After the Cure, Deirdre Gould [the beach read TXT] 📗

“Hi Frank. I made it myself, still have a can or two of the good stuff kicking around. I’ll be glad when someone can figure out how to grow coffee beans in the populated zone again though. There’s still half a pot in the break room, help yourself.” Stan passed through the detector and set two full mugs on the table. “Who is our visitor?”

Mr. Courtlen said, “This is Dr. Rider. She is the court appointed psychiatrist for both Dr. Pazzo and Miss Connelly. She’ll be a regular here for the duration.”

She saw Officer Kembrey raise an eyebrow at Mr. Courtlen. He obviously thought she wasn’t going to last. She brushed it off. Nella stuck her hand out and Stan shook it heartily. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Stan Kembrey but everyone just calls me Stan. Terry and I will be here every day shift. If you come at night you’ll see Wanda Treim. Dr. Pazzo and Miss Connelly are the only detainees at this facility, so the rules are a little more relaxed. For now, at least, until and unless Miss Connelly becomes violent, you can bring pens or pencils into the cell to make notes with. Of course, if it were me in that cell, I think I’d rely on my memory instead. Dr. Pazzo seems to be in a calm state of mind. However, since the Cure doesn’t seem to have worked as well on some of the earlier cases, there are big green buttons in the hallway in case either of them ‘reverts.’ Press one and all the guards will come running. If you have any questions about how things are supposed to work you can usually find the Warden in his office. If you have questions about how things actually work, well, Terry and I are here to serve.” Officer Kembrey flashed her a smile and a wink. Mr. Courtlen rolled his eyes dramatically and walked through the detector, immediately setting it off. The younger soldier leapt forward, pointing his weapon at the lawyer. But Mr. Courtlen simply waited and Stan’s only reaction was to the junior soldier’s zeal.

“Relax Terry, Frank isn’t going to stage a jailbreak. Just wand him. Should be near the right shoulder.” He handed a gray wand to Robert who looked torn between taking it and maintaining his grip on the weapon.

“You know Frank, you should really have that taken out one of these days.”

Mr. Courtlen laughed and rubbed the side of his bald head in embarrassment. “The doctor said it would be worse to take it out than leave it in for now. At least until someone starts producing antibiotics again. Besides-” he looked toward his feet, avoiding their gaze, “My wife gave me this one. Before- well, you know.”

The back of Nella’s neck prickled and her mind drew back, rejecting the picture that tried to grow there.

“Jesus, Frank, I’m sorry.” Stan shook his head and then snapped at Terry, “Get on with it soldier! These folks have places to be.”

Mr. Courtlen took off his sleek gray jacket and spread his long arms across the hall. Nella’s mind flashed another picture of his hands turned into claws, long black nails ragged and stained and thin arms coated in dried black blood to his elbows. Her neck felt pinched and cold and she noticed her breathing had become rapid and shallow. Be professional, she thought, and forced her aching fingers to relax on the handle of her briefcase. Terry swiped the wand over Mr. Courtlen and was satisfied when it only screeched near the lawyer’s shoulder. Officer Kembrey held his hand out for Nella’s briefcase.

“I’ll scan that for you Dr. Rider.”

She handed him the case with a smile and walked through the detector. Mr. Courtlen was calmly buttoning his jacket as Terry looked nervously on. Stan handed Nella her briefcase.

“You’re all clear,” he said, “Have a nice day.”

“You too,” Nella mumbled.

Mr. Courtlen touched her shoulder and she jumped. “This way, Dr. Rider.”

They walked the rest of the way down the hallway and paused before a dented metal door. The lawyer reached for a large button to be buzzed in but Nella stopped him. “Mr. Courtlen, wait,” she said, “The best way for me to get an accurate picture of the defendants’ mental health is for me to build a rapport with them first. I know you don’t have to discuss this, but if you are willing I would be grateful. Is there anything I should steer clear of during these first few sessions?”

He frowned slightly in concentration. “Well, I think you’ll find Dr. Pazzo is not what the press has made him out to be. He’s actually been remarkably patient with answering questions, and I think you’ll find him polite, if a bit on the cool side. Of course, I assume you are intelligent enough to not ask very stupid questions, like: ‘What does it taste like?’ or ‘Are you invulnerable except if you get shot in the head?’ And for the love of all things sacred, don’t call him a zombie.” Mr. Courtlen threw up his arms and then gave her a conspiratorial smile. He pressed the buzzer.

“And Miss Connelly?”

Nella watched the smile drop from his face. “I’m- I’m not Miss Connelly’s counsel. I don’t think I could really say.”

“Of course,” said Nella as the dented door swung open. She managed a bright smile at him as she stepped toward the door. Mr. Courtlen held it open but gently caught her wrist to stop her. Nella flinched as the rigid bones of his hand closed around her. He ignored her revulsion.

“But what Stan said about pens? I think I would trust him if it were me. Just to be safe.” He let her go and straightened his jacket but the color was high in his face.

“Thanks,” she said, though he had only made her more nervous. Mr. Courtlen cleared his throat.

“Dr. Pazzo is in the common room, if you’ll follow me.” He appeared unruffled as he strode through the door that separated the world from its most notorious living villain.

Meeting Robert Pazzo

Nella recognized Dr. Pazzo’s face from the case files and the television news, but only barely. She’d been shown the pictures that were available and they were of a doctor still fresh from grad school. He had looked young, slightly bewildered, but happy and eager. She hated to admit it, but his picture had even been attractive. She tried to equate it with the man in coveralls standing near the plastic table in the most secure prison on earth. It has been eight years since the Cure and probably ten since the photo was taken, Nella thought to herself. Still, this man looked closer to the father of the boy in the pictures. Unlike the other Infected he had no visible scars, since he had secluded himself before the madness overcame him. But the other signs were there. He was underweight even all these years later and his hair was bright white and thinning in places. His shoulders curled around him like a dried rind. His face though, his face held the most marked changes. His eyes had sunk into his skull as if they were too ashamed to look upon the world. His cheeks and chin were jagged peaks that closed off any expression in their tight shadows. Nella glanced back at Mr. Courtlen. She had thought him too lean for his height and that his bald head made him look sickly, but compared to Dr. Pazzo, the lawyer was a model of health and vigor.

Mr. Courtlen saw her glance at him and noticed her shock. He stepped quickly toward her and touched the back of her elbow to steady her. “Dr. Pazzo, this is Dr. Rider, the court appointed psychiatrist. She’ll be evaluating you and Miss Connelly throughout the trial. This is not a private relationship, so it isn’t privileged. This means anything you say-”

“Yes, yes, Frank, I know. We don’t have anything to hide. Dr. Rider, a pleasure to meet you.” He offered her a hand that was little more than a rake with a thin covering of skin. Nella took it, intending to be gentle, but his grip was surprisingly strong. “Please, have a seat,” he said, indicating the plastic picnic table. Mr. Courtlen sat beside him. Nella chose to sit on the opposite side, facing them. She placed her briefcase on the seat next to her.

“I just want to clarify what I’m here for. Judge Hawkins has asked me to monitor you and Miss Connelly to insure that you are competent to stand trial and that you remain so during the trial. It’s important, no matter the verdict, that you are a healthy and active member of your defense and that this tribunal gets a reliable version of the events which caused the December Pandemic. Do you understand?”

Dr. Pazzo looked amused. He leaned back slightly and crossed his arms. “Well, aren’t you the perfect reincarnation of Gustave Gilbert?”

Nella smiled, but it never reached her eyes. “I don’t think the world is going to fall for another Albert Speer, Dr. Pazzo.”

Mr. Courtlen frowned at the reference, his scar stretching and blanching. Nella felt a pang of remorse for having said it. Dr. Pazzo just laughed.

“I think I’m going to like you,” he said, “But I have a few rules myself, if you want full access to me.”

Nella straightened her posture and stared intently at him.

“Relax doctor. They’re nothing unexpected. First, my lawyer, Mr. Courtlen must be present during our interactions. If he isn’t here, our conversations will be limited to the current state of the weather. Second, I will answer any question you have and I will answer them truthfully,” said Dr. Pazzo with a beatific smile, “But you need to make sure you have recording equipment or are taking notes,” his voice began to become strident, “My answers will not change with repetition. So don’t ask me over and over and over.” Dr. Pazzo was shouting at her and had risen from his seat. His cuffed hands were two balls of shaking bone. Mr. Courtlen looked alarmed and helped his client sit back down as the guards moved nervously closer around them. Nella remained calm and motionless. “I understand,” she said as Dr. Pazzo rearranged himself and softly cleared his throat. He smiled again.

“Very good doctor, very good indeed. Third, we will get to all of your questions. We’re probably going to become very tired of each other. We have time. So if I say we are done for the day, I don’t want to hear any whining or see any fits. You’ll get your answers, just be patient. As unpleasant as these visits will be for you, I guarantee they will be ten times more unpleasant for me. But I’ve resolved to do this.” Dr.