Read The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) Online

Authors: Barbara C. Griffin Billig,Bett Pohnka

The Nuclear Catastrophe (a fiction novel of survival) (54 page)


Yes. That

s it. So, you know what lack of oxygen to a brain does. It

s probably the number one cause of mental retardation,

said Archer.

That baby could be in bad shape.


Have you looked at the fetus?

Parsons asked.


No,

replied Archer.

She won

t allow any x-rays. She

s adamant about that.

Dr. Parsons glanced back at the folder.

She ran a constant fever during the rise and fall of the WBC, which later dropped to low grade intermittent. She must have felt like pure hell during that time. Several of us down in isolation were going through the same thing, and we were miserable.

Hesitating, Parsons asked,

What is her general status now?


She says she has never gotten her stamina back. Always tired. But of course that goes right along with the condition of pregnancy, especially when coupled with anemia.


Hmm. Tiredness, malaise—classic symptoms of radiation sickness. Within two weeks after the release of the radiation we began getting hundreds of cases of that very thing.

The obstetrician wrinkled his brow in concentration.

That shouldn

t have been too hard to control, Bern. Did everybody suffer it?


Most did,

Parsons answered.

Very few missed the tiredness altogether, though, and depending on the degree of exposure, those symptoms gave way to new and different ones within weeks. The route taken by the sickness became almost standard, beginning with the primary stages of nausea, diarrhea, vomiting, tiredness. Most of the casualties died during the first few days after the fallout—before they ever got to fever and blood disorders.


Actually then, this woman had all the symptoms of radiation sickness, and she had them throughout a vital part of her pregnancy,

said Archer.

If she

d only let me take x-rays....

As Archer rambled on about the woman

s refusal to have xrays, Parsons recalled an infant he had seen in his early career, a child suffering from a condition supposedly induced by radiation. The vision that he hadn

t been able to erase from his memory was the tiny, tiny head—no larger than a woman

s fist—sitting atop the infant

s shoulders.

Archie, have you ever seen a microcephalic idiot?

he asked, for that

s what the baby had been.

Archer halted in his monologue:

A microcephalic idiot? A pin head?

he asked.


Yes. The bottom rung of the ladder of intelligence, one of the most severe of the mentally deficient,

Parsons answered.


Well, no. I haven

t

he admitted.

Say, what does that have to do with this?

Parsons hesitated while he rubbed the grit from his eyes, then he said,

Under normal conditions, the chances are less than one in twenty five thousand that a woman would have such a child.


So?

urged the obstetrician.


So a study was done on the offspring of Japanese women who were in mid-pregnancy and within a mile of the atomic blast that devastated Nagasaki, Archie. Of the two hundred five babies born to those women, seven were microcephalic idiots. Seven, Archie. A far cry from what might occur normally.


Boy, you

re not painting a very bright picture, Bernie.


You mean that I

m pessimistic?

asked Parsons as he handed the folder back.

Yeah, I am. One of these days you

ll begin pulling out babies that you

ll think have been marked by the devil. That

s when we

ll start seeing what awesome damages can result from exposure to radiation. Frankly, I don

t think what we

ll find will be pleasant.


The rate of abnormalities will increase, you

re saying.


Greatly! No doubt about that.


All right, Bernie, but about my patient. What do you think?


That you and your patient had both better cross your fingers, knock on wood, and pray like hell.

he said solemnly.


Aw, come on Parsons. Level with me.

Parsons grinned sourly at Archie.

I wish to God I could be optimistic about her. But....say, will you do something for me?


Sure. Name it,

answered the obstetrician.


I

d like to assist when she delivers. Okay?


No problem. I

ll have you paged.


Thanks. What

s her room number?


Eleven—it

s on the delivery floor.


Right.

The surgeon began pulling himself out of the chair.


Hey, hold on a second. You aren

t leaving, are you? You haven

t told me anything yet,

Archie complained.


What

s to tell? I don

t have any experience with radiation-affected pregnancies. But, I have a hunch we

ll be getting them.

Archer walked around to stand before Parsons. He was expressively sober.

You can be a sad-faced buzzard sometimes, Parsons. If everybody listened to you we

d be saying our rosary every day instead of once a year.

Parsons was upright, face to face with Archer.

That bothers you?


You know what I mean. It just can

t be all that bad. God, man, you sound like we

re going to be paying for this forever.


We will, for several generations. But frankly, I

m surprised to find a non-believer right here in the midst of this mess. You

ve got a short memory, Dr. Archer.


Let

s say I prefer to look on the brighter side—and there must be one,

replied the obstetrician.


Well, look all you like, but don

t ignore the facts. They

re brutal, you know. Or at least you would if you

d been in that isolation unit with us for five straight weeks.


There

s no need to get sore at me, Parsons. Some of us had other obligations to meet. We couldn

t lock ourselves in isolation with you and forget the practices we

d built up.


You

re right,

Parsons answered shortly.

What was that? Eleven?


Yeah, eleven.

 

The door of room eleven was ajar so he walked quietly in.

Her features confirmed the medical record that he

d just read. Soft brown eyes, alert to the movements around her, watched as he drew near.


You don

t remember me, do you?

he asked as he reached her bed.

Rich full lips parted slightly, revealing a hint of a weary smile.

Of course I remember you, Dr. Parsons.


Bernard. Call me Bernard. How are you feeling, Sara?

She glanced at the mountain of flesh protruding from her abdomen.

Tired. I wish it were over.


It won

t be much longer now. But I must say that for a lady beginning labor, you look in good shape. Different from how I remembered you, though.

She made a motion toward her hair, then let her hand return to rest by her side.

I lost my hair. It dropped out.


Yes, a lot of mine did, too, but yours is coming back in much faster than mine.

He smiled at her as he inspected the blond strands, hardly more than two inches long, which carpeted her scalp.

It

s thick, with beautiful healthy color. I

m jealous.

She looked at him quizzically, as though trying to remember more detail.

That

s odd. I don

t recall your hair at all.


Well,

he said, pretending huffiness,

I certainly had a lot more than this. A lot more. It used to just drive the nurses crazy, seeing all my coarse distinguished locks that required constant female attention.

He smiled mischievously.

She caught the gist of his game and her countenance broke into an amused grin.


However,

he added,

you never stuck around long enough to have a close look at me.

Her smile faded.

Were you mad at me for taking all the morphine and running?


Of course not. Those were difficult days—for you more so than most of us. I

ve wondered about you several times, you know. I read that you

d been in Washington talking to Senator McCauley.


Did you know the formal inquiry begins next week?

she asked.


I heard that. But I

m surprised that you returned here, especially right now. I

d have thought you would have stayed on the east coast where you

d be free from all these reminders of the past.


My being here does seem inopportune, doesn

t it? Here, at Beckman, which I hardly knew existed until a few months ago?

Leaning on the foot of her bed, he asked,

Would I be nosey if I asked why, Sara?


Oh,

she said after a moment,

there are several reasons. Ben had some papers in a safety deposit box. I thought I should have them with me.


Surely they could have waited until after the baby was born and you felt well again,

he commented.


No. I wanted them now, in case something happened.

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