Linda Andrews - Extinction Level Event

The lozenge clicked against Sunnie’s teeth. She glanced at David then squeezed her eyes closed. “Okay.”

Mavis pushed the covers aside then picked up her niece’s arm.

“Uh.” David cleared his throat. “I’m going to get the patient a bottle of water and wait for the medic to arrive.”

“Thanks. For everything.” Mavis ran her hands up the limb before her fingers slipped into the armpit looking for the buboes. She coughed on a sob. No swelling of the lymphs. The Plague hadn’t spread that far.

“You’re not alone anymore, Mavis.” He backed into the hallway. “If I’m not here, there will be plenty of others around to help.”

Mavis checked under Sunnie’s other arm, before moving up to her neck. The glands were slightly swollen. One more place to check. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her hands.

“He likes you.” Sunnie’s words perfumed the air with a pungent medicinal odor.

“You think so?” Mavis turned her head and focused on the glands in Sunnie’s legs. Thank God the low light prevented her niece from seeing the blush.

“I’m glad.” Sunnie coughed in the handkerchief again. “I don’t want you to be alone if the Redaction does get me this time.”

“You don’t have the Redaction.” Mavis double checked Sunnie’s other leg. No buboes there either. Aside from the swollen glands in her neck, there was nothing to indicate Plague. Could she have Hanta virus instead? Was that why she seemed to have worsened?

“Plague, then.” Sunnie waved her hand before dropping it back to the mattress. “You do know that antibiotics don’t always work, don’t you? Half of everyone who gets it dies despite treatment.”

“Twenty-five percent,” Mavis growled. Stupid internet. Never got anything right. “Seventy-five percent of those treated recover. Besides, we caught yours early enough for the antibiotics to work.”

Unless it wasn’t Plague.

So what was it?

“It feels like the Redaction.”

Mavis rolled her eyes, before tucking the blanket around her niece. “The beginnings of most diseases all feel the same. It’s not like the body can spew green snot for influenza, purple for Hanta, and blue for Plague.”

“Polka dotted snot for a cold.” Sunnie smiled and laughed before she settled into coughing.

“Exactly.” Mavis grabbed a mug off the desk and shook it. Empty. Should she go get the water? David said he was bringing a bottle.

Sunnie spat into her handkerchief and then collapsed onto her pillow, panting. “You know, it’s funny but I’m not really as stopped up as I was with the Redaction.”

“The snot production was definitely off the charts.” Mavis perched on the edge of the bed and sniffed. She wasn’t stuffed up either. Like rusted machinery, she felt the gears of her mind start to turn. “Let me see that bug bite.”

“Huh?” Sunnie skinned a fresh lozenge with her teeth before chucking the flattened wrapper onto the ground.

“The flea bite. Where is it?”

Sunnie flopped her right arm across her belly before closing her eyes. “Wake me when my water gets here.”

Mavis pushed up the purple flannel sleeve. A Band-Aid clung to Sunnie’s bony wrist like a watch. Her heart pounded against her sternum. The symptoms were similar, very similar. Inserting her thumb between the adhesive and Sunnie’s skin, Mavis lifted up a tab. She grabbed hold and gently pulled.

Red skin swelled around a black center.

Dropping the bandage, Mavis covered her mouth and rolled back. “Oh my!”

Sunnie opened one eye to stare at her, before lifting her arm and staring at her ‘bite’. “The medic said it was getting better.” She frowned. “It looks better. Not as red. And no, I’m not scratching it. It doesn’t really itch.”

“No. No. It wouldn’t.” Son of a bitch. Mavis’s tongue stuck to her dry lips while her mind sorted the facts. Sick for two days, better for one to three. Fluid in the lungs. Low fever. No snot. The ‘bites’—inflamed skin with a black center. Symptoms of the same disease but each were a different form.

Both were treated with antibiotics.

Cutaneous Anthrax was cured almost a hundred percent of the time.

Seventy percent of the Inhalation Anthrax cases ended in death.

The Chinese claimed the new form of the Redaction had a seventy percent kill rate.

The Chinese lied about everything.

They’d really lie if they were making Weapons of Mass Destruction and their bugs came out to play.

Had the Redaction caused the accident and led to the perfect cover-up? One that played into the current paradigm? In looking for the influenza, that was all the Centers for Disease Control and the health labs would see. Viral serums rarely grew bacteria.

Mavis leapt off the bed. She had to warn Miles. But without proof would he believe her? She stumbled and slammed against the wall.

Everyone infected with inhalation anthrax would think they were recovering two or so days after the symptoms first appeared. For one to three blissful days, they would feel better. But the disease would soon resurface. With a vengeance. Twenty-four to thirty-six hours after the sickness returned, the infected would be dead.

Sunnie braced herself up on her elbows. “Aunt Mavis?”

“You’re going to be fine, Sunnie.” Mavis crossed her fingers. Please God, let it be true . Fortunately, her niece was already being treated with Anthrax’s number one enemy. Unfortunately, Cipro was manufactured in China. A cold sweat broke across her face. What if the antibiotic was tainted?

Sunnie could die.

Everyone could die.

She stepped into the hall and ran into a wall of muscle. David. With her nose buried in his chest, she recognized his scent immediately.

“You okay, Doc?”

“Come with me.” She blinked away her tears, set her hands on his chest and pushed him backwards.

He resisted for a moment before retreating against the wall.

“What about my water?” Sunnie’s question dissolved into a coughing fit.

Mavis stopped. Crap. She’d forgotten about the water.

“The Corpsman is a little delayed but he’s bringing some cherry punch.” David’s shoulder brushed hers as he stepped into Sunnie’s room. “It has electrolytes so it should help with the thirst.”

“Thanks.”

Mavis rubbed her forehead. God, she was such a horrible caregiver. First Jack, now David had to step in for the littlest things.

He reached into his pocket, tugged out a bottle of cough syrup and plastic fork. “This should allow you to get some rest.”

She threw up her hands in defeat. How could she compete with a man who carried cough syrup in his pocket? “You were probably a Saint Bernard in a previous life.”

“I’m good at the small stuff.” He cupped her elbow and escorted her down the hall. Light cut a square on the wall. “And that will allow you to do what you do best, concentrate on the big picture. It’s called teamwork, Doc.”

“Sorry.” She flinched. Bitching and guilt were just two of her superpowers.

“No problem.” He tugged her hair. “You’ve solved the mystery, haven’t you?”

She slapped her head and gathered her hair in a ponytail over her shoulder. “How did you know?”

“You’re glowing.” He tickled her neck.

“I’m sweating.” She shrugged and increased her pace. “My fever’s high and my brain is trying to keep cool while I fight the infection.”

“I thought you only sweated when the fever broke.” He matched his steps with hers.

They turned the corner. Her great room blazed with lights. Shadows swayed against the floor.

A growl rumbled low in her throat. She was not in the mood for company. “Lots of people think that. Doesn’t make it true. Who’s here?”