A call came in that the helicopter from Godthaab had arrived at Sondrestrom and that the transfer was being made to the Twin Otter. Dr. Pedersen at Kanak was brought up to date. Major Kimsey checked with the hospital as to the advisability of laying on a trip to the Eskimo village to bring back Bebiane’s parents and possibly some other members of her family. Dr. Markley gave a qualified response, saying that her family could see her as long as her condition remained relatively stable. Invisibly, but powerfully, much of the life at Thule began to revolve around that one hospital room where a small Greenlander girl might or might not be critically ill. There were many fathers on the base, Danish and American.
Then, with abrupt suddenness, the issue was decided not long after 1200 hours. Since his patient had been resting as comfortably as could be expected, and no immediate developments were expected, Captain Markley had left the hospital for the mess hall and a hot meal that he badly needed — he had been exceedingly hard pressed for the past thirty hours. But he had only been eating for a minute or two when he was urgently summoned. He rushed out, jumped into his vehicle, and was back with his patient in hardly more than five minutes. In the sickroom he found Bowditch with two of the nurses. Muscular spasms had begun. That deadly symptom wiped out the last remaining doubt; he knew then that his patient did have rabies and, despite the courage that still showed in her frightened little face, she was almost certainly doomed.
Thrusting that fact out of his mind, he went to work without a wasted motion. As he checked the patient rapidly yet carefully, he was brought up to the minute on the little girl’s vital signs and condition. She was squinting her eyes against the overhead light and it was evident that a savage new kind of pain had entered into her slim body.
Markley gave swift orders. “Linda, get that light off and rig an IV. Bob, please check on the respirator and get it in here as soon as you can. Debra, I’ll need the curare. And tell Thorlund that I want him immediately.”
Bowditch opened the closet where the small respirator was ready and waiting. “I’ve already checked it out,” he reported. “And the curare is right here.”
He had just finished speaking when Thorlund appeared. “Listen,” Markley said to him. “I want you to explain to her that we are going to stop the pain and the spasms. To do that, we’re going to put her almost to sleep. She won’t be able to move — not a muscle of her body. She won’t even be able to breathe for herself; the machine will have to do it. But try to convince her not to be frightened or to worry. I’m sorry, but it’s the only way I can treat her now.”
The Dane bent down over the small, prone figure and spoke to her for half a minute in her own language. As he did so, her eyes came wider and there was fright in them; Markley had foreseen that, but there was nothing whatever he could do. She had to be told, otherwise she might become so terrified that she would lose her reason. Finally, through her growing agony, she said something in reply.
Thorlund straightened up to translate it. “Doctor, she says that she understands. She knows about the dog bite disease and despite what I explained to her, as you said, she accepts that she is going to die.”
Markley clamped his teeth hard together. “Tell her that isn’t so, God willing. Not if I can help it.”
For a moment the protracted tension he had been under, and the extreme gravity of the situation he now faced, very nearly got to him. He hung on by the force of his will augmented by the full knowledge of the responsibility that he would now have to assume. Then the strength of his temperament and the discipline of his profession restored him and he was ready to do battle. He did not even hear the subdued PA system when it came on, and the announcement of Phase Alert was blocked out of his brain.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
On the posting board at Thule Operations the Twin Otter was shown inbound with the tail number, the pilot’s name, and the estimated time of arrival. The ETA was an intelligent guess that would be corrected with the swipe of an eraser as soon as the aircraft made its first contact and reported. In the remarks column, MEDICAL EMERGENCY was lettered in colored chalk. Everyone knew that already, but the Thule Ops people did things right and according to the book.
When the Phase Alert was called, Operations immediately got in touch with Sondrestrom and asked for a report from there. It was not encouraging: another storm was moving in and conditions were deteriorating rapidly. Sondrestrom Operations promised to advise Thule at once of any changes. Thule also asked for immediate reports on any contacts made with the Twin Otter.
As soon as that call had been completed, the duty NCOIC called Major Eastcott and advised him of the circumstances. The operations officer asked to be kept up to date on a minute-by-minute basis. Then he called and got a status report on the C-130. It was just out of a periodic inspection, fully operational, and ready to go.
His next call was to Det. 4, where he talked with Major Mulder for several minutes. The two field-grade officers agreed completely on the developing situation: the Twin Otter was a very rugged bird, the pilot was widely known as an Arctic expert, and there was no reason for undue concern.
Eastcott called Weather and got the latest word from there. Nothing new had come in within the past twenty minutes and the Phase Alert stood. Meanwhile, Base Operations notified the tower and then called the hospital.
One of the nurses took the call. She advised that both doctors were unavailable and that the dental surgeon was tied up with a patient. Operations asked that the physicians be notified, when possible, that a weather situation had developed. Word from the Twin Otter was expected shortly — as soon as it came in, the information would be passed along.
While this was going on, Dr. Markley was fully engaged with his patient — he didn’t have a minute for anything else. When he, Bowditch, and the nurses had her ready, the internist took the syringe of curare and, turning the little girl over, he made a careful, expert injection into the upper right quadrant of her right buttock. As soon as he had done that he turned the child back over and then smiled at her to give her the confidence she would so desperately need to have within the next few minutes. He spoke to Thorlund, who, in turn, translated his words for Bebiane. Through the Dane he told her that she would feel her body begin to become stiff, that she would not be able to use her muscles, and then very soon she would find that she was falling asleep. He hoped to Almighty God that this last statement was true, because if she remained conscious she might be confronted by stark terror. He had already resolved that if he detected any evidence of consciousness in her, he would put her under and keep her there. When Bebiane slowly nodded that she understood, Debra bent over and fitted the respirator hose over her face. After that had been done, the girl looked up with frightened eyes. Markley countered that by laying his strong hand on top of hers to loan her some of his courage and understanding. He continued to offer his comfort until the powerful drug began to take hold. Then he withdrew and let the nurses carry on.
He stepped out into the corridor and motioned Thorlund to follow him. “Karsten,” he said, “thank you for all you’ve done. You can take it easy now, for a while. During the time that she’s immoblized she won’t be able to speak and probably she won’t be able to hear either.”