Lost Immunity Daniel Kalla (reading women TXT) 📖

The higher the denominator, the easier it will be to dilute the impact of any other serious vaccine-related complications.

Fiona stops in the middle of the trail and turns to him. “What if the media finds out about this victim?”

“They’re bound to, Fee. Eventually.”

“Then what?”

“I’m on it. We’ll work with Lisa’s team to manage the fallout. But we’ll also get our internal comms people to spin the message as needed.”

“Spin, Nathan? We’re talking about a girl’s life.”

“I know. And I feel awful for her.” He shakes his head. “But we’re also talking about saving other lives. Not to mention a billion-dollar investment that’s being threatened by something we wanted no part of in the first place.”

CHAPTER 34

“You had to go all gaga over the vaccine, didn’t you?” Angela says from her seat on the other side of the desk. She’s so poker-faced that it takes Lisa a moment to be certain she’s joking.

“If all you have is a hammer…” Lisa says, citing one of Angela’s favorite expressions. “Anyway, how can we abandon the campaign after one reaction? Even one as serious as Mia’s.”

“Agreed. Only a jackass would pull the plug now.”

“Even if that jackass has to justify a critical, potentially disfiguring reaction to the parents of an otherwise healthy kid.”

“It’s a clusterfuck. I’ll give you that.”

“No kidding.”

“Actually, it’s more of a FUBAR.”

“Which means?”

“Fucked up beyond all repair,” Angela says with a satisfied nod. “They’re all military terms. Clusterfuck, FUBAR, and even snafu, which stands for ‘situation normal, all fucked up.’ Those soldiers, they do like to cuss.”

“As opposed to you?”

“I never really fucking noticed,” Angela deadpans. “Regardless, Lisa, it’s lonely at the top.”

“I had no idea how tough your job was. I used to think you just sat in this big office and surfed the net.”

“Netflix isn’t going to watch itself, is it?” Angela shows a hint of a grin and then motions to the other side of the desk. “This is a lot for you to be handling this early in the role.”

“Or potentially mishandling.” Lisa sighs. “I never expected my decisions to have such huge repercussions.”

“I think you’re doing all right. Well, for a placeholder appointee, anyway.” The grin leaves Angela’s lips. “How are you feeling? Are you coping?”

“I think so. Thank you.” Lisa feels as if her eyes might mist over. For Angela, of all people, to worry over her welfare. Despite her friend’s baggy sweater, Lisa noticed the bulge of Angela’s lower abdomen when she first sat down. It can only mean that her belly is full of fluid, caused by the ovarian cancer. But Lisa resists the urge to question her health status.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about Alistair,” Lisa says.

“Moyes? What about him?”

“I have this nagging sense that you two have a lot more history than I’m aware of.”

“It’s true.” Angela’s eyes dart in either direction, and then she says in a hush, “Alistair and I were lovers back in the day. We had a child out of wedlock.”

It takes Lisa a moment to confirm her friend is joking again. “What is it? Really.”

“We worked at the CDC together for a while. In Spokane, of all places. We never saw eye to eye.” Angela shrugs. “He was already old when I met him, and he was only in his thirties back then. But behind that stodgy exterior and war crime of a beard, he’s actually a very officious man.”

Lisa laughs. “That’s all, huh?”

“Annoying as he is, Alistair is very smart, and his judgment is good. Too good, maybe. The rotavirus vaccine was a particular bone of contention between us back then. Still is, if our last meeting is anything to go by. He loves to rub it in that he was right.”

“What if Neissovax turns out to be another rotavirus fiasco?”

“There’s no comparison. Rotavirus was never going to save the lives that Neissovax will.”

“Not sure it will matter once word gets out about Mia and what’s happened to her.”

Angela frowns. “You’re going to announce it?”

“I haven’t decided,” Lisa says. “What do you think?”

“I’d wait. The anti-vaxxers are going to soil themselves when they get wind of it.”

“It’s going to spook people, no question. But it’s bound to get out sooner or later.”

“From our point of view, later is preferable.”

Tyra appears at the open door. “You two got a sec?”

Lisa recognizes the purposeful look on her colleague’s face. “What’s up, Ty?”

She steps inside and closes the door behind her. “We had three new meningitis cases reported this afternoon. One’s already dead.”

It never ends. Lisa sighs. “All from Bellevue?”

“Two.”

“And the third?”

“A fifteen-year-old boy who lives in Magnolia,” Tyra says of the upper-middle-class neighborhood in northwest Seattle. “Logan Hinds. He’s in rough shape in the ICU.”

Angela grimaces. “A third cluster?”

Tyra shrugs. “Not sure you can classify it as that.”

“Why not?”

“Because Logan attended Camp Green with the original victims.”

Tyra’s eyes convey the same level of alarm that Lisa feels. “I thought we tracked down all contacts connected to that camp,” she says.

“We did,” Tyra says.

“Including Logan?”

Tyra nods.

“So why wasn’t he started on prophylactic antibiotics?”

“He was. Logan had the full dose. Rifampin and cipro. It didn’t protect him.”

Lisa’s heart sinks as she digests the implications. “So not only do we have a new geographical cluster, we’ve now got antibiotic failure, too.”

“It never was going to be a hundred percent effective,” Angela says. “As long the vaccine doesn’t fail us…”

A new worry forms in Lisa’s head. “Logan wasn’t vaccinated already, was he?”

“No,” Tyra said. “He wasn’t.”

“Thank God,” Lisa mumbles. “Didn’t we prioritize the Camp Green contacts to the top of the vaccination list?”

“Course we did, but it’s like herding cats. We haven’t been able to get all of them to the vaccine clinics yet.”

“Ty…”

“We’ll get them there, Lisa. Or we’ll bring the vaccine to them. All of them. Promise.” Tyra turns for the door. “Meantime, I got to track down the new contacts Logan might’ve exposed in the Magnolia region.”

“Hey, can you fire me a list of those new victims and how best to reach the