Lost Immunity Daniel Kalla (reading women TXT) 📖

“It is,” Lisa agrees, surprised.

Moyes turns to Tyra. “And fifteen children have died from this meningitis so far.”

“Sixteen, as of this morning,” Tyra corrects.

“So, in my opinion, no, it’s not,” Moyes says. “It’s enough to raise a red flag. Maybe a bloodred one. But it’s too early to halt the campaign.”

CHAPTER 33

“There’s been a serious reaction.” Lisa’s five-word text pops up in top right corner of the laptop’s screen and stops Nathan cold in midsentence as he’s addressing Delaware’s senior executive committee via videoconference from his hotel room.

“Nathan?” Peter Moore prompts on the screen. “You still with us?”

“Oh yeah,” Nathan mutters as his stomach knots. “Excuse me, everyone. I have to run.”

“We’ve only got two more items on the—”

But Nathan slams his laptop shut before the CEO can even finish his sentence. He grabs for his phone and taps Lisa’s number. “Your text?” he demands as soon as she picks up.

“There’s a girl at Harborview who’s in critical condition,” Lisa says. “She got Neissovax two days ago.”

“A girl?” he blurts.

“Yeah. She has Stevens-Johnson syndrome.”

“What the hell is that?”

“A type of immune reaction that causes a potentially life-threatening rash—terrible blistering like severe burns, especially around the mouth.”

“You’re certain it’s from the Neissovax?”

“There’s no other explanation.”

He listens, numb, as she describes the girl’s condition. He takes little solace in the fact that the victim has stabilized on the ventilator, or that Lisa’s team has decided not to suspend the vaccination campaign.

Lisa’s tone softens. “We’ll figure this out, Nathan.”

“No doubt,” he says, his mind already gearing up into damage-control mode. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

As soon as he hangs up, he dials Fiona, but her phone goes straight to voice mail. “Need to talk!” he texts her.

As he waits for her to call back, Nathan opens his laptop and searches for photos of victims of Stevens-Johnson syndrome. The online images of faces disfigured by blisters, open sores, and puffiness pain him to view. He knows this case can’t be a coincidence, but he refuses to consider the full implications.

Fiona calls about ten minutes later. “I just spoke to Lisa,” are the first words out of her mouth.

Nathan hears a lot of background noise. “Where are you?”

“At the vaccine clinic downtown,” she says.

“Let’s meet.”

Nathan heads down to the lobby and grabs a waiting cab that drops him off at their arranged spot in front of the Seattle Center, one of the city’s busiest cultural and tourist hubs. The iconic, six-hundred-foot-tall Space Needle looms overhead, but Nathan barely notices it as he hurries across the lawn toward the fountain where Fiona is waiting.

Her face is calm, but as he nears, he sees the worry dancing in her eyes. “I tracked down the clinic the girl attended,” Fiona says in a low voice even though no one else is within earshot. “I ran the serial number of the vial she received. That batch was tested back at the plant in Littleton last week. Twice. Zero imperfections.”

“Of course,” Nathan says. “They’ve all been perfect. No one’s doubting the quality control here.”

“But Stevens-Johnson syndrome? We never saw anything like that in our trials.”

“It’s idiosyncratic, right? As I understand it, it can happen with almost any drug.”

Fiona only nods. “Maybe we should pause the campaign until we can investigate further.”

“No one in Lisa’s office is suggesting that.”

“But isn’t it what we should do?”

Only if we want to initiate the single biggest publicity disaster in Delaware’s history. The repercussions of halting the Neissovax campaign would be catastrophic. Even if the reaction was subsequently found to be entirely unrelated, the fallout would likely doom the vaccine’s commercial release. But all Nathan says is, “We should probably follow their lead, Fiona, and not overreact.”

“I’m the one responsible for product safety.”

“And you report to me. Look, this a big setback, Fee. I get it. But this syndrome is a rare reaction. It can happen with multiple medications. It’s probably a one-off.”

“So we do nothing?”

“There’s nothing we can do right now but look into it. Even then, we’re unlikely to find a connection.” He exhales. “This girl didn’t die of her reaction. She’s going to get better. Meantime, there are kids dying of meningitis every day in this city. And Neissovax can help prevent that.”

Fiona stares at him. If possible, her eyes look even sadder than usual. But when she speaks, her tone is calmer. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s not the time to stop. But I’m going to go back and turn over every stone. Run the testing one more time. See if there’s anything at all different about the batch that girl’s vaccine came from.”

Nathan forces a smile. “That’s why we pay you the big bucks, Fee.”

“Big bucks? Yeah, I suppose. Relatively speaking.” She sighs. “But a lower-paying academic career is looking pretty damned attractive right now.”

“As if. I wouldn’t we be able to do this without you.”

Fiona breaks off her eye contact. “I’m not sure I want to be part of this anymore,” she murmurs, and he doesn’t even try to argue.

She sets off down the trail, and he catches up to her. They walk in silence for a few hundred yards down a path that heads toward the Seattle Children’s Museum. The irony of their randomly chosen destination isn’t lost on Nathan in light of the expanding crisis.

The complex is full of museums, green spaces, and playgrounds. He knows the Museum of Pop Culture with its funky architecture and high-tech interactive displays is somewhere nearby. His sons would love it. But the thought of bringing them back to Seattle suddenly holds little appeal. To him, the city is now tainted.

“Have you seen the media coverage around lowering the age of vaccination?” Fiona asks. “It was all over the news this morning.”

“A feeding frenzy, huh?”

“The clinics are going to be even more swamped. We’re probably going to need more supply.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll let them know at Littleton,” he says distractedly. The idea of surpassing fifty thousand vaccinations is both alarming and reassuring to him.