Dawn of the Planet of the Apes Read Free Page A

back up, wondering if it would be better to cut it short. Then she proceeded over to the little room they called the Café Trauma. Someone had actually put a sign up, written on cardboard and picturing a coffee cup above a crossed femur and scalpel. Café Trauma consisted of a sink, a small fridge, a coffee maker, a snack machine, a drinks machine, a card table with four chairs, and a smallish flat-screen TV.
    There wasn’t any coffee brewed, so she started a potherself, then stepped out to see what was incoming. Fortunately, there was nothing as serious a triple gunshot wound, but there was plenty more lined up, and she still had three hours on shift.
    She returned to the café and gulped down some of the somewhat disgusting coffee. Randal from Acute Care came in just in time to see her expression.
    “Not exactly Starbucks, is it?” he said.
    She shook her head, making a face and staring into the cup.
    “Every time I drink this swill I swear I’m going to go straight from work to buy a grinder and some decent beans to bring in,” she said. “But I always forget. This stuff just makes it all the more tempting to switch to speed or something, which wouldn’t be good.” Then she turned toward him. “What’s up?
    “You went to that symposium on respiratory infections last month.”
    “Mm-hmm,” she said. “Sexiest symposium ever. Better than that rectal bleeding thing, even.”
    “I’ve got a woman I’d like you to take a look at.”
    “What are her symptoms?”
    “She’s sneezing up blood,” he said.
    “Allergic rhinitis?”
    “She says she never has trouble with allergies—I had a look, and didn’t see anything,” he said. “I’ve ordered a CT scan, but they’re backed up. Plus, she has a temperature of a hundred and four. She’s also showing some signs of subcutaneous bleeding.”
    Talia was about to take another grudging drink, but stopped with the coffee cup halfway to her mouth.
    “How old is she?” she asked.
    “Thirty-two.”
    “Let me see her,” she said.
    * * *
    Judging from her fair hair, the woman was probably light-skinned anyway, but at the moment she was positively pallid—except in places where light-greenish patches had developed. Her eyes were dull and moved around sluggishly, so Talia knew immediately that this wasn’t just a bleeding polyp in her sinuses. Or if it was, she had some other, unrelated illness, as well.
    “Have we bled yet?” Talia asked softly, standing at the room’s entrance.
    “I was about to,” Randal replied.
    “Send for labs, priority,” she said. “I’ll take a look.”
    She went into the room, glanced at the chart, then at the patient.
    “How are you feeling, Celia?” she asked.
    “Not so good,” the woman managed, weakly.
    “Any idea where you got this bug?”
    She shook her head.
    “I don’t usually get sick,” she said. “I don’t have a GP, so I waited, hoping it would go away.”
    “I’m going to ask a couple of questions that might sound strange,” Talia said.
    “Okay.”
    “Do you work closely with animals?”
    “No,” Celia replied. Then a thought seemed to strike her. “I have a cat.”
    “Have you eaten anything out of the ordinary?” Talia asked. “Taken any prescription or non-prescription drugs? Tell the truth—this is important. You won’t get in trouble.”
    “I can’t think of anything,” the woman said, shaking her head. “I was just in France, but I’m not very adventurous, food-wise.”
    “France? How recent was that?”
    “I just got back to San Francisco a few days ago.”
    “Did you go anyplace else? Anywhere in Africa or Southeast Asia?”
    “No, no place like that.”
    “Okay,” Talia said. “We’re going to draw some blood and send it to the lab. Meantime, we’ll give you some chicken soup in the arm and something to bring that fever down. How does that sound?”
    The woman smiled weakly and nodded.
    “Let me look at your eyes for a sec,” Talia said, moving in close. She took