“How?” Will stared at her incredulously.
“Always know the customs of the country you are entering. It creates an atmosphere of goodwill and respect from the start.” The nonsensical words slurred on Sophie’s tongue. “I resign my leadership of the coalition. Tell the Rev…” Her eyes rolled back, and she went limp in the hands of the guards. The two men took her to the nearest bed and laid her down carefully. They moved back to the door, their eyes never leaving Anjali. One of them spoke.
“She is woman,” he said in heavily accented English. “Violence on woman is forbidden. Law of new Soviet society.” The infirmary went silent for a moment.
“She knew,” Will said to the guards. “She knew and gambled that you would stop him.” They looked back at him, expressionless.
“At some point, you’ll have to explain to me what’s going on here. In the meantime, Kathy, see to Sophie,” Anjali ordered the closest nurse. “Clean the wound, apply pressure. Dr. Patel can stitch it up later.” She turned back to Michael and got to work.
“We’ve got to get this fever down.” Anjali looked around for inspiration. “You and you.” She pointed at Sophie’s guards, still standing in the doorway. “Take a piece of plastic sheeting outside, fill it with snow, bring it back here.” They stared at her. “Do it now!” They moved gratifyingly fast for two men who had allegedly not been able to understand English until about ten minutes ago.
“Get towels,” Anjali said to the nearest orderly. “Call anyone available down here. We need all hands on deck. Masks and gloves!”
The two soldiers returned with a load of snow in the plastic sheeting.
“Right over here, boys.” She grabbed a towel, filled it with snow, bundled it and shoved it under one of Michael’s armpits. Second one under the other arm. A third between his legs.
“Cart standing by,” she called. “Or whatever we have here that stands in for a cart.” One of the nurses struggled to get an IV into Michael’s arm, but it took her several tries to find a vein in his wasted body. Just as they got the line hooked up, Michael gave one or two quick gasps, then his chest settled. The heart monitor line went jagged.
“V-tach!” The sudden change in temperature had sent him into shock, and the electrical activity in his heart had gone haywire. Anjali started CPR. The nurse ripped the snow-filled towels from under Michael’s body and rapidly toweled him and the table down. Anjali pulled open his gown, and slapped on the pads.
“Clear!” The little defibrillator delivered an electrical shock to his heart. They continued rescue breathing. On the second shock, Michael’s heart rhythm reestablished itself.
They worked over Vanguard for the next hour, getting his fever down to a still high but manageable 104 degrees. By the time he’d stabilized enough for Anjali to step back from the table, the sun had set and the rest of the team had returned from Parnaas. She looked for Sophie, blinking sweat out of her eyes.
Her friend slept on the far table, forehead stitched and bandaged, an IV in her arm. Raj and Will sat beside her, and the Rev stood in the doorway. Anjali hadn’t even noticed them come in.
“I administered a light sedative.” Raj indicated Sophie’s IV line. “Treated for mild shock. Will assisted. He has a great future as a nurse.” Will grinned. “Sophie will have a scar bang between her eyes. Half an ‘x.’ What happened to her?”
“I haven’t heard yet,” Anjali said.
A shout from the lab area made everyone turn around. Meha appeared in the doorway, a brilliant smile under her mask.
“Pseudomonas aeruginosa,” she said breathlessly, holding up the cultured sample of the pneumonia bacteria. “It’s bacterial. Gram-negative, highly resistant to most conventional antibiotics.”
“What’ll work?” Raj leaped to his feet.
“Select cephalosporins. That’s why some were working and other not. Quinolones, too, I think. Let me get a list, and we’ll check our inventory.” Meha darted back into the lab and fired up a computer. Raj joined her.
Two hours later, Michael had two flavors of antibiotics in horse-sized doses running into his veins. All they could do now was wait. Anjali leaned back against the wall and looked at the wreck of a man lying before her. Suddenly, she sighed, and glanced over to see if Sophie was still asleep. Then she crooked her finger at a nearby orderly.
“The big blue storage bin against the far wall marked Hygiene Supplies. See it?” The woman nodded. “Get the hair clippers. Vanguard’s hair is crawling with lice and who knows what else. Buzz it off, go through what’s left with a fine-tooth comb, and bag the trimmings for disposal. He’s going to be bald when he wakes up.”
Everyone received a shot of the appropriate antibiotics before retiring to bed, and Meha started prepping all available supplies of the effective drugs for the patients in Parnaas. The Rev downed his pills, and stayed to chat afterwards.