“That’s right. Older woman.”

“So he told me.”

“Rapidly flesh-eating. Pretty grim.”

Lou’s mouth became dry.

“From our experience with flesh-eating bacteria at my hospital in D.C.,” he managed, “the treatments aren’t great, but they eventually work.”

“Not with that lady.”

For a time, neither man spoke. Humphrey appeared to be mulling something over.

“Lou, I really do like you,” he said finally. “You’re not like others.”

“What others?”

“Other people. They don’t take me seriously. You’re different. Can tell. That’s why I want to show you something.”

“Sure,” Lou said. “But it’s going to have to wait until after I see Cap.”

“Understand. How about meet me in main lobby in hour.”

Lou checked his watch, a gift from Emily, and wondered how she was doing with her fund-raising effort. He would not have been surprised if a truckload of brownie mix was already en route to the house in Virginia where she lived with her mother and stepfather when she wasn’t in D.C. with him and Diversity, their cat.

“An hour,” he said, tapping Mickey for emphasis.

Humphrey’s smile was oddly enigmatic. He seemed extraordinarily pleased and excited about the prospect of showing Lou whatever it was.

“You’re going thank me, Dr. Welcome,” he said. “Guarantee it.”

*   *   *

THE ANTECHAMBER to Cap’s isolation room was not much bigger than a modest walk-in closet. A wall-mounted placard instructed Lou to don a surgical mask, hair cover, gloves, shoe covers, and a gown. He had followed a number of highly infectious patients at Eisenhower, so he knew the drill well. Arbor General had assigned Cap the strictest of isolation categories, requiring the most stringent precautions. Brightly colored warning signs on the doors and walls made certain Lou understood his visit could be dangerous and would be made at his own risk.

After checking himself one final time, he pulled on the door to Cap’s iso unit and felt the tug of resistance caused by the negative pressure environment. Powerful purifiers were drawing contaminated air through an elaborate filtration system. The room was hi-tech and short on warmth, with no furniture beyond a built-in nurse’s computer station with a tall stool, a pair of Danish-modern chairs, a TV, and the ubiquitous hospital tray table. Waste and used linens were stuffed inside specially labeled sacks and would be disposed of or laundered in a secure environment.

Separate. Isolated. Alone … Frightening.