Werewolves have always been present in the States, but never in the mainstream. We couldn’t be in the military, we couldn’t live among humans for extended periods. When I went to medical school and internships, I had to be Alpha ordered for my wolf not to shift; even if it cost me my life, I was not allowed to shift outside of visits to my home Pack in Zumbrota.
There were only about four hundred Packs in North America, and almost all were in remote locations where their homes were away from humans. The risks increased with exposure, so there weren’t careers among the humans, you were lucky if you even got college through them. My fellow doctors and nurses had to be exceptions; we needed training not available through Packs, and we had to keep up our medical licenses and an official practice, so we could have access to drugs and equipment.
I worked as a relief doctor at two clinics, one in Silver Bay and one in Grand Marais. I had done a surgical residency, but never got board-certified. I knew I would never be able to maintain THAT license living in a remote Pack. Instead, I dropped back to General Practice, doing rotations in obstetrics and pediatrics that would be more helpful to my Pack career. I had a lot of help, my Alphas were supportive and so were my parents; my father was the Pack doctor, and my mother his nurse. This rotation was a good way to get me experience and pay off the loans I had taken from my Pack to get my education.
So, there were few people I could reach out to, but the first one was my Dad. I emailed him with photos of my samples and a summary of my findings, and asked him to call me when he’d had a chance to review them. I then called Larry Jennings, he was the Pack Doctor in Duluth, and the most experienced one around. I wanted to drive down and meet with him, bringing my samples so he could examine them himself. I left a message on his phone, knowing it was late and he was probably asleep. Turning off all the lights, I walked out of the lab towards the stairs. Matt was in wolf form, guarding the door to the clinic. I told him goodnight and went upstairs to my apartment.
Two AM, and I was asleep again.
I slept until nine, when my phone rang. It was Larry, he had gotten permission from his Alpha for me to visit and was available after dinner. I got dressed and grabbed a late breakfast before heading back to my office to do research. Early in the afternoon my father called; he didn’t have much to add, but he did promise to look into it for me. Neither of us had found anything helpful in our research yet.
I swung by the kitchen to get a sandwich and cookies to go before hopping in my Ford Ranger extended cab 4×4 to head down to Duluth. I loved my little truck, it never let me down. I would do house calls at allied Packs, so I had medical supplies and a full trauma kit in the back seat. I waved to the sentry as I left, and put a CD in the stereo as I drove.
The Duluth Pack was located northwest of the city, at the very edge of the changeover to the deep Northern woods. The Pack was the second largest in the state, about five hundred wolves, and owned every home in their isolated development. Their homes were built in a way unlike the cookie-cutter suburbs that were springing up in the sixties and seventies. Build around a community center and small downtown, the homes were in concentric circles around the center, with open spaces and parks maintained around them. It looked like a nice place to live, and the wolf in me understood how it made their Pack defenses easier.
I rolled up to the entry, a good half mile off the paved road, and was stopped by one of their sentries. “Hi Alex,” I said as he opened the door and jumped in. “How are Mary and little Robert doing?”
“Go right to the clinic, Vivian. Doc’s in an emergency and can use your help.” I pulled forward, I could smell his distress. “One of our pregnant females started bleeding at dinnertime, the whole Pack is worried.”
Shit.
Going as fast as I was comfortable, I went to the clinic building. It wasn’t enough. I could tell by Alex’s face she didn’t make it. “I’m sorry,” he said.
He didn’t say anything, he ran off, probably to be with his mate. I got out, leaving my samples on the seat. If I was right I wouldn’t need them.
The family was filled with grief, Pack members were trying to comfort his mate as he broke down. I walked past them to the procedure room, just as Larry walked out. His scrubs were bloody, and he was taking off his gloves and tossing them in a bin. “I’m sorry, Larry.”
“It was just like you said,” he said as his shoulders slumped. “It came on so fast, I couldn’t get the bleeding stopped in time. Even after I delivered the baby, the placenta was falling apart. It’s like her tissue was dissolving in front of me, sections would discolor and then rupture.”
I looked past him, his nurse was helping to clean up. “Go talk to the family, I’ll help get her cleaned up and then we can talk.” He nodded and walked off.
I pushed the door open, the smell of blood and death was strong in the room. A young woman, not even twenty, was cut open on the table, her baby by her side. Perfectly formed, maybe 18 weeks, and he never had a shot at life.
Whatever this was, we had to figure it out quickly.