Page 3 of The Hero Within
Curiouser and curiouser.
Her interest zeroed in on the intriguing part of the sentence. "Unusual case of the plague?"
The first sign of the plague was the rash. Large reddish lumps around the lymph nodes and across the chest, which she was calling phase one. Onset seemed to occur between two and seven days after initial infection, though her case study was small and precise estimates difficult to lock down.
Phase two involved fever and intense sweating, which followed the rash by a couple of days.
Roughly twenty-four hours into the fever, the vomiting and diarrhea started, and this was where everything started to go downhill. In combination with the intense sweating, it caused hypernatremia; low fluid volumes with a high sodium serum concentration in the patient's plasma. Hence why they were so damned thirsty and confused. She'd been trying to cautiously treat the electrolyte imbalance, but the onset was often acute, and from there the diagnosis led to twitching, seizures, coma... and then, in the two cases that had progressed so far, death.
Only one of her patients had recovered, and he'd been a healthy young man with a strong immune system.
Maggie shrugged helplessly. "I don't know the details. He won't speak to me or any of the others on your team, he just kept insisting on speaking to you. He's in here."
Eden gloved up, dragged a surgical mask down over her mouth and nose, and then entered the tent Maggie had led her to.
A man sat on the trundle in the corner, his knees pressed together. A rash bloomed across his forehead and down his throat, though the olive color of his skin made it appear more of a ruddy brown in color.
She'd never seen him in her life.
"Hi," she said, "I'm Eden McClain. Maggie said you'd asked for me personally?"
"Eden McClain?" he asked, his eyes darting suspiciously. "Can you prove that?"
Uh, what?"Prove who I am?"
"Please."
Definitely weird. "I'm sorry, but I don't even know you."
"Henry Chin," he said politely.
Still not ringing any bells, but the flash of his perfect teeth momentarily transfixed her. White, straight, not a hint of decay or a single snaggle tooth. No Wastelander she'd ever seen had teeth like that. It finally dawned on her. "You're with the Confederacy."
Instantly he looked nervous.
She held her hands up to soothe him. "We don't exactly carry any means to identify ourselves here in the Wastelands, but IamEden McClain. I've been dealing with Miles Wentworth, the Confederacy's chief surveyor."
"I know."
"I... see. Is everything all right in the survey camp? I was going to radio in this afternoon and warn them about the plague. I'd have expected you to have a medical team to see to your rash and—"
"Unfortunately, we know about the plague. I can't say any more until I've been assured of my safety." He looked uncomfortable. "I'm not supposed to be here. I want a promise of asylum before I continue."
"Asylum? From... the Confederacy?" What was going on? "Youwantto stay in the Wastelands?"
Who in their right mind would give up their advanced levels of society in exchange for a barren desert full of monsters trying to rip your throat out?
She pressed her gloved fingertips to his forehead. "Have you been feeling unwell? Hot? Sweating?" Maybe the confusion had gotten to him early? But his skin felt only mildly warm.
Mr. Chin grabbed her wrist. "Please. You don't know what you're dealing with. You'll let me stay? You won't let them take me back?"
"Of course you can stay. You'll have to volunteer on the settlement roster a minimum of fifteen hours a week, but housing can be found for you, and food."
The breath eased out of him. "Thank you."
"Describe your symptoms for me," she said, flipping open the data pad she'd practically sold her soul for.
"Is that Confederacy issue?" he asked.
