Chapter 17

“I can’t believe you really resigned,” Harry said to Dixie. “What did Pauling have to say?”

“Nothing much. What could he say? I do believe he was shocked.”

Harry followed his wife from the kitchen, where they just finished with dinner, into the living room. Each held a mug of steaming coffee.

“Now we are both unemployed,” he said. “You needn’t have done it. This was all my doing, nothing for you to worry about. I always felt that man Forester had it in for me from the beginning, something about his condescending attitude.”

“Wealth has a way of doing that to people,” Dixie said, taking a sip of her coffee. “I could cite you dozens of examples.”

Harry nodded. “However, I believe the man took pleasure in forcing my termination. My only vindication is that Chloe Rawlings and a number of other faculty objected to Pauling in strenuous fashion.”

“I like that Dr. Rawlings. She’s okay in my book.”

“Didn’t do much good. But you’re right--she’s a standup woman.”

“Where do you think Millie went? What could she have planned for a chimera that is only months old?”

“I think she’s hiding out with him somewhere. But where I haven’t a clue. Sooner or later, however, she’s going to need money. That means finding a job. She’s got to surface sometime.”

“I hope Roku is all right,” Dixie said.

“It’s got to be hard taking care of him. Harder than caring for an infant.”

She nodded. “I’m sure it is. Why do you think she did it?”

“Did what?”

“Created him in the first place. She must have known you, Radner, and Pauling would object in the strongest of terms. And make her destroy it. Why did she do it, honey?”

Harry thought for a moment, reflected back on his own motivation for falsifying the data that eventually got him into trouble. No one outside the academic world understood what tremendous pressures were on the shoulders of young faculty members trying to rise up in tenure and also achieve recognition in their respective fields. There was only one avenue, one that so many of Harry’s predecessors had traveled. Publication. It was “publish or perish” in plain simple language. One either made a discovery or published a stack of papers. The road to academic promotion was through publication in professional journals. There was no shortcut.

“I suspect,” he said at length, “for the same reasons we all are tempted to push the boundaries of what is considered ethical. She wanted a name for herself. She wanted fame and notoriety, much like Bernard Wickingham. And myself. We are tempted by what we see as a shortcut, but, in reality, there is no such thing.”

“I suppose,” Dixie said.

She gathered their mugs and replenished their coffee then returned to the living room.

“I wish she hadn’t done it,” she said. “Have you heard from the FBI agent?”

“Jacoby? No. I doubt I will until we get to Phoenix when they storm the family cabin.”

“You’ve used that word storm again. I hope they don’t harm her or Roku.”

***

Millie sat in the RV parking lot, waiting for Siscom to arrive. Roku was in the back seat covered with heavy blankets. It was close to midnight. Even in the dark, she saw that he continued to shiver. She had tried unsuccessfully to get him to drink water before they left the cabin but it was no use--he just let the water dribble from his parched lips. He seemed weaker now. The poor fellow hardly moved. Millie’s heart went out to him.

Please, God, don’t let him die. I don’t care what happens to me if only he survives.

The RV park contained only a few motor homes, and all were dark. The nearby lake appeared as a black void off in the distance. Only the occasional croaking frog or howling wolf could be heard. The park was otherwise eerily silent. She sat huddled in her car, listening to Roku’s labored breathing, and waited for Siscom to arrive.

She glanced at her watch. Twelve-twenty a.m. Please, Gerald, hurry, she said to herself.

In the distance, a pair of headlights approached. The car turned off the main road and into the RV park. Millie followed the car’s slow progress until it came to a stop next to her. When the door opened, she saw that it was Siscom. She leaped from her car.

“Oh, Gerald,” she said. “Thank heaven. I feared you might have had second thoughts.”

Millie fell into Siscom’s arms. He held her for a brief moment and kissed her on the forehead.

“There, there,” he said. “Where is Roku?”

“Here in my backseat.” She opened the rear door and allowed Siscom to peer in.

“Millie, get my bag and flashlight out of my car, please.” He scrambled into the car’s rear compartment, kneeling beside Roku.

Millie did as requested and soon was shining a light into Roku’s fevered face. She watched while Siscom took the chimera’s pulse, blood pressure, and temperature. He then listened to his heart and lungs with his stethoscope, pushed around on his abdomen.

“Well,” Millie said, eager for his opinion. “What do you think?”

Siscom looked at her and shook his head. The glow from the flashlight made his expression even more frightening.

“Temp is one hundred five. Pulse is rapid and weak, blood pressure dangerously low. He’s severely dehydrated, Millie, just as I feared. I’m sure it’s an infection of some kind.”

“Like what?” she asked, her heart pounding in her head.

“Can’t tell here without blood tests. Bacterial, most likely.”

“What can you do, Gerald? I can’t lose him.”

Millie knew she sounded close to hysterical, but she couldn’t help it. Her life revolved around Roku at this point.

“Need to rehydrate him first,” Siscom said. “I brought a couple of bags of saline. Help me get this IV into his arm. “Then I’ll pump some antibiotics into him, and we’ll just have to hope for the best.”

Millie watched Siscom as he worked quickly, getting the tourniquet around an arm, and pushed the catheter into a vein. She held the bag while he connected the tubing and began running the fluid into Roku’s body. She marveled at Siscom’s dexterity and efficiency at working in less than ideal circumstances. After wrapping the IV site, he searched his medical bag, produced a syringe.”

“Chloramphenicol,” he said. “It will kill anything.”

“I hope so, Gerald. I hope so.”

Siscom unscrewed the cap on the syringe, attached a needle, and injected its contents into the tubing. He and Millie watched the antibiotic, a slightly yellow color, flow into Roku. Finished, Siscom gathered his equipment and returned them to his bag.

“I brought two liters of saline,” he said. “It should be enough.”

“I’ll pray that it is. What’s there to do now?”

“Nothing but wait and hope for the best. I’ll give him another dose of antibiotic in two hours. I need to stretch. My legs are cramping.”

The two exited Millie’s car, and Siscom paced around it for several minutes. The night was black as ink, no stars shining. No moon. The breeze that blew over them from the lake brought fresh scents into the RV park. Millie breathed deeply in the fresh air, allowing it to rejuvenate her. She watched Siscom pace around the car and wondered what he was thinking. She was glad he hadn’t brought the authorities with him, for it would have been disastrous if he had.

They sat in the front seat of Millie’s car while Siscom periodically checked on Roku’s condition. Millie reached over and touched his arm.

“I can’t tell you how much your coming has meant to me, Gerald,” she said. “I worried that you might call the police.”

“Millie, I’m your friend. I hope I’m more than a friend. I was glad to help.”

“You think Roku has a chance?”

“Well, you waited almost too late. Another few hours Roku would have been history. We can only hope the antibiotic will bring him around. We’ll know in a few hours if his fever is down.”

“How are Dr. Olson and Dixie?” Millie said.

“Worried about you, my dear. Extremely worried. I heard that Harry called your father and mother. Radner is concerned about you as well.”

“It pained me to see how I hurt them. I never realized how my actions would disappoint the one man I respect more than anything. Besides you, of course. I’m sure I hurt you also, Gerald.”

Siscom shifted his weight in the car seat.

“I must admit that, at first, my feelings were hurt. During our work together we had become so close. I felt you betrayed my confidence, my trust in you. But after thinking long and hard about it, I realized I might have done the same as you if I were in your place. Sometimes, Millie, the only way science makes progress is through the courage of its scientists willing to walk where no one dared before. I can’t be upset with someone I care deeply about.”

He reached out and touched her cheek. Millie’s heart skipped a beat.

“Gerald--I--I--”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever think of your ex-wife?”

“I used to,” he said. “Mostly about how much I had not been able to please her. Initially, I thought the fault lay with me, and it tore me down. A real man would have been able to keep her. At least, that’s what I told myself. But after landing the job at the facility and working there a year, my feelings began to change. I saw things in a different light. One day I had an epiphany--she was at fault, not me. And it changed my life. I was free, whole again.

“Then you came into my life during our hunt for the escaped Yeti. You turned my comfortable existence upside down.”

“I’m sorry,” Millie said. “I didn’t intend to.”

“And for that, my dear, you have my undying gratitude.”

After that revelation, they dozed fitfully for an hour. Siscom’s cell phone alarm chirped, and he climbed into the back seat to check on Roku and to administer his next dose of antibiotic. Millie stirred, turned, watched him work.

“How is he?” she asked.

“Fever is down to one hundred. Pulse stronger and blood pressure higher. Doesn’t appear as dehydrated as he did earlier. I’d say he’s improved.”

Siscom retrieved another antibiotic syringe from his bag and injected its contents into Roku’s intravenous line.

“There,” he said. “That’s the antibiotic. He’s had enough Chloramphenicol to kill every bug in his system. Let’s hope my diagnosis was correct.”

He climbed back into the front seat and patted Millie’s hand.

“What if you’re wrong?” Millie asked.

“I won’t lie to you,” Siscom said, softly. “If Roku doesn’t respond to this antibiotic, his chances are slim to none. He will die. But I think he’s responding. He appears a little better.”

“I hope so.”

“I’ll check him again at dawn,” he said. “If he continues to improve, I’ll leave the both of you and return to the facility. I wish you would reconsider and come back with me.”

“Gerald, it just isn’t possible, I’m sorry.” Millie felt her eyes well with tears. “You’ve been so kind. I’ll never forget it.”