and gave them two more null pens to share among the patients. Following FireWind’s orders, I informed and reminded them that time in a null room should be a primary component of the patients’ treatment plans.
After comparing the names of the patients on the floor with a list sent to me by Tandy during the night, and dressing out in a blue gown, gloves, booties, and a mask, I eased back the patient curtain in Thomas Langer’s room. Robinelle was asleep in the chair in the corner, her legs drawn up, her head at an uncomfortable angle, weighted down by the big bun.
There were purple circles under Robinelle’s eyes and her skin was ashen. She was exhausted. I was careful not to wake her, and turned slowly to look at her brother. I managed to hold in my flinch. Thomas Langer was watching me.
His dark eyes were intense, and his hands, in restraints at his sides to keep him from pulling his tubes out, were balled tightly inside the bloody and green-goo-stained bandages. A pulse pounded in his throat, throbbing beneath the bluish vein. His dreadlocks had been pulled back beneath a blue cap. He was still on the ventilator.
I tilted my head. “Do you understand me?”
He tried to speak and his eyes clenched shut. It looked painful. He opened them a few heartbeats later and nodded once.
“Shall I get the nurse?”
He nodded again.
I pressed the “nurse call” button and a woman in purple scrubs stuck her head in, her eyes taking in everything. She said, “He’s awake, that explains the vitals we’re seeing just now. Give me a minute and I’ll be right in.”
She was still tying her blue gown when she entered. “Tommy, I’m your nurse, Ginny. How are you? No, don’t struggle. Just listen. Are you listening?”
Thomas nodded once, slightly. Even that looked painful.
“Oh my God. Tommy!” his sister said. Robinelle flew from the chair to his side and burst into tears. So did Thomas.
Ginny said, “We just got his four a.m. labs back. His kidney function improved dramatically overnight. His liver enzymes are improving, and his gases are excellent.” To Thomas, she said, “We’ve turned down your oxygen and your ventilator isn’t doing much at the moment. The unit’s hospitalist, Dr. Pench, plans to try and remove the tubes this morning. But you have been a very sick man, Mr. Langer. You aren’t out of the woods yet. And if you fight the ventilator, that will slow down your progress. I need you to relax, okay?”
Thomas gave a second faint nod and his shoulders relaxed slightly.
Ginny looked back to Robinelle again. “Do you want to tell him about his hands and feet?”
Robinelle closed her eyes tightly but nodded yes. “He’s going to want to see.” Ginny began to unwind his bandages. Robinelle started telling her brother he had lost some fingers and toes.
I slipped out of the room. I didn’t need to intrude on that painful moment, and any interview could take place later.
In the next room, I found Erica Lynn Quinton, who played lead guitar. Or, I should say, who had once played lead guitar. Her hands were heavily bandaged; blood and green goo had leaked through to the outer sticky wrap; the stench of death and decay was strong and Erica was on a ventilator. I started to back out, but someone wearing scrubs stopped me. It was the hospitalist from my previous visit, the one who had been—legitimately—too busy to talk to me.
“I’m Ruth Pench, the hospitalist. I’m responsible for general medical care of hospitalized patients on the paranormal unit this morning. You’re with PsyLED, right?”
I gave my name and she asked, “What can you tell me about the efficacy of the null rooms?” It sounded more like a demand than a question, but she was entitled. She was a human battling a paranormal disease, one with deadly symptoms but no typical medical cause. “We put Thomas Langer in the one outside and he improved drastically overnight. We put Quinton in it and it hasn’t helped.”
“The one at HQ is better. Every time you move a portable one, it loses some of its—” I stopped and frowned. “Some of its nullness? And the sooner you get a patient into them the better.”
“How long do they stay inside? Do they need medical personnel to stay with them?” Pench asked.
Dang FireWind for making me be here instead of a more senior member of the unit. “It’s more of an art than a science. There haven’t