VANGUARD(56)

“Sounds like it,” Anjali sighed. “We have it in the camp. She gets it a lot, and it hits her hard.”

“Was she not inoculated before leaving the US?”

“She’s allergic to the vaccination against diarrheal diseases.”

Michael’s heart sank. “It came so hard and fast that I feared it was c-c-c...” He couldn’t even bring himself to say the word. “…something else.”

“Cholera? There hasn’t been any sign of it in the camp for weeks. Is she passing rice water stool?”

“I have not checked yet. I am concerned, that is all.” He hated how weak he sounded, but he couldn’t help himself. The thought of losing her was unbearable.

“I know,” Anjali said kindly. “I had to nurse Will through a severe bout of malaria in India under less than ideal circumstances, and I was a wreck. It’s surprisingly difficult to treat a loved one. You’ll be fine, Vanguard. You’ve probably seen a million cases of this, right? Try to forget it’s Sophie, and let your instincts take over.” She paused. “Did you get the med kit out of the car?”

“There is a med kit in the car?”

“Yes, in the back. All our vehicles have them. You’ll find everything you need there. Are you in a place where you can treat her?”

“Yes, a private home. Good people. I trust them.”

“Fantastic. Better for you to treat her than take her to a hospital. Go get the med kit, and get to work. And, Vanguard…” Michael had nearly hung up the phone but came back at Anjali’s request. “She’s going to be fine, and so are you. Call me as many times as you need.”

“Thank you.” He dropped the phone and ran for the stairs.





-





The kit had the right medications for dysentery, as any field kit should have. Within an hour, he’d gotten the appropriate drugs into her. He debated hanging an IV but decided to wait.

Sophie drifted in and out, rousing only to use the bathroom or sip the rehydration solution Michael had prepared. After a couple of hours, she became too weak to walk, and he started carrying her. At that point, he insisted that he see what she was passing. Somehow, she found the strength to fly into a feeble rage, slamming the bathroom door in his face and locking it.

“You’ve never even seen me naked.” He could hear her panting through another wave of pain as she shouted. “And now you want to look at my…my…poop!”

“I am a doctor!” he thundered from the other side of the door. “Seven years of medical school! Right now, I am your doctor. You will tell me what is happening!”

“It’s quite clear what’s happening in here!” she shouted back. “I have dysentery!” She suddenly cried out in pain, and Michael slammed his palms against the door in frustration. “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t have cholera, for God’s sake! It’s f*cking dysentery again; I get it all the time.”

Michael waited for a few minutes. Finally the lock clicked, and he pushed the door open. She lay on the floor with her arm over her face, humiliated. He sidled in and took a long, dispassionate look into the toilet.

“How long have you been passing blood?” His knees were weak with relief. None of the telltale signs of cholera was present. But the blood and mucus in the bowl concerned him.

“It started about half an hour ago. Happened the last time I had it too.”

He flushed the toilet and carried her back to bed. Her body shivered under his hands, burning with fever. A few minutes later, she threw up again, and he decided to get an IV into her before she became any more dehydrated. It took him three tries to get the needle in.

Michael didn’t know when the sun set and evening fell. Sophie lapsed into a state that was half sleep, half unconsciousness. He went upstairs to update his hosts, administering doses of the appropriate medications. The likelihood of transmission was low given their brief, casual exposure, but he couldn’t take any chances. He took the drugs as well, knowing he had a higher risk of exposure as Sophie’s primary caregiver and having just recovered from a serious disease himself.

When he ran out of things to do, panic came boiling up, so he called Anjali again as he sat by Sophie’s bedside.

“How is she?”

“Asleep, I think. Still febrile. Moderate internal bleeding. I have put an IV into her to keep her hydrated.”