CHAPTER 24

           To follow our government blindly is to walk blind with no cane just waiting to hit something.

        —LANCASTER R. HILL, LECTURE AT PRINCETON UNIVERSITY, NOVEMBER 12, 1938

“Let me guess, you heard all that.”

Lou pointed at the discrete microphone attached to the tray of Humphrey Miller’s wheelchair. Humphrey, who had been making a delivery in the med room, motored over as soon as Puchalsky had left the isolation suite, and flashed what seemed to be a consoling look. His arms were somewhat more spastic than Lou remembered, as though Humphrey were reacting to Lou’s angst.

“Ivan sounded more cordial than expected,” Humphrey said. “Must like you.”

Lou chuckled.

“Happy to see you again, Humphrey. You don’t have to shorten your sentences for me unless you want to.”

“Saying everything more tiring. At least you bother listen what I say. It’s refreshing.”

“So long as you do it for you and not for me.”

“Believe me, much easier talk to you. Been follow situation with your friend.”

“And?”

“And everyone’s nervous.”

“Puchalsky said this was the second case Arbor has had of this germ.”

“That’s right. Older woman.”

“So he told me.”

“Rapidly flesh-eating. Pretty grim.”

Lou’s mouth became dry.

“From our experience with flesh-eating bacteria at my hospital in D.C.,” he managed, “the treatments aren’t great, but they eventually work.”

“Not with that lady.”

For a time, neither man spoke. Humphrey appeared to be mulling something over.

“Lou, I really do like you,” he said finally. “You’re not like others.”

“What others?”

“Other people. They don’t take me seriously. You’re different. Can tell. That’s why I want to show you something.”

“Sure,” Lou said. “But it’s going to have to wait until after I see Cap.”

“Understand. How about meet me in main lobby in hour.”

Lou checked his watch, a gift from Emily, and wondered how she was doing with her fund-raising effort. He would not have been surprised if a truckload of brownie mix was already en route to the house in Virginia where she lived with her mother and stepfather when she wasn’t in D.C. with him and Diversity, their cat.

“An hour,” he said, tapping Mickey for emphasis.

Humphrey’s smile was oddly enigmatic. He seemed extraordinarily pleased and excited about the prospect of showing Lou whatever it was.

“You’re going thank me, Dr. Welcome,” he said. “Guarantee it.”

*   *   *

THE ANTECHAMBER to Cap’s isolation room was not much bigger than a modest walk-in closet. A wall-mounted placard instructed Lou to don a surgical mask, hair cover, gloves, shoe covers, and a gown. He had followed a number of highly infectious patients at Eisenhower, so he knew the drill well. Arbor General had assigned Cap the strictest of isolation categories, requiring the most stringent precautions. Brightly colored warning signs on the doors and walls made certain Lou understood his visit could be dangerous and would be made at his own risk.

After checking himself one final time, he pulled on the door to Cap’s iso unit and felt the tug of resistance caused by the negative pressure environment. Powerful purifiers were drawing contaminated air through an elaborate filtration system. The room was hi-tech and short on warmth, with no furniture beyond a built-in nurse’s computer station with a tall stool, a pair of Danish-modern chairs, a TV, and the ubiquitous hospital tray table. Waste and used linens were stuffed inside specially labeled sacks and would be disposed of or laundered in a secure environment.

Separate. Isolated. Alone … Frightening.

Cap’s bed filled the center of the Spartan room—an island in a gray linoleum sea. Lou took in a sharp breath. He’d mentally prepared himself for this moment, but seeing his friend looking so beaten and tired hit him like a sucker punch. In spite of himself, he flashed back to the moment right before they started on the trail, when Cap had suggested they give running a rest for that day, and get their workout in the gym. Had Lou not persisted, the man would be back at Stick and Move, and Lou would probably still have his job with PWO. Cap could tell him not to blame himself all he wanted, but unless he could also change Lou’s twin live-in monsters, responsibility and guilt, it was going to be a wasted effort.

The head of the bed was slightly elevated. Eyes closed, body unmoving, Cap lay there, a magazine splayed open on his belly. Lou approached, pausing to watch the ragged rise and fall of his chest, each breath strained. One IV line in each arm was infusing fluid and piggy-backed smaller bags of medication. So far, it seemed clear that all the fluids and meds were no contest against the deadly germ savaging his leg. The leg itself, still suspended above the bed and braced inside a metal frame, was cocooned within layers of gauze, stained in the front with bloody drainage. Lou resisted the urge to unwrap the bandage and inspect the infected area, but what lay beneath the wrap wasn’t hard to imagine.

Placing a gloved hand on Cap’s muscled shoulder, Lou nudged him awake.

“Hey, sponsor-guy, it’s me.”

Cap’s eyes blinked open. He took a moment to get his bearings. Then his parched lips bowed in a thin smile.

“Can you come back in a bit?” he asked, his voice hoarse and dreamy. “I’m supposed to have a dance lesson in five minutes. Tango.”

Lou poured a cup of water from the plastic pitcher, stuck in a straw, bent the end, and helped Cap take a much-appreciated sip. He seemed to have lost ten pounds since the beginning of their ordeal.

“I spoke to your dance instructor and told her you’d reschedule,” Lou said. “She said you’re hot, so she’ll be back.”

“Good. You making meetings?”

“Don’t you even give me a chance to ask how you are?”

“The leg hurts and they can’t keep my temp down. There. Now, you getting to meetings? Don’t bother answering. I can see it in your face. Don’t trust your disease, Buck-o. Even though you think you’re an old-timer now. Don’t trust it a bit. While you’ve been growing, it’s been growing, too. I assume if you’re not going that there are problems. Work? Emily?”

Sponsors.

Like most of the other good ones, Cap had a sixth sense.

At that moment, his face scrunched up.

“Pain?” Lou ventured.

“A little spasm. Nothing I can’t handle. So, is it your job?”

“Let’s just say me and Filstrup have had a parting of the ways.”

“He is such a jerk. It’ll work out. You’re the best thing that ever happened to that place and those docs. I promise you that what goes around, comes around. Say a prayer for him to be absolved of being an asshole.”

“If I can pull it together, I will.”

“Do that, brother. You ain’t no good to me or anyone else all messed up again. So, Filstrup notwithstanding, thanks for coming back down.”

“Nonsense. We’re gonna get you through this.”

“Duly noted. So, have you met my new friend Dr. Ivan, the friendly undertaker?”

“I just talked to him. Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Ivan.”

“Ivan who?”

“Ivant to suck your blood.”

An appreciative snort was all Cap could manage.

“Nothing like a corny Welcome knock-knock joke to cheer me up. Especially compared to the stuff that Russian beanpole has been doing to me. Talk about humorless. He makes you look like Chris Rock.”

“Hey, watch whose humor you’re disparaging. So, here’s a good one I just heard. This guy’s wife goes into labor big-time, and she’s a screamer. ‘Get me to the hospital! Get me to the hospital!’ So he bundles her into the backseat and races across town only to find there’s not one parking place in the hospital lot.”

“And his wife keeps screaming.”

“Exactly. Like a jet engine. So the guy is desperate. He looks to the heavens and calls out, ‘God, get me a spot and you have my word—no more drinking, no more gambling, no more smoking, no more flirting.’ At that moment, right ahead of him, a car pulls out and in he goes. ‘Never mind,’ he calls up. ‘I found one.’”

“Better. How much do you want me to pay you to stop cheering me up? Name your price. Speaking of not cheering me up, what did Ivan-the-terrible tell you?”

“He said he’s wicked smart and he’s going to cure you.”

“Don’t BS me. I trust you, doc. You’re family.”

“I’ll never lie to you,” Lou said. “Puchalsky says you have a very serious infection in your leg and they’re trying to figure out how best to treat it. This is a terrific hospital and these are very competent people. They’re going to do everything that needs to be done to get you back on your feet again.”

“Yeah, or foot. Think there’s much of a market for one-legged boxers?”

I’ll never lie to you.…

“Don’t say that. You’re not going to lose your leg.”

“You tell me that with truth in your eyes and I’ll buy it.”

“I’m telling you that.”

“Buddy, just remember two things,” Cap said, lifting the hand with the thin IV tube attached so he could hold up fingers for emphasis. “First, you promised never to lie to me.”

Cap maintained his hard stare, boring through the layers of Lou’s uncertainty and fear.

“What’s the second thing?” Lou managed, feeling his conviction dropping as if a sinkhole were opening up beneath him.

“The second thing,” Cap said, this time flashing him a forgiving grin, “is to remember that despite my performance on that trail in the mountains, I’m not stupid.”