Red Hill Read Free

recently?” She shook her head again. “Any history of Crohn’s disease? Anorexia? Bulimia?” I asked.
    She held out her arm, palm up. There was a perfect bite mark in the middle of her forearm. Each tooth had broken the skin. Deep, red perforations dotted her arm in mirrored half-moons, but the bruised skin around the bites was still intact.
    I met her eyes. “Dog?”
    â€œA drunk,” she said with a weak laugh. “I was at a party Tuesday night. We had just left, and some asshole wandering around outside just grabbed my arm and took a bite. He might have pulled a whole chunk off if my boyfriend hadn’t hit him. Knocked him out long enough for us to find the car and leave. I saw on the news yesterday that he’d attacked other people, too. It was the same night, and the same apartment complex. Had to be him.” She let her arm fall to her side, seeming exhausted. “Joey’s in the waiting room . . . scared to death I have rabies. He just got back from his last tour in Afghanistan. He’s seen everything, but he can’t stand to hear me throw up.” She laughed quietly to herself.
    I offered a comforting smile. “Sounds like a keeper. Just hop up on the table there, and lay on your back.”
    Dana did as I asked, but needed assistance. Her bony hands were like ice.
    â€œHow much weight did you say you’ve lost?” I asked while situating her on the table, sure I had read Christy’s history report wrong on the requisition.
    Dana winced from the cold, hard table pressing against her pelvic bone and spine.
    â€œBlanket?” I asked, already pulling the thick, white cotton from the warmer.
    â€œPlease.” Dana hummed as I draped the blanket over her. “Thank you so much. I just can’t seem to get warm.”
    â€œAbdominal pain?”
    â€œYes. A lot.”
    â€œPounds lost?”
    â€œAlmost twenty.”
    â€œSince Tuesday?”
    Dana raised her brows. “Believe me, I know. Especially since I was thin to begin with. You . . . don’t think it’s rabies . . . do you?” She tried to laugh off her remark, but I could hear the worry in her voice.
    I smiled. “They don’t send you in for an upper GI if they think it’s rabies.”
    Dana sighed and looked at the ceiling. “Thank God.”
    Once I positioned Dana, centered the X-ray tube, and set my technique, I pressed the button and then took the film to the reader. My eyes were glued to the monitor, curious if she had a bowel obstruction, or if a foreign body was present.
    â€œWhatcha got there, buddy?” David asked, standing behind me.
    â€œNot sure. She’s lost twenty pounds in two days.”
    â€œNo way.”
    â€œWay.”
    â€œPoor kid,” he said, genuine sympathy in his voice.
    David watched with me as the image illuminated the screen. When Dana’s abdomen film filled the screen, David and I both stared at it in shock.
    David touched his fingers to his mouth. “No way.”
    I nodded slowly. “Way.”
    David shook his head. “I’ve never seen that. I mean, in a textbook, yes, but . . . man. Bad deal.”
    The image on the monitor was hypnotizing. I’d never seen someone present with that gas pattern, either. I couldn’t even remember seeing it in a textbook.
    â€œThey’ve been talking a lot on the radio this morning about that virus in Germany. They say it’s spreading all over. It looks like war on the television. People panicking in the streets. Scary stuff.”
    I frowned. “I heard that when I dropped off the girls this morning.”
    â€œYou don’t think the patient has it, do you? They’re not really saying exactly what it is, but that,” he said, gesturing to the monitor, “is impossible.”
    â€œYou know as well as I do that we see new stuff all the time.”
    David stared at the image for a few