“What do you need from the exec committee?”
“More space, for one. That means more workers to finish the new building.” Sophie whipped out her iPhone and started taking notes. “Infection control supplies: gloves, surgical masks, face shields, gowns, goggles. Another autoclave wouldn’t hurt.”
“Meds?”
“We’ll know tomorrow which antibiotic we need. We’re fully stocked with the usual suspects – penicillin, amoxicillin, clarithromycin, tetracycline. Unfortunately, they’re not working. We’ve had better results with some cephalosporin antibiotics, but we don’t have as many of those because they’re expensive. Cefepime has been the most effective so far. If you can lay hands on that, we’ll take it.”
“Got it. Anything else, Raj?”
“Get some folks going tent-to-tent looking for other cases. We need these people isolated immediately,” he said. “Staff should be masked and gloved. We can’t take chances. If we go down, the whole camp follows.”
“We’ll need more vehicles on standby as well for patient transportation. I’ll see what I can scrounge up.” Sophie typed madly, an uncomfortable task in latex gloves. “What else?”
“Anjali asked if you would kindly brief Rasputin in the front office about the situation. Her words, not mine.”
“My pleasure,” she said with a grin. “I’ll pull some folks off other details and have them over to the new medical building within the hour. Plus we’ll find some warm bodies to do the tent-to-tent. Jim Watson stayed back behind the border today. I’ll call him up. He loves stuff like this.” They walked out of the infirmary together, Sophie remembering just in time to thank the man standing beside her. “Terrific job, Raj. You guys are absolutely the best. I know you’ll get this.”
“Thanks, Sophie. Anjali or I will check in on the hour unless something crazy happens.”
“Too late for that!” she shouted over her shoulder as she climbed into the Jeep.
-
By lunch, containment efforts were in full swing. They scaled back all non-essential activities to a minimum, and the extra bodies were assigned to either the completion of the second medical building or the tent-to-tent search party. Jim Watson, an old campaigner who had been working in the field longer than Sophie had been on the earth, jumped at the chance to lead the search. He had a knack for putting people of all cultures at ease.
“Here’s a list of the symptoms we’re watching for.” Sophie handed him a handwritten paper. “High fever, heavy chest congestion, cough, chills, shortness of breath, mucus with blood...lots of good stuff.” Jim tucked the paper into his breast pocket. “Make sure you mask up and wear gloves. I don’t want to see your old ass in the infirmary.”
His seamed face broke into a grin, and he mussed her hair. Few people on the mission – on the face of the earth – could get away with that.
“I’ve got vehicles on standby to pick up anyone who can’t walk to the infirmary,” she continued. “Everyone should take a translator. Oh, and Commandant Jaros gave us extra guards to accompany you around the camp.”
“They’d probably shoot ‘em instead of sending them down to the infirmary,” Jim said in a low voice.
“The first person who fires a weapon on my watch is going to wish he didn’t.” Sophie smiled sweetly, and Jim cackled with laughter, turning to gather up his group. She could hear him organizing people into teams, dividing up the grid and getting down to business.