Nandita To Nandini
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Second Thoughts And Last ChancesChapter 27 free porn video
We came to a screeching stop outside the Emergency Room entrance, Harmon and his men poured out the doors and took up positions around the vehicle, weapons at the ready. Lilly was nearly as fast in making her exit, which left me the last one out.
As soon as I had both feet on the ground I pushed ahead with long strides, leaving everyone else hurrying to catch up.
Thru the automatic doors, past the waiting area and the seven people in various stages of physical distress, right up to the nurse behind the admittance counter.
The woman in white sat poking away at a computer keyboard, studiously ignoring everything and everyone.
"Where's the Pediatric ward?" I asked politely.
She continued playing with the computer.
"Visiting hours on the wards ended at 1800."
The woman's apathy and self-importance were monumentally maddening.
I lifted my right hand up to shoulder height, made a fist and slammed my knuckles down into the countertop, at the same time projecting all of the violently emotional aggression I had pent up inside. The nurse jerked back from her computer screen so violently that she came very close to falling off her chair. She swiveled around and glared up at me.
I met her outraged glare with sub-zero indifference.
"Where's the fucking Pediatric ward?" I asked once again, no trace of emotion in my voice.
The woman, a stocky middle aged brunette, glared briefly, repositioned her glasses on the bridge of her nose, got a good look at my face, noticed the armed men grouped behind me, and then visibly wilted. It felt as though she were going to wet herself and vomit simultaneously.
"Third floor. Elevators are down the hall to your left." she choked out.
Having an armed force trailing along behind you has an interesting effect on people. Once they recognize the potential threat they desperately try to be somewhere else, even if the best they can manage is to flatten themselves against the nearest wall and pretend to become one with the paint.
I didn't really need men dressed in black and carrying automatic weapons to create that kind of respectful panic, but it was a nice change of pace not having to do it myself.
The elevator doors opened and we came face to face with two men in white lab coats, one a young Lieutenant and one a middle-aged Commander, both wearing insignia which identified them as physicians.
They exited in a hurry, giving us a wide berth and some rather comedic looks of apprehension in the process.
Harmon and four of his men got on the elevator with Lilly and I; he instructed the others to follow us up on the next available car.
The ride up was blessedly short, because by that point the ache in my head was pounding like a trip-hammer and I was beginning to get a little hot under the collar. Literally.
Lilly jabbed me with her elbow just under my ribcage. I expelled a weak grunt and looked down. Her normally pretty face was locked into a scowl, eyebrows creeping together and arching like two cats facing off on a fence preparing to do battle.
"Don't you dare!" she growled quietly between clenched teeth.
I cocked my head to one side and gave her an appraising look. Then I straightened my neck, focused my eyes forward on the elevator doors, rolled my shoulders forward to adjust the lay of my coat and exhaled loudly.
"You are in so much trouble." I said softly.
Lilly snorted like a bull and jabbed me once again with her elbow. I lightly clamped a hand over the back of her neck and gently squeezed.
"Stop it. You've made your point."
Lilly stiffened ever-so-slightly, and I got the distinct impression that she was getting ready to send that elbow back into my ribs. I increased the pressure of my fingers around her neck.
"Do it again and you won't be able to sit for a week." I promised.
Lilly snorted her disdain, but kept her elbow tucked in close.
The elevator came to an abrupt and jerky stop and the doors opened. Eric Watson stood there in front of us, a mild look of surprise on his face.
"She said you were on your way up." he said, waving one arm awkwardly down the hallway behind him.
Eric wasn't himself. Normally he's about as unflappable as a brick.
The elevator doors began to close. Harmon reacted quickly, extending his weapon and blocked their travel.
"Peggy?" I asked my assistant.
"Yes sir. She said I should wait here and bring you along when you arrived."
I nodded, removed my hand from Lilly's neck and stepped out of the elevator. Eric backpedaled quickly. Lilly followed a step behind me and my half squad of SEALS followed on her heels.
"Sir?"
"Yes?"
"Who are these heavily armed gentlemen?"
"They're our people Eric, new hires, you might say. Speaking of which, we'll be getting a few new applicants, ex-employees of the FBI and DOJ. I told them to see you."
"New applicants? Yes, of course. Good thing you got our budget restored."
"Isn't it?" I deadpanned.
Eric led us down the hall directly facing the elevators, around an 'L' bend to the left where the hall opened into a large room with a central nursing station; a large semi-square counter with two breaks on the right and left sides, and in the middle an enclosed room filled with metallic framed glass cabinets. Nurses and corpsmen, all in pressed white uniforms, bustled about with clipboards, wrapped bundles and small stacks of bedding in their hands. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare as we paraded past.
Eric took us past the station to another hallway beyond the station. We turned right and continued walking.
It took no effort whatsoever to sense the pain and discomfort that permeated those halls; the fear and abject loneliness only a sick child is capable of experiencing. There was so much, and it grated on my nerves that I had to ignore them, but a promise was a promise.
At the mid point of the second hall was a smaller version of the nurse's station, two nurses behind the single counter that faced another room with shorter cabinets, small green tanks and racks of other assorted medical paraphernalia. To my left I spotted a cluster of people, two in knee length light-weight white lab coats, the other three in civilian dress. Izzy, Peggy and Evan DeBerg.
I reached out and put a hand on Eric's shoulder. "Who's watching the children?"
"Agents Brewer and Skidmore have the duty right now. Coburn and McMurphy are due to replace them in an hour."
Okay, so numbers four and two were on watch, one and three were on the way, which left Battaglia working on new identities for the hackers.
"Mr. Harmon, have a chat with the chief floor nurse back at the main station. Get a floor plan and arrange to cover all the access points to this area."
"Yes sir."
"You all have radios?"
"We do."
"Secure channels?"
"Yes sir."
"Don't use any of the standard ones you're used to. In fact I think it might be a good idea to switch every hour or so."
"Will do. I'll have the place locked down tight in ten minutes."
I nodded. "Don't get in the way of the staff, but be damn sure only the people who are supposed to be here get in." I half-turned away and then had second thoughts. "Mr. Harmon, familiarize your-self with the non-hospital personnel currently on this floor. There are some of my CIA people here, as well as a rotating watch of FBI agents." I rattled off a string of names and badge ID numbers. The head SEAL reached under his weapons harness, dipped into a jacket pocket, whipped out a small flip notebook and began scribbling. "I trust these people, and only these people. Anyone else requires vetting. Clear?"
"Aye-aye sir." Harmon did a smooth about face and led his men back the way we'd come.
Eric, Lilly and I walked over to join the cluster on the opposite side of the open area. Izzy and Peggy had their backs to us. Evan was standing next to Izzy, facing her and the white lab coated duo, and he spotted us first.
Evan put a hand on Izzy's shoulder, giving her a gentle shake. She'd been staring down at the floor, looked up and Evan gestured towards us with his eyes. Izzy's head turned and relief flooded her features. Peggy turned around to see what Izzy was looking at and smiled faintly.
They looked so different from the last time I'd seen them. Their hair was unkempt, their clothes uncared for and disheveled. They were exhausted, worn and worried; their faces thin, haggard ... aged. There were lines, wrinkles and bags under their eyes that hadn't been there before. They looked ... old.
Lilly rushed forward and embraced both women; they in turn enveloped her in a wet and sappy chick flick style group hug that, for some reason, annoyed the hell out of me. Shit, just about everything that had occurred after I'd stepped outside the plane annoyed the hell out of me.
Evan moved around the girls, took my arm and pulled me towards the pair in white.
"Ike, this is Dr. Martina Galloway, she's Bethesda's chief of Pediatrics." he said by way of introduction, gesturing with his free hand towards a stern faced, sandy haired woman who I estimated to be somewhere between his age and my own.
"And this is Dr. Chet Griffin, he's the hospital's resident pediatric immunologist." The man, and I use the term loosely, looked to be about sixteen years old, thirty pounds overweight (most of it in his face), had a close cropped skull cap of dull reddish brown hair, and was wearing the thickest pair of glasses I'd ever seen. The eyes that peered out from behind those lenses were a watery green color, and appeared to be the size of poppy seeds.
I looked the pair over quickly. They felt solid enough, but I detected no real confidence in either one.
"This is Ike Blacktower; he's the children's father."
Galloway, the pediatrician, gave me a speculative look. I couldn't tell, from his expression anyway, whether Griffin had even heard a word of what Evan had said.
"I want to see my children."
Galloway moved close again, reaching one hand out towards my chest. "Mr. Blacktower, the children are in no condition for visitors..."
"I wasn't asking for your permission." I told the woman, my tone flat and empty.
Evan gave me an odd look, but stepped out and led me to one of the nearby doors. He knocked four times, opened the door and waved me in. Galloway and Griffin followed us, with Galloway guiding the round faced man like a seeing eye dog.
Inside was a large private room, with four small automated hospital beds, two to one side of the room and two on the other. Also inside were Number's Two and Four.
"Gentlemen." I said quietly. "Please wait outside."
"Sir." Skidmore spoke for the both of them and then they filed out and shut the door.
"What's wrong with my kids?" I asked without preamble.
Galloway stepped forward, closing the distance between us to about three feet, and spoke in a surprisingly melodious tone of voice, reassuring and relaxed. Practiced. Her words and manner felt nauseatingly over-rehearsed.
"Mr. Blacktower, your children have pneumococcal pneumonia."
I nodded my head. "Keep going."
Galloway's eyebrows rose slightly, mildly irritated at being interrupted so early in her lecture, but she composed herself and continued on.
"Streptococcus is the most common bacterial cause of what is known as community-acquired pneumonia. Pneumococci, the bacteria, are usually spread by respiratory droplets from the nose or mouth of a person with a pneumococcal infection. It's common for people, especially children, to carry the bacteria in their throats without being ill from it. Pneumococcal pneumonia usually starts after an upper respiratory tract viral infection, a cold or influenza, damages the defenses of the airways enough to allow bacteria to infect the area. I believe this is what happened with your children. Shaking and chills are followed by a fever, a cough that produces sputum, shortness of breath, and chest pain on the side of the affected lung or lungs when breathing. Nausea, vomiting, fatigue, and muscle aches are also quite common. The sputum is often rust-colored from blood. Your children exhibited all these symptoms with nearly identical degrees of severity.
"Pneumococcal pneumonia, though generally treatable, can be fatal, especially in the very young. What happens is that many people develop fluid in the pleural space, the space between the two layers of the membranes covering the pleura ... the lungs; this condition is called pleural effusion. In rare instances pneumococcal infection can even spread to the coverings of the brain, causing pneumococcal meningitis, resulting in confusion, a stiff neck, seizures, and potentially coma. At the moment there does not appear to be any danger of meningitis."
Galloway stopped and waited expectantly.
Waiting for what? Applause? Some sort of ovation maybe?
"I know what pneumococcal pneumonia is Doctor. I also know the difference between community and institutional pneumonia. I even know the difference between pleura, sputum and a coma. So stop wasting my time and get to the point." I suggested coldly.
She had been inching her way closer, being quite discreet about her intentions and desires ... until my verbal rebuff hit her where she lived, smack dab in the ego.
Martina Galloway backed up a step, radiating unexpected shock and disappointment. The cherubic Chet Griffin took over.
"Chest x-rays were taken immediately after the children arrived, which led us to our initial diagnosis. We also ran a complete blood count. The white blood cell count is often increased with a polymorphic predominance in bacterial infections. The children's count is extremely high. At that point they were admitted. We then took cultures; you see in older children with a productive cough, a sputum Gram stain, immunofluorescent antibody testing and Bactec cultures are useful in isolating the organisms.
"The condition can be treated with any of several types of antibiotics. Now, antibiotics are medicines that help your body fight bacteria and viruses, either by directly killing the offending bugs or by weakening them so that your own immune system can fight and kill them more easily."
I must have let some annoyance and impatience show on my face because he held up both hands in a gesture of appeasement, aimed somewhere in the vicinity of my right shoulder. The man was as blind as a home plate umpire.
"Hear me out ... I'm explaining it this way for a reason. The vast majority of antibiotics are bacteria fighters; although there are millions of viruses, we only have antibiotics for half-a-dozen or so of them. Bacteria, on the other hand, are much more complex. While viruses must live in a host, bacteria can live independently, and so are easier to kill. Bacteria aren't particularly intelligent, but it is possible, and unfortunately all too common, for bacteria and some viruses to learn how to survive even with antibiotics around. There are now so many different antibiotics on the market that it's hard for us to keep track of them all. Personally, I almost always look up the dose of an antibiotic when I prescribe it, just to make sure that I'm giving the right medicine in the right dose. I also tend to stick to a few antibiotics in my practice, so that I can stay familiar with their effects and side-effects; most pediatricians I know do the same. Anyway, penicillins are appropriate first-line agents in children in whom pneumococcal disease is strongly suspected, but they have limited activity against gram-negative bacteria due to resistance. So far we've administered Amoxicillin and Penicillin V to all four of your children, but the organism that causes pneumococcal pneumonia has developed increasing resistance to these drugs. People who are infected with resistant strains of pneumococcus or who are allergic to penicillin are given erythromycin or another antibiotic instead, which is what we've been considering as our next step."
The bespectacled man with the chubby face took a deep breath and I sensed a deep sadness building in him.
"The real problem now is that your children, over the past two hours, have begun to exhibit signs of massive immuno-depressive activity. Antibiotics usually depress the immune system to a limited extent while they're at work fighting infection, but in the case of your children, something bizarre is going on and I'm at a loss to explain it. Not only are their immune systems ignoring the pneumococci, but the antibiotics are as well. Their white cell counts keep rising, but there's no sign of dead or dying bacteria and their vital signs continue to deteriorate. We've been trying to decide if it's worth trying a cephalosporin, or moving on to something tougher, like ciprofloxacin. The problem with ciprofloxacin is that, in some instances, it can do significant cartilage damage, but we don't have many other options open to us right now."
I looked from Griffin's earnestly honest face to Galloway's professionally distant expression, closed my eyes, shook my head briefly and then turned to Evan.
"These two aren't doctors; they're a goddamn vaudeville act. Neither one of them has the slightest idea what's going on. They're guessing." I snarled.
I twisted around quickly, projected rage and authority into the woman, and spoke just barely above a whisper. "Take Chet, find a place to sit down, and both of you stay out of the way till I've made my diagnosis." Galloway backed up so quickly that she slammed into Griffin and knocked them both off their feet. The woman scrambled to her feet, helped the chubby faced man up and they stumbled out of the room. Number Two, stationed outside on the left side of the doorway leaned in and pulled the door closed behind them.
"You were kinda hard on Galloway and Griffin, don't you think?" Evan said once the door snicked shut.
They lay there on those beds, the four of them ... so tiny, frail and helpless, bags of fluids running into their arms thru needles, oxygen masks strapped over their noses and mouths, gasping and struggling wetly for every breath. My babies; my blood, my flesh, my hope for the future ... my dreams. I linked with all four and climbed inside.
What I found there shook me right down to my very soul.
When I say soul I don't mean soul in the religious sense. I don't think that kind of soul exists. I don't mean soul in the way a poet or musician does either, although I do believe that kind of soul actually does exist. No, what I mean by soul is the place deep down inside myself where the tiny, unquenchable little flame that is the core of my existence resides. My will, my power ... my self.
In my soul I knew what had happened. I could feel it in my blood and bones. I could feel it in each one of my children. I should have realized sooner. The clues had been right there in front of me.
I should have seen this coming.
Izzy'd had chicken pox when she was eight and mono at eleven. Ivan came down with mumps at nine, measles when he was fifteen. My father got the flu once a year like clockwork. My mother constantly had colds and eventually died of cancer.
I'd been a pale, weak and skinny kid, but I'd never been sick a day in my life. Injuries ... yeah, there'd been a few of those, but always inflicted and un-natural. And I'd always healed quickly. Too quickly.
On top of which I was thirty years old and looked almost exactly the same as I had at twenty two.
The girls, once we began living together, no longer got sick, didn't suffer from PMS or yeast infections, hadn't aged the way their friends and acquaintances had.
The children, they'd never had croup, or colic, never cried when they were teething, never had any of the usual childhood illnesses.
Why hadn't I noticed? Was it self delusion, or nothing more than an extended case of intractable ignorance?
"Those two very nearly killed my babies Evan." I said, wiping a tear from my cheek. I turned away from the sight of those four fragile little bodies and fixed my gaze on my old friend. "Still, to be fair, there's no way they could have known that's what they were doing."
The man stared at me uncomprehendingly. "What? Are you saying they don't have pneumonia?"
I shook my head. "No, they're probably right about that. That isn't the real problem. Evan, I've never been sick. Hurt, but never sick. Never." I said, emphasizing the final word.
"What's that got to do with the price of tea in China?" And then a light came on behind his eyes and his expression turned to one of wonder. "You've been healing them all their lives?"
I shrugged. "Not consciously. I think I've been doing it for the girls too. All these years and I never gave it a thought."
"So when you went away, they got sick and you weren't there to heal them."
"Maybe. Or maybe they just aren't old enough yet to do it for themselves. I don't know how any of this works, no idea how it's supposed to work. All I know for sure is that, right now, their bodies are ignoring the bacteria and fighting the antibiotics. So the first thing that has to happen is that we discontinue those fuckin' antibiotics."
"Son, are you sure about this? I mean, really, really sure? They're so weak right now; their immune systems may not be able to re-direct in time."
"I'll give them all the time they need."
Evan shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Janice and I went to see the girls a few days ago, like you suggested." he began haltingly.
"Evan, this isn't the best time to discuss my relationship with the girls."
He shook his head. "I'm well aware of that. What I wanted to say is that Peggy told us what you did for Izzy ... about her withdrawal."
I nodded fractionally. "Alright, what about it?"
"Is that what you're thinking of doing now?"
"If I have to, yes."
"Can you even do that with four individuals at the same time?"
"I don't know. I've never tried. But I'd never done what I did with Izzy before either. Evan, do you recall what I did to Captain Rossi?" He nodded his head. "A few days ago I did something similar to a pair of San Diego cops. Two days after that I did the same thing to a pair of LA deputy sheriffs. The next morning, four Tong members in San Francisco, a few hours later, sixteen federal officers." I sighed softly. "A few hours later, sixteen computer geeks and the tallest damn ex-monk you've ever seen. And just about forty minutes ago, close to fifty more feds. My talent isn't as limited as I used to think it was." I shrugged and rolled my neck. The muscles had stiffened and the pounding in my head was getting worse. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I promised my girls that their babies wouldn't die and I mean to keep that promise, whatever it takes."
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