Lost Immunity Daniel Kalla (reading women TXT) 📖

“They’re definitely hives. But the kid has a long history of allergies. And the rash disappeared with a couple of antihistamine tablets.”

Angela nods, satisfied. “All in all, a good day, then.”

“Yeah. But in light of the new meningitis cases among younger kids, I think we have to lower the minimum age of immunization to at least six.” She exhales heavily. “Nathan is pushing back hard. He says Neissovax has never been tested in kids under ten.”

Angela rubs her chin, considering it. “The other commercially available meningitis vaccines have been approved for kids as young as two months.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re driving this bus, so follow your gut. Either way, it will be key to get all teens and middle-schoolers immunized. That should create enough herd immunity to prevent the spread to the younger kids or anyone else, eventually.”

Eventually. Lisa suppresses a sigh. “I’ve got to head out to Bellevue now. Are you going to stick around here today?”

“Nah. I’ve got my own shit to do.” Angela taps her head scarf. “Thankfully, at least I don’t have to worry about keeping the hair colored and as damn stylish as it used to be. I’d never find the time.”

Lisa grins as she stands up, resisting the urge to ask Angela what medical interventions she is facing today. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“Better than a fifty percent chance of that, according to Vegas odds.”

Lisa heads down to the garage and climbs into her car. She drives a few blocks east until she turns on the ramp that merges south onto the I-5. At rush hour, the freeways can slow to a snarl, but Lisa marvels at how well the traffic is flowing through the city’s major arteries now. In no time at all, she’s heading across the Lacey V. Murrow Bridge over spectacular Lake Washington, which forms the eastern border of Seattle and turns the city into the isthmus it is. She’s almost disappointed when she reaches the quiet tree-lined neighborhood in Bellevue in under twenty minutes, uncertain whether she’s been enjoying the drive or just dreading the destination. She considers dropping in on her niece while she’s in the vicinity but remembers that Olivia is enrolled in a sports camp all week.

Lisa parks in front of a big Craftsman-style house on Hilltop Road and trudges up the driveway to the entrance. A fortyish man in sweatpants and a black T-shirt with a few days’ worth of scruff on his cheeks and chin meets her at the door. The devastation on his grim face pales in comparison to that of his wife, who’s already sobbing as she joins them in the foyer.

Lisa introduces herself to Mason’s parents, Sam and Kimberly Pickering. They lead her into the living room, and she sits down across from them as Sam wraps an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“I let him go,” Kimberly blurts between sobs.

Lisa tilts her head. “Go?”

“To the game. Mason looked awful that morning. So pale. I knew he wasn’t right.”

“Nothing would’ve stopped Mason from going, Kimmy,” Sam says as he squeezes her arm. But her chin drops, and her head bobs up and down.

“It wouldn’t have mattered if he didn’t go,” Lisa says. “We’re seeing kids die within hours of getting this meningitis.”

Kimberly looks up, rubbing her puffy eyes. “Really?”

“Really. It’s such an aggressive infection. Half the time, we can’t stop it at all. Mason going to the game had nothing to do with his… outcome.”

Sam looks at his wife. “See, Kimmy?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles as fresh tears drip down her cheek.

Her anguish is so palpable that Lisa feels a ball form in her throat. “Mason has a sister, right?”

“Two,” Sam says. “We’ve got twin girls. They’re five.”

“And everyone in the family has taken their prophylactic antibiotics?”

“Of course,” Sam says.

Lisa is tempted to offer Neissovax for the twins, but she knows she doesn’t have authority to do so yet. “Did Mason go to Delridge in the past week or so?”

“Delridge?” Sam frowns. “Don’t know if he’s ever been there. We don’t get into the city that much, except downtown.”

“So neither of you has been there recently, either?”

“No.”

“Camp Green in Delridge. Where this outbreak began. Are you familiar with it?”

Sam shakes his head. “Only from the news.”

“It isn’t a Bible camp, is it?” Kimberly murmurs.

“It is,” Lisa says, straightening.

Kimberly turns to her husband. “Isn’t Nicola a camp counselor at some Bible camp?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “My older sister’s kid. They’re kind of a religious family. We’re not super close.”

Lisa leans forward. “Did Mason see Nicola in the past week at all?”

Kimberly and Sam share a look of sudden recognition. “Grammie’s birthday,” he mutters.

“Mason and Nicola were at the same party?”

“Yeah, last Sunday. My grandmother turned ninety. My uncle threw a big party at his place out on Mercer Island.”

Lisa’s heart beats faster. “How old is Nicola?”

Sam shrugs. “Eighteen? Nineteen?”

“Do you have her phone number?”

Sam shakes his head, but Kimberly lifts her phone. “I think I do. She babysat a couple times for us a few years ago.”

Lisa jots down the number and thanks the Pickerings for their time. Relieved to escape the pervasive despair that feels as thick as smoke, she hurries out of the house to her car. Once inside, she tries the number Kimberly gave her and is comforted to hear Nicola answer. After confirming she works at Camp Green, Nicola agrees to meet Lisa in person.

Lisa races back across town, too preoccupied to appreciate the sumptuous Puget Sound scenery that is bathed in bright sunlight. She drives through the streets of Greenwood in northwest Seattle until she finds the address Nicola gave her, which turns out to be a modest bungalow.

Nicola and her mother, Heather, are waiting for Lisa at their open front door. They bear a strong resemblance to one another, down to their matching short haircuts. They even wear similar loose-fitting jeans and baggy T-shirts.

After introductions, Heather guides Lisa into the modest kitchen. Lisa declines her offer of tea but joins mother and daughter at the table.

“It’s so tragic about poor little Mason,” Heather says,