By choice or by force Ch. 09

Chapter Nine

Had Jonathon's assistant, Paul not leapt forward and broken his fall, then Michael thought that his father's injuries could have been much worse.

For a moment everyone seemed to be frozen into immobility, and no one knew what to do next.

Then panic ensued, as people surged forward, and surrounded their leader, fussing and fretting, and babbling almost hysterically.

With so much chaos it seemed like nothing could be achieved, that the time was slipping by and no one was going to help his father.

But suddenly there was a loud clapping sound, and everyone turned to look at Trudy who stood there with hands out and open as she clapped them together again, to make sure she had everyone's full attention. "We can't just leave him there," she declared firmly, and instantly there was a collective sigh of relief that someone -- anyone was taking charge of the situation.

"We need to move him up to his bedroom," she told them and instantly people gathered to carefully move their fallen leader.

"Gently now," she insisted as they lifted the big man off the ground.

At Trudy's low-voiced instructions, several men carried Michael's unconscious parent up to his room and he followed quickly behind.

He glanced once at Laurie who stood looking at him horror, and guilt; but he could not even manage a smile of reassurance towards her, he simply shrugged his shoulders and turned his back on her.

Trudy also came up and she quickly continued to give orders to a staff who had suddenly lost their chief.

"Pull back the covers and lay him gently on the bed, and loosen his clothes, take his shoes off..." she told the men. "Then close the curtains and make sure that someone has called for his doctor."

"Should we call for an ambulance?" Paul asked worriedly.

Trudy quickly checked Jonathon's pulse and made sure he was breathing ok.

"I do not think he is in any immediate danger, and we really cannot afford to risk humans blundering in and around here, not at this point, so no. I think his own doctor first and then we can see from there... perhaps arrange a private facility or something under our control, but for now we just need to keep him calm, no more upsets."

Michael sat by his father's bedside, and gently took his hand. "I'm sorry dad -- I didn't mean any of it -- I would never turn my back on you -- not for anyone."

The little gasp in the doorway caused Trudy and Michael to both turn. Laurie stood there looking pale and hurt.

She gave him a wary sort of smile. "I am very sorry about your father, Michael... I... we... we will all remain here for now, we will stay out of the way as much as possible but anything you need, anything we can do to support you -- you only have to ask."

He smiled across at her sadly. "Thank you, after everything -- that really means a lot to me, Laurie."

She nodded and turned away and only after she had left, did Michael look across at Trudy. "Do you think we will ever have our time?"

Trudy shook her head and shrugged. "She bonded with you Michael, and you turned your back on her. She defied your father -- an elder, and proclaimed herself to you, and yet you still seem to be unsure of her. There will be no one else for Laurie, she is -- has committed to you. But nothing is guaranteed... that you love each other is obvious to everyone... but love isn't always enough I am afraid."

She spoke with such bitter certainty that Michael looked questioningly at her.

She smiled sadly. "It was a long time ago, and I have no wish to revisit it... but Laurie has done all she can, the next is up to you."

They fell silent then, as each of them seemed to be lost in his or her own thoughts, their silent brooding though was eventually halted by Greg's appearance.

"How is he?" he asked in hushed tones.

"There is no change, he is still unconscious and all we can do is to wait for a doctor."

"Yes, well..."

"What is it?" Michael sat up straighter, as something in Greg's tone caught him.

"The doctor who treated me when I was ill... well he was invited here by your father, and he has just arrived here. It's all a bit chaotic downstairs at the moment, but after hearing what's happened... he would like see you father -- to see if he can do anything."

"Yes," Trudy urged. "He was a good man and a very good doctor. Let him see if he can help your father."

**

The man who entered the room was tall with greying hair and pale compassionate eyes, and he could have been anywhere between the age of forty and fifty years old.

He smiled apologetically as he came fully into the room.

"My name is Dr Bernard Phillips I don't mean to intrude, but when I heard about your father -- I felt it my duty to offer my services."

"Please," Michael nodded as he stood up, "Anything you can do right now..."

He put his bag down on the chair that Michael had just vacated, and then looked at the two of them in a way that could only be described as assessing.

"If you could give me ten minutes or so to examine him, Mr Richards, perhaps you would like to wait outside while I do?"

"Yes, of course," he looked at Trudy, but the doctor shook his head.

"I heard someone say how helpful Ms Beaumont was when he collapsed, and in the absence of my nurse to assist me... perhaps?"

"Yes, of course I shall stay." she smiled in reassurance to Michael as she led him across to the door.

"I will take good care of your father, Michael so why don't you go and let the household staff know that he is stable at the moment and is resting well, try to reassure them and get them busy doing their jobs. Maybe get the kitchens to get some food organised for people or something?"

He nodded reluctantly and Trudy gently closed the door after him.

As Trudy walked back into the room, Dr Phillips was pulling items out of his bag and laying them out on the bed.

The last thing he took out was a notebook and pen, which he opened up in readiness for making some observations.

"First, I'll take his blood pressure," he murmured scribbling on the pad. "Check his heart and pulse... visual observations..." He looked up at Trudy and smiled. "Can you move round to the over side of the bed, so that you can assist me in pulling him up against the pillows. Then we will remove his jacket, and probably his shirt as well, for now."

Trudy did as he requested, and moments later Jonathon was propped against the pillows, and showing signs of stirring."

"You've done this sort of thing before I think?" the doctor murmured to Trudy.

"Yes, when I was younger, I trained as a nurse."

He put the pen and notebook down and picked up the blood pressure monitor.

"Mr Richards, my name is Dr Phillips and I am here to try and help you, so you just try to relax and not put any additional stresses on your body."

He pushed the blood pressure sleeve up his arm and fastened it securely, and then pressed the button to activate it.

Whilst the machine was doing its job, he picked up Jonathon's wrist and just sat for a moment, as he silently counted.

The machine beeped and then hissed, and Dr Phillips picked up his notebook and pen.

"Blood pressure is high, pulse is erratic and thready, Patient is flushed one moment, but then pallid another... signs of mottling on the skin around the joints..."

He took a small sample bottle out of his bag and a sterile packet needle.

Before he could use either of them however, there was a light knock on the door and another man strolled in, also carrying a bag.

"I am Dr Donald Grey and I am Mr Richards GP." he introduced himself. "And who are you people please?"

He looked at the other two questioningly, and Dr Phillips stood up and walked across to shake his hand and then went on to tell him exactly who they were and what they had been doing. He did it in short order and the other man nodded and relaxed a little as he realised that Dr Phillips trying to help.

They stood quietly conferring and so Trudy sat down next to Jonathon and smiled at him confidently, as he opened slightly confused eyes.

"The doctors will sort you out, Mr Richards, so you just take it easy."

He smiled weakly at her, as she pulled a throw from the bottom of the bed and draped it across him.

"You are very kind Ms Beaumont, and I am not sure that I deserve your kindness... I am not sure that I deserve anyone's kindness."

"Nonsense," she smoothed back some of his hair and sat back as the doctors approached the bed.

"I had a hunch, from my telephone conversation with Mr Richards -- he seemed to be very curious about possible symptoms, and very keen to get me here as fast as I could manage, and so I was just about to take a small sample of his blood." Dr Phillips was saying.

"Can you test it here; do you mean you have the means of diagnosing -- how reliable is the test?" Dr Grey was asking.

"It is a fairly simple thing, I have developed a solution, which looks for the markers for the virus... along with the physical symptoms; I can be ninety eight percent certain."

"That high?" Dr Grey was openly impressed. "We are only just getting to grips with what this could mean but you already have a test -- of sorts?"

"When I first reported this illness to my superiors -- late last year; they directly contacted the council, but the council came back with 'this is no concern of ours -- we need not panic over one person,' and so my superiors told me to go about my own work and to put down my research." Dr Philips sounded frustrated but resigned to his orders.

"But you did not?" Dr Grey guessed with a smile.

"No, it bothered me that there seemed to be no route cause for the illness. We never did find the source of it."

"But you formulated a treatment?"

"No, I never had another patient after Mr Beaumont, and I suspect that he was merely fortunate in his relatives."

Dr Grey obviously wanted to ask more questions, but he waited while Dr Phillips took sample of blood, from the patient, and then squirted it into the small flask. He took another small bottle from his bag and handed the flask to the GP, to hold for him and then took the stopper from his bottle.

"When Mr Richards contacted me the other day and asked me to come here and tell him all that I knew about the virus, well I gathered together all of my notes and materials and took an emergency two-week vacation."

Very slowly and delicately he allowed three drops from the pipette to mix with the blood in the flask.

He put the stopper back in the bottle and placed it in his bag, and then took the flask off Dr Grey, and put the cap on the sample flask.

Putting his thumb on the top of it he vigorously shook it for several minutes.

Then he took it over to the window and held it up to the fading light. The dark liquid was looking cloudier and cloudier by the second.

"What do you think?" Dr Grey asked in a slightly awed whisper.

Dr Phillips sighed. "I am afraid that it is positive, he has high quantities of the bacteria in his system, and the virus has a full hold on him."

Dr Phillips went back to his bag and pulled out another sterile syringe and a small vial. "I am going to boost his system with steroids and arrange to get him comfortable for the night."

"What about his blood pressure?"

"His body is over worked and over stretched, trying to fight the virus; these steroids, will give him some additional strength in that fight, so it should help his blood pressure."

Trudy had sat silently while these two professionals consulted.

"He could do with someone to come in and help him into some pyjamas or something," she suggested. "That will help him to get comfortable."

"Paul... my assistant, he will help me," the weak voice gasped from the bed.

*

An hour later Jonathon was sat up against the pillows again but in fresh pyjamas now and looking a bit more with it."

Paul had left the room and came back seconds later with Jonathon's mobile phone. He placed it on the bed next to Jonathon's hand and silently left again.

Trudy was yet to return, and Michael did not seem to be in a hurry to come back either.

The two doctors were standing near the darkened window, talking quietly as they kept half an eye on their patient.

Jonathon figured this was the closest he was likely to get to feeling alert for the foreseeable future, and so he switched on his phone and scrolled down the names.

Mathew's phone rang once and cut straight to voice mail.

He scrolled further and clicked on Seline's number.

She answered on the second ring.

"Darling!"

"Seline," Jonathon gasped weakly.

"Jon... Jon what's happened? Are you ok... Jon?"

Her high melodic voice had warmed to genuine concern, and Jonathon smiled in spite of himself.

"I will be," he sighed huskily, "but I am afraid that I need my brother back sooner than I thought I would."

"Darling! Mathew disappeared to his room about an hour ago... with a bottle of whisky in one hand and rubbing that scar of his with the other."

Jonathon gave a little gasp for breath. "Let him sleep off whatever he has downed... but get him up with the dawn and a pot of hot coffee in him and have him on his way back as soon as you can."

"Of course... is there anything I can do... shall I come too?"

He heard the uncertainty in her voice, but she meant it sincerely.

"No, thank you Seline... your girls need you there with them."

"I'll sort Mathew out before the sun comes up or have someone drive him -- if I think him unfit to drive himself."

"Thank you Seline."

He dropped the phone as the weariness swamped him again, and Dr Grey came and finished his call with Seline, along with a great deal of reassurances to that lady, who was on the edge of a panic attack it seemed.

Although Seline itched to go to Mathew right there and then, and drive him back to his brother herself, she knew that Mathew was unreachable this night. She had seen that look on him before and knew what it meant. She gave a forlorn little sigh and offered up a prayer to whatever gods might favour them.

Mathew had drained the bottle quickly as was his tendency when the headaches began. He rubbed his neck and then further under the hairline. It hurt to touch -- even after all these years, the scar hurt to touch; but on days like today when he felt the nagging of some long-forgotten thing. He rubbed the scar in the forlorn hopes that it would jog that block in his memory.

He closed his eyes as the pain increased; and as the fatigue hit him, and the alcohol did its job the watery image of a woman wavered behind his eyes. Her long golden hair as straight as could be, her eyes -- her bright blue eyes that laughed at him -- laughed with him.

"Ahhhh so Tru, so much... so like the little spitfire," he mumbled as he fell into unconsciousness.

He would awake hours later with a throbbing headache and the injury induced memory block firmly back in place.

Seline would fill him with black coffee and force feed him her well-cooked breakfast and then send him back to his brother, but until then he would enjoy dreaming a long-forgotten dream.

**

Dr Grey sat across from Dr Phillips as they both enjoyed a late dinner.

"Don't you have to get back?" Dr Phillips suddenly asked him.

Dr Grey shook his head. "No, I have asked my two partners to cover for me for the next few days, at least, and my wife has arranged for some clothes and things to be sent over. The household staff, have put us up in a couple of rooms just next to our patient."

"So, we are all set to see this thing out then?" Dr Phillips smiled guardedly.

"Yes," Dr Grey chewed and swallowed a couple of mouthfuls of food and looked thoughtfully at his colleague. "Earlier when you were talking about your previous patient, about him being fortunate in his relatives, what did you mean?"

Dr Phillips sighed and sat back in his chair. "Our kind have always been impervious to virus or infections from this world." He realised that Dr Grey would already know some of this, but it seemed a good place to explain his thought process. "Our bodies run at a much higher temperature, than normal humans, which stops anything before it can get a foothold, therefore our blood has never needed nor able to produce antibodies to fight. Unfortunately, the only way to fight this virus, it seems is with certain antibodies.

Humans have always been able to produce the necessary antibodies, to fight their diseases -- given time, and so my first thought was that we could harness them from some suitable donor humans -- through their blood.

But then I realised that the blood must not contain antigens. It's the antigens that none of us have either, and the antibodies that the old blood -- and most of our kind does not contain -- hence the 'pure old blood', psychology the way most of the elders believe.

If we tried to add antibodies from a positive blood source, straight to our negative blood, then the body might very well treat them as the virus -- as a threat and want to eliminate them. Mr Richards', system could end up trying to fight battles on two fronts and negate any attempt at treatment."

"But you think that there might be a way?" Dr Grey pushed as Dr Phillips trailed off.

"Mr Beaumont had two daughters whose blood was a genetic match for his, but these sisters had antibodies in their systems, but of course not the antigens in their blood."

He sipped at the coffee as he thought it through in his memory.

"The daughters' donor transfusion pushed the antibodies through his system, and they literally wiped out the bacteria, and then the aunt's blood flushed out the antibodies -- thus purging his body of any and all contamination... it is very odd that these girls had the antibodies in the first place, but if they do, maybe others of our kind do too. The negative for antigens is constant for all of our race and for some of the humans too I have begun to notice."

"I have noticed myself that our blood -- for the most part is different from the humans in that way." Dr Grey nodded thoughtfully. "A very good percentage of the human population are positive for antigens, which leads to them having a variety of blood groups, although an increasing number of them are now showing negative as well. I often wondered if that was always the case or whether it was our arrival and mixing with them that changed some of them to the negative, and the ripple continued throughout the human population."

"Yes," Dr Grey continued nodding his head, as he spoke, as he warmed to his theme. "I agree with you that the old blood has always been absent of the antigens and has never had the antibodies. Our immune system does not require them and that has never been any different... but these girls -- these sisters; they are shifters like their father and yet they have the antibodies in their blood?"

"Yes, as I said Mr Beaumont was fortunate in his relatives."

"Perhaps that is the first order of business then... test everyone in the household -- especially relatives of Mr Richards and see if we can find a match for him, and maybe one who is also positive for these antibodies?"

"Yes, perhaps we can get lucky for a second time."

**

Jonathon Richards spent a comfortable night, with people taking it in turns to sit by his bed and make sure that he remained stable.

The day dawned bright, and the two doctors met in his room and after taking several readings and adding them to Dr Phillips' expanding notebook of observations, they retired to the window side of the room and began to confer.

"The steroid injections have boosted him as I hoped that they would," Dr Phillips murmured as he studied his growing notes and observations. "I contacted my nurse yesterday and she should arrive at some point today with the rest of my equipment and we can start to set up somewhere close by."

"Is there anything that you need that you have not been able to get?" Dr Grey asked. "I can get access to almost anything from the practice surgery -- or the local hospital, so whatever you think we might need -- just say."