“He doesn’t have any family. I’m his employer, out at the Double Comets ranch.”
“There’s a waiting room on the third floor,” the guard said. “You can go up there and sign in to be notified when there’s an update.”
* * *
The waiting room was empty except for Tamsyn and her two men. Piers put two chairs together and grabbed a nap. Rasty seemed lost in thought and Tamsyn certainly wasn’t feeling conversational. She was worried about Drake of course but she was also concerned about the work not getting done today, which would cascade into tomorrow and so forth. She and her crew worked full-time, long hours to keep all the balls in the air and losing a day, not to mention being one ranch hand short would have an impact.
Eventually Dr. Ortenbe came in, looking as harried and stressed as Tamsyn felt but when he spoke his voice was as calm and professional as always. “All right, we’ve got Drake sedated and we’re giving him fluids and antifever meds. He’s a strong young man and this flu will have to run its course.”
“Isn’t there an antiviral?” Tamsyn asked out of her hazy medical knowledge base. She was more conversant with veterinary care than human medicine.
“I’ve prescribed infusions of several of the strongest,” Doc nodded. “But confidentially none of them are working on this particular virus so far. And it’s too new for the government to have come up with a specific.”
“You’ve got other patients with this same flu?” she asked in surprise.
“Maira the little girl, who got bitten at the festival, a couple of others. Say, did anyone else in your crew get bitten or scratched by the feral cat?”
She glanced at Rasty and Piers who shook their heads. “No,” she told the doctor, who blew a sigh of relief at her answer. “Drake was closest to the girl when she got attacked. What about that dreadful infection in his arm from the bite? It’s downright scary looking.”
Dr. Ortenbe patted her arm and Tamsyn’s bullshit meter went to full alert as the elderly man said, “Just an unusual form of sepsis or blood poisoning, my dear. I’ve got him on broad spectrum antibiotics for the infection. He might lose the arm but you got him here in time to save his life.”
What isn’t he telling me? Tamsyn was puzzled. Dr. Ortenbe was a straight shooter in her previous experience.
“You might as well go home. There’s no sense in waiting. He’ll be out of it for a day or two since we have him on strong tranquilizers.”
“Can I see him?” Tamsyn asked, unwilling to leave the hospital without assuring herself Drake was being well cared for.
“He won’t know you’re there.”
“Just for a minute?”
The doctor studied her. “All right briefly, but then promise me you’ll take my advice and go home. I’ll send an orderly to escort you to Drake’s room.”
When she was let into the room where Drake lay breathing harshly, Tamsyn was shocked to find him in heavy restraints. A variety of sensors and other equipment was arrayed around the bed and she had difficulty getting close enough to pat his hand. Although he didn’t waken, he jerked against the bonds hard enough to shake the bed and gave a snarl of rage. She jumped back, then immediately felt foolish. “You rest easy, Drake, and don’t worry about a thing. We’ve got you covered.”
“Time’s up,” the orderly said, opening the door a crack.
As she left the room she took a final look at the man in the bed and swallowed hard, overcome by the feeling she’d never see Drake again.
Chapter Three
Two days later she was back at the hospital, highly irritated and doing verbal battle with the receptionist. “I insist on being allowed to see Drake Teeterman. I brought him in two days ago, he works for me and I can’t get any status on how he’s doing.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry but visitors aren’t allowed on the medical floors at all right now. And we can’t give out patient information.” The clerk repeated what she’d already told Tamsyn three times.
“Then get Dr. Ortenbe and let me talk to him,” Tamsyn said, crossing her arms and widening her stance. “This is ridiculous and I don’t have time in my life to be arguing about paying a sick call to one of my employees in the hospital. It’s never been a problem before.”
A security guard came in, no doubt summoned by the receptionist. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. If you’re not a patient yourself, we can’t assist you.”
Briefly Tamsyn flirted with the idea of suddenly claiming she was sick but ruled it out. With bad grace she exited the lobby and stood outside in the shade debating what to do next. She hadn’t driven all this way and abandoned her morning chores on a whim. Two days of getting stonewalled every time she called to check on Drake was enough. She walked around the hospital building to the loading dock at the rear and saw the door was open as a groundtruck crew unloaded supplies. Walking briskly as if she had a right to be there, she went up the steps to the big loading dock and proceeded inside, passing the shipping and receiving office and made it out of the area into a hospital corridor, where she was ignored by the few orderlies and nurses she encountered.
Taking the gravlift she stopped at the third floor and headed for the room where Drake had been. She pushed the door open and started inside, saying, “Finally. You’re a hard man to get in to see—” and cut off as several strangers turned to stare at her and she realized the bed was occupied by a woman. “Sorry to intrude, wrong room,” she said hastily and retreated.
A nurse bumped into her. “Can I help you?” the woman said impatiently.
“Where did Drake Teeterman go? He was in that room.”
“He was med evacuated yesterday, along with all the others,” the nurse said.
