From the Ashes, Chapter 4
Disclaimer: See chapter 1
Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews; it's nice to know people are reading.
"You see I've been testing for viruses and bacteria mostly. For poisons and possible allergens, too. And I've found nothing. But Yale came today and reminded me of a whole avenue I've overlooked."
"I was teaching the children about why humanity left earth to live on the stations. We covered deforestation, pollution and environmental decline. Then we began to discuss what was, for the people of the time, the last straw; the Descolada pandemic. And I suddenly realised that the symptoms were very similar to those exhibited by Devon." Julia broke in again, obviously excited.
"The Descolada was caused by a protein, you see. Not a virus or bacterium. It attached itself to the patients' DNA and mutated their genetic make-up. Many of the victims died in the first few days, their systems overwhelmed by the shock. The unluckier ones lived for weeks. They developed tumours and growths. Some of them lost huge swathes of skin, leaving bone and tissue uncovered. And the fatality rate was one hundred percent. Once you became infected you were already dead. Millions died before a cure was developed, ironically by a doctor who was to far gone to have it do him any good."
"And this is what Devon has?"
"I think it's possible. Probable even. The symptoms fit –Devon certainly seems to have exhibited signs of the early stages - and it explains why I couldn't find anything wrong. I wasn't looking at her DNA." Julia sounded disgusted with herself.
"But an ancient earth disease? How would Devon have got that?" Danziger was struggling to understand; sometimes he felt so inadequate around educated people.
"And if it's so infectious, how come none of the rest of us got sick?" Danziger hadn't realised that Alonzo had followed him in, but he was glad someone else was as confused as him.
"I don't know. All I know is that it fits. I'm running tests now, so I should know for definite by the morning. But I really think we're right."
"And if it is this Descolada you can cure it?" Danziger heard the hope in voice and winced. So much for the rational, impartial leader.
"Easily. The cure is amazingly simple."
"Okay. This is great news Julia, but I think we should keep it to ourselves until we're certain." Julia's face fell at Danziger's words. She was excited and she wanted to share her success with everyone.
"But it will give everyone some hope, at least. And we could all do with that."
"Maybe so. But just say we're mistaken, or something goes wrong. I couldn't do that to Uly." At the mention of Devon's son Julia nodded. No-one wanted to take the risk of causing him more pain.
The rest of the day crept by slowly for the four people who knew the secret. Julia and Alonzo retired to his tent early, causing a few chuckles among the crew. Yale spent the evening conducting an inventory of supplies, keeping himself busy by doing work he'd already done the day before. Danziger tried to work on the Transrover. He set True and his new apprentice, Uly, the task of checking over the smaller vehicles. He caught the odd snatch of their conversation – mostly True talking but, now and then, he heard Uly's voice, too – and he could hear that their job was going a lot faster than his. He kept getting distracted by thoughts of Devon up and about, healthy and smiling. He was vaguely disturbed at how happy that picture made him. Every time the vision flashed in his head he ruthlessly repressed it. Danziger prided himself on dealing with life as it was, not as how he may wish it to be. And he still had his doubts about Julia's putative diagnosis. She was usually much more cautious, refusing to commit to diagnoses until she was absolutely certain. Her uncharacteristic pre-test-result confidence made him nervous. And so Danziger spent the evening torn between unwelcome hope and unspecified fear. In the end he sent the children to bed earl, undertook a rapid check of the camp and then went to bed himself, hoping that the hours would pass faster in sleep.
He awoke early the next morning, following a restless night haunted by dreams of a hale and hearty Devon gradually fade away before his eyes. The kids were still asleep so he crept softly out of the tent and then headed straight to the med-tent. As soon as he walked through the door he knew Julia had no good news for him. She was sitting slumped at the lab bench, a Petri dish in her hand and Alonzo's hand on her shoulder.
"Negative?" he asked, just for something to say.
"Negative." She confirmed what he already knew. Then she turned towards him and he could see the tears that streaked her face.
"I don't understand, John. I was so certain it had to be the explanation because I couldn't think of another. I still can't." Danziger swallowed his disappointment in the face of her distress.
"Don't worry, Julia. You're just tired. After some rest you'll think of something." Julia snorted out a cynical laugh.
"You don't get it, John. There is nothing wrong with Devon. Every test I run tells me she's perfectly healthy. But if we open that cryo-chamber she'll die. Of nothing." By the end of her short speech Julia was yelling and barely coherent, tears choking her voice so badly that Danziger had difficulty making out her words. He was looking at her, unsure what to say or do, when she suddenly slumped and began to slide from her stool. Danziger leapt up in alarm but Alonzo caught her and lowered her gently to the ground.
"What…" Danziger stopped speaking when Alonzo sheepishly waved a sediderm at him. "Whoah… She is going to kill you when she wakes up." Alonzo shrugged.
"Probably. But she needs to rest." He looked down at Julia tenderly and then picked her up.
"I'll put her to bed." He headed toward the tent flap and then paused.
"I'm sorry the news about Devon wasn't better." Danziger just nodded, slightly confused by the other man's statement and by the look of compassion on his face. But one thing Danziger was certain about; he was very glad they hadn't shared their hope with Uly.
Author's Note: Just so you know I borrowed the Descolada from Orson Scott Card's book The Speaker for the Dead. Apologies Orson, it just seemed like too good a disease to waste. As repayment I'll plug your books here: They're brilliant, go read them.