by JC Ryan
El-Amin was one of the non-observant Muslims, though he frequently joked about his father being strict. JR and Rebecca were concerned when he didn’t answer his door, but assumed that he could be sleeping, or engaging in some activity for which he wanted privacy. They went on to the next door and didn’t think of it again until dinnertime, when he still didn’t appear. A conversation with Nyree Dasgupta indicated that she expected Haraz to join her at dinner, which made their concern grow. After dinner, JR accompanied Rebecca to knock insistently on his door. His appearance when he opened the door shocked even the doctor.
“Haraz, what in the world? Are you ill?” she cried. The Jordanian turned without a word and staggered to the nearest piece of furniture, where he sank gratefully to a sitting position.
“I’m sorry, I seem to have the flu,” he said, a cough interrupting him.
“Why didn’t you come to the infirmary?” Rebecca asked. “How long have you felt ill?”
“Only since waking this morning. I didn’t think you’d be in the infirmary, since it is Friday.” The misconception that she would take the same weekend day had delayed treating him by a full twelve hours or so, but Rebecca had JR help the man to his feet and guide him through the weather-proof connecting tubes to the building where the infirmary was located.
“I can’t do much for you if this is viral,” she said, “because when you have a viral infection, your own immune system is the best fighter. But let’s start with an antiviral medication, since that’s what it looks like. I have to warn you, they aren’t always as effective as we’d like. Meanwhile, I’ll take a throat swab and culture it for bacteria. I’d like you to stay in the infirmary where I can monitor you and I think we should hydrate you with an IV. Any objections?”
El-Amin shook his head weakly. “Thank you, Dr. Rebecca. I am most grateful for your care.” It was a far cry from the arrogant and often fractious man who had wreaked such havoc in the team before they left Boulder. Rebecca almost mentioned to JR that she liked him sick better, but thought it wouldn’t be very professional. Her night became even busier within the next few hours as, one by one, four of the scientific assistants were brought in by some of the diggers. Without el-Amin to translate, JR struggled to understand what the crew had to say, and eventually put it together that these four had been in prayer with the others until they became too sick to continue.
Rebecca was at a loss to explain why this handful of men were ill with the flu in a contained environment like their camp and the valley. Remembering that one entire five-man work crew was missing because of illness, she wondered if the illness had a long incubation period, long enough for these five to have been exposed by the missing men. What was puzzling, though, was how that could have happened when there was little contact between the botanist and the scientific assistants and the work crews. It had to have been at the prayer room, she thought, until she remembered that el-Amin wouldn’t have been there. Still puzzling over the method of exposure, Rebecca was nevertheless too busy with five patients, whose conditions were deteriorating rapidly, to be able to follow her train of thought to a conclusion that made sense.
By the end of the second day, she had ruled out a bacterial cause for the illness and had made her patients as comfortable as possible. She took a moment to email Boulder and ask for help in locating the missing five crew members. If they could tell her the course of the illness and how long it took to recover, she might be in a better position to determine how to help the men in her infirmary. She also ordered a new supply of antiviral medications. They weren’t as effective as antibiotics were on bacterial infections, but they were better than nothing. And if this thing turned out to be very contagious, she’d need more medicine for the next wave of it.
Already weary from checking on her patients around the clock, she returned to the infirmary to dispense water for those who would drink it, change IV bags and speak quietly to each man. El-Amin was the sickest, and she was quite worried about him. He had a fever that she couldn’t break no matter what she did. All she could do was try to keep it below a level that might cause brain damage, and pray that an answer came through her email soon.
~~~
Daniel was up to his ass in alligators, as his North Carolina neighbors would have said. The aftermath of the demise of the OS had left world markets in chaos, and ongoing investigations had revealed a much larger than anticipated network of dummy corporations that unfortunately had ties with the Rossler Foundation. Sorting it out was still taking much of his time, months after the fall of the OS. At the same time, it was a PR nightmare and he was constantly having to put out media fires while at the same time the Foundation’s expedition was a media darling. It was baffling and exhausting to juggle the hostile elements while entertaining the positive reporters. Despite having cut his teeth as a journalist, he had begun to hate the media with a passion. Now he knew why people wouldn’t talk to him back in the day, though he’d actually had a pretty good track record compared to other journalists.
Rebecca’s second email requesting information about the missing crew members reminded him that he’d delegated the inquiry to an assistant and hadn’t heard back. He called her in.
“Traci, what have you heard about the sick workers? Rebecca’s on my neck about the answer.”
“I’m still trying to get some information, Daniel. None of them has responded. I just sent an inquiry to the agent who found them for us just this morning. You’ll be the first to know, as soon as I do.”
“No, I want you to email Rebecca first. Then you can tell me. I don’t have time to be involved in this. Did you send her medicines yet?”
“Yes sir, three days ago.”
Some hours into the following day, a very pale Traci knocked on Daniel’s doorframe. He had a policy of keeping his door open unless he needed privacy for confidential matters. He looked up, took in her face and motioned her in.
“Sarah, I’ve got to go, something’s wrong. I’ll call you back as soon as I know what it is,” he said, placing the receiver in its cradle when he’d heard his wife say she understood.
“What is it, Traci?” he questioned sharply. Daniel’s temper was fraying with all the problems, and his employees knew it. They ignored his tone of voice most of the time, knowing it was the situations that caused his stress and that he didn’t mean anything personal. This time, though, Traci shrunk, literally, before his eyes. Alarmed, he tried again, this time modulating his tone.
“Traci?”
“Daniel, they’re, they’re all dead. And their families are sick.”
Daniel shot out of his chair, sending it crashing into the wall behind him. “What? Who? Those diggers?”
The frightened girl tried to stand her ground, but ended up stepping forward and sinking into a chair in front of his desk. “The agent finally got back to me. He had trouble because they were from three different countries, Egypt, Turkey and Saudi Arabia. They’re all dead, and according to what I’ve been able to find out, about fifteen more are sick, mostly the families of our men. The local news media is beginning to take notice.”
“Is anyone working on treatment?” Daniel had retrieved his chair and was seated on the edge of it, his elbows on his desk and head in his hands. “This is a disaster. Do they know what it is? Have you emailed Rebecca?”
It was all Traci could do to sort out the questions that flew at her. “I emailed Rebecca, yes. She got the medicine we sent. The agent I talked to referred me to a doctor in Saudi Arabia. He was too busy to talk to me, but someone in his office said that they don’t know what it is, just that it seems to be highly contagious. I guess they’ve traced the movements of the first five, and have found a handful of crew members and passengers on their flights from Indonesia to their homes that are sick, along with some family members of the dead men. They’re all in hospitals, receiving the best treatment available.”
“Stay on top of this, Traci. And thanks for the update. I want a daily report.”
�
�Sure, Daniel.” Though she was still shaky, Traci left, while Daniel picked up the phone to call Sarah back.
Chapter 12 - We’ve got a situation on our hands
Rebecca could hear the phone ringing in her office, but she was too busy to answer it. Her patients were deteriorating, and nothing she did helped. Finally, the ringing stopped. When she’d changed all the linens and IVs and dispensed more useless medication, Rebecca went to see who had called. Her voicemail had a message from Daniel, and there was a new email from his assistant, Traci. Since the email was older, she read it before calling Daniel back.
‘Five crew members deceased, their families sick. Highly contagious virus, doctors working on treatment. Do you need more medicine?’
Rebecca stared at the screen, unable to process what she was seeing. All five of the sick crew members had died? Her blood ran cold as she realized she had five more in her infirmary. Was there any chance that the illness was not the same? Highly unlikely, especially since the email went on to explain that there were fifteen more cases, all of which had been exposed to the illness by those first five. And yet, none of them had complained of symptoms before flying out to McMurdo. ‘Highly contagious virus’ was another phrase that staggered her. She had forty-five rotating crew in air-tight dormitories, not to mention the support crew, the scientists and the remaining assistants. She needed to get everyone equipped with face masks right now, if it wasn’t already too late. And what about the South Americans that had rotated out last weekend? Were any of them sick?
Her mind reeling, Rebecca called Daniel back, hoping he had some answers for her.
“Daniel, it’s Rebecca,” she said, unnecessarily. He’d recognized her voice even though the comms link was over satellite broadband.
“Becca, it’s good to hear your voice. It looks like we’ve got a situation on our hands.”
“Daniel, tell me that someone knows what this is. We’ve got an environment here that’s almost designed perfectly for any disease to sweep through like a tornado.”
“I know, Becca and we’re on it. We’re monitoring the situation in the home towns of those poor guys, and as soon as anyone gets a handle on it, we’ll let you know what stops it. Are you doing okay? And JR?”
Rebecca heard the sub-text; is my brother sick? Daniel still hadn’t gotten over almost losing JR after sending him here against his will last year. She was glad to reassure him that so far only the five she’d reported were sick. Maybe it wasn’t even the same illness, she told him, though she knew better instinctively. She told him that Traci had offered another shipment of medicine, and that she hoped she wouldn’t need it, but maybe he’d better send it as a precaution. The sooner an antiviral was utilized, the better the outcome. While she was thinking of it, she also asked for a supply of stronger antipyretics, since the high fever was of major concern. Even knowing that there was controversy in interfering with a fever, which is part of the immune response, she was concerned that the resulting brain damage was of more concern than the deleterious effect on the immune system.
After talking to Daniel, she located JR, who’d just come in with the work crew and scientists on the train from the valley. It was hard to believe it had been an entire week since el-Amin and the others had first presented with their symptoms. In another week, the shifts were supposed to rotate again, but she had grave reservations about bringing anyone else into the environment. She’d need to express her misgivings to JR and Summers, who would have the authority to stop it if they thought her theory had merit. Meanwhile, she wanted JR to send to McMurdo for a large supply of face masks to try to mitigate the spread of this thing to the rest of the people in the expedition. With luck, they could contain it, and hopefully save these patients from the fate of their co-workers. Even as she planned for all eventualities, however, Rebecca understood that this was far more serious than a seasonal flu. It had all the markings of a killer.
JR and Summers didn’t agree with the idea of putting everyone in face masks. Summers went so far as to say it was like locking the barn door after the horse had bolted. JR thought that if no one else was sick by now, they weren’t going to be. Rebecca had her doubts, but at least she had enough face masks for herself and for JR when he went in to help her with some things that were proving difficult. The four devout Muslims were reluctant for her to touch them, even as sick as they were. JR had volunteered to give them their sponge baths and get them dressed in fresh gowns when their original ones became soiled.
Rebecca could manage the rest, now that IVs had been started. Even getting the sheets changed could be accomplished by rolling the men out of the way while gripping the edge of the soiled sheet, slipping a clean one underneath, and repeating the process from the other side to pull the clean sheet across. So far, she’d been able to allow the men to get up and roll their IV stands into the bathroom with them. If any became too weak to do that, she was going to need a full-time male assistant to help with bedpans. Stop borrowing trouble, she admonished herself. These men had been sick for a week, and they weren’t dead yet. With luck, they’d caught the illness in time to save them, or it was a different virus. She checked on them one more time before scrubbing thoroughly and joining JR and Summers in the mess hall. They still hadn’t talked about whether to bring in the South American team.
Rebecca, Summers and JR discussed the options over dinner. They did have two dormitories, one of which was empty except during the shift changes. JR suggested thoroughly cleaning, disinfecting and sterilizing the one that stood empty now, to minimize any transfer of the virus, and bringing the South American crew in as scheduled. They would take pains to keep the crews separate, and to clean anything that the crew on deck now would have touched. After thinking about it for a minute, Rebecca conceded that viruses weren’t usually transferred by touching inanimate objects anyway, as they typically needed a host vector to survive.
She began to believe that she was blowing everything out of proportion because she was so tired, having had little sleep for the past seven days. When JR insisted that Rebecca leave her patients for a few hours in the care of some of the support crew who would volunteer, she agreed. She needed some rest, or she’d end up in an infirmary bed herself, and then what would happen? Not for the first time in that week, Rebecca kicked herself for not requesting an assistant for herself. This pace was punishing, and if there were a second wave of illness, she would have no reserves to meet the demands it presented.
Thank goodness most viruses became weaker as they went from host to host. Unless they mutated; that could be a problem. But, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, she told herself again. They didn’t even know what virus they were dealing with, so she shouldn’t be assuming the worst-case scenario yet. It was good to snuggle into JR’s arms, letting herself be the one to be comforted and pampered for a change. For the sake of her patients, she had to appear strong and confident, even for the Muslims who had no respect for her, as a woman. But now and then, she needed to be vulnerable, to be protected, and to have her man’s strong arms around her and his love cradling her. Thinking these thoughts, she drifted off to sleep.
~~~
Despite the drama taking place on Rebecca’s watch, work continued on the excavations and in all the other scientific inquiries, except for el-Amin’s projects. Nyree asked after him, and Rebecca told her he was ill but under treatment. She maintained the same confidentiality about her patients as she would have in her office at home, in fact, telling anyone who inquired about any of them that they were resting comfortably.
Not only was she concerned about confidentiality, but she didn’t want a panic on her hands if the bulk of the expedition members knew how gravely ill her patients actually were. Even Robert and Cyndi didn’t know, and presumably Summers hadn’t shared it with Angela, either. It was tough for her to maintain an air of normalcy when she encountered them, but she did a good job. No one except Rebecca, JR and Summers knew how sick the five were, and that was the way Rebecca wanted
it.
Unfortunately, that state of affairs didn’t last long. With her first five patients deteriorating in spite of everything she could think to do for them, now a steady stream of diggers with sore throats and sniffles were seeking some relief. She lost count within the first hour on Monday morning. She sent each one to his dorm with some antiviral and antipyretic medication and the admonishment to drink plenty of liquids and stay in bed unless they became worse. She didn’t want any of them getting on the train to infect others, or trying to work when they would need all their strength to fight this thing off. The proof of that was her five initial patients, all of whom were struggling to breathe now.
In desperation, Rebecca sent for JR and told him she was going to need help. She demonstrated on el-Amin how to insert a cannula and start an oxygen feed, knowing all the while that if more became this ill, there wouldn’t be enough equipment to treat all of them. This was the tenth day since the first five had become ill, and there had been no word yet from Boulder on what might help. As soon as she took care of the people who were now presenting with the initial symptoms, she planned to call Boulder and if they still couldn’t help, she’d demand some phone numbers of doctors who’d treated the sick ones on the outside and talk to them herself.
