Buck Fever (21 page)

“Ma’am? I grew up in a mixed neighborhood. Careful what you say,” the trooper responded.

Harry repeated the trooper’s statements. Lucinda raised her hands to cover embarrassment. “Excuse please.”

“Can I take this with me?” Harry said, holding up the old journal. “It’s got the secrets of the universe in it. I can use it to protect us at the hospital. We could lose gravity at any moment.” He pushed his thick glasses up against his temple, squinted and smiled.

“Sure, if it will save the world,” the trooper said. Dr. Grace had warned him Lopez might hallucinate and act generally disruptive or childlike.

~ ~ ~

The ambulance bounced repeatedly as the driver quickly maneuvered through rush-hour traffic. The trooper watched Harry, sitting next to his wife in a jump seat.

“Here we go. We’re losing gravity. Hold on,” Harry said, grabbing a metal floor-to-ceiling pole by the seat.

Lucinda added a few Spanish words.

“I’m not loco,” Harry responded. “We
are
losing gravity. I can feel it. See, right here. It’s all explained.” He opened and read from the journal, “An object traveling at a speed relative to another object traveling at...”

Lucinda rolled her eyes. The trooper winked and smiled.

Chapter 37

M
ort Sulkin, strapped to a gurney with its wheels clamped to the steel frame, giggled from the vibration of the helicopter as it descended to the top of the Michigan Disease Control Center building near the Detroit River. The sleek, all-glass building reflected green light from the deep-tinted windows of the Detroit Times building next to it. Both were new and part of the Detroit Downtown Improvement Authority’s plan to revitalize the city and attract government and private business away from other large cities such as Lansing and Grand Rapids. City workers worried the Disease Control Center would expose residents to potential lethal diseases such as Bird Flu through contact with its occupants. The Center took special precautions to screen and detoxify all personnel, visitors and patients leaving the building. All patient caregivers wore a special paper badge, which when scanned, would reveal exposure to microspores and viral fragments.

Porter sat next to Dingman, both strapped into small jump seats toward the front of the craft, facing Sulkin’s gurney. Kottle lay strapped in another locked-down gurney nearby.

“Nine-thirty exactly,” Porter said, yawning and tapping his watch.

“I know what you’re up to. You want my secrets don’t you? Well, you can’t have them, and they won’t get them either,” Sulkin said, holding up his right arm and extending a middle finger.”

“He is a bit of a melon head, eh?” Dingman whispered.

“I hear you,” Porter replied. “I’ve never seen a similar rash before, have you?” His eyes focused on Sulkin’s red face.

Dingman shook his head. “I would say more like a chemical burn.”

“My name is Rachel; can you come out and play with me? My name is Rachel,” Kottle repeated, staring forward, sounding like a character in a toy commercial. She coughed into her right hand clearing obvious phlegm from her throat.

“Shit, she’s getting worse. I’m getting worried now,” Porter said.

“Suggest you do not touch her,” Dingman said, observing her wiping the hand on her blouse.

“Ooh, not attractive.” Porter looked away, grimacing. “What do you think they’ll do about the deer herd up north? Whatever this is could spread quickly.”

“I suspect the DNR has already set up roadblocks to look for tainted carcasses while trying not to disrupt hunter tourism. This could cost the economy millions.”

“One thing for sure, it’s going to be a Pulitzer-sized story.”

“Only if we can get to the bottom of this before the TV stations do. They will be all over this as soon as we land. Their vans are always parked and waiting by the curb out front of the building. When they see a helicopter, they go nuts—could be the next pandemic of this century. Remember when those two Mad Cow patients arrived from Windsor last year? Holy cats, they had us believing a world-wide plague was imminent.”

“Channel One took so much shit for exaggerated reporting, I think they’ve learned their lesson. At least the Times took a softer, more scientific approach to the story.”

“We shall see,” Dingman said. Porter nodded.

Chapter 38

“E
veryone, may I have your attention; thank you for waiting. We should be ready in a few minutes. It is important we secure our patients for observation before proceeding. I request the news media to consider friends and family of the control group when asking questions. Dr. Grace will brief you first, and then you may ask questions. If Dr. Grace thinks the question needs a personal response after the meeting, or no response, he will so indicate,” a male nurse said, standing behind a brushed-steel podium stacked with several sets of microphones. Two TV reporters stood behind portable-camera operators directing their shots.

“Have you ever seen a stainless-steel meeting room before? Look at the overhead sprinklers next to the sealed lights and the circular drain caps on the floor. This place can be flushed down within seconds,” Dingman said. He stood near the rear of the 50-by-50-foot room alongside Porter observing as people marched in and sat on stainless-steel bench seats.

“Intriguing engraved sign on the podium: ‘Please suspend your beliefs to explore the impossible.’ Do you think it means I should suspend my belief that the impossible can be explored, or my belief that exploring the impossible is possible?” Porter asked, as he wrote the statement in his notebook.

“It is a circular statement. You have to have beliefs to explore the impossible, but you may have to suspend those beliefs to accept the results.”

“Oh, it’s a leap-of-faith statement. I get it,” Porter said, jotting Dingman’s comments into his notebook.

“Shall we join the crowd? We have just enough time to fire a draft back to Pillbock for the afternoon edition.” Dingman glanced at his watch while straightening his tie and jacket.

“Shit, I forgot about Katie’s aunt. I don’t think she should hear about this from the evening news. She and Katie became best friends after her mother died. They only have each other; both sides of the family are deceased.”

“You can call her immediately after the briefing. Now let us get our story, eh?”

~ ~ ~

“Mr. Hermanski, how are you and Mr. Lacarter? I’m Louis Dingman with the Times,” Dingman said to the men sitting in front of him. “Where is Mr. Montagno? I would think he should be here as well.

“He’s a patient, so is his wife, Sissy, and my wife, Mandi. They ate the deer meat. Dillon Lacarter and I passed the blood test,” Hermanski said, shaking hands. “Where’s that cute sidekick of yours?”

“We passed the blood test, but Miss Kottle didn’t. She’s in there too,” Porter said.

“We can talk after the briefing,” Dingman said, nudging Porter. Hermanski nodded and faced front.

“I wonder if the guys from Port Huron were called in,” Dingman said.

“There’s one of them—John Greppleton?” Porter waved as John Greppleton turned, responding to his name several rows in front.

“Lopez...a patient,” Greppleton said, deflecting his voice with his right hand. Porter acknowledged with a wave.”

~ ~ ~

“Ladies and gentlemen and representatives from the media, I will brief you regarding the current disease-control situation we are dealing with. Please hold your questions until—” Dr. Grace said.

“Has Lickshill’s body been recovered? We’ve heard it’s mysteriously disappeared,” asked a TV news reporter sitting in the front row.

“Who is Lickshill?” an unidentified man asked.

“What about Father Fellorday? Have they found his killer?” another asked.

A heavy sigh floated up from the meeting participants.

“People please. I said I would brief you, then you can ask questions. I am not authorized to respond to police matters, so I cannot respond in either case. Please let me continue.”

“What do they know about Lickshill that we don’t? And he’s missing? How do they know that?” Porter whispered, scribbling more notes.

“Intriguing. I love the way those TV guys expose a few anonymous facts to see how everyone reacts,” Dingman whispered back.

“As I was going to say,” Dr. Grace said, “we have effectively located and quarantined all known individuals who came into direct physical contact with the affected deer and also have located and isolated a small deer population plus a number of apparently infected deer carcasses.”

“Not all of it,” Hermanski said, raising his hand. “I’ve got mine in the freezer and so does Mr. Lacarter here, and Mr. Montagno who was brought in earlier.”

“Sorry for the intrusion, but you’ll find the meat is now missing from your freezers, along with any related artifacts from your hunting trip, thanks to the new biohazard-protection law passed recently.”

“What, how and by whom?” Hermanski said, his jaw gapped open.

“That’s not right. You can’t take it without our permission.” Lacarter said.

Agitated heads bobbed up and down as TV cameras turned to the audience.

“Please calm down. I can assure you this was accomplished with the utmost consideration for your privacy. If you have further concerns, please contact the Medical Center Chief Administrator. Time is precious; we need to move on.

“Whoa, that would make a great back story,” Porter whispered to Dingman.

“That law has been discussed and bantered about for months. It will just get in the way of our story,” Dingman said. He reached into his coat pocket, removed a vibrating text-messaging cellphone and started reading saved messages and email. “Take good notes; I’m going to send Pillbock an update. He will not let up.”

“Shall we continue? We have determined a population of ten deer ingested wheat harvested and stored in a small barn near West Branch, Michigan located about here.” The doctor held up his right hand resembling the shape of Michigan and pointed to the base of his middle finger. “The wheat contracted the
Claviceps Purpurea
fungus
, also known as Ergot. The damp fall promoted growth, and the deer devoured the rusty-colored wheat in recent weeks. Thus, they became inflicted with Ergot poisoning. The barn was also infested with mice: the deer mouse to be specific, usually found in southern states. It appears the owner of the farm had visited Georgia this past summer and may have inadvertently transported the rodents to this area. These mice carried a strain of Hantavirus, a distant relative of Hemorrhagic Fever. The poisoned deer became infected with the virus, and the combination in the blood stream of the virus and Ergot produced an infection that acts like an anti-depressant and releases serotonin into the brain. The serotonin suppresses fear and the animals become aggressive. Sort of like a bad drunk. When humans contact the animal’s blood or meat they can contract the infection from the virus along with Ergot poisoning. The combination appears to activate some minimally explored areas of the human brain dealing with perception and anticipation, not unlike the effects of LSD. Actually, Ergot and LSD are neighbor substances, and Albert Hoffman discovered LSD while investigating Ergot many years ago. The intensity of human reaction also appears to be elevated by the use of certain cold medicines. The form of Hantavirus involved is not typically life threatening, and your family and friends should fully recover within a week with no side effects, other than a bad hangover. I will now take a few questions. You in the back.” The doctor pointed to Porter.

“If the disease runs its course without side effects and the deer and the grain are contained, then why did the Disease Control Center move so quickly to quarantine all of the infected parties?”

Dr. Grace stared for a moment then answered.

“Some of the infected individuals were showing signs of bizarre behavior that could lead to self-mutilation or harm to others. Also, there is always a slight chance these viruses could mutate and lead to other problems.”

“Like a pandemic? But, people would not die, though. Maybe just be out of their minds for a while and be a threat to society. Right?” Dingman said. He knew he only had a few precious minutes to get answers ahead of the TV reporters.

“That would be mere speculation. Sorry, but I must conclude the briefing and get back to doctoring and patient care.”

“Dr. Grace, what if—”

“What about Father Fellorday’s killer? Isn’t he a threat? What if he’s out there roaming the streets of Detroit right now looking for more prey—being all doped up on this Ergot you’re talking about?” a slim black women inquired, raising her voice above others.

“I can only say state and local police are doing all they can to locate this person.”

“Who asked the question?” Porter said.

“She’s a new city-council member trying to get her constituents riled up—my guess,” Dingman replied.

“Ladies and gentleman, if you are a friend or family of the patients, you may return to the waiting room for further instructions. The media is invited to wait in the media room out that door and turn left.” Dr. Grace pointed to one of four exit doors and walked from the podium as several TV reporters imposed more questions.

“Can we visit the patients? Do we have to wear special suits?” Jack Hermanski asked.

“No need for special garments or decontamination when visiting patients. The patient areas are uniquely isolated. Each area contains ten rooms off a central hallway contained from outside intervention. U-shaped hallways surround the patient rooms and give outside access to each room through an observation booth. The booth is contained behind a see-through partition and communication is through audio microphones and speakers. You will be completely isolated from the patients and not be exposed to anything except clean filtered air. Only one of the ten-room patient corridors is being used at this time, so the infected population is small.”

“What now?” Porter asked, as the room cleared.

“Pillbock just sent me a message to meet him in his office in ten minutes. He talked to Bob Sanguini in West Branch and has the poop on Lickshill’s disappearance. While I am gone, go to the waiting area and see if you can glean something. Also call Kottle’s aunt and fill her in,” Dingman said.