He moved on, dropping back to a walk as he passed Raleigh Mortuary Services and the Dairy Queen. There would be a mayor. Some leader. He would find him. They would talk. And mayhem would come to the Acton Clinic.
11. THE NIGHT WALKER
David and Katie sat together in the living room of his suite attempting to get some kind of idea what was happening in the outside world. The Internet was still down, and, in any case, when it had been up, the Spaceweather.com website had been too swamped to be accessed. Toward one in the afternoon, the television signal had failed, both on cable and satellite. Prior to that, though, the stations had not had much information except endless repeats of the FAA statement that all aircraft were grounded and Homeland Security’s warning to remain indoors.
Katie turned on the radio, trying to find a station. Voices drifted in and out, sounding as if they might be emanating from a land of dreams. But most of them were probably from Baltimore, fifty miles away.
Security was working frantically on the surveillance system, which was blowing circuits left and right due to massive atmospheric electrical overloading.
Katie picked up the small radio, raised it above her head, then slumped. She put it down.
“Just when you need them, they’re not there.”
“People are looking to their own lives.”
“David, how bad is it? You know, don’t you? You understand these things.”
“It’s certainly the most intense solar storm since 1859. Sunspots, a huge solar flare, and an intensely energetic coronal mass ejection. So it’s inevitable that the satellites would be gone, but many of them are programmed to shut down during incidents like this, so they could come back. On the other hand, even well- insulated power grids are going to be collapsing all over the world. Even here in the U.S., if it keeps up.”
“But it’s not what people are saying, surely? It’s not the end of the world?”
Before he came here, he would have brushed off the claim as having no scientific basis. But even though he now knew the truth, how do you tell another person a thing like that?
“We need to be prepared for anything,” he said finally.
She looked doubtful, turning away, then glancing back at him.
“I think it’s the last thing they would admit. The panic would be incredible. People would claw their way into every hole in the world. Anyway, how can they tell us?” She gestured toward the radio.
“Let’s keep focused on the clinic. That’s our responsibility.”
“Okay, fine. Nothing was delivered today, David. And I can’t reach Sysco, I can’t reach UPS, FedEx, Maryland Medical, anybody.”
Outside, the auroras were dancing.
“I do think we need to close all blinds and curtains.”
“That won’t keep out radiation, will it?”
“Actually, it’ll help. Gamma rays aren’t very penetrating and the walls are thick. The roof is made of tons of slate. The weak point is the windows. And I think we need to minimize guard patrolling. Keep the men in sheltered areas.”
“I think this place is going to collapse. In fact, I think the whole world is going to collapse.”
At first, she had seemed welcoming, but no longer. She was totally focused on the welfare of the institution and its people, and he thought at once two things: she’s right to be afraid; but then, can I rely on this woman? Her file was equivocal. It was hard to know exactly what her relationship with Dr. Ullman had been, and there were a number of years in her timeline that were not accounted for. If they were going to go through a crisis, he would like to know about those missing years. In fact, he’d like to know more about the entire staff, especially the security personnel. He needed to know who the class could rely on and who not.
The intercom clicked. “We have a code blue in Room 303.”
He hit the reply button. “Is the cardiac team in motion?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“I’m on my way.” As he left, he called back to Katie, “Do you know which patient that is?”
She was right behind him. “I’m not certain.”
As he ran across the flyover to the patient area, he could hear voices ahead. The nurses had just wheeled the shock wagon into one of the rooms. David saw that they were working on Linda Fairbrother. Her skin was cyanotic. David’s initial impression was that the woman was dead.
The nurses performed efficiently, but not like code blue teams he’d seen in operation at Manhattan Central, where they did a cardiac arrest every few days. Then he saw that one of the defibrillation paddles was on the wrong side of the woman’s chest.
“Hold it,” he snapped. He could hear the whine of the defibrillator loading.
“It’s gonna fire!”
He grabbed the paddle and placed it correctly. Just as he pulled his hand away, the system fired off and the patient convulsed. A moment later the computer said, “No response. Reload. Ten seconds.”
He would let it go through two more cycles, then pull it off. He saw that he’d have to inform the Fairbrother family that their patient had expired. But how, given the state of communications?
The third round came, the body convulsed again… and the heart started. “Stable rhythm,” the computer said. “Defibrillation complete.”
The staff wasted no time moving her to the facility’s small infirmary. David wondered what this was—a natural event or the result of some sort of attack?
“We need to get this woman into cardiac intensive care,” he said.
“Raleigh County EMS isn’t responding,” one of the nurses said.
“Did you call the hospital’s main number?”
“Doctor, I called all five hospitals in the area. No response.”
Katie said, “I told you, David, it’s all coming apart.”
Anger put a bitter snap into his voice. “Maybe it is, but we’re here now and we have a heart attack to deal with.” He felt the full weight of this place and all these people on his shoulders just now. “I’m sorry,” he said. She did not deserve his spitting words, it wasn’t her fault.
He went down the corridor and through the door into the main patient area with its wider hallway and its expansive suites. People had heard the activity and were coming out. As Linda was moved past, they watched in a silence that was quite unlike what would have happened, say, at Manhattan Central. Frankly, these people were much more contained than he would have expected, and he wondered if perhaps Caroline was secretly waking up the class. He hoped so.
“All right,” he said to the largely calm and silent group, “Linda had a minor cardiac event. Please return to your rooms now.”
William Moore, one of the genuine patients, gave him the most menacing look, lips a set line, body language suggesting that he’d like to pounce. Then he grinned from ear to ear.
“You’re a bureaucrat,” he said.
“I’m your doctor.”
“The bureaucracy of medicine is the machinery of death.”
David stopped himself from automatically moving into a therapeutic stance with this patient and said simply, “We can talk tomorrow.”
“With you? You’re a waste of space.”
“All right, then, with Dr. Hunt or one of the psychologists, as you prefer.”
Leaving the patients to the nurses, he went into the infirmary.
Linda Fairbrother was lying quietly as Marian Hunt applied leads to her chest from the EKG machine.
“They’re coming for me,” Linda said.
“Who is?”
She snapped her jaw shut.
