The Isis Collar

“That would probably be a bad idea until we know more, don’t you think? No kissing until you’re cleared by Dr. Gaetano. And no … other things, either.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Like I said, other things haven’t been an issue for a while.” In fact, the last other thing I’d indulged in had been with Bruno, years ago. But that was nobody’s business. While I’d never really thought about it, and my therapist, Gwen, had never asked, it was probably significant. The more I thought about that, the weirder it seemed. I could nearly hear Gwen’s voice in my head, asking whether I was carrying a torch for Bruno that hadn’t allowed me to get close to anyone.

Eek.

He took my expression of sudden panic the wrong way. “Good. You’re taking this seriously. Now go.” He trotted off toward the two men standing next to the now-parked, unmarked, Army-style canvas truck. I listened hard, trying to focus on their conversation, but they were whispering and all I got was mud.

That left me and Dr. Gaetano alone. I looked at him and shrugged. “Guess it’s you and me.”

“Let’s get moving. We’ll get you checked into the isolation ward and start the testing.”

Whoa. The isolation ward? “Isn’t that a little extreme? I thought you said it was pretty much gone.”

He nodded as he started to walk toward one of the few cars left in the parking lot, a low-slung silver car that was nearly the color of the touch of gray nibbling at his temples. “On your leg, yes. But I have no way of knowing whether your internal organs have been compromised. Until we test to make sure you’re clear of the infection, we have to treat you as infected and contagious.”

Oh, what fun. I got to go from being tied down to locked up. What a terrific night this was turning out to be.

* * *

“Again? You just took samples twenty minutes ago. What’s up with the lab tonight?” The technician with a nameplate reading Brad was the same guy who’d been in three times in the past two hours. The blue scrubs and blood-draw cart were becoming a regular sight, which wasn’t a good thing. He gave me a dirty look and I gave him one right back. I’d been locked behind glass and silver-steel doors for hours now, dressed in one of those stupid floral print cotton gowns. At least I was still wearing my bra and panties and, oddly, I did feel more covered than wearing the jeans. They’d given me the option to leave on my street clothes, but at least in the gown I wasn’t flashing everyone who walked by down the hallway. Thankfully, Dawna was on her way down with fresh clothes. I felt horrible calling her considering how early she’d gotten up. But I had tried Emma first, who wasn’t home, and Gran didn’t really drive much anymore.

“You think maybe it’s not us but the fact you’re half dead? It’s throwing off every sample we put in.”

Well, yeah. That could be it, too, I suppose. “So why do you keep drawing blood? I thought it was saliva that was infectious.”

He shrugged as he reached for my arm with latex-covered fingers. “Mine is not to ask why. The doctor in charge ordered more blood. I just get it.”

I sighed and tried not to look as he tied off my biceps and pressed for a vein. My eyes closed just before I flinched from the poke of the needle. “You going to leave me any for later? I don’t know how well I replace my supply without help.”

He’d already seen the teeth the first time he’d come in the room—after the nurse who had been first assigned refused to get close enough for me to grab. He wasn’t impressed or afraid, which surprised me.

It was sort of nice. But also sort of weird.

Just as he was pulling out the needle there was a thump against the wall that made us both jump. It was the tenth time since I’d arrived and it was getting annoying. The tech missed with the cotton ball and a small spray of blood followed the needle out of my arm. “Oops. Sorry about that. What was that?”

I held the cotton ball against my arm while he opened yet another Band-Aid. I already had two others on the opposite arm. “Don’t know. But it’s driving me nuts. You’d think an isolation ward would have thick enough walls to not bother the other patients.” When I said “patients” his face lost what little color it already had. I’ve known a lot of lab guys who don’t get in the sun much. But his sudden look at the wall made me realize he might know very well what was on the other side. “What? Who’s in the next room?”

He caught himself and turned a fake smile toward me. I knew it was fake because I’d worn one myself many times. “I need to get these samples back to the lab. The doctor will be in shortly.”

Yeah, right. Shortly. That was hospital speak for “whenever the hell he gets here.” I let Brad go without questioning him more, but I would be finding out what was in that next room before I left.

In fact, Dr. Gaetano showed up with another man in a white coat after another hour had gone by. I raised my brows and let out a frustrated sigh and said to neither, and both of them, “Y’know, it would probably be better for patient morale if you didn’t put a clock on the wall to watch the hours tick by. At least a magazine would have helped.”

His gaze flicked up the wall and he nodded before opening the metal chart in his hands. “Good point. We’ll have it removed.” Then he met my eyes and a glimmer of humor peeked out from inside the vivid green. “But luckily for you, the wait is over, so I won’t have to bring you reading material.”

Oh, thank the Lord! “The tests came back negative?”

He nodded once. “Dr. Swanson and I were just going over the results. We’re very fortunate to have him on staff. He’s actually seen cases of M. necrose in the field in the Sudan.”

The short, stocky doctor had a swarthy edge that resembled classic Greek, despite his surname. “I’ve been admonishing Dr. Gaetano for not taking photographs of your calf while the infection was at its peak. It’s hard to judge when the saliva, blood, and tissue appear normal. But I finally found the antibodies I was looking for in your blood in this last sample. It’s just taken a little while for it to develop.”

Oh. Photographs. Yeah, that would have been handy in case there were other victims. Oops. I flinched involuntarily when something hit the wall again. Both the doctors looked at the wall and then at each other. “Okay, so what is that? The tech earlier stared at the wall like it terrified him.”

Dr. Swanson shrugged. “It probably did. Frankly, I’m appalled it’s still here.”

Gaetano let out a weary sigh. “This isn’t Sudan, Panos. The situation’s not that simple.”

The other doctor merely shrugged like it was an argument he wasn’t willing to revive. “Perhaps. But I think it would be useful to show Ms. Graves what she narrowly avoided and why it’s important she’s very open and honest about her recent interactions with people.”

The way he said it made Dr. Gaetano frown and let out a slow breath. “It’s not a freak show. It’s a person’s life, Doctor.”

Swanson’s eyes were both sad and fierce. “No. It’s a person’s death, Tom. She deserves her life to mean something.”

“Um,” I interrupted. “If I have a vote, I’d like to see. I’m not easily shocked. If that matters for anything.”

Dr. Gaetano passed over my chart to Swanson with a slightly disgusted expression. “Show her if you must. But I want no part of it. I have rounds to make.” He stormed out the automatic doors with fists clenched. I risked a glance at Dr. Swanson, who just shrugged.

“He’ll get over it. Tom is a clinical researcher. He hasn’t seen the things I have in the field.”

Ah. “In other words, he’s not jaded yet.” I understand that. Been there, done that, have the bloody T- shirt.

“He’s not being realistic. But that’s going to have to change. And soon. We only have six isolation wards. If this really is the beginning of a coming pandemic, he won’t have any choice.” He turned and crooked his finger for me to follow.

Um. So no, while still in my hospital gown. “Can you give me a second? If I’m being discharged, I’d like to wear real clothes out of here.”

He really had been a doctor too long, because that was apparently the first moment he noticed the gown. “Oh! I’m sorry. Of course. I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

It didn’t take me long to change, simply because I had no idea when the door might next open. I hated that I had to wear the butt-cheek-revealing jeans but hoped the only reason Dawna hadn’t delivered the clothes was because of the isolation ward. I doubt they allow many visitors. It’s not ICU. It’s even a step above quarantine.