The next morning, after some decent coffee and a bagel, Talia rolled into work feeling pretty good, and reasonably hopeful. Mornings usually weren’t too bad, especially in the middle of the week.
This morning, however, the waiting room was almost half full, and the triage nurses were getting a workout. Her first hit was a three-year-old boy whose index finger had been all but severed by having it inserted into the hinge side of a door somebody had slammed. The kid was fairly calm, all things considered, especially after they gave him something for the pain. But his parents were hysterical, especially when the boy was wheeled off to surgery.
When Talia picked up the paperwork for her next patient, she saw right away that he had flu-like symptoms, and was bleeding from the nose.
“Hold him in triage,” she said. “I want to check something out.”
Randal wasn’t around, but she found the room assignment for his patients, and called that floor.
Ravenna was staring at her as she put down the phone. Talia heard someone sneeze in the waiting room, followed almost instantly by a loud expression of disgust.
“What is it?” Ravenna asked.
“There were two women in here last night,” she said. “Both had a fever and some kind of sinus thing. One crumped last night, and the other is circling.”
“What killed the one?”
“Multiple systems failure, it looks like,” Talia replied. “But they haven’t done a post mortem yet.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I have a feeling we’re about to see a lot of it. How many have come through triage this morning with these symptoms?”
“So far I think we’ve had six,” Ravenna said. “Not all of them are bleeding—some just have the fever.”
“Okay,” Talia said, letting out a deep sigh of resignation. “This is out of my league. Who is the health coordinator?”
Herrin, the health coordinator, had a voice so smooth it was almost oily, and an attitude that “patronizing” wasn’t strong enough to describe.
“Dr. Kosar,” he explained over the phone, “We haven’t been notified by the CDC or the World Health Organization of an outbreak or even of the possibility of an outbreak.”
“Of course not,” Talia said. “Because it’s happening here, in the ER, and not at their facilities.”
“Nevertheless, eight cases isn’t enough to declare an emergency,” Herrin said.
“One of those eight is dead,” she replied. “And the other probably will be before this call is over.” She scanned the latest report from the front desk. “And actually, we’re up to ten now. We don’t know what this is, we don’t know how contagious it is—”
“Dr. Kosar,” Herrin said, cutting her off. “You’re primarily a surgeon, aren’t you?”
“I’m an ER doctor,” she said, trying to keep the pretty swear words where they belonged, way down in her belly.
“But you mostly deal with and refer trauma, not infectious disease, is that correct?”
“Yes,” she said. “That is correct. But I damn well know an infectious disease when I see one, and this one is nasty.”
“Then we need someone whose specialty is infectious diseases,” Herring said. “I’ll look into it—when and if the situation demands it.”
“There’s a reporting process, right?” Talia persisted, feeling the discussion getting away from her. “Because the CDC can’t declare on outbreak unless someone gets the data to them.”
“There is indeed a reporting procedure,” he assured her, “and it will be followed.”
“Great,” she said, knowing it was useless. “But we need to set up our isolation procedures now,” she added. “While you look into it.”
“I’ll get back to you, doctor,” Herrin said. She heard the line go dead.
“Oh, shit—no he didn’t!” she exploded.
“What?” Ravenna asked.
Talia looked at the phone and considered calling Herrin back just to swear at him. But she knew she wouldn’t get him this time. His secretary wouldn’t even put the call through.
“From this moment on,” she told Ravenna, “Everyone in this ER is going to wear a face mask, do you understand? Patients included.”
“Okay,” Ravenna said. “I just hope we’ve got enough.”
“If we don’t, go ‘borrow’ some from upstairs,” Talia told her.
Six hours later, the old lady was dead, and so was a young man who had come in that morning. She got a call from Herrin’s office. The CDC and the WHO had both declared the outbreak of an unknown viral infection, and the hospital was prepared to implement isolation and quarantine procedures.
Hanging up the phone, Talia swore colorfully in both Czech and English for a few moments, before returning to work.
3
They caught up with the troop when the sun was at the top of the sky. The larger group was moving slowly through a thickly forested valley not too far from where he had left them. As relieved as he was to see them, Caesar had hoped they would have made better progress.
Maurice swung out to greet them, his long arms negotiating the great trees with enviable ease.
Worried, the orangutan signed.
Caesar nodded.
Me too, he said. Humans have machine eyes to see at night. Did you know this?
No, Maurice replied.
Think on it now, Caesar said. Trouble for us.
Stay on top of largest branches at night, Maurice suggested. Can’t see us there.
What about gorillas? The gorillas were the worst climbers, and were generally uncomfortable if they were too far off the ground.
Maurice scratched his head.
Think about it more, he said.
Caesar glanced down and saw Cornelia swinging up toward them. She settled on the bough, again offering her half-hearted submission.
What? Caesar asked.
Hungry, she said. Apes eat much. Especially gorillas and orangutans.
True, Maurice put in, and rubbed his belly. Caesar looked more closely at his friend. He seemed drawn around the eyes, more slow-moving than usual.
Cornelia plunged on.
We must find food.
Caesar considered that for a moment. She was right, of course. They had found food at human campsites and in abandoned cabins near the edge of the wood, but that was all gone. Now that he thought about it, his own stomach felt as hard and empty as a shell.
Wild apes, he said. Apes captured from the wild. They will know what to eat.
No, Cornelia said. I was born wild. Woods not like this. Different woods. Different food.
Frustration exploded through Caesar’s weariness. He rose up and bared his teeth. Cornelia slunk back a bit.
What, then? he demanded.
She looked up at him. Her posture was submissive—but her gaze? He saw challenge there. As if she was male.
Wild apes know how to figure out what is food, she said. Need time.
Good, he signed. Figure it out.
Quickly, he added.
Takes time, she repeated stubbornly. Also, many apes are wounded. Cannot keep up this pace. Need to settle, nest. Heal.
No time, Caesar said. When humans leave, we nest.