Fever (30 page)

It was after nine when everything was ready. Chester raised the outside door, then helped Charles pack the equipment and chemicals into the van.

Before he left, Charles had one more task. Returning to his lab he located a prep razor used for animal surgery. With the razor and a bar of hand soap he went to the lavatory and removed his day-and-a-half stubble. He also combed his hair, straightened his tie, and tucked his shirt properly into his pants. After he'd finished he examined himself in the full-length mirror. Surprisingly, he looked quite normal. On the way back to the receiving area, he stepped into the main coatroom and picked up a long white laboratory coat.

When he got back outside, he buzzed once more and thanked the two security men over the intercom for their help. Climbing into the cab, he admitted that he felt a twinge of guilt at having taken advantage of his two old friends.

The drive over to Pediatric Hospital was accomplished with ease. There was virtually no traffic and the frigid weather had driven most people indoors. When he arrived at the hospital he faced a dilemma. Considering the value of the equipment jammed in the van, he was reluctant to leave the vehicle on the street. Yet pulling it into the parking garage would make a quick exit an impossibility. After debating for a moment, he decided on the garage. If he were robbed, the whole plan would disintegrate. All he had to do was make sure a quick exit was not a necessity.

Charles parked within view of the attendant's booth and
double-checked all the doors to be absolutely certain they were locked. Having purposefully left his sheepskin jacket in the van, he put on the long white coat. It afforded little protection from the cold so he ran across to the hospital, entering through the busy emergency room.

Pausing at the check-in desk, Charles interrupted a harried clerk to ask what floor radiology was on. The clerk told him it was on Anderson 2. Charles thanked him and pushed through the double doors into the hospital proper. He passed a security guard and nodded. The guard smiled back.

Radiology was practically deserted. There seemed to be only one technician on duty and she was busy with a backlog of sprained wrists and chest films from the packed emergency room. Charles went directly to the secretarial area and obtained an X-ray request form and letterhead from the department of radiology. Sitting down at one of the desks, he filled in the form: Michelle Martel, aged 12; diagnosis, leukemia; study requested: abdominal flat plate. From the stationery he selected one of the names of the radiologists and used it to sign the request form.

Back in the main corridor, Charles unlocked the wheel stops on one of the many gurneys parked along the wall and pulled it out into the hall. From a nearby linen closet he obtained two fresh sheets, a pillow, and a pillow case. Working quickly, he made up the gurney, then pushed it past the room manned by the single technician. He waited for the patient elevator, and when it came, he pushed the gurney in and pressed 6.

Watching the floor indicator jump from number to number, he experienced his second wave of doubt. So far everything had gone according to plan, but he admitted that what he'd done to that point was the easy part. The hard part was going to begin when he arrived on Anderson 6.

The elevator stopped and the door folded open. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the gurney out into the quiet hall; visiting hours were long over and, as in most pediatric hospitals, the patients had been put to bed. The first obstacle was the nurses' station. At that moment there was only one nurse,
whose cap could just be seen over the counter top. Charles moved ahead, aware for the first time of the minor cacophony of squeaks emitted by the gurney's wheels. He tried altering the speed in hopes it would reduce the noise but without success. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the nurse. She didn't move. Charles passed the station and the intensity of the light diminished as he entered the long hall.

“Excuse me,” called the nurse, her voice shattering the stillness like breaking glass.

Charles felt a jolt of adrenaline shoot into his system, making his fingertips tingle. He turned and the nurse had stood up, leaning on the counter.

“Can I help you?” asked the nurse.

Charles fumbled for the form. “Just coming to pick up a patient for an X-ray,” he said, forcing himself to stay calm.

“No X-rays have been ordered,” said the nurse curiously. Charles noticed she'd looked down at the desk and he could hear pages of a book being flipped over.

“An emergency film,” said Charles, beginning to panic.

“But there's nothing in the order book and nothing was said at report.”

“Here's the request,” said Charles, abandoning the gurney and approaching the nurse. “It was phoned in by Dr. Keitzman to Dr. Larainen.”

She took the form and read it quickly. She shook her head, obviously confused. “Someone should have phoned us.”

“I agree,” said Charles. “It happens all the time, though.”

“Well, I'll say something. I'll ask the day people what happened.”

“Good idea,” said Charles, turning back to the gurney. His hands were moist. He wasn't trained for this kind of work.

With a deliberate and rapid pace, Charles moved down the corridor, hoping the nurse did not feel obligated to make any confirming calls to either radiology or Dr. Keitzman.

He reached Michelle's room and, stepping around the front of the gurney, started to push open the door. He caught a
glimpse of a seated figure, head resting on the bed. It was Cathryn.

Charles averted his face, backed out of the room, and moved the door to its original position. As quickly as he could he pulled the gurney the length of the corridor, away from the nurses' station, half expecting Cathryn to appear. He wasn't sure if she'd seen him or not.

He had not anticipated her being with Michelle at that hour. He tried to think. He had to get Cathryn out of the room. On the spur of the moment he could think of only one method, but it would mean working very quickly.

After waiting a few minutes to be sure Cathryn was not coming out on her own, Charles swiftly retraced his steps back to the treatment room, which was just before the nurses' station. He found surgical masks and hoods by a scrub sink. He donned one of each and pocketed an extra hood.

Eyeing the nurses' station, he crossed the corridor to the dark lounge area. In the far corner was a public telephone. He called the switchboard and asked for Anderson 6. In a few moments he could hear the phone ringing in the nurses' station.

A woman answered the phone, and Charles asked for Mrs. Martel, saying that it was an emergency. The nurse told him to hold the line.

Quickly he put down the receiver and moved to the doorway of the lounge. Looking back at the nurses' station, he could see the charge nurse come into the corridor with an LPN. She pointed up the hall. Charles immediately left the lounge and scurried back down the hall, passing Michelle's room. In the shadow at the end of the hall, Charles waited. He could see the LPN walk directly toward him, then turn into Michelle's room. Within ten seconds she reappeared and Cathryn, rubbing her eyes, stumbled after her into the hall. As soon as the two women turned toward the nurses' station, Charles ran the gurney down to Michelle's room and pushed it through the half-open door.

Flipping on the wall switch, Charles pushed the gurney over
to the bed. Only then did he look down at his daughter. After twenty-four hours he could see she was perceptibly worse. Gently he shook her shoulder. She didn't respond. He shook her again but the child did not move. What would he do if she were in a coma?

“Michelle?” called Charles.

Slowly Michelle's eyes opened.

“It's me! Please wake up,” Charles shook her again. Time was limited.

Finally Michelle woke. With great effort she lifted her arms and put them around her father's neck. “I knew you'd come,” she said.

“Listen,” said Charles anxiously, putting his face close to hers. “I want to ask you something. I know you are very sick and they are trying to take care of you here at the hospital. But you are not getting well here. Your sickness is stronger than their strongest medicines. I want to take you away with me. Your doctors would not like it so I have to take you right now if you want to go. You have to tell me.”

The question surprised Michelle. It was the last thing she'd expected to hear. She examined her father's face. “Cathryn said you were not feeling well,” said Michelle.

“I feel fine,” said Charles. “Especially when I'm with you. But we haven't much time. Will you come with me?”

Michelle looked into her father's eyes. There was nothing she wanted more. “Take me with you, Daddy, please!”

Charles hugged her, then set to work. He turned off the cardiac monitor and detached the leads from her. He pulled out her IV and yanked down the covers. With a hand under her shoulders and another beneath her knees, Charles lifted his daughter into his arms. He was surprised at how little she weighed. As gently as he could, he lowered Michelle into the gurney and covered her. From the closet he retrieved her clothes and hid them beneath the sheet. Then, just prior to pushing the gurney out into the hall, he put a surgical hood over Michelle's head, tucking in what was left of her hair.

As he walked down toward the nurses' station he was
terrified Cathryn would appear. It was a long shot, but under the circumstances he could not think of any safer alternatives. He had to force himself to walk at a normal pace rather than run to the elevator.

Cathryn had been sound asleep when the LPN touched her shoulder. All she had heard was that she was wanted on the telephone and that it was an emergency. Her first thought had been that something had happened to Charles.

When she got to the nurses' station the LPN had already disappeared. Not knowing what phone to use, Cathryn asked the charge nurse about her call. The woman looked up from her paperwork and, remembering the call, told Cathryn she could pick up the phone in the chart room.

Cathryn said hello three times, each time louder than the last. But no one answered. She had waited and repeated several hellos, but with no response. Depressing the disconnect button rapidly had no effect until she held it down for an instant. When she released it, she was talking to the hospital operator.

The operator didn't know anything about a call to Anderson 6 for Mrs. Martel. Cathryn hung up and walked to the doorway leading to the nurses' station. The nurse was at the desk, bent over a chart. Cathryn was about to call out when she saw a vague figure in white, complete with surgical mask and hood, push a patient across the dimly lit area in front of the elevators. Cathryn, as sensitized as she was, felt a wave of sympathy for the poor child being taken to surgery at such a late hour. She knew that it had to be an emergency.

Fearful of intruding on the nurses' important tasks, Cathryn tentatively called out to her. The nurse swung around in her chair, her face expectant.

“There wasn't anyone on the line,” explained Cathryn.

“That's strange,” said the nurse. “The caller said it was an emergency.”

“Was it a man or a woman?” asked Cathryn.

“A man,” said the nurse.

Cathryn wondered if it were Charles. Maybe he had gone
over to Gina's. “Could I make a local call from this phone?” asked Cathryn.

“We don't usually allow that,” said the nurse, “but if you make it quick . . . Dial nine first.”

Cathryn hurried back to the phone and quickly dialed her mother's. When Gina answered, Cathryn was instantly relieved. Her mother's voice was normal.

“What have you had to eat?” asked Gina.

“I'm not hungry,” said Cathryn.

“You must eat!” commanded Gina, as if the consumption of food solved all problems.

“Has Charles called?” asked Cathryn, ignoring her mother.

“Not a word. Some father!” Gina made a disapproving clucking sound.

“How about Chuck?”

“He's here. You want to talk with him?”

Cathryn debated about discussing the need for a marrow transplant with Chuck, but remembering his previous reaction, decided to wait to do it in person. “No. I'll be home soon. I'll make sure Michelle is sleeping soundly, then I'll come home.”

“I'll have some spaghetti waiting,” said Gina.

Cathryn hung up, intuitively convinced that the mysterious caller had to have been Charles. What kind of an emergency could it have been? And why didn't he stay on the line? Passing the nurse, Cathryn thanked her for allowing her to use the phone.

She walked quickly, passing the partially opened doors of the other rooms, smelling pungent medical aromas, hearing the occasional cry of a child.

Reaching Michelle's room, Cathryn noticed that she had left the door completely open. As she stepped into the room, she hoped that the light from the corridor had not bothered Michelle. Quietly she pulled the door almost closed behind her and walked carefully over to her chair in the near dark. She was about to sit down when she realized that the bed was empty. Afraid to step on Michelle in case she'd tumbled onto the floor, Cathryn quickly bent down and felt around the bed. The
narrow shaft of hall light glistened on the polished vinyl and Cathryn immediately could see that Michelle was not there. In a panic, she hurried to the bathroom and turned on the light. Michelle was not there, either. Returning to the room, Cathryn switched on the overhead light. Michelle was not in the room!