Beyond Death: Origins, Book 1 by Silas Cooper Page B

brought on fast and strong. One day.”
    “Thank you. You did the right thing bringing it to my attention, but I’m already talking to the Physician’s Assistant at the university now.”
    With a nod, the nurse moved on.
    After a quick swipe of his ear on his shoulder, he got back to the endless phone call.
    “Are you still there,” he asked.
    He faked politeness as he cradled the receiver between his ear and shoulder. Taking a second, he cracked his knuckles. He wiggled his fingers after, then shook them out. The PA on the line had grown rather testy.
    “Do I have to state again, for a doctor no less, that meningitis has a one in five chance in those who survive it of causing brain damage and neurological disorders even with prompt treatment?” the woman snapped.
    He imagined her face was red by this time. He’d never know this calm, down-to-earth PA from the university health center to act like this. Her bedside manner, usually imperturbable, had left the building today. He’d never know her to be condescending or so much as sarcastic.
    “Obviously you don’t, and I’m a bit tired of your tone. What’s gotten into you?”
    “The fact that this isn’t alarming you. These cases here have all had full-blown symptoms from sudden high fever, persistent headache with sensitivity to lights, vomiting, stiff neck, and joint pain. With extreme lethargy, when we can get them to wake up, they seem confused and disoriented,” she countered.
    “Thank you for the recap of medical school,” he spat.
    As she rattled on, repeated herself, he watched the frantic movements of this sealed ward.  As call buttons rang out in a continuous rhythm, nurses flew in and out of rooms. Doctors looked at charts. Even with only five patients so far, all Boston University students, he’d called in doctors for second and third opinions. He knew his limitations. He couldn’t figure this one all out.
    It happened.
    Outside the locked double door of the ward, family and friends gathered. All visitation had been suspended. When he’d gone through earlier to consult with another doctor on another floor, they’d charged him. Their swollen, red eyes starred him down. Their shaky voices pleaded with him. One could’ve thought them sick too. Concern and worry were a hell of a thing. He wanted to put his own daughter in a bubble until this outbreak could be contained, but since she was ten years away from attending college, his wife would think him a tad overprotective.
    “My concern is about the onset of symptoms in all of them. Roommates and friends aren’t talking about feeling poorly for days and thinking their friends had the flu. Instead, they’re saying they woke up with a headache and by nightfall had full-blown symptoms.”
    “Yes, full-blown. So you’ve said. I am taking this seriously. Send over the student so we can admit him to a private room. I’ll alert the CDC since this is six patients.” He’d spoken firmly, holding back his rising anger.
    “That’s all I wanted you to say,” she said.
    “Then you should have said that in the first place. I thought it a given,” he sighed.
    “My apologies Dr. Benton. It’s been a long week.”
    “Accepted.”
    The PA paused. Perfect timing for him to witness a nurse and a doctor crash into each other. The full tray the nurse held flew into the air and then hit the ground. The clanging rang through the sterile environment. Thankfully, the doctor caught the nurse. Not to be rude, but he’d gotten lucky. That one took care of herself, so she didn’t outweigh him. The bad news was that the multiple files he’d held had gone flying. His laptop crashed to the floor. He swore he heard the screen shatter.
    “But I wanted you to say it before I told you that I already called them. The CDC,” she murmured. In a more normal tone, except for a high pitch of anxiety, she confessed, “They should be there any minute now.”
    “Okay,” he stuttered the word.
    Chaos grew outside his