Michael Malone - Weebly

Dr. Deeds had been leafing slowly through
Dingleyans' medical charts, among them Judith Haig's
and Winslow Abernathy's. Now, seated on the floor,
her legs crossed yoga-style, she began to question
Scaper, who slumped, fat and slovenly, in one of Mary
Bredforet's cushioned wicker rocking chairs. "First of
all," she said afterwards, "like I told you, this isn't really
my field. But from what I can tell, I agree it looks
peculiar. I mean it looks viral but doesn't seem to be
contagious, at least it's not clear how. And you've got X
rays indicating pneumonia, but then there's no record of
really serious respiratory problems."
"Some of it looks like Rocky Mountain spotted
fever, don't you think?"
"No rashes. But listen, it does sound like something
like that, doesn't it? That's what I'm thinking. A
rickettsia. You know, there're some guys at CDC, an
epidemiologist friend of mine, we ought to let him take a
look at some of this data."
"Why? You thinking something in particular?"
Dr. Deeds walked over to lean against the glass
wall of the porch.