by Lara Lacombe
“Your turn,” she said with a smile. “Do you see yourself doing this forever?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. He absently fiddled with the straw in his cup, spinning it this way and that as he composed his thoughts. “I like the work, but at some point I want a home and a family. I know there are guys in this job who are married with kids, but when I was in the service, I saw what being gone all the time did to marriages. It’s a lot to ask of someone, to take care of the kids and the house alone.”
Mallory nodded her agreement. “Long-distance relationships are never easy.”
“Besides,” he continued, “if I’m lucky enough to have children, I want to be there to see them grow up.”
Her eyes softened, and he realized she liked what he’d just said. He hadn’t been trying to impress her—it was simply the truth. He’d been fortunate enough to have both his parents around while he was a kid, but some of his friends hadn’t been so lucky. Now that he was an adult, he recognized the important role his father had played in his life, and he was determined to have that same connection with his own children.
“That’s a nice sentim—” she began, but at that moment one of the nurses rapped on the door.
“Dr. Watkins? I’m sorry to interrupt. We need you in the clinic right away, please.”
Mallory shot him an apologetic look. “Of course. What’s going on?”
The nurse frowned, her lips pressing together in a thin line. “We have another case. It’s bad.”
Chapter 7
Mallory slid her arms into the sleeves of her white coat as she walked into the main body of the clinic. Everest kept pace with her for several steps, but instead of heading toward the gurneys he peeled off for the exit with a wave and a nod.
“See you later?” she asked. Lunch with him had been nice, and she’d enjoyed learning more about him. Maybe they could try for dinner, if both of their schedules allowed.
“Definitely,” he said. “I’ll page you.”
He walked out of the clinic, and Mallory turned her attention to the business at hand. Her newest patient sat on a bed, clutching a pink plastic basin to his chest with a white-knuckled grip. He was pale with a greenish tinge to his skin, and his dark hair was damp with sweat.
Oh, no, she thought. It’s spreading.
“Hello,” she said, donning a pair of gloves before she came to a stop next to him. The scent of stale vomit wafted off the man, and she fought to hide the instinctive revulsion that made her want to wrinkle her nose and take a step back. She had encountered a lot of unpleasant odors in her time as a doctor, but the only one that really got to her was the sour-tangy scent of stomach acid mixed with food. It was a challenge to hide her disgust every time, but she wouldn’t let herself react while in view of a patient. It wasn’t his fault, and she didn’t want to embarrass him over something he couldn’t control.
“My name is Dr. Watkins. What’s your name?” He wore the khaki pants and orange polo uniform of housekeeping staff, but his badge was obscured by the basin he held.
His dark eyes were full of misery as he looked up at her. “Danny.”
She began her physical exam, careful to keep her touch light as she asked him questions about his symptoms. He’d started throwing up about an hour ago, he said, and hadn’t stopped since.
“Normally, I wouldn’t come in for something like this,” he said, sounding apologetic. “But it’s not just the vomiting. My stomach really hurts, like someone is taking a razor blade to the inside. I’ve never felt this kind of pain before.”
Mallory frowned and guided him onto his back. It wasn’t uncommon for patients with norovirus to experience cramping, but sharp, acute pain was unusual. “I’m going to examine your abdomen.” She placed her hands on his belly and began to gently palpate his organs, searching for any unusual swellings or bulges. “Tell me if anything hurts.”
The words had barely left her mouth when Danny let out a loud groan and gripped her wrists, stilling her hands. “Please stop.”
“Okay,” she said soothingly. “I’m almost done. I just need to check a couple more spots.”
He stared up at her, doubt and despair on his face. She could tell he was afraid, and she tried to project a calm confidence so he would know things were under control. After a few seconds, his hands slipped off her wrists and he nodded slightly.
Mallory worked quickly, trying to be as considerate as possible as she wrapped up the exam. But despite her efforts, Danny was clearly still in pain. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, and fresh drops of sweat beaded on his forehead.
“All done,” Mallory said. She hadn’t found anything unusual, but it was clear Danny was suffering greatly. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Would you like to sit back up, or are you more comfortable lying down?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I think I need to sit up again, though, because—”
He began to retch, and Mallory quickly rolled him onto his side and brought the basin up to his mouth. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was somewhere—anywhere—else while Danny heaved so hard his body curled into a C shape on the gurney.
After an endless moment, he relaxed again. He rolled onto his back and lifted his hand to wipe his mouth. There was a rag wrapped around his palm, a makeshift bandage of some kind.
Mallory handed the basin to a nurse and grabbed a clean towel and a small bottle of water from the minifridge in the corner. She handed both to him and nodded at his hand. “What happened there?”
“Huh?” He followed her gaze and frowned at his palm. “Oh, that. Uh, that’s nothing.”
Something about his denial didn’t ring true. “Why don’t you let me put a clean dressing on it?”
“No,” he said quickly. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Mallory arched her brow but let the matter drop for the moment. She turned to the nurse and began issuing orders. “Please start an IV and administer a saline drip along with some Phenergan for the nausea.”
“Thank you,” Danny breathed, clearly finding some consolation in the promise of relief.
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me take a look at that hand. I want to check for signs of infection.”
He hesitated a moment, cradling the appendage close to his chest as if to protect it from her gaze. Mallory waited in silence; she couldn’t force him to let her examine the injury, even if it was for his own good.
After a moment, he slowly extended his hand, silently granting permission. Mallory untied the knots in the rag, and the fabric fell away to reveal a series of raised red welts and large blisters strewn across his palm.
She winced in sympathy. “That looks like it hurts,” she said.
Danny shrugged, but the way he pressed his lips together told her it bothered him.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Mallory unwrapped a square of alcohol-soaked gauze and gently ran it over the inflamed skin. He let out a little hiss that turned into a sigh as the alcohol evaporated, bringing cool relief. “Really?” she asked conversationally. “You just woke up like this?”
“No,” he muttered. He paused, as if he was mentally debating what he could say. Then he sighed. “Please don’t tell anyone this, okay?”
Mallory leaned in and nodded. “Just between you and me.”
He glanced around, as if to verify they were alone. “I was cleaning one of the bathrooms on A deck. We got a message to institute more stringent cleaning measures because of a sickness on board.” He snorted. “Guess it’s not doing that much good.”
Mallory didn’t say anything, but she hoped he was wrong on that point.
“Anyway, I was scrubbing the wall, and my mop hit one of those black boxes mounted high up by the ceiling
. The cover fell off, and this wad of gray stuff dropped to the floor.”
“Gray stuff?” she repeated, trying to make sense of his story.
“Yeah. I picked it up to put it back inside, and while I was holding it my skin began to tingle. Then it started to burn. I looked down and saw the red marks.” He gestured to his palm with his free hand. “I tried to shove the stuff back into the box, but I accidentally dropped it into the toilet.”
“I see. And then what happened?”
“Well, I wasn’t about to fish it out of the toilet and burn my other hand. So I flushed it and put the cover back into place.”
Mallory nodded. “Okay.” She took a closer look at his hand. The damage to his skin could be due to a chemical burn of some kind, which fit the details of his story. But what kind of material had he touched? She knew the boxes were part of the ship’s information network. It sounded strange that there would be anything but a tangle of wires inside each one. Surely the captain would have informed them if some kind of toxic substance was inside, as that presented a safety issue for both the passengers and crew.
“Have you seen this substance inside any other boxes?”
Danny shook his head. “No, and please don’t tell anyone about what happened.” His tone grew urgent. “If my boss finds out I broke one of the hubs, I could lose my job.”
“I don’t think you broke it,” Mallory replied. “Things still seem to be working as they should. But if there is something dangerous in the boxes, I need to know so I can protect the people on board.”
His eyes grew wide with panic. “You said you wouldn’t talk about this.” He struggled to sit up, and Mallory put her hand on his shoulder to restrain him.
“I’m not going to use your name,” she said, holding his gaze so he could see she was serious. “No one will know I got this information from you. But I do have to investigate it.”
Danny looked like he wanted to say something, but the nurse approached with the IV supplies and medication. Mallory gestured to his hand. “Please treat his palm with some Silvadene cream and apply a dressing.”
The woman nodded, and Mallory took a step back to give her room to work. “I want you to rest now,” she told Danny as she pulled off her gloves. “Try to relax, okay?”
He stared at her, doubt shining in his eyes. “It’s going to be all right,” she told him. She held his gaze, silently willing him to believe her. She couldn’t explain why, but it was important that she earned his trust.
Finally, he nodded once and turned his head to stare up at the ceiling. Mallory quickly returned to her office and picked up the phone. She didn’t know what to make of Danny’s story, but she knew just who to call for a second opinion.
Everest.
* * *
“You want me to what?”
“Check the communication boxes mounted throughout the ship,” Mallory replied promptly.
“Because you think there’s some kind of dangerous substance inside,” Everest finished.
She nodded, and he mentally sighed. “That’s what I thought you’d said,” he muttered. He rubbed his forehead with his hand, trying to stave off an incipient headache. Where had Mallory gotten this idea?
She gestured for him to sit down, and she did the same. Her small office still carried the scent of their lunch from a few hours ago, but he was here on business now.
“I have reason to believe the boxes might present a danger to the passengers and crew.”
“What kind of danger?” he asked. There had to be hundreds of the boxes scattered throughout the ship. Checking them would be a major ordeal, and he didn’t want to devote the time and manpower on a project that wasn’t urgently necessary. Besides, if he asked his team to examine the boxes, they risked damaging them and impairing the ship’s communication network.
“I think there’s a toxic substance inside that will cause some pretty nasty chemical burns if people touch it.” She sounded confident about this, but Everest still wasn’t convinced.
“But as long as it’s sealed in the boxes it’s not a threat, right?”
Mallory frowned, apparently considering that for the first time. “I suppose. But until I get a look at the stuff I can’t be sure. It’s possible the material could cause respiratory problems if inhaled.”
Everest nodded. He knew a fair bit about chemicals thanks to his time in the army. He’d been part of the CBRN Reconnaissance Platoon, which meant he and his men had worked to detect chemical, biological, radiological and nuclear threats. He’d received extensive training in chemical recognition and detection. If he could get a look at this mysterious substance, it was possible he might recognize it and be able to identify it.
“Do you know what it looks like?”
“I’m told it’s gray and feels like putty.”
Everest frowned. That could describe any number of things. They’d have to run tests to determine the exact identity of the chemical, and he didn’t have access to those kinds of supplies.
“How many patients do you think have been harmed by this stuff?”
Mallory shifted. “Well...” she hedged. “Just one. So far,” she added quickly. “There might be more later, if additional passengers are exposed.”
“It sounds like the problems result from direct contact with the substance,” he said. “Which means as long as no one touches it, there won’t be any more issues.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Mallory said slowly. “Does this mean you’re not going to check the boxes?” She sounded disappointed, and Everest found himself wanting to defend his decision so she would understand. He didn’t want to let her down, but it just didn’t seem practical for his team to go poking around looking for trouble.
“It sounds like an isolated problem to me,” he said, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. “I’m sorry someone was injured, but as far as I can tell, the boxes and their contents are secure. If we disturb them, we risk interrupting the communication network and exposing more people to the material inside.”
“But don’t you think it’s strange the boxes have this stuff inside?” she pressed.
Everest shrugged. “Maybe not. I’m not an electrician. For all you know, the putty is an adhesive designed to keep the wires in place, or the cover attached. Besides, lots of structures are safe on the surface, but if you were to dissect them you’d encounter something dangerous. Have you seen the rodent traps in the lower levels of the ship?” She nodded and he leaned back. “There you go. If you cracked one of those open it would be hazardous, but that doesn’t mean we need to inspect every one of them.”
“You have a point,” she said begrudgingly.
Relief flashed through him—he was glad she wasn’t angry over his refusal to act. He’d hate for this issue to interfere with getting to know her better.
“I’m sorry I bothered you.” Mallory stood and he followed suit. It was clear this meeting was over.
“You didn’t,” Everest said simply. “I’m glad you paged me. Please don’t hesitate to reach out to me whenever you have a question or concern.”
Mallory nodded and walked with him to the door of the clinic. He noticed the privacy curtain was pulled around one of the beds. That must be her patient.
“Let me know if anything else comes up,” he said, pausing at the door.
“I will.” Her demeanor had changed in the last few minutes—her disappointment had been replaced with an air of resolve that made him think she might have something planned.
“Please don’t do anything rash,” he said.
Mallory blinked in surprise. “What makes you think I would?”
He tilted his head to the side as he studied her. “You seem determined, like you’ve made up your mind about something.”
“Don’t worry,” she told him breezily. “I’ll
be careful.”
Everest sighed, knowing there was nothing more he could say. Short of sticking by her side 24/7, there was no way to make sure she stayed out of trouble. “I know you’re worried about the material in the boxes, but exposing yourself is not the way to protect the passengers and crew.”
She waved away his concern. “I’m not going to bother the boxes,” she told him. “Everything is fine.”
He nodded skeptically. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay.”
Everest left the clinic, feeling a bit uncertain. He wanted to help Mallory, but it just didn’t make sense to crack open all the communication boxes on the ship to identify a potentially dangerous substance that appeared to pose no threat in its current state. Better to keep whatever it was safely behind the plastic covers and minimize exposure.
But why did he get the feeling Mallory didn’t agree with him? And just what did she have planned?
Chapter 8
Mallory leaned against the reception desk at the front of the clinic, mentally weighing her options. She could take a page from Everest’s book and forget about the mysterious substance Danny insisted he’d encountered. Or she could do a little digging on her own.
It would be safer to drop the issue. Everest did have a point; if she went poking about in the boxes, she would only expose herself to the material and risk getting injured. But since she knew ahead of time it was caustic, she could take precautions before examining it...
She glanced into the body of the clinic, and her gaze caught on the curtain that provided a measure of privacy for Danny. He was resting quietly now, but she couldn’t get the image of his damaged palm out of her mind. It had to be causing him pain, and yet he’d intended to suffer through it because he was worried about his job. It simply wasn’t right, and if Mallory could find out more about the material that had caused him such trouble, she might be able to better treat the wound.
Her mind made up, she walked into the clinic and marched over to the corner, staring up at the innocuous-looking black box mounted high on the wall. Maybe she could simply lift the cover and take a good look at the mysterious gray substance Danny had described. At the very least, she could confirm his story and issue a warning to the rest of the crew—she didn’t want anyone else mishandling the material if they happened to encounter it.
