| |
Providence Hospital was the first image that popped onto the television screen. A news anchor stood out front of the entrance, and the camera panned wide to get a shot of all the police cars stationed outside.
“I’m here in front of Providence Hospital, where the general director has issued a hospital-wide lockdown. At this point, it’s only speculation what the problem is or whether or not it has anything to do with the Nipah scare that’s now blown to full pandemic proportions. With New York in a state of emergency and Florida expected to follow suit, it’s anyone’s guess right now whether Massachusetts will be the next state to shut its borders in hopes of stopping the spread of the disease. Meanwhile, in Medford ...”
Brian shut off the volume and swore.
“Not what you wanted to hear?” Kennedy asked.
“It just makes me so sick. Here we are in the middle of a pandemic, and my son’s dragged out of his home where we could have kept him isolated, free from exposure, and instead he’s brought here. I swear, if he doesn’t die from the chemo, it’ll be the Nipah next, and his precious soul is going to be on the consciences of all the lawyers and all the attorneys and all the stinking politicians in this whole mess of a country. God will hold them accountable, I tell you that much.”
“It’s not going to come to that.” Kennedy forced conviction into her voice even though all she could focus on was escape. Out of all the rooms Dominic could have led her to, he picked the hiding spot of a murderous father.
No, not murderous. He hadn’t hurt anybody yet. And hadn’t he promised her several times, assured her he didn’t want to harm her? Was that the truth or was that just what he told Kennedy to keep her in line?
Brian shook his head. “I just wish ...”
Kennedy’s breath caught in her throat. “Wait,” she interrupted. “Wait. Turn the volume back up.” She stared at the familiar face on the television screen while Diane Fiddlestein, one of Channel 2’s studio reporters, talked into the camera. “Turn it up,” she told him again and reached out for the remote.
“I got it,” he said and unmuted the TV.
“... admitted to the ER with a fever and swelling of the brain.”
Kennedy’s lungs were paralyzed. Brian could have pulled out his gun and held it to her temple right then and she couldn’t have been more surprised.
“The patient’s symptoms came on suddenly this afternoon, and he is currently being treated in an isolation room at Providence.”
“Do you know him?” Brian asked.
“Shh.”
“The patient’s family has included this photograph so that anyone who’s come into contact can take necessary precautions.”
Kennedy leaned forward as if that would keep her from missing any of the words. “Turn it up.”
“Doctors have sent lab samples to the CDC. They can’t confirm Nipah at this stage, however they are recommending that anyone who’s had exposure to the patient in the past two days monitor their temperature every hour, avoid crowded areas, and seek medical attention immediately if symptoms appear.”
Kennedy probably hadn’t blinked during the entire segment. They still hadn’t taken the picture off the screen. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. He’d been perfectly healthy ...
“Who is that?”
Kennedy couldn’t answer. She shook her head, disbelief coursing through her system. He’d said something about a headache, but that didn’t mean ...
“Who is that kid?” Brian asked again.
The news anchor continued her report, even though Kennedy’s brain did its best to shut out every word.
She lowered her head. “His name is Woong.”