as she studied the walls. “You know, I never thought that much about the color of walls, but I think I’d go crazy if I had to work in a red room all the time. It’s too much.”
Harry glanced at the walls, with their fine Chinese red finish. “I see what you mean. Are you going up to bed, then?”
“Yeah. I have to be on the floor by seven in the morning. And there’s all that information to give Dave before he goes on house calls. I’m not sure he should do rounds by himself, Harry. What time is it?”
Harry glanced at his watch. “Eleven thirty-five, more or less. Make sure you take a hot bath; it’ll get rid of the sore muscles.”
She nodded. “I never used to think about this kind of work. All we had to do was plug in a support unit or run a test through a computer, and it was all done. But here, it’s all our own doing. I miss that computer, Harry.” She pulled her smock off. “When will you be up?”
“Not for quite a while. I’m on night call until Roger relieves me at three.” He looked across the room at her. “You’re doing fine, Natalie.”
“Sure.” She managed a wan smile. “Thanks.”
Dave Lillijanthal was dressed at his most jaunty as he prepared to leave on morning house calls. He patted Natalie’s shoulder, oblivious to the annoyed glare she gave him. “Don’t worry, Nat. I’ll do all the things I’m supposed to. I’ll dispense pills and country wisdom and bedside charm like no one you ever saw.”
“Dave, stop joking. We’ve got people out there dying and they need your help. This isn’t like Westbank. You don’t have the computers to back you up, or take over when you want your lunch. Show a little compassion, will you?”
He chortled. “Whatever you say, Nat. Anything your heart desires.” He reached across the table and filled his cup a second time. “I’m really glad Carol brought along her coffee. It beats hell out of the substitutes.”
Natalie opened her last folder. “Now, this woman...” She stopped, then went on in another tone. “Dave, are you listening?”
“Sure.”
“This woman has a history of gastric ulcers, and if she shows any symptoms, any symptoms at all, you must call Peter Justin and get him to take her in. She’s not in any condition to risk staying out of the hospital, no matter how many diseases are taking up beds. She’s the sort who’ll try not to upset you, so you’ll have to be careful. Make sure she isn’t in pain, and make sure she tells you the truth. Bring her back here if you have to.”
“Worry, worry, worry.” Dave made an airy gesture as she stood up. “You don’t have to bother that pretty red head of yours over me,” he said as he touched her hair. “Look, you know they aren’t going to keep this disease thing up much longer. They can’t. It’s crazy. So we’ll do our job marking time, and in form.” He drank the last of the coffee.
“Another couple of weeks and we’ll be out of here, and we’ll be home free. I’ve been thinking about teaching. I’d like to teach. It’s not as much of a hassle.”
Natalie frowned. “Dave, I wish you wouldn’t talk that way.” She handed him the folders and watched him tuck them under his arm. “We’re in very serious trouble. We’re dealing with too many dead people.”
He laughed. “Right. But trouble never bothers me, Natalie, especially when it’s someone else’s.” He strode over to the door. “See? I’m getting out of here before seven. I’ll be back by teatime. Around four.” He blew her a kiss and closed the door.
* * *
CHAPTER 7
THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK IN THE FOYER had struck quarter after seven when the police arrived. Amanda opened the door for them, worried that perhaps their tenure at the Van Dreyter house was at an end. “Yes, gentlemen?” she said, none of her fear in her voice or her manner. “What is it?”
The older officer, a stocky man of about fifty, looked her over quite thoroughly. “You aren’t supposed to be in this house, y’know.”
“Nonetheless, I am here.” Amanda met his eyes squarely, and waited.
“Yeah. My oldest kid came here a couple of days ago. You helped him. Well, one of you did. There wasn’t room for him at the hospital.”
“Is that what you came to tell me?” Amanda asked, wondering now if she should invite the men in.
“No. No, that’s not what we’re here for. Is one of your doctors a guy named Lillijanthal?” This was asked awkwardly, and Amanda knew there was trouble. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Dave Lillijanthal is working here. He was out on house calls earlier. We expected him back before now.”
The officer turned and called down. “This is the place. You better bring him on in.” Then he said to Amanda, “I’m sorry, ma’am. He’s been hurt.”
“Hurt?” she echoed. “How?”
“Some kids got a hold of him. They did a good job on him.” He stopped, as if realizing Amanda was shocked. “Why don’t you call a couple of the other doctors to take care of him?” He gestured to the patrol wagon in the driveway. “We’ll bring him on in and you can make room for him where you need to.”
“Is it serious?” Amanda asked.
“Afraid so. We tried to get him in at Inner City, but they’re filled up. The desk said that they were even putting beds in the operating rooms. We brought him back here. You people are the only ones left who can take care of cases like his.”
There was a stretcher being lifted out of the patrol wagon now, and the men carrying it handled it gently. Amanda could see a shape on the stretcher under the blankets. And she saw that the blankets were bloody. She steadied herself against the door to stop her dizziness, then called into the house in a voice she hardly recognized as her own, “Somebody, help. Who’s on call?”
In a moment she heard Harry’s answering shout: “Be there in a minute, Amanda.”
By this time the men with the stretcher were almost at the door, and she remembered. “No, wait. Don’t bring him in this way. There are patients in the room. Take him there.” She pointed to the french doors which opened from the formal dining room. “That’s our room, over there. Please take him there.”
The officer shrugged. “Okay. We’ll take him there.”
“I’ll go and open the door for you.” She closed the door and forced herself to breathe deeply. Then she started toward the dining room, calling once more to Harry on the way: “Harry, the dining room. Quickly.”
Something of her panic must have been in her voice, for Harry was waiting for her at the dining-room door. “What is it, Amanda?” Then he saw her face, and his eyes narrowed.
“The police. They said they’re bringing Dave Lillijanthal back. He’s on a stretcher.” She put her hand to her mouth. “You’d better let them in, Harry. I’ll call Natalie, if you like.”
“Amanda?”
She gave him half a smile. “It’s silly, I know, but I’m not up to it. There’s no way I can deal with this.” She opened the door for him. “I’ll send Natalie. She can handle this much better than I can.�
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“What is it, Amanda?” Harry insisted, holding the older woman’s arm. “You’ve been doing fine.”
She pulled her arm away. “Harry, I’m a pediatric surgeon. I’ve rarely worked on anyone over ten. I’m tired, my pulse is too fast, and if I faint on you, I’ll be worse than useless.”
Harry nodded. “Are you keeping up with your medicine?” he asked, thinking of her heart. “You said you’d be careful.”
She made a fatalistic gesture. “I try to remember. Most of the time I do remember.” She gave his arm an affectionate pat. “Thank goodness I don’t have to explain myself to you. Who would you like me to send to you?”
Harry answered without hesitation, “Natalie, if she’s available. She’s been seeing patients most of the day.”
“She’s in the lab now.” Amanda nodded. “I’ll get her for you.”
“Not if she’s busy.”
“Roger or Dominic can take over for her there.” She regarded him steadily, then turned and walked down the hall.
Harry opened the door and switched on the light, so that the three great chandeliers glowed. He had already stopped being impressed by the grandeur of the house, and now walked to the french doors without noticing the lights and the steady shine of the fine crystal.
“Thank you for waiting,” he said to the officers who stood outside the door carrying the stretcher between them. “You’d better bring him inside.”
The older officer nodded. “Just as you say.” He motioned to the other officer and they brought the stretcher inside. “He’s been badly beaten,” the first officer said, with a sympathetic but pessimistic nod toward the stretcher. “It’s a good thing you doctors are here,” he went on to Harry. “It’s been getting pretty rough here, I can tell you. Well, sorry, but we have to be about our business.” He pointed his partner to the door. Then he went out.
Harry murmured what might have been a thank you as he knelt beside the stretcher and reluctantly pulled back the light blanket covering Dave Lillijanthal.
He did not need an X-ray to see that Dave’s skull had been fractured, for his head was lopsided, and a ragged bruise over his left eye was pulpy to the touch. Harry swallowed convulsively. Tightening his jaw, he continued his examination. Dave’s right arm was badly broken; bone splinters pushed through the swollen elbow, contusions along his ribs showed where he had been mercilessly kicked after he had fallen. His groin was hideously bruised, and more than twice normal size.
“Dear God,” Natalie said behind him, and Harry turned to her.
“I need your help,” he said.
She nodded quickly and went to the other side of the stretcher. “What happened to him? Amanda only said he was hurt. She didn’t say...”
“I know.” Harry continued his examination. “We’re going to need X-rays. We’ll have to ask Ernest to bring his equipment over here. Dave certainly can’t be moved again, not until the swelling is down and we have the broken bones immobilized. I think we’ll have to use casts, the old way. We don’t have a bone-support unit here. I wish now we’d thought to bring one.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
“No.” Harry was busy gently exploring a shallow laceration along Dave’s thigh. “His right kneecap is dislocated. We’ll have to get that back into line, too. Ernest can do that better than we can. He’s lucky, though. If the patella hadn’t slipped out, he’d have a worse fracture here than the one at his elbow. I don’t know if we’re going to be able to restore mobility there. Look at it. The humerus and the ulna are both broken, and the joint’s a mess. We need a replacement joint, but we don’t have one. Of course.” He stood up suddenly. “I’m going to call Westbank. It’s one thing to kick us out, but it’s another to refuse treatment to a man in this condition.” He stalked to the door, tension in every movement.
“Harry,” Natalie called after him. “See if you can get some pain suppressors while you’re at it. We’re running low already.”
“They’ll probably refuse.”
“Get anything you can. I know there’s still some morphine at the hospital, for the people who are reactive to analgizine. We’re going to need it, and not only for Dave. We’ve got to have something to give that man we’re bringing out of tetanus. He’s been in terrible pain.”
“That’s Lucciani, isn’t it?” Harry asked. “In the north wing?”
She nodded. “Make them understand, Harry. And if you can find Radick, ask him to come in here.”
Harry stopped. “Why Radick?”
Natalie raised her pale brows. “He’s a psychiatrist, remember? He’s good with shock victims. He’s also a licensed hypnotist, and as long as we can’t drug the pain out of Dave, maybe Radick can talk it out of him. At least until we can treat him properly.”
“I hadn’t thought of tnat. You’re right. I’ll send him in.” The door closed firmly behind him.
Radick’s face was grave as he rose from beside the stretcher. “This is monstrous,” he said quietly. “This will be very hard for Dave. He will not accept what has happened to him.” He looked at Natalie, who waited a few feet away. “I have a few drugs in my case. I’ll bring them down.”
“What do you mean?” Natalie asked him suddenly. “He won’t accept what?”
“This.” Radick indicated the stretcher. “Dave is a Golden Child, Natalie. He has always been beautiful, and his life has been easy. He has never had to endure even so little a thing as disappointment for long. And now this. He is not very well prepared to deal with injuries of this sort. Or the recovery from them. Which you and I know will not be a total recovery.” He looked at the ruined elbow again. “Even if we replace the joint, he will not recover wholly. This will be very bad for him.”
Natalie hesitated. “What do we tell the others?”
Radick stared at her. “What do you mean, ‘tell the others’?”
“Do we tell them that when they make house calls they might be beaten up?”
For a moment Radick said nothing, then, “I think perhaps it might be wise to wait until we learn what really happened to him. I don’t like to say this of a colleague, but I have known instances when Dave was not as ethical as he should be, and not as discreet.”
Natalie thought again of Mark, and hearing him with his mistress in the lab. It seemed a very long time ago now. And so Dave was such another. She nodded slowly, and realized she was not particularly surprised. As Radick had said, Dave was a Golden Child and everything was easy for him.
“Natalie?”
She shook off her thought. “Nothing, Radick. I suppose you’re right. But I’m sure the others know that Dave had been hurt. We can’t hide that, and I don’t want to hide it.” Her chin lifted defiantly.
“Of course. But we will hear from Dave what actually happened before we tell the others to be wary.” He sat down on one of the elegant rosewood chairs and leaned his head back against the petit point headrest showing two wood ducks floating on a lake. He sighed. “I recall a time when my mother did petit point. Her work was beautiful. But it took so much time, and even then we were all very rushed.”
“Is something wrong, Radick?” Natalie asked. “More than Dave?”
“I have been with a very troubled man this afternoon. He is intelligent but uneducated. He knows that there is something wrong happening here. He does not believe what has been told him, but he is terrified of what the lies might cover. So he becomes divided in his mind. He has much fear which he cannot admit to, and so he tries to close his eyes. He was once religious, and has returned to his faith. But there are no answers. He has been reading the Book of Revelation, and thinks now that we are living in the last times. But the Great Beast is not what stalks us. And the Horsemen of the Apocalypse...”
“Just the Fourth one,” Natalie said, remembering a long-ago discussion in her first university psychology class. “Just the Rider on the Pale Horse.”
“With the scythe.” Radick nodded. “War, Slavery, Famine and Pestilence. The death figure i
s Plague, you know. There’s plenty of death in the other three, so there was no reason to make a special category. But even War, Slavery and Famine avoid Pestilence, and you can’t blame them.” He thought for a moment. “The others do make the world ripe for disease. The Crimean War lost more men to disease than in battle.” He turned to her. “I’m sorry. I realize this is no way to talk. I’m feeling discouraged and I’m taking it out on you.”
She made a complicated gesture. “Did you see the follow-up on the kid who was in to see Harry? The one with the stuff that sort of looks like polio? I did the workup on him. I still don’t know what he has.” She studied Radick’s worn face. “I’m frightened.”
Radick nodded. “Of course you are. So am I.”
On the stretcher Dave Lillijanthal moved slightly, then moaned. Natalie rose quickly and went to him. “Dave? Dave? It’s Natalie, Dave.”
Dave swung his left arm aimlessly, as if fending off some threat. His eyes were open but unseeing. He would have screamed if his voice were not already destroyed. His abraded side started to bleed once more.
Radick had joined Natalie, and gently moved her aside. “I think I had better handle this, Natalie.” He went down on his knees and began to speak softly, reassuringly to Dave, and after a few minutes Dave lay still, his eyes open now, and knowing.
“Jesus,” he croaked. “How’d...”
“Don’t talk, my friend,” Radick said. “We are trying to arrange for you to be admitted at Westbank. You are in need of their services and we haven’t enough here to care for you adequately.” He said, more gently still, “You have been badly hurt, Dave.”
“Those kids...”
“Kids?” Natalie said, feeling very cold.
“Lots of them...”
The door slammed open and Harry came into the room, thunder in his face. “The ruddy bastards won’t take him. I talked to Jim Braemoore and he said they didn’t have enough room. Not even for Dave, and he worked there for eleven years!” He kicked savagely and sent one of the rosewood chairs end over end.
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Time of the Fourth Horseman Page 14
