Executive orders - Tom Clancy [104]
Hello, Sister. It was Dr. Moudi, dressed much the same way, his darker eyes more guarded above the green mask. He checked the chart hanging at the foot of the bed. The temperature reading was only ten minutes old, and still rising. The telex from Atlanta concerning her blood had arrived even more recently, inspiring his immediate walk to the isolation building. Her fair skin had been pale only a few hours earlier. Now it appeared slightly flushed, and dry. Moudi thought they'd work to cool the patient down with alcohol, maybe ice later, to fight the fever. That would be bad for the Sister's dignity. They did indeed dress chastely, as women should, and the hospital gown she now wore was even demeaning to that virtue. Worse still, however, was the look in her eyes. She knew. But he still had to say it.
Sister, the physician told her, your blood has tested positive for Ebola antibodies.
A nod. I see.
Then you also know, he added gently, that twenty percent of the patients survive this disease. You are not without hope. I am a good doctor. Sister Magdalena here is a superb nurse. We will support you as best we can. I am also in contact with some of my colleagues. We will not give up on you. I require that you do not give up on yourself. Talk to your God, good lady. He will surely listen to someone of your virtue. The words came easily, for Moudi was after all a physician, and a good one. He surprised himself by half wishing for her survival.
Thank you, Doctor.
Moudi turned to the other nun before leaving. Please keep me informed.
Of course, Doctor.
Moudi walked out of the room, turning left toward the door, removing his protective garb as he went, and dumping the articles into the proper container. He made a mental note to speak to the administrator to be sure that the necessary precautions were strictly enforced. He wanted this nun to be the last Ebola case in this hospital. Even as he spoke, part of the WHO team was on its way to the Mkusa family, where they would interview the grief-stricken parents, along with neighbors and friends, to learn where and how Benedict might have encountered the infection. The best guess was a monkey bite.
But only a guess. There was little known about Ebola Zaire, and most of the unknowns were important. Doubtless it had been around for centuries, or even longer than that, just one more lethal malady in an area replete with them, not recognized as anything more than jungle fever by physicians as recently as thirty years before. The focal center of the virus was still a matter of speculation. Many thought a monkey carried it, but which monkey no one knew-literally thousands had been trapped or shot in the effort to determine that, with no result. They weren't even sure that it was really a tropical disease-the first properly documented outbreak of this class of fever had actually taken place in Germany. There was a very similar disease in the Philippines.
Ebola appeared and disappeared, like some sort of malignant spirit. There was an apparent periodicity to it. The recognized outbreaks had occurred at eight-to ten-year intervals-again, unexplained and slightly suspect, because Africa was still primitive,