The Center : Patient Zero - Part 2

The Center: Patient Zero -Part 2
by:
Starbuck

In the language of epidemiology, patients are numbered sequentially. Once an epidemic goes public it is patient one who gets the news coverage or journal articles written about them. What is less known is that there are unrecognized patients who predate the first acknowledged case. Sometimes these people are carriers, like Typhoid Mary, but oftentimes they are merely the unsung victims who's stories are not tied into the whole until long after the papers are written. Jesse Lee was such a person, this is his story.

Story is a prequel to and is set in Lilith Langtree's 'The Center' universe.

Chapter Two
Transition plus four hours

Beep.

Jesse groped blindly through a thick fog.

Beep.

Somewhere ahead a car horn had blared out.

Beep.

Or was it a kitchen microwave?

Beep.

The migraine to end all migraines crashed against the inside of Jess's skull with the impact of a Banzai Pipeline wave. Then, with excruciating slowness, the pain began to recede.

Beep.

Brilliant red light flooded into the recesses in which Jesse's whimpering brain had attempted to cower from the painful noise. An inarticulate cry welled up inside and fought its way out past a dry and abraded throat.

Beep.

"Uuhhaaauuuuuu."

The sound of elephants dragging metal trees across a gravel bed in a hailstorm accosted Jesse's ears. A loud crack and devastating thunder was followed by a swift and oppressive silence. A silence too good to last as another crack and thunder was followed by a herd of elephants bringing the trees back.

"JESSE, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

Wincing, Jess tried to move away from the obnoxiously loud voice. Unfortunately, the wince and movement made the headache worse. Now the Banzai Pipeline was composed of tiny metal ball bearings swimming in a sea of battery acid. Nausea declared war on his control and nearly won the day with its opening bombardment.

"Sorry, Jesse. Headache?" The voice returned at a more normal if not any less painful volume. "Nurse, please turn out the lights."

"Uhhhnnhhmmm." Blissful darkness descended like cool milk over Jesse's brain. "Ahhhhh."

"Don't try to talk," the voice returned. "You've been through a bit of an ordeal."

A large, cool hand gripped his left one. "Jesse, I want you to move your fingers one at a time for me, from thumb to pinky."

In the recesses of his mind, a tiny Jesse walked to a bank of levers and began pulling them.

"Good. Now, make a fist."

Jesse's hand felt as if it were a wet sponge, but he managed to curl the fingers under.

"Excellent, now on a scale of zero being no pain to four being unbearable, I want you to tell me about your headache by holding out your fingers."

Jesse held the fist for a moment then opened his hand flat, making sure to wiggle his thumb to get it counted too.

"Oooo, a real doozy. Okay, I'm going to give you something for the headache now. It is also going to make you sleep for several hours, but I'll be here when you wake up."

Jesse soon felt the pain in his head begin to fade, followed by a numb sensation that seemed to radiate to his face from around the base of his neck and his ears. Pins and needles and a slight ringing combined with a cool flow of air into his nose slowly faded with his awareness. As grogginess began to take him he started counting.

Beep.

~~~***~~~

In a conference room in the administrative wing of of the Womack Army Hospital the doctor sat down across the table from Lieutenant Harris. Flipping open a legal pad, he took a sip from the steaming coffee mug and plucked a pen out of the small cup that stood sentinel upon the table between them.

"Lieutenant Harris, I'm Doctor McCoy, CDC Atlanta."

Harris nearly choked on his own coffee. "McCoy?!? From Atlanta?"

With a long-suffering sigh, the doctor shook his head slowly. "My first name is Joshua, not Leonard. As if I don't already catch more than enough flack in the office back home."

"I can imagine so...Doctor." The Lieutenant ruthlessly quashed the urge to say 'Bones'.

McCoy's eyes narrowed at the perceptible pause in Harris' sentence.

"I've a bit of the same issue," Lieutenant Harris quickly followed. "First name's Nicholas, Nick for short." Raising a finger, he traced the scar that ran diagonally down his forehead, to just above his left eye, then picked up below the outside corner of the eye before fading out just below his left ear.

McCoy snorted. "Could be worse, you could'a got stuck with the eye-patch."

"Had to wear the damn thing six months."

"How?" Joshua vaguely gestured toward the injury.

"Saudi. Was attached as a liaison to a Marine unit that came under fire during Sadaam's abortive incursion beyond Kuwait. Piece of shrapnel skipped off the building opposite our cover position. Rang my bell but good. The field Doc told me I was lucky it didn't take my entire face off."

The Doctor laced his long fingers together and leaned on the table. "Let's come to an agreement now Lieutenant. From here on, pop culture will stay outside the realm of our conversation until we are off duty. We're both here with a job to do."

"Agreed," Nick nodded. "So, why is the CDC so interested in a cadet with heat stroke, and why won't the doctors here let me visit with him?"

"I'm afraid that I am not at liberty to answer your questions until after our interview, Lieutenant. It might color your responses, and right now, we need to have your raw feedback and not attempts to draw connections that may or may not exist." Reaching out, McCoy ejected and re-inserted the blank tape in the recorder beside the pen cup. Activating the recorder, the Doctor named himself and Harris then stated the time and the date.

"Lieutenant Harris, the purpose of this interview is to identify any signs or symptoms you might have noticed during the time leading up to the incident with Cadet Lee. This is not an inquest and this recording will be held in strictest patient/doctor medical confidentiality. Anything you can recall, no matter how inconsequential, could help us to treat the cadet's illness. Do you understand and agree to everything you have been told?"

The Lieutenant cleared his throat. "I do, Sir."

"Then let us start with this morning's events."

"Hmmm." Harris thought for a moment. "This morning Cadet Lee was at my door, concerned for his fellow cadets about the heat."

~~~***~~~

Transition Minus Two Hours

The echoes of morning reveille had not yet faded when there was a knock at Lieutenant Harris' barrack door. "Sir?"

Quickly slipping a t-shirt over his head and tucking it into the waistband of his shorts, the Lieutenant padded to the door and opened it. "How can I help you this morning, Cadet Quartermaster Lee?"

"Sir, we appreciate you joining us on our run each morning, but with today's heat... we, rather, I was wondering if it might not be better for you to follow us with one of the mules and a load of water today."

"A good suggestion, cadet," Harris replied. "I shall have to check with the motor-pool before breakfast to see if any of the mules are available."

"Thank you sir."

Something prickled at the back of the Lieutenant's brain. "Is there something else, Cadet."

"Ah, no Sir. Just a feeling, Sir. That something bad might happen if we don't have the extra water today."

~~~***~~~

"So the Cadet seemed to have some kind of premonition of today's events?"

"I'm not sure I would call it that, Sir. I chalked it up to his familiarity with the weather in this part of the country.

"And were you able to get a mule this morning?" McCoy asked.

"Ah, no," Nick answered. "Motor-pool said they'd all been signed out the day before. Instead I had the cadets each draw an extra canteen from supply and we returned to the barrack for them to fill them and drink before the morning PT."

"Is it not true that the base's water supply is currently restricted and considered non-potable?"

"That is correct. Each Cadet brought a supply of bottled water from home."

"Bottled water?" McCoy glanced at his notepad and underlined the words. "Do you recall if Mr. Lee had any particular brand?"

"Something that began with an 'E'. I'm not sure, though there are still twelve cases of it sitting next to his bunk. Should I bring them to you?"

"Perhaps. We have had a couple incidents tied to improper bottling practices recently. It might be worth a look." The Doctor glanced up at the Lieutenant. "So what about breakfast?"

"Breakfast was typical chow-hall style. If there were something there, we'd all be down with it right now. Eggs, bacon, pancakes. They're all teenage boys with the appetites to match."

McCoy made a note to check out the cadet's chow-hall.

"Okay, so PT?"

~~~***~~~

The scorching hot sun floated above the tall pine trees on waves of rising steam. With dawn barely broken, the temperature was already well north of 80, on a rocket-ship ride to the low hundreds and a humidity count to match. The heat boiled through the humid sky causing even the most rigid of objects to appear limp and wilted. Humvee's sagged over their wheels. The flags drooped from the tops of their poles without the slightest breath of wind to stir them. The pines even seemed dessicated, occasionally losing clumps of needles in suicide dives to the ground below. Fog from the nearby river and its tributaries was swiftly burned transparent, though the water certainly hadn't left the atmosphere.

Into this heat, the flight of ROTC Cadets exited their barrack for the drill-field. Dropping their belts with depended canteens, the boys immediately fell into their daily calisthenics beginning with warm-up stretches and proceeding through the daily gamut of activities familiar to soldiers and school PE classes the world over.

After a few final stretches, the Lieutenant got them ready for the morning run. Noticing that a couple of them were looking a bit pale, he first ordered everyone to stop and drink at least 1/2 of a canteen of water.

"Cadet Smith!"

"Sir!"

"You're fond of using your mouth, how about today, you lead the cadences!"

Snickers rumbled through the group. "Busted Jack!"

Forming up the flight, the Lieutenant lead them off the drill-field at a swift jog.

~~~***~~~

Jesse awoke the second time to the sensation of something thick and warm resting on the bridge of his nose. He tried to lift his hand to move it off his face, only to discover that his hands were strapped to the rails on either side of his bed.

Moments later, he heard the door click and then swing shut with a thump.

"Uhhahhhah."

"Shhh." A voice whispered back. "Don't try to talk just yet Jesse. I'm Doctor Langdon, if you remember our earlier conversation, please tell me how your headache is."

Thinking a moment, Jesse made a fist with his right hand then held out one finger.

"Ah, good, so it won't hurt if I stop whispering then." Jesse could hear the smile in the Doctor's voice.

"Uhhuuu."

"Ah ah aaah. No talking yet. Your body's been through quite a bit of stress today. Now I've got something here for you to drink, so first I'm going to raise your bed a bit."

The whir of an electric motor was soon followed by the sensation of the bedding sliding against Jesse's back. He felt the heavy blanket on his chest slide down a bit and then the bed came to a stop.

"Just sip a little of this and let it soak into your mouth before swallowing it. Don't worry, there's a lot here, and you will get to drink every bit of it." The doctor chuckled. "Matter of fact, I will insist that you do."

Jesse tugged at the straps holding his arms in place and frowned while he sipped from the straw.

"Sorry, but the restraints have to stay until we're sure your electrolyte balance has been restored. Right now, you're highly susceptible to seizures due to the chemical imbalance created by the dehydration that lead to your heat stroke."

"Wwhat?" Jesse's voice came out dry and husky.

"Shh. Don't talk yet." Doctor Langdon held the straw to Jesse's lips again. "You might do your vocal chords permanent damage."

Jesse sucked on the straw, savoring the cool flavor of the drink as it swirled around his mouth and trickled down his throat.

"In a little while, once I'm satisfied you won't do any damage to your voice, another doctor will be in to ask you some questions about what happened to you today. It might be a good idea if you thought about it now so as to be ready for him."

Jesse nodded, bumping his nose against the straw. Leaning his head off the pillow, he recaptured the straw and took another pull of the drink.

~~~***~~~

"Ah loves the taste of plastic in the morning!" Frank Murphy reached over and punched Jesse in the shoulder.

Holding his peace until the typhoon in his stomach settled, Jesse leaned heavily against the white, clapboard siding of the barrack. Heat seemed to be radiating away from his dry skin and his stomach had seen fit to declare war on his brain. In the shade of the building he took several deep breaths and concentrated hard on calming his stomach. Nausea and dizziness under control, he pulled the canteen from his hip and fumbled with the cap. After what seemed an eternity, he managed to remove the top and tilted the spout to his lips. After barely a mouthful the canteen was dry.

"Okay Cadets!" Lieutenant Harris announced. "We're late for the heavy weapons range! Form up and move out."

"Shit YEAH!" Jack hooted.

"JACK!" The entire flight turned on their fellow cadet.

Jesse smirked and shook his head. Standing up straight, he took a step away from the wall. As he did so, the rigid control over his stomach slipped and the nausea stormed back. The world tilted to the right and began to spin around him as the other boys shouted their imprecations at their linguistically challenged compatriot. In the ensuing ruckus, no one saw him fold over and collapse.

~~~***~~~

McCoy sat up in his chair and took a moment to stretch his right hand, rubbing the tender side of his ring finger where he'd been gripping the pen while taking notes.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, the Doctor reviewed his notes. "So you formed up the cadets for the march over to the weapons range and that's when you noticed Cadet Lee unconscious on the ground."

"That is correct," Harris answered.

"Then what?"

~~~***~~~

"Cadet Lee!" Harris charged around the boys standing at attention to the form curled in a fetal position on the ground. As he passed, the boys broke formation, turning to look at where their Lieutenant was running.

Harris reached the boy and rolled him onto his back. Snatching up his right wrist, he tried to detect a pulse, but his own heart was thudding too hard in his chest to be able to tell. Moving his hand to the cadet's throat he felt there for a pulse against the cool, clammy skin.

"MURPHY! Get on the horn to 911. Medical emergency!"

"Sir!" The cadet snapped to attention then dashed for the door to the barrack.

Under Harris' fingers Jesse's weak, thready pulse flickered and stopped. The color seemed to immediately drain from the boy's features save for a bluish tinge around the lips.

"Crap!!!" Harris pressed his ear against the boy's chest but was unable to hear any sound from the heart. "Smith! Get inside and tell Murphy it's a full blown heat stroke with heart attack! The rest of you get drinking water and soak a blanket in cold water in one of the showers and get it back out here. MOVE!"

One of the other cadets dropped in beside him, reaching out and checking the pulse points. "You have your orders cadet..."

"Wilson, Sir." The cadet answered. "You need me. None of the others are CPR certified. Hang on while I clear his airway."

Taking two fingers Harris traced the line of Lee's ribs to the base of the sternum. Laying the fingers above the V of the sternum, he set the heel of his palm and prepared to started chest compressions.

"Airway is clear sir."

"Understood, breathe 2 on 15."

"One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Breathe! Breathe!"

Harris paused and Cadet Wilson tilted Jesse's head back, pinched his nose shut and exhaled into his mouth. After checking again for a pulse, they started the cycle over.