They climbed quickly into the back of the cab and Amber leaned forward to give the driver instructions. The roof of the hotel pickup point rattled above them. The driver listened to her then rapidly shook his head, gesturing toward the empty streets. “No. Pick one or the other. Which is the most important? We don’t have enough time to take you to both.”
Amber blew out a breath and turned to face Jack. “If the phones are still functioning I could call the Outbreak Center. It’s more important to be where the patient and lab are, particularly if I want to try and identify the strain.”
She didn’t mind batting off him. It was always useful to throw ideas back and forward with another doctor and he had a completely different kind of experience from her—one that was more likely to be suited to this.
He nodded seriously as his eyes took in the weather around him. “Sounds like a plan.”
She leaned forward to the driver. “Can you get us to Lahuna State Hospital?”
The driver nodded. “It’s near the city center. We should get there soon.”
The cab wove through the streets and high-rise buildings. There were a few people practically being carried along by the wind as they rushed to get places. Some stores were already closed, shutters down and all street wares brought back inside.
A large white building with dark windows emerged through the rain. The main doors and ambulance bay had their doors closed, with security staff visible through the glass. They unlocked the door as Jack and Amber jumped from the cab.
“We’ve had to close the automatic doors,” one told her. “The wind is just too strong and a member of the public has already been injured.”
Amber gave him a grateful smile as he locked the door behind them. “Can you direct me to Infectious Diseases? I’ve been called about a patient.”
“Third floor. Elevators at the end of the corridor. Take a right when you get out.”
The hospital was eerily quiet, the main foyer deserted as they made their way through. But as they reached the corridor in the heart of the hospital they could see uniformed staff swiftly moving patients and talking in hushed, urgent voices. “I wonder if the windows will be okay?” said Jack thoughtfully as they reached the elevators.
“What?” She pressed the button to call the elevator.
“The windows.” Jack looked around him even though there were no windows nearby. “A place like this? It must have around, what—three hundred windows? How on earth do you police that in the middle of a hurricane?”
Amber blinked. She hadn’t even thought about anything like that at all. “The hotel too. Do you think they’ll tell people to leave their rooms?”
The doors slid open. “They must all have disaster plans. Won’t they just take everyone to a central point in a building, somewhere they can hunker down?”
He could almost read her mind. Both of them had rooms at the hotel that they’d literally just abandoned with no thought to the impending hurricane. If they’d had a bit more warning she might have closed her curtains and stashed her computer and valuables somewhere safer. Who knew what they would return to later?
They stepped inside and she pressed the button for the third floor. It only took a few moments to reach there and the doors to the infectious disease unit. Amber reached for the scrub on the wall outside before she entered, rubbing it over her hands.
She could already see through the glass that the unit looked in chaos.
She turned to face Jack before she pressed the entrance buzzer. “Ready?”
She felt a tiny glimmer of trepidation. She was it. She was the sole representative for the DPA. Was she asking him, or herself?
But Jack didn’t hesitate for a second. “Absolutely. Lead the way.”
FROM THE SECOND she walked into the unit she was in complete control. He couldn’t help but be completely impressed. Whatever the little waver was he’d glimpsed outside, it seemed to have disappeared. There were actually two infected patients. It seemed that they’d been brought in only a few hours apart. Was that the start of an epidemic?
Amber took it in her stride and reviewed them—Zane and Aaron, both eighteen, who were clearly very sick. Then she phoned the Hawaii Outbreak Center and liaised with their staff, and then asked for some instructions to find the lab.
Her face was a little paler as they headed to the stairs. “I need to find out what strain of meningitis this is. These kids have got sick really quickly.”
The lab was down in the bowels of the hospital and they had to change into white lab coats and disposable gloves before entering. It was a modern lab, with traditionally white walls, an array of machinery and computers and wide work benches. But somehow it wasn’t quite as busy as he might have expected.
“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