Robin Cook - Contagion

“Can I ask why?”

“I guess I haven’t been worried about dying,” Jack said. “In fact, there was a time when I felt dying would be a relief. A few years back I had trouble with depression, and I suppose it’s always going to be there in the background.”

“I can relate to that,” Terese said. “I had a bout with depression as well. Was yours associated with a particular event, if I may ask?”

Jack bit the inside of his lip. He felt uncomfortable talking about such issues, but now that he’d started it was hard to turn back.

“My wife died,” Jack managed. He couldn’t get himself to mention the children.

“I’m sorry,” Terese said empathetically. She paused a moment and then said: “Mine was due to the death of my only child.”

Jack turned his head away. Terese’s admission brought instant tears to his eyes. He took a deep breath and then looked back at this complicated woman. She was a hard-driving executive; of that he was sure from the moment he’d met her. But now he knew there was more.

“I guess we have more in common than just disliking discos,” he said in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

“I think we’ve both been emotionally scarred,” Terese said. “And we’ve both overly invested ourselves in our careers.”

“I’m not so sure we share that,” Jack said. “I’m not as committed to my career as I once was, nor as I think you are. The changes that have come to medicine have robbed me of some of that.”

Terese stood up. Jack did the same. They were standing close enough to appreciate each other physically.

“I guess I meant more that we both are afraid of emotional commitment,” Terese said. “We’ve both been wounded.”

“That I can agree to,” Jack said.

Terese kissed the tips of her fingers and then touched them gently to Jack’s lips.

“I’ll be in to wake you in a few hours,” she said. “So be prepared.”

“I hate to be putting you through all this,” Jack said.

“I’m enjoying this little bit of mothering,” Terese said. “Sleep well.”

They parted. Jack walked back toward the guest room, but before he got to the door, Terese called out: “One more question: Why do you live in that awful slum?”

“I guess I don’t feel as if I deserve to be all that happy,” Jack said.

Terese thought about that for a moment, then smiled. “Well, I shouldn’t imagine I’d understand everything,” she said. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Jack echoed.

True to her word, Terese had come into Jack’s room and awakened him several times during the night. Each time they’d talked for a few minutes. By the time Jack awakened in the morning he felt conflicted. He was still thankful for Terese’s ministrations, but he felt embarrassed by how much of himself he’d revealed.

As Terese made him breakfast, it became apparent that she felt as awkward as he. At eight-thirty, with mutual relief, they parted company in front of Terese’s building. She was off to the studio for what she thought would be a marathon session. He headed for his apartment.

Jack spent a few hours cleaning up the debris left by the Black Kings. With some rudimentary tools he even repaired his door as best he could.

With his apartment taken care of, Jack headed to the morgue. He wasn’t scheduled to work that weekend, but he wanted to spend more time on his backlog of autopsies that had yet to be signed out. He also wanted to check on any infectious cases that might have come in during the night from the General. Knowing that there had been three reportedly fulminant cases of Rocky Mountain spotted fever in the emergency room the day before, he was afraid of what he might find.

Jack missed his bike and thought about getting another one. To get to work he took the subway, but it wasn’t convenient. He had to change trains twice. The New York subway system was fine for getting from north to south, but west to east was another story entirely.

Even with the multiple train changing Jack still had to walk six blocks. With a light rain falling and no umbrella, he was wet by the time he got to the medical examiner’s office at noon.

Weekends were far different than weekdays at the morgue. There was much less commotion. Jack used the front entrance and had the receptionist buzz him into the ID area. A distraught family was in one of the identification rooms. Jack could hear sobbing as he passed by.

Jack found the schedule that listed the doctors on call for the weekend and was pleased to see that Laurie was among them. He also found the master list of cases that had come in the previous night. Scanning it, he was sickened to see a familiar name. Nancy Wiggens had been brought in at four A.M.! The provisional diagnosis was Rocky Mountain spotted fever.

Jack found two more cases with the same diagnosis: Valerie Schafer, aged thirty-three, and Carmen Chavez, aged forty-seven. Jack assumed they were the other two cases in the General’s emergency room the day before.

Jack went downstairs and peeked into the autopsy room. Two tables were in use. Jack couldn’t tell who the doctors were, but judging by height he guessed one of them was Laurie.

After changing into scrubs and donning protective gear, Jack entered through the washroom.

“What are you doing here?” Laurie asked when she caught sight of Jack. “You’re supposed to be off enjoying yourself.”

“Just can’t keep away,” Jack quipped. He leaned over to see the face of the patient Laurie was working on and his heart sank. Staring up at him with lifeless eyes was Nancy Wiggens. In death she appeared even younger than she had in life.

Jack quickly looked away.

“Did you know this individual?” Laurie asked. Her own emotional antennae had instantly picked up Jack’s reaction.

“Vaguely,” Jack admitted.

“It’s a terrible thing when health-care workers succumb to their patients’ illnesses,” Laurie remarked. “The patient I did before this one was a nurse who’d ministered to the patient you did yesterday.”

“I’d assumed as much,” Jack said. “What about the third case?”

“I did her first,” Laurie said. “She was from central supply. I couldn’t quite figure how she contracted it.”

“Tell me about it,” Jack said. “I’ve done two other people from central supply. One with plague and one with tularemia. I can’t understand it either.”

“Somebody better figure it out,” Laurie said.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Jack said. Then he pointed to Nancy’s organs. “What’d you find?”

“It’s all been consistent with Rocky Mountain spotted fever,” Laurie said. “Are you interested to see?”

“I sure am,” Jack said.

Laurie took time out to show all the relevant pathology to Jack. Jack told her the findings were the mirror image of those he’d seen with Lagenthorpe.

“It makes you wonder why just three got sick, since they were so sick,” Laurie said. “The interval from the onset of symptoms to the time of death was a lot shorter than usual. It suggests that the microbes were particularly pathogenic, yet if they were, where are the other patients? Janice told me that as far as the hospital knows there are no more cases.”

“There was a similar pattern with the other diseases,” Jack said. “I can’t explain it, just like I can’t explain so many other aspects of these outbreaks. That’s why they’ve been driving me crazy.”

Laurie glanced up at the clock and was surprised by the time. “I’ve got to get a move on here,” she said. “Sal has to leave early.”

“Why don’t I help?” Jack offered. “Tell Sal he can go now.”