Plague Ship (26 page)

Carolyn bowed her head and mouthed a silent prayer as David arranged the survey sheets by cabin number.

“Go!” Lindberg said.

David began without looking at the survey sheets. “Will Harrison—dead.”

Seconds later, Lindberg reported, “No vaccine.”

“Sol Wyman—dead.”

After a long pause, Lindberg said, “No vaccine.”

“Marilyn Wyman—mild disease.”

Another long pause. “Received both seasonal and swine flu vaccines.”

David and Carolyn nodded and smiled to each other.

David went back to his survey list. The next two names were the HIV-positive passengers he’d seen at the very beginning of the outbreak. “Thomas Berns—dead.”

There was static on the line as seconds passed by. “He received both flu vaccines.”

“Ralph Oliveri—dead.”

Another delay before Lindberg reported, “Received both vaccines.”

David gazed down at the next two names on his list. They were the dead, decaying old couple he’d see in bed, still holding hands. “George Davenport—dead.”

More static and prolonged pause. “Both vaccines.”

“Rose Davenport—dead.”

“Both vaccines.”

David’s spirits began to sink. Four passengers in a row had received both vaccines and all had died. At first glance, the vaccines were looking less and less effective. “William Rutherford—dead.”

A long pause. “Received only the seasonal flu shot.”

“Deedee Anderson—dead.”

“No vaccines.”

“Albert Murray—dead.”

Thirty seconds passed before Lindberg reported, “Both vaccines.”

David frowned. The numbers were again looking less and less promising. “Richard Scott.”

Lindberg asked, “What’s his health status?”

“He jumped overboard,” David said.

“Suicide?”

“Desperation.”

“Should we list him as death by drowning?”

David nodded to himself. That sounded better than death from a sharp propeller blade. “That’ll do.”

“He received both vaccines.”

“Arthur Maggi—” There was a loud burst of static that went on and on. David tried to speak above it, but with little success. Finally the line cleared. “This is taking far too long. At this rate, we’ll be here all day,” David groused.

“Let’s simplify things,” Lindberg proposed.

To speed up the process, it was decided that David would call out the passenger’s name and health status, but not wait for the CDC to respond with the passenger’s vaccination history. That correlation would be done after all the passengers’ names and health status were gathered. It took almost an hour for the exchange of information to be completed, then David leaned back and waited for the personnel at the CDC to double-check the numbers and complete the statistical analysis.

David kept staring at the speakerphone as he thought about all the people who had died such a horrible death aboard the
Grand Atlantic
. Their faces began to flash in front of his mind’s eye. Will Harrison, Sol Wyman, William Rutherford, Deedee Anderson, and so many others. All had died because a thoughtful little boy had tried to help a bird. Despite his best intentions, Will had set loose a vicious virus that turned a billion-dollar luxury liner into a Third World country, with people fighting for survival any way they could. And that included himself and the savage acts he had committed. But he had no regrets for what he’d done, and he’d do it again without hesitation, particularly when Kit’s life was at stake.

“This waiting is awful,” Carolyn whispered nervously.

“It would be a lot more awful if my theory doesn’t hold up,” David whispered back as he envisioned the catastrophe that would occur if the combination of the vaccines didn’t work. Hundreds and hundreds of passengers would soon die, and they would be followed in death by hundreds of millions more once the virus reached land. And there was no question the virus would reach land. One way or another the mutineers would make it to shore and set off a monstrous pandemic, unlike anything the world had ever seen. It was doomsday, waiting to happen.

“Here are the results,” Lindberg’s voice came over the speakerphone.

David and Carolyn quickly leaned forward and held their breath. In the background they heard the sound of papers being shuffled, followed by a loud continuous burst of static. It seemed to take forever before Lindberg spoke again.

“Two hundred names were matched,” Lindberg went on finally. “Of those, 102 received both vaccines, seventy-nine received only the seasonal flu vaccine, and nineteen got no vaccination. From a statistician’s standpoint, the numbers are ideal. Half got both vaccines, half either no vaccine or a single vaccine. The results are striking. Ninety percent of the passengers who received both vaccines survived and have no disease or moderate disease at the worst. In the group who got no or only one vaccine, 80 percent died with severe disease. Thus, the combination of vaccines worked beyond any doubt, and we can now make arrangements for the
Grand Atlantic
posthaste.”

“Hallelujah!” Carolyn cried out.

David breathed a long sigh of relief. “We’re home safe now.”

“Well done, Dr. Ballineau,” Lindberg congratulated before signing off. “Well done indeed.”

Poston nervously looked at the other deckhands, then came back to David. “What does all this mean in plain English?”

“Did you get both flu shots?” David asked.

“Yeah. So what?”

“That means you won’t get the disease.”

Poston didn’t look relieved. “What happens now?”

“In all likelihood, they’ll arrange for us to be transferred to a fully equipped hospital ship that will be manned by doctors and nurses who have been immunized with both vaccines,” David said, guessing that’s the plan the CDC would come up with. No one would be allowed ashore until it was certain they weren’t carrying the avian flu virus. “Then we’ll be checked and eventually released.”

Poston swallowed hard. “I meant what happens to us? You know, the crew?”

“Are you referring to the deckhands who took part in the mutiny?” David asked bluntly.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing I suspect,” David said. “The ship’s owners aren’t going to want a trial that would publicize there was a mutiny aboard the
Grand Atlantic
. That’s the last thing they would want.”

Poston and the other deckhands smiled broadly.

“But I can guarantee that you’ll never sail again on any ship,” David went on. “The owners of the
Grand Atlantic
will see to that.”

The smiles left their faces.

David came over to Carolyn and helped her up. “Let’s go get Kit and Juanita.”

As they strolled back to the bridge, Carolyn rested her head on David’s shoulder. “So it’s really over.”

“I guess,” David said and placed his arm around her waist. “But we were lucky, very lucky.”

“Lucky!” Carolyn looked at him oddly. “Lucky, after what we’ve been through?”

David nodded. “We were lucky that the combination of vaccines worked against the virus. We found that out by pure luck and happenstance.”

Carolyn slowly nodded back. “And we’re lucky to have a potent vaccine if the virus decides to return.”

“Don’t be so sure of that.”

“But we know the combination of vaccines works,” Carolyn argued mildly.

“Against the virus as it is today,” David said. “But what happens when it mutates and changes the antigens on its outer coat? What happens when the vaccine then produces antibodies that don’t react with these new antigens?”

“Then the vaccine no longer protects against the virus,” Carolyn said and shuddered to herself. “It would be useless.”

“Exactly,” David told her. “And keep in mind that viruses tend to mutate in order to adapt to their environment. That’s how they survive.”

“Jesus!” Carolyn groaned. “Are you saying that another outbreak is going to occur?”

“I’m saying it’s possible.”

“You’re mincing words.”

“Probable, then.”

“You’re still mincing words.”

David smiled humorlessly and gave her a quick hug. “That’s what I told the CDC when they wouldn’t give me a straight answer to the question you just asked.”

“They beat around the bush, eh?”

“For a while.”

“What did they finally say?” Carolyn pressed.

“That it’s sure to happen again,” David said as he reached for the door to the bridge. “It’s only a matter of where and when.”

epilogue

The flock continued along
the Atlantic Flyway, unaware that yet another member had become ill. The sick bird struggled to keep up as the avian influenza virus multiplied within its tissues and destroyed its muscles and lungs.

The bird had no defense against the virus because the microscopic organism was again undergoing a mutation that changed its surface antigens. The new antigens allowed the deadly invader to completely avoid detection by antibodies in the bird’s blood.

Thus the virus multiplied without resistance, weakening the bird to the point it was losing altitude in the face of the approaching thunderstorm. Desperately it searched for a landing area where it could feed and rest. Ahead it sensed land, but the oncoming wind grew stronger and the bird dropped even farther, with nothing except rough seas below. Instinctively it pushed on, knowing that a lush feeding ground was not far off. The bird beat its wings furiously as it lost more and more altitude. The storm came closer and the weather suddenly worsened. Dark sheets of rain now pounded against the bird, making it impossible for it to see the coast of Florida and the huge housing developments being built on its shores.

Then there was lightning and thunder, followed by more lightning that caused the sky to momentarily light up. In the distance, the bird saw a broad stretch of land that jutted out into the sea. With all of its remaining energy, the bird veered off from the flock and made a last-ditch dive for survival. Now the wind was at its back, propelling it forward and downward. So close to land. So close. If only it could reach the feeding grounds. If only it could reach …

the end

© Dennis Trantham

about the author

Leonard Goldberg is the internationally best-selling author of the Joanna Blalock series of medical thrillers. His novels, acclaimed by critics as well as fellow authors, have been translated into a dozen languages and have sold more than a million copies worldwide. Leonard Goldberg is himself a consulting physician affiliated with the UCLA Medical Center, where he holds an appointment as Clinical Professor of Medicine. A highly sought-after expert witness in medical malpractice trials, he is board certified in internal medicine, hematology, and rheumatology, and has published over a hundred scientific studies in peer-reviewed journals.

Leonard Goldberg’s writing career began with a clinical interest in blood disorders. While involved in a research project at UCLA, he encountered a most unusual blood type. The patient’s red blood cells were O-Rh null, indicating they were totally deficient in A, B, and Rh factors and could be administered to virtually anyone without fear of a transfusion reaction. In essence, the patient was the proverbial “universal” blood donor. This finding spurred the idea for a story in which an individual was born without a tissue type, making that person’s organs transplantable into anyone without worry of rejection. His first novel,
Transplant
, revolved around a young woman who is discovered to be a universal organ donor and is hounded by a wealthy, powerful man in desperate need of a new kidney. The book quickly went through multiple printings and was optioned by a major Hollywood studio.

On the strength of the critical and popular reception of
Transplant
, Leonard Goldberg was off to the races as an author of medical thrillers. He began writing a series of new books, with a continuing main character named Joanna Blalock. The Joanna Blalock series features a forensic pathologist at a prestigious university medical center who has a Holmesian knack for solving murders. These books include
Deadly Medicine
,
A Deadly Practice
,
Deadly Care
,
Deadly Harvest
,
Deadly Exposure
,
Lethal Measures
,
Fatal Care
,
Brainwaves
, and
Fever Cell
.

Leonard Goldberg’s novels have been selections of the Book of the Month Club, French and Czech book clubs, and the Mystery Guild. They have been featured as
People
magazine’s “Page-Turner of the Week,” as well as at the International Book Fair in Budapest. The series has been optioned on several occasions for development as a motion picture or television project.

His best-selling novels have also been praised by fellow writers, as:

• “Loaded with suspense and believable characters.” (T. Jefferson Parker)

• “Medical suspense at its best.” (Michael Palmer)

Dr. Goldberg is a native of Charleston, South Carolina (with the accent to prove it), and a part-time California resident. He currently divides his time between Los Angeles and an island off the coast of South Carolina.

Please visit his website, www.leonardgoldberg.com.