16

“It’s four-thirty-six.” A doctor turned toward David.

“Temp?” another doctor asked.

“Slightly down. A point above normal,” a nurse said.

“Blood pressure?”

“Down. A hundred and twenty over eighty.”

“Perfect.”

“Not for him. He tends to run a little lower,” the nurse said.

“The difference is too slight to be bothered about.”

“Oh, there’ll be a difference,” David said.

“But your deadline’s come and gone,” another doctor said. “I told you, the first time was just a coincidence. He just happened to spike a fever when you said he would.”

“And I told you, the Vancomycin I gave him delayed the schedule.”

“I’ve had enough of this. We controlled his infection.”

“No!”

“Everything’s back to normal,” the doctor said. “Now I’ve got rounds to make.”

“Well, maybe we ought to …” The doctor from the Pediatrics Ward cleared his throat. “It wouldn’t hurt. Just wait a few more minutes.”

“And reinforce this man’s delusion?”

“He’s been right so far.”

“Coincidence!”

“Just in case, though.”

“Something’s happening,” a nurse said.

“What?”

“His pressure’s down to a hundred.”

“Now will you believe me?” David asked.

“Check it again,” a doctor said.

“Down to ninety.”

“No.”

“I told you,” David said.

“Eighty.”

Matt vomited again.

“No!”

“Don’t wait,” David said. “Give him the dopamine.”

“Dopamine? How did you know that’s the drug we’d use to—”

“Raise his pressure? You wouldn’t believe me! Give him the—!”

“Seventy.”

“Do it!” David yelled.

“Can’t you see we already are?”

Matt’s body shuddered, convulsing.

“Sixty.”

An intern injected the contents of a syringe into one of Matt’s IV lines.

David exhaled. Panicked, he slumped against a wall.

“And now we wait,” he said. “And pray.”