The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3) (30 page)

“How is Dr. James doing?” I asked. “Was this
his first delivery?”

Mark laughed. “Yes, this was his first and
he’s feeling a bit green at the moment. He’ll be fine. I sent him
back to the loft with a couple of books on obstetrics. We have four
more pregnancies to get through and likely lots more after
that.”

“I didn’t know he was staying here,” I
commented. I’m not sure how I feel about this arrangement, but it
was Mark’s call to make, not mine.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you,” he
replied. “It seemed logical that someone should be here most if not
all the time, and there certainly is enough room. If we need to
stay, too, Allex, we have my place next door over the clinic.”

November 15

“Mother and baby are doing quite well,” Mark
informed me. “I think they should go home this morning.”

“That’s good news. It will give me enough
time to pick up a couple of things for them,” I replied. “Like
cloth diapers, some baby clothes, and a baby bottle. I saw some at
the gift shop.”

“Chloe is already breastfeeding the baby,”
Mark let me know.

“I know, but you can’t breastfeed water and
apple juice,” I laughed. “After I pick those up I have a meeting
with Jim and Tom across the street in case you need me.”

~~~

“What is on the table for discussion today?”
I asked, sitting down at the large conference table with Tom White
and Colonel Jim.

“You look in a good mood,” Tom observed,
shuffling some papers. I think that’s a nervous habit he has.

“Babies do that,” I said. “We had our first
delivery yesterday: A healthy little boy to one of the Mathers Lake
women.”

“We’ll have to come up with a suitable gift,”
Jim said. “For now, though, we need to make some decisions about
the rest of our supplies.”

“Which supplies? I thought all the trucks
were already being inventoried and made available?”

“Those supplies, yes, but I’m talking about
the fuel,” Jim answered. “We have tankers of diesel, gas, and
propane. It’s the propane I’d like to discuss first. Where would it
be best utilized?”

I thought for a moment. “The township should
have a refill of the thousand gallon tank out back. It’s the heat
for here and it powers an automatic generator in case the power
goes out.”

“Good start and I agree. Where else? You know
this town better than either of us,” Tom said.

“The Inn has the same situation: heat and a
generator, plus the kitchen. It’s become a focal point in the
community. I’ve seen people there just hanging out, chatting or
playing chess and checkers in the lobby. If we lose power before
someone comes up with a simple wood burner design, those that need
to can stay warm there,” I explained.

“Does the hospital use propane?” Tom
asked.

“Yes, however there’s no generator there that
I know of. Same for the school: propane heat but no generator.” I
leaned back in my padded chair, thinking. “I also think that the
house you two share should be on the list for topping off the fuel
tank. You’re both highly important to the community now.”

“I’ve seen lots of the blue tanks around,
mostly on the edges of town, none in Moose Creek proper, other than
the Inn,” Tom observed. “How can we justify getting fuel when
others don’t?”

“That’s why we’re here today, to prioritize
the distribution where it does the most good for the most people,”
Jim reminded us.

“Then we should add the house next door to
you. There are five people there, and the priest and nuns have
become a vital part of the town’s functioning,” I said. “As for
your house, there’s a gas fireplace in the basement that doesn’t
need power. It kept Bob and Kathy comfortable all last winter. In
using that as heat you won’t be using any wood that someone else
might need. It’s a tradeoff, guys.”

“She has a point,” Tom said, and kept writing
as we bantered about more ideas.

“How much propane is there?” I asked.

“There is a five thousand gallon delivery
truck and a fifty thousand gallon tanker, both full,” Jim
answered.

“Wow, that’s a lot of fuel. I didn’t realize
those delivery trucks held so much. What about the other tankers?
The diesel and gas? I know Keith needs diesel to cut and split the
wood supply for everyone. Fortunately he won’t need as much since
he isn’t going far to deliver. Have you seen the piles he’s making
at the ball field? It’s impressive. I say we let him have as much
as he asks for.”

Tom and Jim agreed.

“There are also a couple of vehicles that run
on diesel, like the Passat that Ken and Karen drive.”

“I think after that we should save the
balance of the diesel for the big generator,” Jim said quietly.
“Just in case.”

“What generator?” I asked, confused.

“That massive trailer I towed out of
Marquette is a city-sized power plant, and it takes diesel
fuel.”

I had forgotten about that. “Where is it,
Jim?”

“I parked it behind the offices here, on the
other side of the bay doors, completely out of sight.”

“That reminds me of something else. The
township water. The pumps are powered by the grid of course, and
there is a big generator that runs them when the grid is down. I
have no idea where it is or what kind of fuel it takes. Pete knows
though. I’ll ask him the next time I go up to Mathers Lake.”

~~~

After our brainstorming session, which I
found highly productive, I wandered over to the Inn to see how
things were going for Marsha and was surprised to see Anna sitting
at a table next to the curtained windows, a bowl of half-finished
soup in front of her.

“Hi, Anna, how are you feeling today? Is the
cough any better?” I sat down across from her. Her eyes were closed
and her head was tilted, resting against the wall, sleeping, her
gray curls stiffly framing her peaceful face.

“Anna?” I repeated and reached out to waken
her. She wasn’t sleeping. Anna wasn’t breathing.

I found Marsha, and asked her to be sure no
one disturbed Anna, and I ran back to the clinic.

“Mark!” I gasped. “Anna is at the Inn. I
think she’s… dead.”

When we arrived back at the Inn, Mark
confirmed Anna was gone.

“How long has she been sitting here?” Mark
asked Marsha.

“She came in with the early lunch crowd,
maybe eleven-thirty, so about two hours,” Marsha replied. “She was
coughing something fierce, so I asked her to sit away from everyone
else. Is she okay?”

“I have no idea why at this point, but Anna
is dead,” Mark answered. He looked at me, “I’d like to do an
autopsy.”

~~~

We had Anna on the surgical table. Mark,
James, and I were fully gowned, masked and gloved. With all the
coughing she’d been doing, Mark felt examination of her lungs was
crucial.

“I know this may seem silly to the two of
you, but Anna was my friend,” I said, a catch in my voice as I
placed a bleached white towel over her still, slack face. Mark made
the common Y incision down her chest and I cringed.

Mark and James peeled skin and tissue back,
held in place with the metal surgical clamps. When the rib bones
were exposed, it was obvious there was a massive amount of
hemorrhaging.

“Saw,” Mark said, and I handed him a small
device with a three-inch diameter circular blade. He turned it on
and cut through the bone and cartilage on one side of Anna’s chest
cavity. “We only need one side exposed to see the lungs,” he said,
mostly to James.

“My God, are those her lungs?” James asked
once the ribs were removed, “There’s nothing left of them.”

“No wonder she was always coughing,” Mark
said quietly. “I’ve seen enough. Dr. James, will you close?” Mark
stepped back and moved to the large stainless steel sink where he
washed his still gloved hands twice. He removed his mask, then his
gloves, and washed a third time. I removed the clamps holding the
skin aside, rinsed them off in the sink and dropped them into a
metal bowl for sterilizing. Then I followed Mark’s example of
washing even though I didn’t have any blood on me.

~~~

“What are your thoughts, Dr. Mark?” James
asked politely. We had adjourned to the kitchen area, leaving Anna
in the surgery for now.

“My guess, without having the benefit of a
microscope for a biopsy, is a very aggressive virus.” He turned to
me. “Anna said she had been sick and had recovered, right?”

“That’s what she told me. Everyone in her
household had been sick and died, except she got better,” I
recalled.

“I’m guessing that the virus backed off into
her lungs. She only
thought
she had recovered, when she was
actually carrying around a time bomb.” Mark looked at both of us.
“She has now exposed everyone who was at lunch.”

“And at the town meeting; she was coughing
then too! Oh, Anna, what have you brought down on us?” I said to no
one.

November 22

The first one to come down sick was Tonya
Germaine. As part of a work release program the colonel had come up
with, Tonya was let out of jail to help out in the kitchen during
meals. She had escorted Anna to a private table and brought her
soup. The contact was close enough to infect her with Anna’s newly
raging virus. Tonya gave the virus to her son that same day, who
took it to school. The newly mutated virus moved fast and they both
died three days later.

“After what you told me, Allexa, as soon as
the first child got sick I thought it best to cancel school until
we understood what was going on,” Sister Agnes explained. “I hope I
haven’t overstepped.”

“Oh no, Sister, I think you made the prudent
choice. I hope it was in time,” I reassured the nun. “However, it
seems to be spreading anyway.”

“How many now?” the nun asked quietly.

“The last count put the numbers over thirty,”
I said. One became two, which became six, which turned into two
dozen. Two dozen becomes unstoppable in a small town like Moose
Creek.

“I have an idea that may or may not help,”
Sister Margaret said. “What if we move all the sick people to Camp
Tamarack? At least they won’t be infecting anyone new.”

“That’s a really good idea, Margaret,” Sister
Agnes replied. “I know that you already buried Anna out there,
Allexa, as well as Tonya and her son. There’s bound to be many more
causalities and to be practical, they might as well be close to the
burial site. I do have to ask why you picked out there and not in
the cemetery here or one of the open fields?”

I sighed. “The cemetery is full, Sister. Flu
hit us last winter with high losses. When the ash cloud showed up,
we turned the baseball field into a mass grave. Camp Tamarack is
the only place left and the most accessible, plus there is
equipment already there for digging.” What an odd conversation this
was. How had we gotten so casual about death and dying?

“We’ll take care of the details, Allexa. It’s
what we do. I don’t know if you’ve been told our history, but the
four of us met working in South Africa during the last Ebola
outbreak. We’ve been through this type of medical emergency
before,” Sister Agnes said. She turned to Sisters Margaret and
Lynn. “Close down and lock up the school and the supply shop, and
meet me back at the house. I need to check on Doris and Father
Constantine.”

“Are they okay?” I asked hesitantly.

“Father Constantine is sick,” Agnes frowned.
“Doris is tending him.”

~~~

“Mark, I know that little can be done to
fight a virus, but can anything be done to help Father
Constantine?” I pleaded with my husband.

“I can’t cure the virus, but the subsequent
vulnerability often turns into pneumonia, which is bacterial, and
that I
can
fight. Let me grab a few things and we’ll go see
them.”

~~~

We let ourselves into the house that was once
Carolyn’s and called out, letting Sister Doris know we were
here.

“Oh, thank you for coming by, Doctor. I don’t
think there’s anything to be done though.” She bit back a sob.
“He’s really sick.”

“Help me sit him up more, Allex,” Mark said
from behind his mask. “Sister, can you put some extra pillows or
anything behind his back to help keep him up? Lying flat will only
cause his lungs to fill faster. A forty-five degree angle is best.”
Mark listened to Father Constantine’s chest, looked in his eyes,
throat, and felt his neck.

“Let’s get a bowl of water and a towel.
Keeping his face cool will make him more comfortable,” I suggested,
trying to keep the Sister occupied while Mark worked.

“I don’t know what I would do if I lost
Connie,” Sister Doris whimpered as we left the room.

“How long have you known him?” I asked,
thinking the attachment she had for a priest unusual.

“My entire life.” She looked at me with tear
filled eyes. “Connie is my brother, my
real
brother. There
were only the two of us kids and our parents were so proud when we
both dedicated our lives to the church.”

“I gave the Father a shot of antibiotics,”
Mark said when we returned. “Has he taken any fluids?”

“I can get him to sip some water on threat of
telling Mom if he didn’t,” Sister Doris chuckled, and then frowned.
“Even though Mom has been gone for five years… he doesn’t remember
that. At first he would take some broth, though none today, only
the water.”

“Has he had anything like an aspirin?”

She shook her head.

“Then it’s doubtful to I could get antibiotic
pills down him. I’ll be back later, and twice a day to give him a
shot,” Mark stated. “Keep pushing the fluids down, he’s
dehydrating.”

“He will protest getting special treatment,
Doctor; that’s just a warning. He can be really stubborn,” Doris
said.