Читать книгу Dr. Do-Or-Die - Lara Lacombe - Страница 11
ОглавлениеAvery took a deep breath and placed a hand on her stomach to still the butterfly wings fluttering inside. Why was she nervous? She was a professional, for crying out loud. She’d successfully worked numerous outbreaks in many different settings, ranging from small, isolated towns to major cities, and everywhere in between. She knew what she was doing, and she did it well.
Why, then, did she feel like a rookie on her first assignment?
It could be because she was working with a new team. The nurses and lab tech who’d flown in with her weren’t new to outbreak work, but since Avery had met them all for the first time only a few days ago, she wasn’t sure how they would jell together. Everyone seemed nice enough now, but she knew from experience that once the real work began, the stress level increased and tempers rose to the surface. It would be up to her to keep the team focused, motivated, and feeling supported.
It was a tough job, but nothing she hadn’t done before. And in truth, she relished the challenge—it was part of what she loved about her work.
No, her jangling nerves had little to do with the task at hand and everything to do with the man she was on her way to see.
Grant Jones had clearly been surprised by her presence, and the feeling was entirely mutual. She closed her eyes, mentally adding up the time since she’d seen him last. Ten years, she realized with a small jolt. A lifetime ago.
She had to admit; the years had been kind to him. His light brown hair still held a bit of a curl; only now it was shot through with a few silver strands. He’d acquired fans of fine lines at the corners of his hazel eyes, but the arches of his cheekbones and his long, straight nose hadn’t changed. His mouth still held that hint of mischief, too, as if he was always thinking of some private joke.
She couldn’t say she’d missed him—he’d hurt her too badly for that. But now that she’d seen him once again, a small bud of curiosity began to bloom. What had his life been like over the past decade? Did he have a wife? Kids?
The thought of children was like a knife to her heart, and she quickly dismissed the idea. But her memories weren’t so quick to fade...
I’m pregnant.
Two little words, and yet they’d changed everything.
Avery looked down as she washed her hands in the small bathroom, but the chipped sink and unfamiliar surroundings faded as the memory of another bathroom took its place...
* * *
It was her senior year of college, and she and Grant had their future all mapped out. They were both going to medical school—even though they’d been accepted to different institutions, Grant was already planning to transfer to be with Avery during his second year. They’d get an apartment together, study together, support each other through the trials and tribulations of school. And then, when they’d both gotten their MDs, they’d get married and live happily-ever-after.
That was the plan, until halfway through the year when Avery came down with a stomach bug.
Except it wasn’t a normal illness. This one lingered for days, leaving her exhausted. Her stomach revolted every time she ate, giving her no choice but to spend a lot of time in the bathroom. For the second time that day, she knelt on the cold tile floor and wiped the sick off her lips with a wad of toilet paper.
Swallowing with a grimace, she stood and flushed the toilet, then made her way to the sink and reached for her toothbrush. Her gaze caught on the blue box of tampons on the counter and she frowned. How long had it been since she’d had to use them?
She searched her memory, her thoughts growing more frantic as she went further back in time. Her period was two—no, three—weeks late. Her heart in her throat, she skipped class and drove to the gas station across town. No way was she going to buy a pregnancy test at the campus general store—that would trigger all sorts of rumors she didn’t want to deal with. Ignoring the knowing smirk of the teenage boy who rang up her purchase, Avery raced back to her apartment and locked herself in the bathroom. She placed the stick on the counter and closed her eyes, counting silently as she waited for her fate to be revealed.
It was the longest two minutes of her life. Gathering up her courage, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
Two lines.
She was pregnant.
Her first thought was denial. This isn’t happening. She and Grant were always extra careful—she took her pill religiously every day, and they used condoms, too. The last thing either one of them wanted was a baby right now, not when they had such big plans. The test has to be wrong. It was the only explanation that made sense, and she clung to it like a drowning man given a life raft. Her body shaking, she took the second one. And then the third and final test in the box. Ten minutes later, she had to admit the truth.
The next few days passed in a blur. She went to class, pretended everything was okay. But inside she was numb, still trying to process this unexpected detour in her life’s plan. Gradually, though, the shock that had left her frozen thawed, and she began rewriting her blueprint for happiness. She and Grant would get married now, and she’d move out to California with him so he could start medical school. She’d delay her admission for a year and then begin her own program once the baby was a little older. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but they would make it work.
Her mind made up and a new plan in place, Avery decided it was time to tell Grant. She met him at the apartment he shared with two of his fraternity brothers, figuring it was better to break the news in private.
It went well, all things considered. Grant certainly wasn’t excited about the news, but he wasn’t angry, either. Looking back on it later, Avery realized his dominant emotion had been terror, which was understandable. But he’d put on a brave face and told her everything would be okay. Avery had left him after a few hours, knowing he needed some time alone to process the news.
She went to bed that night feeling hopeful, and for the first time she began to really wonder about the new life inside of her. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would it have her blue eyes, or Grant’s hazel-green? And what about names?
A few weeks later, she started bleeding.
Faint at first, but as the day wore on it got heavier. She called her ob-gyn, who told her this was normal for some women. The reassurance made her feel a little better, but she still worried. A few hours later, she started cramping.
She tried to call Grant, but he didn’t answer his phone. So she drove herself to the emergency room, and was alone when the doctor told her the news. Even today, Avery could still see his face when she closed her eyes. He was a young man, tall and lanky in green scrubs and wearing a white coat that was too big for his frame. He looked like a little boy wearing his father’s clothes, and Avery kept waiting for the real doctor to show up.
“I’m so sorry, miss,” he said, looking supremely uncomfortable. “But you’re having a miscarriage.”
The words stung, each one landing like a separate slap that left her reeling. She fought to hold back her tears, but it was no use. She broke down in the exam bay, the white curtain surrounding her bed doing nothing to muffle her sorrow from the rest of the ER. To his credit, the doctor didn’t leave. He walked over to the bed and held her hand, his touch bearing witness to her pain.
After what seemed like an eternity, Avery somehow managed to get herself home and curled up in a ball on the bed. She didn’t know how much time passed—didn’t really care. Her whole consciousness was turned inward, focused on the internal workings of her body and the heartbreaking events in progress...
* * *
The door hinges squeaked and Avery came back to the present with a little jump. She smiled at the woman who walked in and received a polite nod in return. Time to go, she thought, twisting off the faucet. She couldn’t very well continue to stand here, lost in bitter memories, now that she had company. Besides, she’d already spent too much time thinking about the past. Her shared history with Grant was painful, but she wasn’t going to let it affect her current job. And if the shock on his face was anything to go by, he didn’t really want to walk down memory lane, either. It seemed they were both on the same page, then. Focus on the problem at hand so they could each go their separate ways.
Avery stepped out into the hall and turned left. She could see the door to Grant’s office from here, and despite her resolve to remain professional at all times, her stomach flopped about like a landed fish. Part of her wanted badly to tell him off—to let him know in no uncertain terms how much pain he’d caused her. But another, more rational part recognized that was a bad idea. It just wasn’t worth the effort, and in the end it wouldn’t bring her the satisfaction she craved. Better for her to stop looking back. She couldn’t change the past, and if she got mired in memories she wouldn’t be able to work effectively.
Was Grant having the same problem? Likely not, she thought with a soft snort. Unless she missed her guess, he’d moved away after college and hadn’t looked back. And why would he? He’d dodged a bullet when she lost the baby—he’d made that much clear.
Avery shook her head, drawing deep inside herself for strength. She was going to walk into his office with her head held high and her shoulders back, and she’d keep her chin up for the duration of her stay here. She wasn’t about to let Grant know how much the past still haunted her after all these years. No, she was going to project the image of a calm, capable professional, not a woman forever changed by his actions.
And maybe after a while, she’d believe it herself.
* * *
Grant sat behind his desk and took a deep breath, his mind going a million miles a minute. What was he going to say to Avery? The shock of seeing her had begun to wear off, but he still wasn’t feeling terribly articulate. The last thing he wanted to do was say the wrong thing and increase the tension between them.
She definitely hadn’t been excited to see him. He recalled the look on her face when she’d realized it was him, and a sense of shame made his skin prickle. It was his fault Avery looked at him like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Once upon a time they’d meant the world to each other. But a few careless words had killed her feelings and ruined his chances of ever finding happiness with her again.
He thought he’d managed to put that painful episode of his life behind him, but seeing Avery brought it all back up again, and Grant was surprised to find the heartache was still fresh, ten years later.
So much for time healing everything.
Should he just start with an apology and get it over with? I’m sorry I said the miscarriage was for the best. Straight and to the point. No way for her to misinterpret his words. It was a hell of an opener, but maybe it was the best approach. When a patient had an infection he didn’t hesitate to use aggressive treatments. This wound had festered between them for far too long—perhaps it was time to air things out and start the healing.
Or maybe not.
Avery had always been a stickler for rules and protocol. She probably wouldn’t appreciate him bringing up the past, especially since she was here in a professional capacity. It was one thing to talk about their shared history over a beer, quite another to discuss it as part of an outbreak investigation. It might be better for him to ignore the past and focus solely on current events.
Besides, it was entirely possible Avery had moved on with her life and no longer carried the burden of her loss.
Not likely, he thought, dismissing the prospect almost immediately. Avery wasn’t the type to pretend something hadn’t happened. Grant could still remember the look in her eyes, that haunted, hopeless grief eating her up from the inside... He shuddered, and goose bumps broke out along his arms. No, he did not think Avery had gotten over the loss of the baby.
But maybe she had found someone new and started a family. The thought filled him with equal parts pleasure and dismay. Grant would never wish for her to be unhappy, but the idea that she’d moved on with her life stung, especially since he certainly hadn’t.
He’d dated a few women over the years, but his heart really hadn’t been in it. He made a point of warning the women up front that he was not the marrying kind, but they always seemed to take it as a challenge, like they would be the one to change his mind. The experience left a bad taste in his mouth, and so he’d chosen to remain single rather than break someone else’s heart.
Had Avery been wearing a ring? He closed his eyes, trying to remember. But all he could recall was her face, those bright blue eyes growing cold when she realized who he was...
Grant shook his head to clear the memory and focused on his immediate problem. What should he say to her? He glanced at his watch, and his heart kicked hard against his breastbone. She was going to be here any minute, and he still had no idea how to talk to her.
A knock on the door told him he’d run out of time. He’d just have to wing it, and let her take the lead. No matter what had happened between them, they had to work together now. He wasn’t going to be the reason this investigation failed.
“Come in.”
The door swung open and he stood to greet her, gesturing for her to take the seat across from him. “Sorry it’s so crowded,” he said as she maneuvered into the small space. The room was a narrow rectangle, carved out from the slightly larger staff break room. Grant’s desk sat at the far end, opposite the door. Bookshelves lined the walls, crammed full of texts on every conceivable medical subject. It was a testament to the preinternet days when a base physician needed access to information on a wide variety of conditions. As Grant had already learned, there was no telling what might walk through the door.
Avery glanced around, taking it all in as she moved forward. Her eyes landed on the cot shoved to one side of the room, topped with a tangle of sheets. She quickly looked away again, and Grant felt a sudden stab of embarrassment. Why hadn’t he thought to make the bed? She probably thought he’d turned into a slob.
“It’s cozy,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a half smile as she sat. Grant did the same and promptly forgot how to breathe when she leaned forward to pull something out of the bag she’d set at her feet. The V of her scrub top gaped open, giving him an unobstructed view of her lovely attributes. His face heated and he turned his head, looking for something—anything—else to focus on while he willed his body’s response to go away. Of all the inconvenient times to be reminded of her as a woman... Dozens of memories rushed in, overwhelming him with visions of them together. His hands on her. Her hands on him. Her mouth—He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, then eyed the bottle of water on his desk. Would it be too obvious if he dumped the contents into his lap?
“Everything okay over there?”
Grant glanced back to find Avery watching him, a curious expression on her face. Damn. He was going to have to be more careful about controlling his reactions around her. Thanks to their shared past, she could tell when something was bothering him.
“I’m good,” he said. “Just had a little tickle in my throat.” He unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and took a healthy swig to lend more credence to the lie.
She nodded, apparently accepting his answer.
“How have you been?” Grant asked. He knew she’d probably rather talk about the outbreak, but he wasn’t going to be able to focus until he knew more about her life and what she’d been up to in the last decade.
“Just fine, thanks.” She kept her head down, flipping through the notebook in her lap.
“That’s good.” He paused, but when she didn’t speak again he forged ahead. “I guess you live in Atlanta?” That was the location of the CDC’s headquarters, so it stood to reason she’d live there.
“Yes.” She continued to flip pages, the rustle of paper the only sound in the room.
“Ah, apartment or house?” he asked, needing to fill the awkward silence.
Avery apparently found her place in the notebook and looked up. “Apartment. Look, Grant. I appreciate the chitchat, but let’s just get down to business, shall we?”
“Sure,” he said, nodding in agreement. “I’m just glad to see you’re okay.”
She smiled, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m great. You look fine, too. And now that we’ve established that, I think we’ll both be better off if we focus on the outbreak.”
She was right, of course. And really, he should be relieved that she didn’t want to spend time going over their past. But part of him was disappointed—how was he going to apologize if she didn’t want to talk about the elephant in the room?
“What can you tell me about this outbreak?”
“It started two weeks ago,” he replied automatically, shoving aside his personal concerns. There would be time enough to chat later, once he’d hopefully figured out how to broach the subject. “The first two patients presented on the same day, a few hours apart.”
“Can you tell me about their symptoms?”
“Low-grade fever, congestion, mild cough. Typical upper respiratory stuff. It’s the kind of thing that cycles through here on a regular basis, so I gave them the usual treatment and sent them on their way.”
“And then what happened?” Her pen flew across the paper as he talked, taking notes on everything he said.
“The rest of the patients presented in the same way over the next two days. I put out a notice, reminding everyone to focus on hand-washing, cover coughs and sneezes, that kind of thing. But I didn’t realize anything was wrong until the third day.”
Avery pulled another piece of paper from her bag and consulted it. “That’s when Patient Zero came back?” she asked, referring to the first patient.
“Yes,” Grant confirmed. “And he looked like death warmed over.”
One of Avery’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that your official clinical opinion, Doctor?” There was the slightest hint of amusement in her voice—not enough for a stranger to register, but Grant picked up on it. He gave her a little smile of acknowledgment and was gratified to see her own mouth curve up slightly in response.
“Indeed,” he replied solemnly. “Fever of one hundred and five degrees, productive cough, bloody mucus. Not to mention, his eyes were bloodshot—he’d ruptured the capillaries from coughing so hard.”
Avery grimaced. “Poor guy.”
“Yeah.” Grant shook his head, remembering that sick feeling in his gut he’d gotten when the man had stumbled back in. “And to top it off, he said his pain was an eight on a scale of one to ten.”
“What did you do?”
“Started him on a febrifuge and pain meds. His chest sounded crackly, so I ordered a chest X-ray. Came back almost entirely whited out.”
Avery’s eyebrows lifted. “There was that much fluid in his lungs?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll get you the medical records for all the patients so you can see the results for yourself. But essentially he was drowning in what I later learned was blood.”
It was a sight he’d never forget, a scene from a horror movie burned into his brain, made all the more terrifying because it had really happened. The man’s cough had grown steadily worse, and two hours after his admission, he’d begun to gag. They’d rushed to clear his airway only to find a rising swell of blood trying to escape. As he suffocated before their eyes, the team had flipped him onto his side. A torrent of blood had gushed out in a wet splatter on the floor, and a hot, metallic stench had filled the air.
Grant swallowed, clearing the memory of the smell from his tongue. “He died a few hours later,” he said softly. It always rankled to lose a patient, but it was doubly hard here. There was a finite number of people on the base, and Grant had made it a point to introduce himself to everyone. Even though he hadn’t known the man well, he did remember exchanging pleasantries with him whenever their paths had crossed.
Avery was silent for a moment. “It sounds like a very difficult case,” she said, a note of sympathy in her voice.
Grant nodded. She understood. Even though Avery didn’t practice medicine anymore, she was still a doctor and would have lost patients in med school. There were some cases that stuck with you, and Grant knew the death of the four men in this outbreak would haunt him for years to come.
“After he died, I tracked down the other patients who had presented with the same initial symptoms. I hoped this was just a one-off, but unfortunately, three others progressed too rapidly for us to save. I wanted to send the other six to South America for treatment, but my request was denied.” He shoved a hand through his hair and tried to keep the bitterness from his tone. “As soon as people heard what this thing does, they refused to take them. Didn’t want to risk it spreading.”
If he looked at the situation dispassionately, Grant understood the decision. Better to contain the pathogen here, where there were a finite number of potential victims. If this thing spread into the wider world, it could be a species-ending infection. But Grant hadn’t had the benefit of detachment. He’d touched those people, held their hands, comforted them as best he could. It was personal for him, and he was still angry his patients had been left to the mercy of a medical center that wasn’t equipped to handle this kind of disease.
Could the four victims have been saved if they’d made it to a larger hospital? It was a question that would undoubtedly dog him for a long time...
“I heard,” Avery said, a note of sympathy in her voice. “For what it’s worth, I think it was a crappy thing to do.”
He jerked one shoulder up. “Fortunately, we caught the other six before they bled out into their lungs. They got pretty sick, but at least they’re not dead.”
“What kind of drugs did you use on the ones who survived?”
Grant leaned back and ran a hand through his hair again, exhaling through pursed lips. “What didn’t we try is the better question. I pumped them full of anything I thought might help—steroids, antivirals, antibiotics, epinephrine, versed, Plasma-Lyte, albumin—you name it, I tried it.”
“Do you have any idea if one of the drugs was responsible for saving the other patients?”
He shook his head. “At that point, I was just trying to keep them alive. I don’t know if it was the combination of the medication, the supportive care or the fact that we caught them early enough that allowed them to survive.”
“Probably all three factors,” Avery said. She laid her notebook on his desk and set her pen down, then leaned back and met his eyes. “It sounds like you did a hell of a job.”
Her praise washed over him like warm summer rain, and he wanted to close his eyes and savor the feeling. He had always respected her opinion, and it meant a lot to know that she thought his actions had been appropriate. “Thank you,” he murmured.
There was a flash of warmth in her eyes, there and gone in the space between heartbeats. “You say there have been no new cases in the past three days?” she asked, getting them back on track.
“No. At least, no one has come to me with symptoms.”
“And none of the staff that treated the patients have been affected?”
“No. I think we really dodged a bullet here. Whatever this thing is, it doesn’t seem to be very contagious. Otherwise, the whole base would have come down with it by now.”
Avery tilted her head to the side, apparently considering his words. “Possibly,” she said. “But we don’t know what the incubation period is. For all we know, more people have already been infected but haven’t started to show symptoms yet.”
A cold chill washed over Grant as the implications of her suggestion sank in. “My God,” he whispered. “This thing could be a ticking time bomb.”
“Let’s hope not,” Avery replied, her mouth set in grim lines.
“What do we do now?” That helpless feeling was starting to creep up on him and he pushed it away. They would come up with a plan, and it would work. It had to work. The alternative was unthinkable.
Avery sighed quietly. “I’d like to look at the patient files for all the cases. We need to identify common behaviors or exposures that might tell us something about where they picked up the agent. Do you have any samples we can analyze to try to identify the pathogen?”
“I think there are some blood samples left, but I don’t know what state they’re in now.”
“That’s fine.” She waved away his concern. “The tech I brought has a reputation as a miracle worker. We’ll see if she can find anything.”
“What can I do?” Grant wasn’t going to just sit on his hands while they worked. He would go mad if he didn’t have something to do, some way to contribute to the investigation. Even though he’d only been on-base a few months, he felt a sense of ownership of the place. Not in a material way. But this was his home for the next few months, and these were his people. It was his responsibility to take care of them, and he’d already failed four times. Logically, he understood those deaths were not his fault. His internal scorekeeper saw things differently, though, and he felt a strong need to redouble his efforts. Perhaps he could somehow make up for their deaths by saving others.
Avery eyed him across the desk, her expression assessing him as if she was trying to determine what he could handle. “First of all, I need you to get some sleep. You’re no good to me exhausted.”
He couldn’t stop the laugh that rose in his throat at her unexpected order. “That obvious, huh?”
“Quite.” She gathered her notebook and pen and stood, and Grant rose to his feet, as well. “Come find me after you wake up.”
He waited until she got to the door before asking the question burning in his mind. “Can we stop this thing?”
Avery paused and glanced at him over her shoulder. “If we’re lucky,” she said, suddenly sounding as tired as he felt. Then she walked out of his office, closing the door softly behind her.
