The Laptev Virus

Sarah now clicked on these individuals. On a hunch, she grabbed a pencil and a yellow pad of paper and made two columns, which she labeled ML and MBD, using Emile’s joking but apt acronyms for the mice that lived and the mice that didn’t. But instead of putting ticks to count numbers of mice under each heading as her researchers had done, Sarah wrote down the numbers of the individual mice. When she finished, her eyes widened in astonishment at the results and she let out a soft whistle.

She sat for another minute, letting the newfound information wash over her, and then suddenly a horrible thought struck her. She picked up her phone and scrolled through the contacts list, but could not find Kevin’s number. She looked down at the moonboot still on her leg and realized she would take too long to walk down to the student area to look for him. She tried dialing the numbers for Tally, then Drew and then Emile. None of them answered. She closed her eyes and thought for a moment, then with shaky hands she dialed the student’s lounge. The phone rang once, twice, three times. On the fourth ring, someone answered.

“Kevin,” she said, almost breathless with excitement and relief when she heard him answer the phone, “the mice that survived the Laptev virus, have they been disposed of yet?”

“I took them straight to the Waiting Room as you asked, Dr. S., and today is the day they do it, but let’s see,” said Kevin, and Sarah could visualize him in her mind’s eye, scrolling through his phone. She knew he had an app for just about everything, and she suspected that he must have had one for keeping track of the mice to be euthanized as well. “Okay,’ he said, pausing as if still trying to find the information she sought. “They are being kept in quarantine because of the virus, so the disposal method has to be a bit different than what normally happens,” said Kevin. Then there was another pause as he presumably checked another window. “They are scheduled to be put down at 2:00 this afternoon,” he said. “That’s in about eight minutes, give or take.”

“We need those mice!” said Sarah, knowing she probably sounded a bit crazy in her desperation. “Kevin. We’ve got to stop them!”

Kevin was quiet for what seemed like an eternity, and then he said, “Oh, man, it looks like the app wasn’t updating correctly. I think it might be too late. Hold on…”

“Kevin, it’s urgent. We need to stop those mice from being killed.”

Again there was another long pause during which Sarah waited impatiently. “I’ve just tried calling down there,” he said. “No one is answering.”

Sarah swore.

“All right, Dr. S.,” he said, “Stay cool. I’ll run down to the Waiting Room and see what I can find out.”

CHAPTER 19

Sarah waited impatiently, wishing that she could at least pace her office, let alone go down to the Waiting Room and see what was going on for herself. Would Kevin reach them in time? In analyzing the graphs and making her chart on her notepad she had realized that there were several paramount questions that these mice could answer, and losing them would significantly set her team back. She looked at the clock whose hands had inched perilously close to 2:00.

Finally her phone rang.

“Kevin?” she asked, picking up the receiver quickly, “were you in time? Are the mice all right?”

“Sarah. Sarah, it’s me,” came the voice of her mother. “Is everything all right? You sound a little worried. Is your leg bothering you again?”

Sarah cursed silently. The land line phones in the building were supposed to have caller ID, but for some reason it only kicked in several seconds after the phone call had been initiated. She looked at the little screen and sure enough, it read SPALLANZANI. “No, Mom, my leg’s fine…”

“Oh, good. Listen, I called because I wanted to talk to you about your father. You’ll never believe what he did today. He was backing the car out of the driveway, not his car, but mine, you see…”

Suddenly she remembered that she had not given Kevin her cell phone number so if he dialed this number and it was busy, he might wait to call back. She had to get off the phone right away. “Mom, Mom, Mom! I’m really sorry, but I’m in the middle of something right now, can I call you back in a little bit?”

“Well, darling, I was going to tell you about your father…”

Suddenly Sarah was worried. What if something had happened and here she was, rushing her mother off the phone. Her father was in his 80s, after all, and although his health was generally robust, these things were a matter of time, she reminded herself. What if her mother had important news? “Is everything all right? Has anything happened to Dad?” she asked, her voice softer.

“Well, no, he’s fine, but you see he was backing the car out of the driveway…”