Camp Nurse by Tilda Shalof Page A

barricade myself in there, but of course, there were no locks on any doors in this place. I put a sign on the door that I was going for a walk. First I stopped at the mess hall to fill up my water bottle at the fountain. As I was doing that, I noticed a little rivulet on the floor of what looked like … blood! I followed the stream to a large puddle that was being fed by a continuous drip from the unplugged refrigerator.
Was there a body in there?
I yelled for Sarge. He came running.
    Packages of frozen meat had been placed in the fridge to slowly defrost, but instead had melted into warm, oozing messes. When Sarge saw the bloody puddles on the floor andthen the soft, grey meat he threw down his dishrag and cursed. “Damn kids! They unplug the fridge for their music at night and then forget to plug it back in again afterwards.”
    I looked down at the meat blood. “When was the last party?”
    He stopped to think. “Not last night, but the night before. I think.”
    “Do not use this meat, Sarge. Throw it out immediately.”
    I stood back trying not to retch at the smell of warm meat blood. “It’s rotten. It’s been out more than twenty-four hours.” I watched him thinking this over. He prided himself on his frugality and recycling. (I’d seen him make soup out of potato and carrot peelings.) Sarge didn’t take suggestions about his cooking at the best of times, but this was serious. However, he wouldn’t promise to dispose of it, and I stomped away, frustrated again.
    In sheer desperation, I called Ivan to tell him my troubles, but he was out. I left a pathetic message, one that would make him feel sorry for me having such a terrible time while he was probably living it up, eating out at restaurants, and enjoying the single life, temporarily unfettered by any responsibilities. I returned to the infirmary to spin my first aid “Wheel of Fortune,” hoping for some sage advice to miraculously appear.
    I landed on “Toothache: See your dentist.”
    Thanks a lot! I spun it again.
    Foreign Body Obstruction in Airway: If patient swallows a sharp object, get him to eat mashed potatoes to surround object. For further treatment, call doctor.
    I was laughing my head off at that one when Mike burst in, the screen door banging behind him. “Hey, Nurse Tilda! Someone’s on the phone from the public health department for you. Something about the water supply. Sounds majorly important.”
    I closed my eyes for a moment, taking in this fresh disaster.
    The inspector explained that there was run-off from the septic tank leeching into the reservoir – the lagoon – at the back of the camp. The underground spring that supplied drinking water to the camp was contaminated with unsafe levels of bacteria.
    “What a bummer,” Mike said when I got off the phone and told him what was wrong.
    I got up slowly, thinking rapidly. “From this moment on there will be no drinking water from the tap or the lake. Swimming and showering are banned. The water supply has to be turned off.”
    “Hey, does that include swimming in the lagoon?”
    “It’s a cesspool!” I glared at him. “This camp should be shut down,” I muttered.
    “If there are problems, we will form a task force to address them,” said Mike.
    “No committees! No meetings!” I thundered at him. “This is a deadly situation!”
    “Watch out, guys,” he warned his pals who’d gathered around us. “The nurse is going ape.”
    I grabbed his walkie-talkie and screamed into it. “Listen up! To everyone at Camp Na-Gee-La, there is no drinking water until further notice.” I held it close to my mouth and repeated the warning. I turned back to Mike, who now looked ready to comply.
    “We’ll put up signs all around camp,” he said.
    “That’s not good enough! Call Anderson! The water supply has to be shut off.”
    “Can it wait? He’s busy fixing the roof. It’s been leaking.”
    “No!” I stormed at him.
    “Don’t stress out, we’re dealing with