Infected by Gregg Luke

Author:Gregg Luke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LDS, suspense, novel, fiction, clean, contamination, infection, research, organism, horror
ISBN: 978-1-52440-169-6
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2016-08-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 41

Ricardo couldn’t believe what was happening. Everything had been fine just minutes ago. He’d been so close to being a rich man; he was certain of it. Now this! There was no way little Luis could have the same horrible infection that had killed Dr. Udy. No way. It wasn’t fair.

“Tell Noely to go fetch the town doctor,” Julia instructed Ricardo. “And tell her to hurry.”

He did, adding a stern warning not to talk to anyone else on the way. No need to get his small town in a panic.

As he led Dr. Fatheringham, who carried his unconscious nephew, into the control tower, Ricardo’s mind refused to stop connecting links of condemnation—the end result of which was that he had killed his nephew.

No—Luis is not dead! he cried internally. Dr. Fatheringham had said so. Besides, he argued, really it’s all Marco’s fault. If the drunk, worthless bum hadn’t been so careless, his son would not be dangerously sick. If he had done as instructed, he would have collected the mushroom and brought it directly to La Esmeralda instead of stopping off at his house for whatever stupid reason. But that was so typical of Marco. The man was a complete imbecile. Why María had married him was beyond explanation.

Ascending a flight of stairs, Ricardo led Dr. Fatheringham to a small workroom directly below the third-story control room. The room held a long work table, a few folding chairs, an executive desk, and a portable cot.

Dr. Fatheringham unfastened Luis from the bungee cords and laid him on the cot. His face looked serene—as if nothing was wrong and he was simply sleeping through a pleasant dream. His skin was pale and drawn, but that was probably due to the cold rain.

He reached out to caress the boy’s hair, but the doctor stayed his hand.

“Don’t touch him,” she softly said.

“But . . . is he alive? I need to know.”

“Yes, he’s alive.”

He drew a tentative breath. “Then . . . he will be okay, sí?”

“I can’t say for sure.” She began rifling through a desk drawer. “I need some scissors.”

“I will get them,” Ricardo said, turning and sprinting up the stairs. He always had a pair in his control room desk. Returning, he watched Dr. Fatheringham cut away Luis’s T-shirt.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just checking for signs of the infection,” she said, turning Luis on his stomach and wiping his skin with the shirt. “If this is what Brandon had, it will show on his neck and back first.”

Ricardo leaned closer. Luis’s back looked frail and boney, but that was not unusual for children in that area. While few were starving, many were undernourished. María was a passable cook, but Marco had never earned enough to keep his family well fed. And anytime he did bring in a few bolívares, they were quickly wasted on alcohol and cigarettes.

Dr. Fatheringham held a desk lamp close to Luis’s neck. “Do you have any gloves?” she asked, poking at the boy’s skin with a pencil.

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