Plague Ship (6 page)

seven

David put on two
surgical masks, one on top of the other, and hoped the double layer would afford him added protection against the virus. Then he placed a stethoscope around his neck to give him the appearance of a physician, and knocked on the cabin door. He heard movement inside, followed by silence, and sensed he was being looked at through the peephole.

“I’m Dr. Ballineau,” David called out. “Dr. Maggio asked me to pay you a visit.”

The door opened immediately. A colorfully dressed, middle-aged man, wearing a brown smoking jacket and yellow ascot, ushered David into the overheated sitting room.

The man introduced himself as Thomas Berns and said, “I should begin by telling you I’m HIV positive, and so is my partner.” He gestured to a younger man lying on the sofa and bundled up in a white terrycloth robe. “Ralphie has become quite ill, as you can see.”

David glanced over and studied the dark, handsome man on the sofa. He had his eyes closed and he was breathing normally except that he coughed with every third breath. From a distance his skin color appeared healthy. But there was a Kleenex in his hand that was heavily stained with blotches of blood.

“We’re both on a triple drug cocktail for HIV,” Berns informed. “I assume we should continue taking it.”

“You should,” David said. “Now tell me, when did your symptoms begin?”

“Late last night,” Berns replied. “We both felt feverish, and chilly. Ralphie’s temperature was higher than mine. A hundred and one, I think.”

David quickly estimated the incubation period for the virus. Will had been ill for two days at the most. So assuming he was the source of the contagion, the incubation period was in the range of forty-eight hours, which was very short. The usual incubation period for the influenza virus was four days. A virulent virus with a brief incubation period, David thought grimly. It was a perfect combination for a major outbreak. At length David asked, “Do either of you have shortness of breath?”

“Not really,” Berns said and tried to suppress a wet cough.

“Are you coughing up any blood?” David inquired.

“A little,” Berns said. “But not nearly as much as Ralphie.”

David walked over to the sofa and placed a stethoscope on the chest of Ralph Oliveri, which was the name embroidered on his white robe. The man opened his eyes to peer at David, then closed them without saying a word. Ralph Oliveri’s lungs were filled with crackles and wheezes, and his breath sounds were distant. Bad, David told himself, knowing the worst was yet to come. He studied the man’s face again and now saw a blue tinge to his lips. Another ominous sign.

The phone in the cabin rang. Berns quickly answered it, then held the receiver out to David. “It’s Dr. Maggio, for you.”

David put away his stethoscope and reached for the phone. “Yes?”

“More bad news,” Maggio reported. “Two of the deckhands now have symptoms of the flu. Both are coughing their heads off.”

“Do they have hemoptysis?” David queried.

“Not yet,” Maggio said. “But my biggest concern at the moment is the crowded quarters they’re occupying. The beds for the crew are pushed together, almost side by side. They’re going to infect everybody down there, if they haven’t already.”

“Somehow you’ve got to isolate them,” David urged.

“That can’t be done. All the cabins are taken.”

David knitted his brow and concentrated on the problem. Somehow the infected crew had to be separated from the others. But how? There was no good way to do it, so they’d have to settle for a not-so-good way. “Put surgical masks on the sick deckhands, then push their beds into the corner, as far away from the others as possible. Finally, see if you can arrange to have some curtains put up around their beds.”

“I don’t think that’ll be of much help.”

“It’ll have to do for now,” David said. “I’ll meet with you in the sick bay shortly so we can make further plans.”

David hung up the phone and came back to Berns. “The virus you have is beginning to show up in other parts of the ship. It’s obviously very contagious, so here is what I’d like you to do. First, don’t leave the cabin unless you absolutely have to. And don’t allow any visitors in. If you do leave, wear surgical masks that I will have sent down to you. Second, avoid all places where crowds assemble, such as the dining room and movie theater.”

“What shall we do for food?” Berns asked.

“We’ll provide room service,” David said and headed for the door.

“Nasty virus, eh?” Berns called after him.

“Very.”

David hurried down the passageway with a worried look on his face. The virus was spreading so rapidly to all parts of the ship. The cases would really begin to pile up now, particularly among those with impaired immune systems. Like the couple he’d just seen.
Christ!
He wondered how many more HIV-positive people were aboard the
Grand Atlantic
. They would go first, along with those on chemotherapy, then the elderly and infirm, then those with cardio-pulmonary problems. But there was still one big question in David’s mind.
How did Will contract the virus and develop
influenza pneumonia? How?
He was a healthy kid, yet he caught it and passed it on to Sol, with whom he had close contact. And Marilyn would be next because she too had such close contact with …

David stopped in his tracks. Close contact! The people who had close contact with Will were most likely to become infected with the virus, and nobody had closer contact than Kit! They played and ate and went to movies together every day. And who knows? They may have even kissed! Oh Jesus! Oh Jesus!

David broke into a run and dashed to the staircase, then up the stairs at full speed. He sprinted by startled passengers as he went through a door and down a long passageway, still thinking about how close Kit and Will had been. They had been closer than Will and Sol—that was for damn sure. David grumbled to himself, remembering how cute he thought it was for Kit to have found a little boyfriend. Then it all seemed so innocent. Now it could turn out to be all so deadly.

He came to Kit’s cabin and, after a quick rap on the door, entered. Juanita was sitting on the sofa, reading a Spanish magazine. The sliding glass doors were opened to an empty balcony. Kit was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Kit?” David asked anxiously.

“She’s taking her afternoon nap,” Juanita replied. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” David said, gathering himself. “Is she feeling all right?”

“She is fine,” Juanita told him. “It was I who insisted she take a nap. Children need their rest too, you know.”

David breathed a sigh of relief. “Has she had any symptoms of a cold? Like fever or chills or cough?”

“No,” Juanita said and eyed him carefully. “Why do you ask this?”

“Because there is a virus going around.”

“The Little One is fine,” she reassured him. “See for yourself.”

David tiptoed into the bedroom and saw Kit sound asleep, hugging her favorite teddy bear. He watched her breathe, without even a hint of a cough or wheeze. Again he was struck by the child’s beauty. The flawless skin. The raven-black hair. The rosy pink lips that always seemed to have a half-smile on them. She had inherited so much from her mother, David thought for the thousandth time. Those wonderful genes that made her doubly special. He moved silently to the bed and kissed the top of her head, careful not to wake her. As he turned to leave, he saw Kit’s diary on the nightstand. It was open. Reaching over to close it, he noticed there was a paragraph about Will at the top of the page. He had always considered Kit’s diary to be her private business, and none of his. But now things were different. Will was sick and dying from a vicious virus, and Kit was still very much at risk.

David sat quietly in a chair and began to read the diary.

Wednesday

Will showed me his big secret. We went through a door by the pool and down some real slippery steps to a place where there was a lot of pipes and electric things. Then Will showed me his secret. It was a sick bird he had found under a deck chair. He had it on a dirty old blanket and was giving it food and water. But the big bird—Will says it’s a goose—wouldn’t drink or eat. Maybe because it was so sick. The bird kept coughing up stuff and it got all over Will’s face and hands, but he promised to wash it off later. Then Will put the bird back under the pipes and we left.

David stared at the page of the open diary, stunned, with his mouth agape.

Oh, my God!

eight

David took William Rutherford’s
arm and guided him to the outer deck of the bridge. He glanced over his shoulder to make certain no one was within earshot of their conversation.

“We’ve got a full-blown disaster underway on this ship,” David said gravely. “And it’s going to explode right in our face.”

“Are you referring to the viral pneumonia?” Rutherford asked at once.

David shook his head. “I’m referring to avian influenza. We have an outbreak of bird flu aboard the
Grand Atlantic
and it’s spreading fast.”

Rutherford was shocked speechless. He stared at David for a full ten seconds before asking in a whisper, “Are you sure?”

“Ninety-nine percent,” David replied and recited the details of the sick bird in Kit’s diary, then told him about the newly ill passengers. “So we’ve already got six who are sick, and that’s just the beginning of this nightmare.”

Rutherford clasped his hands together tightly, a man now clearly out of his depth. “Wh-what should we do?”

“A number of things,” David said and immediately prioritized the list. “First, we have to find the damn bird and place it in something airtight. My daughter told me it’s located down some slippery steps that lead to a large room with screened-off generators on one side and pipes and wires on the other. Do you know where that is?”

Rutherford nodded promptly. “It’s a restricted area just beyond the pool.”

“Does it have ventilation ducts?”

“Of course,” Rutherford answered. He didn’t see the significance of the question at first, but then it came to him. “Do you think the virus is traveling to all parts of the ship via the ventilation system?”

“Yes,” David said. “That’s exactly what I think.”

“So, if we can remove the sick bird, we can stop the virus in its tracks,” Rutherford said and brightened at the prospect.

“Maybe, maybe not,” David said carefully. “Usually the H5N1 bird flu virus is not easily transmitted between humans. Most of the cases have occurred in poultry workers who were exposed to large doses of the virus from the sick birds. But for some reason, the bird virus aboard this ship is spreading rapidly from person to person. In essence, we have a transmissible killer on the
Grand Atlantic
.”

Rutherford’s face turned ashen. “Can—can a virus change itself into such a virulent form?”

David nodded gravely. “It happened in the great flu epidemic of 1918. And I suspect it’s happened here. In all likelihood, a fair number of people have already been infected. When they develop symptoms and start coughing, they’ll become carriers of the virus and be able to transmit it to other passengers. Nevertheless, the sick bird remains a major source of the virus.”

“So it’s still important to remove the bird,” Rutherford thought aloud.

“Oh yeah,” David said at once. “The only question is who’s going to go down there and stick his nose next to a sick bird whose body is teeming with a deadly virus.”

Rutherford hesitated a moment, then said bravely, “As captain of the ship, I should do it.”

“Don’t be stupid,” David said. “You have to stay in command of the
Grand Atlantic
. You’re one of the people we’ve got to keep healthy.”

“Who then?”

“Me.”

Rutherford squinted one eye. “Do you know how to do it with any degree of safety?”

“No, but I think I know somebody who does,” David said, then refocused his mind on the list of tasks for Rutherford to do. “Now, while I’m busy learning how to bag that bird, there are a number of things you must do pronto. First, I’ll give you the names of the infected passengers. We have to keep them isolated from the others at all times. They are to stay in their cabins and have all their meals delivered.”

“Done.”

“Secondly, two of your deckhands are down with the illness,” David went on. “You have to find a room to put them in, so they don’t infect the entire crew.”

“Done.”

“Next, go through your passenger list and cull out those who wrote down the present or prior professions as doctors or nurses. Call each of them and have them gather in one of your conference rooms.”

“I could do that faster on the PA system.”

David shook his head. “That could cause people to panic, and that’s the last thing we need.”

“Right, you are.”

“And one final thing,” David concluded. “Did you contact the Navy regarding our problem?”

“Not yet,” Rutherford replied. “I decided to put in a call to the ship owners first, and I’m waiting to hear back from them. I thought it best to go through the owners, and see if they could come up with a way to transport the boy back to the mainland.”

“Cancel the request,” David said hurriedly. “Tell them Will has suddenly improved.”

“Why?”

“Because for now we have to keep the virus limited to the
Grand Atlantic
,” David explained. “Will is now a huge reservoir of the avian flu virus, which we already know is highly contagious. If Will is taken ashore, he would spread the virus to everyone he came in contact with. And I mean everyone. The helicopter crew, the Navy personnel on the ship, the medical staff on land, and on and on. He would be ground zero for an avian influenza pandemic.”

Rutherford swallowed hard. “Are you saying the entire ship should be placed under quarantine?”

David nodded. “Until we get instructions from the Centers for Disease Control on when and where to make port.”

“I should discuss this matter with the ship owners,” Rutherford said, more to himself than to David.

“I wouldn’t,” David advised. “They might panic and do something foolish. Let’s wait for instructions from the CDC.”

“When will—”

“Captain!” the first officer called out from the door to the bridge. “We have a problem!”

“What?” Rutherford called back irritably.

“There’s another storm brewing in the Bahamas,” the first officer reported. “And we’re headed straight for it.”

“What are the winds?”

“They’re Category 1, at seventy miles per hour.”

Rutherford turned to David. “We’ll have to change course to avoid the storm.”

“And?” David asked, noticing the added worry on the captain’s face.

“And that will take us even farther away from port.”

“By how much?”

“That depends on the size of the storm and how rapidly it moves.”

David walked away, grumbling and thinking that everything was going against them. Now the virus had even more time to spread and infect everyone aboard the
Grand Atlantic
.