“I know. It can’t be right. Let me shoot it again. Is the data recorder cleared?”
“Yes. Go ahead,” Townson said.
“Shooting.”
Again she waited until the monitor flickered the results. She didn’t say anything for several seconds.
“What?” the Doctor asked.
“26,458.7 feet.”
“Amy. You know that can’t be right. You have to be doing something wrong or we have the Doppler positioned wrong.”
“Well there is not too much to it Doctor,” Amy said, slightly sarcastic, “The Doppler is pointed straight down and once the data is cleared you just push the button. I’m open to suggestions.”
“Let me do it,” he said, clearing out the data field and resetting the actuation button.
“Shooting,” he said and pushed the button.
He stood looking at the screen. He just stared at the reading. 26,458.68 feet.
“I don’t know what to say. That’s almost, no… it is five miles down.”
Everyone just looked at each other, more or less in shock.
Finally Paul spoke up, “You’re telling me that the BARD is five miles down there?”
“I see no other explanation.”
“And you’re sure it’s working correctly?”
“Yes. Yes. I checked it myself,” the doctor assured him.
“Could we bring in a different unit and double check?”
“By all means. I will make the arrangements. We can’t do it until tomorrow. Is that a problem?”
“Well if it really is five miles down, another day isn’t going make any difference at all. Tomorrow will be fine.”
They were all sitting in the conference room, pretty much lost in thought.
“Five miles. How can that be?” Paul said to no one in particular.
“They have to be wrong. They are probably as inept as some others I know,” Barney said softly.
Mac was sitting with his chin on his chest with his eyes closed. He raised his head and looked at Barney.
“Was that aimed at me?” he asked.
“What? I didn’t say anything,” Barney professed.
Paul and Ann both looked at him. He had said it low but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
“You know Barney, if you have something to say why don’t you man up and just say it. No one likes a gutless wonder,” Mac said, his face flushed.
“Easy everyone…”
“No. I’ll address that little issue,” Barney said.
“I’ll tell you exactly wh…”
“Barney,” Paul said sharply, “I said that was enough. Pull it in right now. Mac has my full confidence. He has done everything he could to find out what happened. I’ll just tell you this one more time. I..do..NOT..hold Mac responsible for this. Are we clear on that?”
“If you say so,” Barney said, sitting back and folding his arms over his chest.
Paul looked at him for several moments. He had just about had it with Barney’s attitude. When this was all over, he would have to reevaluate if his contribution was greater than his negative attitude.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When Mac woke up the next morning he felt terrible. He checked his temperature and found it was right at 102 degrees. His throat hurt like the dickens. It seemed like there wasn't a muscle in his body that didn’t hurt. His throat was much worse. What the hell was he coming down with, he wondered?
He called the office and told the receptionist that he was going to go to the doctor. He was feeling really bad. He called the doctor that the company used and was able to get an appointment for 4:00 p.m.
Mac spent the rest of the day lying on the couch or going to the bathroom. He had developed diarrhea and when he looked in the mirror he was shocked at what he saw. He had a rash on his neck and chest. His eyes were red rimmed. Well, I look as bad as I feel, he thought.
“Mac, my goodness, you look the worse for wear,” the doctor said when he came into the examining room.
“Well, that’s nice to hear. Is that a professional opinion or just a conversation starter?” Mac quipped.
The doctor chuckled, “Still have a sense of humor I see. I would ask what brought you in but I can see you are a sick boy.”
He picked up Mac’s file and looked at what the nurse had written for his vital signs.
“Hmm,” he said, his chin resting on his thumb and finger.
Mac watched intently as he saw the doctor frown more than once.
“Let me see your throat,” he said and started a full examination.
When he was finished he sat back in his chair and looked at Mac for several seconds.
“What do I have?”
“Well to tell the truth Mac, I’m not really sure. Your symptoms don’t make a lot of sense to me. I want you to go to the hospital and have some tests run. I’m going to order a CBC, Electrolytes, and a couple of others. I am very concerned.”
“What are you saying Doctor?”
“I'm saying this could be quite serious. I’m not about to cry wolf before we have some test results. Now I know the next thing you are going to say. You can’t take time to go get a bunch of stupid test done, right?”
“Something like that.”
“Good. I saved you the effort. I want you to go today. Not tomorrow, but today. Actually right now. I’m going to call over there and make some arrangements.”
“Geez doc. What in the hell do you think I have, the creeping crud?”
“I’m not sure and that is what concerns me. Mac, I don’t know how serious this is but trust me, you need to have the tests immediately.”
“Okay. This is a little unnerving.”
“I understand but I would rather err on the side of caution,” the doctor said.
“I’ll go right now if you’re that concerned.”
“Good. I’ll have everything ready so you won’t have to sit on your thumbs while someone gets their ducks in a row.”
When Mac stood up he grunted.
“Damn, now my stomach has a sharp pain. I guess I had better go and have those tests run,” Mac said as he slowly made his way out of the office.
Doctor Lang sat at the desk tapping Mac’s chart with is pen. He did not like what he was thinking one bit. Worse than that. Mac had been in contact with him, his staff and other patients.
He picked up the phone and called the hospital.
When Mac got to the hospital two security cars were blocking the entrance. Now what the heck is this all about, Mac thought? One of the drivers got out and held up a sign. It had two works in big block letters: FOLLOW ME. This is too strange he thought as he followed the security car. They led him around to the back of the building where a large white tube was stretched out leading to one of the back doors.
Three people came toward his car with full biological suits on. Mac just watched in amazement as they made their way up to his car.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he rolled down his window.
“Mr. McDillon?”
“Yeah.”
One of them turned and made a motion and a stretcher was rolled out to his car.
“What is going on? What’s happening?”
“Sir, your doctor called. We need to run some tests on you. It is possible you have a contagious disease.”
“Contagious disease? He didn’t say that to me.”
“Please. The sooner we get the tests done the faster we can find out what is going on.”
“Do I have to get on the stretcher?”
“Would you like a wheelchair instead?”
“Oh hell, what difference does it make? The stretcher will be fine. I feel kind of silly but what the hay.”
They wheeled Mac into the hospital and immediately took him to an isolation area. His room was bigger than any other hospital room he had seen. He would soon find out why.