On any other day, she thought, he would have held a door for her, graciously waited for her to get off the elevator, offered her a nod and a smile as they passed on the sidewalk. But this was not any other day.
Allison realized that a half-dozen people were waiting in a ragtag line for Sally. She had the baby to think of, and Estella, but she didn't think even that argument would hold any sway. Sally gave her a sort of smile and a shrug, and Allison joined the end of the line.
Sally spoke to each person in turn, her words a soft murmur, putting a stethoscope to their chests, looking at their eyes and throats, laying a consoling hand on their arms. The businessmen took whatever news she delivered stoically, but the woman ahead of Allison burst into ragged tears. Allison's heart lurched. She didn't want to imagine what the message had been.
When it was Allison's turn, Sally said, "Who's this?"
"Estella. I think. I found her downtown, crying. I don't think she speaks English. And Sally, you need to know that we were only a block from whatever happened. So we were exposed. Can you help us?" She hesitated, and then said in a rush, "And you should know that I'm--I'm pregnant."
Sally shot Allison a quick glance, then murmured, "Hey, baby girl."
She gently touched Estella's knee before she slipped her stethoscope inside the girl's coat. Estella's arms tightened around Allison's neck.
Sally listened intently, and then shook her head. It had to be bad news. Allison felt like her heart would crack.
But then Sally said, "This child is fine. And just from looking at you, I can tell you're fine too. Just like all these people here are fine, except for the ones who got hit by a car trying to run across a street or who ended up with a heart attack from the stress. But everyone else is fine."
"Fine?"
"Fine," Sally said definitely.
"How can you say that?" Allison protested. "I was downtown. I saw it. People were falling to the pavement all around us, gagging and coughing. And we were right there. We were breathing in whatever they did."
An old man tugged Sally's sleeve. "Please, miss, please, I was downtown. You've got to help me."
Sally turned and pointed at the line. Allison now saw how tired she was.
"Go wait over there with those people. I'll be with you soon." She turned back to Allison. "We've run dozens of blood tests, and they've all come back negative. This has overwhelmed all the hospitals, not just Good Sam. And they're all reporting the same thing--nothing."
"What?" Allison took a step back, startling Estella, who began to cry. "That can't be right. I was there. What are you saying--that all these people made it up?"
"Not at all." Sally sighed. "People were already on high alert because of the terrorist attack last month. You give folks clues like fire alarms and ambulances and emergency crews giving people oxygen right in front of them, and you throw them into a state of hypervigilance. It's the power of suggestion. The same thing happened in Tennessee a few years back. A teacher thought she smelled gasoline. She got dizzy, short of breath, and nauseated. They evacuated the classroom and eventually the whole school. The more ambulances they sent, the more they had to send. More than a hundred people ended up in the emergency room, and dozens were admitted."
"And?" Allison prompted.
Sally shrugged. "They tested and tested--but nothing. Most people who got sick said they smelled something, but they all reported something different--it was bitter; it was sweet; it smelled like something burning. Same thing happened today. People saw the hazmat team, heard there had been some kind of chemical spill, decided this was another sarin gas attack, and began to monitor themselves for symptoms. The air downtown doesn't smell or taste that good anyway, especially not when you add hundreds of idling cars when everyone tried to follow the mayor's order to evacuate. It's called mass hysteria. Otherwise healthy people convince themselves something is wrong."
Allison was still having trouble believing it. "But I was there, Sally. I was there. Something awful happened."
"Something awful did happen--it just didn't affect that many people. The hazmat people tell us there was a small release of some kind of gas at KNWS. Small and contained. One fatality. They're treating a couple of other people who were on scene, but only as a precaution!'
KNWS. That rang a bell. "Who was the fatality?"
"They said Jim Fate."
"Jim Fate?" His name sparked the last bit of adrenaline Allison had left. "I was going to meet with him tomorrow. He'd been getting some kind of threats."
Sally raised her eyebrows. "They must have been more than threats. I'm hearing we were lucky that, for whatever reason, he chose to stay in his studio, and it was nearly airtight. It kept this scene"--she swept her arm out to the hundreds of people--"from being a real disaster."