Guardian Wolf

chapter 15



The rooms in the isolation ward were small—the better to keep them as sanitized as possible.

Grace was assigned two of the three new patients. The first was a man in his forties. He was awake and aware of what was going on with him, staring at her in her disposable sanitary mask. “I’ve heard of this MRSA stuff before, doctor. I’m an air-force veteran, and was staying at the rehab facility after follow-up surgery, thanks to a recurrence of problems from an old injury. Some people came down with MRSA when I was in the first hospital after returning to the States, and a bunch didn’t survive.” His eyes were worried as he looked at her. “I’ll be okay, though, won’t I?”

She had already seen the red, p-ssy lesion on his arm that indicated the possibility of MRSA. She hardly needed to look at it. The smell in this room was ghastly to her heightened senses. “We’ll take good care of you.” That was the best she could promise, as much as she wanted to swear he’d be fine. With a nurse standing behind her in the doorway, she used her gloved hand to rub the inside of his nose with a swab to obtain a sample. The nurse, also well covered with disposable protective items, collected the swab in a plastic container, which she sealed.

Grace injected the patient with the initial antibiotic, one that sometimes helped to fight off the highly resistant staph infection that was MRSA. If it didn’t work, they had others to try. They had to find the right combination to combat this epidemic and save this patient and the others.

When they left the room, Grace watched carefully as the nurse placed the swab-containing vessel, marked with the patient’s name, room number and other identifying information, into a larger one.

Both removed their gloves and masks and changed into new lab jackets. The old stuff—even the jacket—was placed in sealed containers to be carefully decontaminated or disposed of. They ran their hands beneath an ultraviolet light to ensure there was no glow—a sign that they had gotten bacteria on themselves.

A similar scenario occurred in the next room. Once again, Grace paid attention to the sample. The large container in which it was placed was the same as the prior one, and it contained a few other sealed capsules. It was large enough to be put onto a gurney where two orderlies, also in sanitary garb, prepared to wheel it downstairs to the lab floor. Grace would have preferred that one of the two people handling the samples be a security guard—possibly armed. But two people were better than one to keep the samples safe. And so far no samples had been stolen while still inside in the hospital—only after being taken outside for disposal.

Besides, having the samples handled this way might be more tempting for the thieves. That could be a good thing. Grace had already notified Autumn and Ruby. But would they be a sufficient force to catch the thieves? For one thing, Kristine, like Grace, was still occupied in the hospital.

When Grace and the nurse finally peeled off the clothing from the second examination, she was approached by Simon.



“Stay back,” she said. “I need to shower.”

“You okay?” he asked, earning a smile from her.

“I will be. See you on the outside.”

The nurse and she headed toward the facilities to disinfect with antibacterial soap and hot water. When Grace emerged in clean aqua hospital scrubs, she hurried out the door from the enclosed ward into a lounge. As she had hoped, Simon was already there. Alone. Grace assumed that word was out about MRSA being diagnosed here at Charles Carder. Visitors would be limited and instructed not to stay long. Precautions would be taken to avoid spreading the highly contagious disease.

“Did the patient you saw likely have MRSA?” she inquired.

“That was my initial diagnosis. Yours, too?”

She nodded. “I was told that Moe Scoles is back in his office. I need to talk to him. I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll come along.” His expression was both grim and determined, and it somehow warmed her heart—while at the same time worrying her.

“I’ll be discussing security with him,” she said. “Military matters. I don’t think—”

“Helping to keep things around here safe, or as safe as possible, may be military matters, but I might be able to contribute something—even though I’m definitely not throwing on any uniform but a medical one.”

She didn’t appreciate the reminder of the dilemma simmering between them. Even so, she decided to let him join her.

They headed for Captain Scoles’s office in the Infectious Diseases Center on the second floor. His door was closed. Grace heard voices inside. Moe had company. Grace identified who it was: Colonel Nelson Otis. She glanced at Simon. He’d heard them, too.

“Better yet,” she said. “I’d like both Moe and the colonel to tell me how security will be handled.”

Simon raised his dark eyebrows as if justifiably doubtful of their response. “You think they’ll tell you?”

“Colonel Otis requested help after usual military resources were unable to stop the thefts,” she revealed to Simon without explaining the kind of help they were providing. “That’s why my unit was called in. They may think the worst is over. I don’t. And for us to help, we need to be kept in the loop.”

Grace knocked and opened the door without waiting for an invitation from inside.

Not surprisingly, Moe was behind his desk and Nelson sat across from him. They both stared toward the door with similar glowers.

“Everything stable with the patients you saw?” Moe demanded.

“For now, at least,” Grace confirmed.

“Mine too,” said Simon.

“Then I’ll talk with you both later,” Moe said, clearly dismissing them.

Instead of leaving, Grace walked farther into the room, Simon at her side. She remained standing, ignoring the remaining chair beside Nelson. She half expected the medical facility’s commanding officer to give her a direct order to leave. Not that she’d obey—at least for now.

He knew full well that she, as a member of Alpha Force, had special dispensation to do what was necessary to fulfill the covert unit’s mission—even if he didn’t fully understand how Alpha Force operated.

Ignoring the bad vibes in the room and the clear, if not spoken, wish for them to leave, Grace said, “I’m glad you’re both here. Simon and I are concerned about the security of the samples taken from the new patients. I know that confirmation of their nature won’t be complete for another twenty-four hours or more. Can I assume then that they’ll be handled like the Rocky Mountain spotted fever samples the other day?”



That would be both good and bad. The security employed regarding those samples had worked well to protect them. Possibly too well. Although there could have been other reasons, no one had even attempted to steal them—and therefore put themselves out in the open to be caught.

“No need,” Moe said. “Have you ever heard of MRSA being considered as a biohazard that could be used for terrorist warfare? It’s not generally given a biohazard rating level. Even the spotted fever materials had a level 3 rating, despite the remoteness of any ability to alter the samples into a transmittable form. Why would any thief go after this stuff?”

“Because in some ways it’s more hazardous than some of the diseases that are rated.” Simon answered before Grace did. “MRSA spreads fast, and its response to known treatments is dubious.”

Grace thought of an even more acerbic retort but kept it to herself. She didn’t like Scoles’s cavalier attitude. Instead, she turned to the colonel, almost wishing she was in her camo uniform instead of hospital scrubs. This old-school military physician might take her more seriously.

“If nothing else, sir,” she said, “we can let it be known that this stuff is dangerous and could be used as biohazards—whether or not that’s true. Then, with the right kind of security—” meaning, as he would know, Alpha Force’s presence as well as whatever he put into place “—we’ll be ready to catch whoever tries to steal it.”

The colonel stood. He was big and beefy, and under other circumstances Grace would assume he was attempting to intimidate her. Maybe he even was now. But Simon, despite having no military background, was taller and more muscular, and he placed himself beside her—facing Nelson.

With her own military background and training, Grace felt fully capable of defending herself. Even so, she appreciated Simon’s protectiveness.

Nelson approached no closer. “Okay, Grace. Simon. You’ve made your point. The stuff is in a uniquely precarious situation. The lieutenant and I will discuss with our security expert, Major Dryson, how best to protect it when the time comes to store and dispose of it. We’ll treat it as if it is a recognized biohazard.”

“And you’ll keep me informed about its storage and movement.” Grace didn’t make it a question as she looked straight into the colonel’s eyes. He’d narrowed them so much that they almost sank into the flesh of his chunky face. “I didn’t get all the information I should have about the handling of the spotted fever materials.”

“That worked out just fine, didn’t it?” Moe’s tone was scoffing, but she still didn’t look at him.

“You know how I can help, colonel,” Grace said. Nelson sort of did, at least. He, unlike Moe, knew of the existence of Alpha Force and the reason for its presence here. “If we have any hope of catching whoever it is, we need to see this through.”

“We’ll keep you informed,” the colonel promised.

Simon and she left shortly thereafter.

“Did you believe him?” Simon asked as they walked toward her tiny office.

“Do I look stupid?” she retorted.

A few things now bashed within her mind. She was glad Lt. Patrick Worley was due to arrive soon. Alpha Force no longer had to stage a biohazards alert to flush out the thieves. They had one that was real enough.

She’d just have to make sure that word was out about how dangerous the samples could be—which, unfortunately, might be true.

She’d also have to make sure that she and her other Alpha Force comrades were well prepared to deal with it.



She now feared that the thieves weren’t just locals who had been observing the hospital for opportunities, or even negligently hired hospital staff planted here to steal whatever they could for foreign terrorists.

Colonel Nelson Otis had called in military help that had resulted in Alpha Force’s presence. Captain Moe Scoles seemed to be a physician dedicated to fighting infection and disease. But both, with their medical backgrounds, would know the differences among which samples collected at the hospital were most able to be cultured into high-risk diseases—or at least be threatening enough to convince nonmedical terrorists of the possibility. And both, with their difficult, scornful and dismissive attitudes…well, Grace couldn’t help wondering whether one or both of these men were the robbers they sought.



Two more patients were brought in from the rehab facility with presumed MRSA. Simon was the specialist called in for both, which was exactly what he wanted.

He returned to the isolation unit, calling Grace on the way. He wanted to keep her informed about what was going on, even though she was assigned elsewhere. He would continually observe existing infectious diseases patients for additional symptoms. He’d also be the first physician that nurses would notify if any other medical-center patients evinced signs of MRSA.

He knew Grace would want their positions reversed. Whatever her military group’s assignment was here at Charles Carder, he felt sure she believed she was being kept out of the mainstream of the current problem on purpose.

He might have no intention of joining that apparently unusual military unit of hers, but he could cooperate, at least to some extent, for now.

Especially after Grace’s hints that her unit had special abilities to help shifters like him achieve the results he had strived for all these years—including better control of the time of a shift. And maybe more, too.

Plus, cooperation would potentially give him more time with Grace before she disappeared from his life. This time it would be her choice, but he had little doubt what she would select, between the military or him. Still, he couldn’t dwell on that now.

Simon stayed in the isolation ward just long enough to check in on the two new patients, give them whatever encouragement he could, and obtain nasal swabs for testing.



When he was done scrubbing up after the last visit and checking himself under UV lights for evidence of bacteria, he left the area. There was someplace he needed to go—for more than one reason. He headed to the laboratory area in the medical center’s basement.

While there, he checked on the progress of the culturing that was being performed on the samples taken from the first apparent MRSA patients. Some were far enough along that the diagnosis was confirmed.

The lab techs, swathed in protective clothing from head to toe, answered Simon’s questions about how long the samples would be retained, and how soon they would be hustled out to be destroyed.

Then, when he was alone in the long, quiet hallway, he ducked into the lab he had adopted for his own use. For cover, he pulled out some of his homeopathic samples, just in case anyone popped in while he was there.

He also grabbed a couple of the pills in the formula he had developed to control shifting.

He had a feeling he would need to use at least one of them soon.



“I still don’t have the information I need, Lieutenant.” Grace knew she was being formal with Patrick Worley, whom she knew from Ft. Lukman, but he was giving her a hard time.

Sort of.

She stood outside in the rear parking lot of the Charles Carder Medical Center, talking with the lieutenant on her cell phone. Kristine was with her, scowling in sympathy. She wore a different nurse’s uniform than the one she’d had on that morning. Like everyone else, she had changed into newly laundered and sanitized clothing each time she visited a MRSA patient.

The heat out here was stifling, but that wasn’t a surprise on this late Arizona afternoon. But it was more than the temperature that made Grace’s face flush.

“Do you think your plan will work?” Patrick demanded. “I know we were supposed to discuss the protocol we’d put into place for having a bunch of ‘sick’ folks arrive there and get admitted as patients, but Drew and I have already gotten a preliminary okay from General Yarrow and started recruiting our strike force of pseudo-ailing soldiers. I’ll put that on hold if you think this MRSA situation will flush out the thieves.”

“No way of knowing for sure, Patrick,” Grace said. “You know that. It’ll save time if it does, but I need to get a few things set up to give it an adequate try.”

And not get either Colonel Otis or Lieutenant Scoles too involved, in case they were the perpetrators they sought. But she didn’t want to accuse them to Patrick, or even in Kristine’s presence, until she had more than irritation with them to go on. Even at that, she also knew better than wedding herself to her suspicions. She would keep an open mind—and suspect everyone until the true guilty parties were in custody.

Almost everyone, she amended in her thoughts. She no longer suspected Simon—and hoped she hadn’t just been manipulated into that opinion. She wished she was with him. His calming presence would help her through this potentially difficult time. But they both had to treat patients now.

“I’m still heading there,” Patrick said. “Sounds as if things could boil over before I arrive, but I’ll help in whatever way I can. Even in matters that aren’t directly related.”

Grace translated. Patrick was talking about the revelation Grace had made to Drew about running into another shapeshifter here who might have abilities Alpha Force could use, if some kind of agreement—about recruitment or otherwise—could be reached with him.



“Keep me informed about your ETA,” Grace told him. It sounded as if he wouldn’t get there till late sometime tomorrow.

That might be plenty of time for him to help deal with any attempt to steal the latest biohazardous materials.

Or not.



Grace and Kristine were back inside the hospital. “Do you think the protocols put into place will keep the MRSA infection from spreading here?” Kristine asked.

“Every prescribed precaution I’m aware of seems to have been instituted,” Grace said as they walked through the nearly empty lobby. “Including keeping visitors to a minimum, and ramping up cleaning procedures.” Grace stopped near the area containing the stairs and elevator bank and faced Kristine. “But for our purposes, we’re going to start some rumors flowing. I want you to make sure everyone you check in on, even other nurses, thinks that the MRSA samples are worse than any of the potentially hazardous materials that have already been stolen from here. I want our thieves to hear that from whatever their usual sources are.” That, just in case the perpetrators weren’t the two men she considered top suspects. They already knew the biohazard level—or not—of these samples.

“Yes, ma’am.” Kristine gave her one of her usual joking salutes. Another nurse in hospital scrubs walked by and shot them a questioning look, which sort of amused Grace. This was, after all, a military hospital, even if not all usual formalities were observed.

“Are you heading back to the Infectious Diseases Center for now?” Grace asked.

“Yes, to do some grunt work—and talk up the biohazard nature of the MRSA samples, like you want. Then I’ll go back to the air-force base and take our poor mutts for some exercise. I’ll contact Autumn and Ruby, get them off their communications assignments, and let them know what’s going on here. I’ll suggest that they stimulate those rumors of yours, too.”

“Good. Make sure they know that, if all goes as I anticipate, we’ll be conducting special Alpha Force maneuvers as soon as I learn that the MRSA samples are about to be moved for disposal.” Her assistant nodded, obviously understanding what that meant: Grace and Autumn would be shifting to conduct their part of the surveillance. “Just make sure I can reach you by cell phone at all times.”

“You got it, ma’am.” Kristine snapped another salute, which made Grace gently punch her arm.

“Don’t act smart,” she muttered.

“I’m always smart, Grace,” she said. “You know that. And ready for anything, just like you.”



Grace had completed her last rounds of the day in the Infectious Diseases Center. As an extra precaution, she was checking with the nurses’ stations in other hospital units, too. So far, there had been no indications of the spread of MRSA at Charles Carder beyond that one PTSD patient who had caught it from her visitors. Even so, Grace visited the psychiatric ward one more time before leaving for the day.

The nurses there looked exhausted, but they assured Grace that no one had shown any symptoms of the difficult-to-treat staph infection. Sharon, the nurse whom Grace had spoken with before, explained how hard it had been to convince the patients here that they weren’t all going to get sick like Alice, even though Grace and the other doctors who’d seen them had said the same thing.

Then it was time for Grace to leave the hospital for the day, but she wasn’t ready to go. Her instincts said that things were going to happen soon. Or maybe it was just her wanting to get her mission accomplished.

Besides, she hadn’t seen Simon for hours, though she’d thought of him. A lot. As far as she knew, he had remained assigned to the isolation unit. She hoped he was faring well.

Despite all her best instincts, she also hoped she would see him soon.

She didn’t want to interfere if he was busy with patients. On the other hand, maybe she could help.

Fortunately, they had exchanged cell phone numbers.

She sent him a text message: All ok?

The response was quick: Meet me in pkg lot.

She did. She was relieved to see that, although there was exhaustion in his eyes, he looked well and alert.

And, somehow, jazzed.

He smiled as he approached her. She saw his hands flex, then fall back to his sides, as if he had wanted to embrace her—which only made her own instinct flare into a desire to hold him, too. But she just waited.

He bent down and said softly into her ear, “Just heard. The samples from all but the latest patients have been cultured and analyzed. Yes, it’s MRSA. And the samples will be disposed of tonight.”