“Where is everyone?” he murmured.
Amber shook her head as they walked through. “Maybe they’ve sent some staff home because of the hurricane warning.”
The head of the lab was an older man, tall but thick and heavyset; he already knew they were on their way and walked over with his hand outstretched. “Mamo Akano. I take it you’re my meningitis doctor?”
Amber nodded her head. “Amber Berkeley from the Disease Prevention Agency. Any further forward in identifying the strain?”
Mamo had deep furrows in his brow. “Maybe. The DPA just sent me some files over for you to consider. Come over here. I’ve opened them on the computer next to the microscope.”
Amber hurried over and pulled up a stool next to the microscope. She glanced over her shoulder toward Jack. “Ready for this?”
It was the first time since he’d got here that Jack had felt out of his depth. This wasn’t his forte. But he was always willing to learn. He gave a nod and pulled up a stool. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
* * *
Three hours later her neck ached and her brain was fried. She’d spoken to her contacts at the Hawaii Outbreak Center, and her colleagues in Chicago. Their strain of meningitis seemed to be unique. It was definitely bacterial meningitis. The cerebral spinal fluid collected from both boys had been cloudy. But the gram stains hadn’t given them the information that they needed. There was nothing like it on file—which was not entirely unusual, but just made things more difficult. It was closest to a previously identified strain of meningitis W135, but seemed to have mutated slightly. “What do we do now?” asked Jack.
Mamo sighed. He’d been by their side the whole time. “In theory, now we wait. But we can’t really do that.”
Jack frowned. “What do you mean?”
Amber gave a slow nod. “Mamo will need to see what the most effective antibiotic for treating this strain is. But sometimes we don’t know that for up to forty-eight hours—even seventy-two hours. We can’t wait that long. Both of these patients are too sick. I need to try and treat them now.”
Pieces clicked into place in Jack’s brain. “So, you guess?”
“Yip,” said Mamo, “Amber has to guess.” His voice didn’t sound happy.
Amber straightened up. Her voice was confident and her manner methodical. “Zane was already started on a broad-spectrum antibiotic—Penicillin G—when he was admitted. But it already looks like it hasn’t started working. Neither of these boys was immunized. So, we immunize against Men W, and we treat them with something more specific—more than likely chloramphenicol—and hope the strain’s not mutated too much.” She pointed to the phone. “Let me make one more phone call. Then I’ll go back up to Infectious Diseases to speak to the consultant. Then...” She turned to face Jack. “Then we’re on a race against time. We need to contact trace. If there are children involved they may already have been immunized against meningitis W. But because this strain is slightly mutated, I still want to give them antibiotics. I can’t take any chances with this.”
“Meningitis W is one of the most dangerous strains, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “That’s why it was included in the immunization schedule in lots of countries only a few years ago. These kids really should have had this vaccine. But not everyone agrees with vaccination. Not everyone takes their kids for them, even though they can get them for free.” She shook her head and turned to Mamo. “I need supplies. Where can I get oral supplies of antibiotics?”
Jack couldn’t help but be impressed. She was on fire. This was her specialty and it was clear she knew the subject matter well.
Mamo walked over to another phone. “I’ll talk to the hospital pharmacy. It’s emergency circumstances—in more ways than one. Being part of the DPA will give you visiting physician credentials. You’ll be able to get what you need.”
She nodded again in grateful thanks. Jack got that. He was a medic too and part of the army. And, although he was confident in his abilities and credentials, it didn’t matter where you were in the world—most countries had their own conditions and registrations for being a doctor. The US had different regulations for each state, so sometimes it made things difficult.
She nodded and laid her hand on Mamo’s arm as he waited for someone to answer the phone. “Thank you,” she acknowledged. He nodded as they made their way back out of the lab and to the elevators.
She leaned against the wall as the elevator ascended. A few strands of her dark pink-tipped hair had fallen around her face and shoulders, and he could practically see the tension across her shoulders and neck.
He leaned forward and touched the end of one of her strands of hair. “I never asked last night. Why pink?”
She blinked for a second as if her mind was racing with a million different thoughts, then glanced sideways as she realized he was touching her hair. “Why not?” she replied simply.
There was something about the expression on her face that made him suck in his breath. She appeared calm and methodical. He was seeing Amber Berkeley at her best.
He was so used to being in charge. But here? Here, he was just Jack Campbell. This wasn’t a trauma situation. Here, he had to let the person with the most experience lead the case. And that was hard for him. “What can I do?”
He had to ask. He wanted to help. He’d help any colleague who needed it—whether it was his specialty area or not. The army had made him adaptable in more ways than one.
She fixed him with her steady blue eyes and gave him clear instructions. “I need to get histories. I need to find out where these boys have been in the last few days in detail. I need to know every contact. I need names, addresses, dates of birth—contact details if they have them.”
Jack licked his lips and asked the first question that had danced into his brain. “And if they are too sick to tell us?”
She grimaced. “Then we ask their family. Their friends. Whoever admitted them. This is a potentially deadly strain. We can’t wait. There isn’t time.” She shook her head. “I don’t even want to think about what doing this in the middle of a hurricane means.”
He gave a swift nod and reached over to give her arm a squeeze. “I can do detailed histories. I haven’t done any for a while, but I still remember how. Let’s split it. You take one, I’ll take the other and then we can check if there’s any crossover.”
She looked down at his hand on her arm and gave a weary kind of smile. “Thank you for this, Jack. You didn’t have to offer, but I’m glad you did. Usually I’m part of a team. So outside help is appreciated.”
“You okay?”
She nodded. “The meningitis stuff? I can do it in my sleep. The hurricane stuff?” She shook her head. “I don’t have a single clue. I feel completely thrown in at the deep end.”
She gave a smile as the elevator doors slid open again. “Remember your first shift as a resident when it seemed like everyone on the ward was going to die simultaneously?”
He let out a wry laugh.
