Read Online Plague Ship by Leonard Goldberg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leonard Goldberg
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Mystery, Travel, Terrorism, Plague, terrorist, doctor, emergency room, cruise, Leonard Goldberg, cruise ship
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himself. At least ill patients were not piling in to be seen. At least not yet. In the examining room he saw Marilyn sobbing, with her head resting on Will’s chest. The boy was still cyanotic, his extremities still wrapped in ice cold towels.
Carolyn glanced over and silently mouthed out Will’s temperature: 103°.
David nodded at the improvement. That was some better, but not much. The goal was to keep the temperature below 104º, because above that point it could begin to fry the boy’s brain.
Marilyn looked up, her eyes puffy and red from constant crying. “Did you make arrangements with Captain Rutherford to have Will transported to land?”
“We’re trying to get things set up,” David lied.
Marilyn studied David’s face, as if aware of his half-truth. “Will isn’t going to make it, is he?”
“If we can get him to a critical care unit, he stands a chance,” David said and gently squeezed the woman’s shoulder. “Don’t give up hope yet.”
Marilyn put her head back on Will’s chest and began sobbing again.
David resisted the urge to comfort the woman further. At this point it wouldn’t help. She knew instinctively that her son was barely clinging to life, and all the kind words in the world weren’t going to change that. Mothers had inborn antennas for those sorts of things.
David gazed down a makeshift chart of Will’s vital signs that Carolyn had constructed. The boy’s blood pressure had dropped to 95/60, and his pulse was now racing at 120/minute. But most disturbing was a respiratory rate of 40/minute, which was three times normal. Will was trying to suck air into lungs that were rapidly filling up with blood. It was a hopeless endeavor.
David was about to reach for a stethoscope, but decided not to. He already knew what he would hear. There would be widespread wheezes and crackles and decreased breath sounds bilaterally. The only thing missing would be a death rattle. That would come soon enough.
In his peripheral vision he saw Maggio waving him over to the radiology room. David softly squeezed Marilyn’s shoulder once more, then walked away and joined the old physician in a far corner of the sick bay. The expression Maggio’s face told him that something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.
“What?” David asked.
“I’ve gotten emergency calls from two other passengers. They’re complaining of high fever and cough. Both have awful headaches.” Maggio hesitated and lowered his voice to a whisper. “And one of them is coughing up blood.”
“Oh Christ!” David groaned.
“It’s spreading,” Maggio said and tried to swallow back his fear. “And it’s spreading fast.”
seven
David put on two surgical masks, one on top of the other, and hoped the double layer would afford him added protection against the virus. Then he placed a stethoscope around his neck to give him the appearance of a physician, and knocked on the cabin door. He heard movement inside, followed by silence, and sensed he was being looked at through the peephole.
“I’m Dr. Ballineau,” David called out. “Dr. Maggio asked me to pay you a visit.”
The door opened immediately. A colorfully dressed, middle-aged man, wearing a brown smoking jacket and yellow ascot, ushered David into the overheated sitting room.
The man introduced himself as Thomas Berns and said, “I should begin by telling you I’m HIV positive, and so is my partner.” He gestured to a younger man lying on the sofa and bundled up in a white terrycloth robe. “Ralphie has become quite ill, as you can see.”
David glanced over and studied the dark, handsome man on the sofa. He had his eyes closed and he was breathing normally except that he coughed with every third breath. From a distance his skin color appeared healthy. But there was a Kleenex in his hand that was heavily stained with blotches of blood.
“We’re both on a triple drug cocktail for HIV,” Berns informed. “I assume we should continue taking it.”
“You
Carolyn glanced over and silently mouthed out Will’s temperature: 103°.
David nodded at the improvement. That was some better, but not much. The goal was to keep the temperature below 104º, because above that point it could begin to fry the boy’s brain.
Marilyn looked up, her eyes puffy and red from constant crying. “Did you make arrangements with Captain Rutherford to have Will transported to land?”
“We’re trying to get things set up,” David lied.
Marilyn studied David’s face, as if aware of his half-truth. “Will isn’t going to make it, is he?”
“If we can get him to a critical care unit, he stands a chance,” David said and gently squeezed the woman’s shoulder. “Don’t give up hope yet.”
Marilyn put her head back on Will’s chest and began sobbing again.
David resisted the urge to comfort the woman further. At this point it wouldn’t help. She knew instinctively that her son was barely clinging to life, and all the kind words in the world weren’t going to change that. Mothers had inborn antennas for those sorts of things.
David gazed down a makeshift chart of Will’s vital signs that Carolyn had constructed. The boy’s blood pressure had dropped to 95/60, and his pulse was now racing at 120/minute. But most disturbing was a respiratory rate of 40/minute, which was three times normal. Will was trying to suck air into lungs that were rapidly filling up with blood. It was a hopeless endeavor.
David was about to reach for a stethoscope, but decided not to. He already knew what he would hear. There would be widespread wheezes and crackles and decreased breath sounds bilaterally. The only thing missing would be a death rattle. That would come soon enough.
In his peripheral vision he saw Maggio waving him over to the radiology room. David softly squeezed Marilyn’s shoulder once more, then walked away and joined the old physician in a far corner of the sick bay. The expression Maggio’s face told him that something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.
“What?” David asked.
“I’ve gotten emergency calls from two other passengers. They’re complaining of high fever and cough. Both have awful headaches.” Maggio hesitated and lowered his voice to a whisper. “And one of them is coughing up blood.”
“Oh Christ!” David groaned.
“It’s spreading,” Maggio said and tried to swallow back his fear. “And it’s spreading fast.”
seven
David put on two surgical masks, one on top of the other, and hoped the double layer would afford him added protection against the virus. Then he placed a stethoscope around his neck to give him the appearance of a physician, and knocked on the cabin door. He heard movement inside, followed by silence, and sensed he was being looked at through the peephole.
“I’m Dr. Ballineau,” David called out. “Dr. Maggio asked me to pay you a visit.”
The door opened immediately. A colorfully dressed, middle-aged man, wearing a brown smoking jacket and yellow ascot, ushered David into the overheated sitting room.
The man introduced himself as Thomas Berns and said, “I should begin by telling you I’m HIV positive, and so is my partner.” He gestured to a younger man lying on the sofa and bundled up in a white terrycloth robe. “Ralphie has become quite ill, as you can see.”
David glanced over and studied the dark, handsome man on the sofa. He had his eyes closed and he was breathing normally except that he coughed with every third breath. From a distance his skin color appeared healthy. But there was a Kleenex in his hand that was heavily stained with blotches of blood.
“We’re both on a triple drug cocktail for HIV,” Berns informed. “I assume we should continue taking it.”
“You
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