Read Online Blood Test by Jonathan Kellerman - Free Book Online

morning—right around now. If they don’t come soon, I don’t know
when. I can leave a message for them to call you, Doctor—”
    “Delaware. Why don’t you tell them I’ll be here
tomorrow at eight thirty and if they arrive earlier, please have them wait.”
    “Eight thirty you should catch them.”
    “I’ll tell you what,” said Bev, “I’ve got the number
of the place they’re staying—some motel on the west side. I’ll call and leave a
message. If they show up today do you want to come back?”
    I considered it. Nothing on the agenda that couldn’t
wait. “Sure. Call my exchange. They’ll know where to reach me.” I gave her the
number.
    “All right, Alex, you’d better get in there before you
truck a few million pathogens over the border. See ya.”
    She hoisted the large purse over her shoulder and
walked out the door.
    I stepped into the Laminar Airflow Room.
    He’d sat up and his dark eyes followed my entry.
    “I look like a spaceman, huh?”
    “I can tell who you are,” he said gravely, “everyone
looks different.”
    “That’s good. I always had trouble recognizing people
when they wore these things.”
    “Ya gotta look close, with strong eyes.”
    “I see. Thanks for the advice.”
    I got the box of checkers and unfolded the board on
the armlike table that swung across the bed.
    “What color do you want to be?”
    “Dunno.”
    “Black goes first, I think. You wanna go first?”
    “Uh huh.”
    He was precociously good at the game, able to plot,
set up moves, and think sequentially. A bright little boy.
    A couple of times I tried to engage him in
conversation but he ignored me. It wasn’t shyness or lack of good manners. His
attention was focused on the checkerboard and he didn’t even hear the sound of
my voice. When he completed a move he’d lean back against the pillows with a
satisfied look on his grave little face and say, “There! Your turn,” in a voice
made soft by fatigue.
    We were halfway through the game and he was giving me
a run for my money when he clutched his abdomen and cried out in pain.
    I eased him down and felt his brow. Low-grade fever.
    “Your tummy hurts, doesn’t it?”
    He nodded and wiped his eyes with the back of his
hand.
    I pressed the call button. Vangie, the Filipino nurse,
appeared on the other side of the plastic.
    “Abdominal pain. Febrile,” I told her.
    She frowned and disappeared, returning with a cup of
liquid acetominophen held in a gloved hand.
    “Swing that counter over this way, would you.”
    She set the medicine on the slab of Formica.
    “You can take it now and give it to him. The resident’s
due by within the hour to check him over.”
    I returned to the boy’s bedside, propped him up with
one hand behind his head, and held the liquid to his lips with the other.
    “Open up, Woody. This will make it hurt less.”
    “Okay, Doctor Delaware.”
    “I think you’d better rest now. You played a good
game.”
    He nodded and the curls bounced. “Tie?”
    “I’d say so. Although you were getting me pretty good
at the end. Can I come back and play with you again?”
    “Uh huh.” He closed his eyes.
    “Rest up, now.”
    By the time I was out of the unit and had shed the
paper suit, he was asleep, lips parted, sucking gently at the softness of the
pillow.

5
    THE NEXT morning I drove east on Sunset under a sky
streaked with tin-strip clouds and thought about last night’s dreams—the same
kind of spooky, murky images that had plagued my sleep when I first started
working in oncology. It had taken a good year to chase those demons away and
now I wondered if they’d ever been gone or had just been lurking in my
subconscious, ever ready for mischief.
    Raoul’s world was madness and I found myself resenting
him for drawing me back into it.
    Children weren’t supposed to get cancer.
    Nobody was supposed to get cancer.
    The diseases that fell under the domain of the
marauding crab were ultimate acts of histologic treason, the