guttural cries of the howler monkeys. The howlers were being decimated by an epidemic of yellow fever, which Jürgen blamed on the unsanitary habits of the human population. The two men talked about the obstacles of treating animals in the wild. Henry could barely make out Jürgen’s features except for the gleaming platinum hair that gathered the starlight. Then Jürgen made a remark that Henry never forgot: “In the battle of man versus nature, I am not on our side,” Jürgen said. “I am a traitor to my kind.”
It was a confession brought on by the wine and the dark, where intimacies are traded that in sober daylight would not have been said. Henry recalled Dr. Méyé’s statement at the fish restaurant on the Ogooué River. She had said Jürgen was dangerous. But there was no evidence in Jürgen’s work that he was in any way subversive. It was only later that Henry would understand the truth of Jürgen’s confession.
27
The Philadelphia Antiserum
At six p.m., Lieutenant Commander Bartlett appeared at the northwest gate of the White House, carrying a medical bag with seven doses of antiserum: five from Philadelphia, the other two from Minneapolis. There had been a furtive discussion at the NIH about which one the president should receive. The Philadelphia strain was more virulent, and the antibodies might protect against the most dangerous variant of the influenza. On the other hand, the Minneapolis serum was probably safer, although it was impossible to know. Bartlett might either be saving the president or killing him. A mild infection would be a relief.
She was shown into the family quarters upstairs, and taken to the Cosmetology Room, a place she had never heard of, white and brightly lit, with a shelf full of cosmetics and brushes and a professional hair dryer. A tanning bed was fitted against the wall. Waiting for her was the president’s doctor, an Air Force general with a cleft chin and old-fashioned trifocals. Bartlett saluted. He wanly returned the gesture.
“Should I administer the injections, or you?” he asked. “I’m not certain about the protocol for this.”
“There’s nothing special about the technique,” she said. “We recommend the ventrogluteal muscle, since there’s too much material for the deltoid to absorb.”
“In that case, I’ll do the president and you do the first lady. He’s a little self-conscious about his girth. The others we’ll split up.”
The adult children came first. They were solemn and cracking weak jokes about getting jungle fever. They weren’t embarrassed by having to drop their pants so Bartlett could inject them just below the pelvic girdle in the side of their hip. She wondered if they considered the danger. She also wondered if they knew or cared whether they might be taking a chance for life away from someone more useful—a nurse, a cop, a pregnant mother. Or was this just the way it was going to be—the powerful, the rich, and the celebrated would be saved. She realized she was being naive. Of course this was how it was bound to be. This is the country we’ve become.
She did her job. The president’s children pulled up their pants and walked out of the room, rubbing the sore spot on their hip.
The president came in. He really is heavy, Bartlett thought. She wondered what his triglycerides level was. He glanced at Bartlett and she turned away, busying herself by disposing of the syringes and packing her bag. She heard him say, “She doesn’t need to be here.”
“She’s waiting for the first lady,” the general said.
“Well, she’s not coming. I guess she doesn’t trust you people. Oof,” he said, as the Philadelphia antiserum went into his body.
28
Ice Cream
Despite the warnings about going out in public, Jill decided she had to see her mother. She hadn’t been to visit in more than a week, but it was Mother’s Day and she wanted to make sure that Nora was being well cared for. She brought some snapdragons from her garden. There was a sign on the front entrance of the facility that she had never seen before: NO VISITORS.
Jill was wearing a mask and gloves. She had not been able to reach her mother through the switchboard, and Nora didn’t use a cell phone. Jill decided that “no visitors” couldn’t mean no family, so she went in. The front desk was unattended. She didn’t see anybody at all. She took the elevator up to the third floor, where Nora had been moved after she broke her hip. The hallways were suspiciously empty,