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

the back of her skull. There was no help for it. She had to get it out. “Do you have tweezers Stan?” she asked.

“On the lab cart. One second.” He left the cell and Nella stood there praying that she wouldn’t break the cartridge. He hurried back, handing her the tweezers. “Did you find it?”

“I don’t think so. But I have to make sure. Maybe you should- step out for a minute.”

Stan tapped his mask. “That’s what these are for. I’m not leaving you alone in here, not for anything.”

Nella nodded. The seal over the nose piece slid and her eyepieces fogged. With a shaky hand she pressed the seal down on her sweaty nose and waited for the lenses to clear. She poked the tweezers into the pen and grasped the cartridge, trying not to squeeze too tightly. She tried to wiggle the cartridge but it didn’t come loose. She hesitated for a moment and then yanked. Please don’t break, please don’t break, please don’t break. The cartridge came free. Just ink. Nella realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out in a rush. She saw Stan watching her and shook her head. She reassembled the pen and put it next to the other one. One by one she checked each of the ball points, just in case, and then the cup. She moved on to the small pile of books as Stan quickly and thoroughly emptied the shelf. By the time she had finished what was on the table, he was already removing the mattress to search it. They found the last fountain pen under the bed, but it was filled with ink as well. Discouraged, they continued on, checking hollows in the little bit of furniture, the air vents, the plumbing. It took them almost two hours to search and put the room back together. The other teams were already finished. Stan sat wearily on the bunk and looked up at her. “You’re sure the jeweler didn’t take any cartridges or vials with him?”

“Frank got him to show him the pens without any problem. He wouldn’t have been that open about it if he had. Frank said they were hollow, ready for cartridges but not filled.” Nella sat on the other end of the bunk. “Maybe Dr. Pazzo keeps them on him all the time.”

Stan shook his head. “I don’t see how. They are searched pretty thoroughly when they leave the prison and again at the courthouse and then again when they come back.”

Nella sat silent in disappointment.

“What I don’t get,” said Stan suddenly, “is why he would go to all this trouble.”

“What do you mean?”

Stan got up and checked the door, making sure the other teams weren’t listening. “Well, you said this bacteria is even worse than the first one, right? And that every last one of us was probably going to get it, Immunes and all.”

“That’s right, as far as Dr. Carton explained it.”

Stan scratched his head through the suit’s plastic cover. “Well, it’s not like Dr. Pazzo is going to escape it then right?”

“Not unless he finds a bunker somewhere. I don’t think he wants to escape it anyway. He’d want a front row seat to watch the world fall apart. It’s revenge for him.”

“Why bother with trying to secretly transport vials in pens or body cavities or whatever then?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Why set an elaborate trap when he could be the trap himself? Why not infect himself and then just walk into court and talk to as many folks as possible, shake as many hands as possible, heck, even testify and cough a bit? You said the courthouse was packed. How often do that many people get together any more?”

Nella felt the bottom of the world fall away. “Oh God.”

 

 

The New Plague

Stan stood up when he saw her reach for the table for support. He helped her up. “Don’t panic Dr. Rider. It’s weeks to the verdict, he won’t have done it yet. We just have to find the vials. It’s not like he can just pop ‘em open and swallow ‘em right?”

She regained her balance. “No, he needs some special ingredients to revive the bacteria. But I don’t think he’ll wait very long.” She pushed past him into the common room where the other teams were waiting. “Is there a lab tech here? Someone that knows how to do a culture? Anyone who knows how to grow specific bacteria?”

“Sure,” came a muffled voice, “Kevin was studying microbiology before the Plague.”

“Where is he?” asked Stan.

“Right here, sir.” One of the biohazard suits stepped forward. Nella walked up to him. He squinted at her through a crack in his thick glasses. “Sir, is she-”

“She’s cleared to be here, you can answer her questions,” said Stan.

“Kevin, if you know the answer, I’ll spend every last ration I have to get you a pair of glasses without a crack. Did you ever revive frozen samples in school? Or have to speed up cultures without contaminating them with other strains?”

“Sure. We don’t have many incubators anymore and power’s at a premium anyway. We find ways to speed up cultures all the time in the infirmary.”

“What do you need to do that?”

Kevin squinted at her. “What do I need or what could a prisoner use to do it?” The others closed in, suddenly interested. Nella glanced at Stan. He looked worried, but she decided to risk it.

“What could a prisoner use?”

“Well, it’d have to be sterile, so nothing could contaminate the sample. But if he could get his hands on bleach or alcohol or even vinegar he could do it if he was careful. And then he’d need a growth medium. We usually use agar, but he wouldn’t have access to that. Gelatin would work or even beef broth but you need meat for that and that’s mighty scarce these days. The cafeteria still serve the old kid’s stuff?”

One of the others chuckled. Stan shook his head. “Haven’t seen any in years. All got used up in soldiers’ mess kits for quick protein fixes.”

Kevin tried to push his glasses up with one hand and hit the lenses of his mask instead. He shrugged. “A potato would do it pretty well I think.”

Stan was already talking to the cafeteria on the intercom. “How fast would it grow?” Nella asked.

“Enough to do what?”

“To infect someone with that strain.”

Kevin glanced at the others. She could see them shifting uncomfortably as if they were ready to run out the door. “Well, it depends on the bacteria, but it could be a day, maybe two.”

She saw Stan casually pull out the service gun he wore on the belt outside the biohazard suit. He was standing behind the group so that they couldn’t see him. She smiled brightly at Kevin, willing them all not to panic. “Okay, Kevin, last question pays for all. If this theoretical prisoner’s bacteria was primed and ready, how long from being infected would a person be contagious, say, through casual contact or breathing on others?”

Kevin shrugged and tried to sound casual, but his voice cracked in the middle. “Depends on the bacteria. Worst case scenario? A few hours to a day.”

Nella heard running footsteps outside the door. Her companions turned toward it. “Sir?” asked one of them.

Stan held the gun at his side, pointed toward the ground but clearly visible to everyone. “This isn’t a drill, is it?” asked Kevin.

“I’m afraid not. I’m sorry boys. I ought to have told you, but I really didn’t think there was anything to it. But we’ve all trained for this and we’ve got our suits, so everyone just sit tight and I’m sure we’ll be decontaminated and released quickly.”

A few of the soldiers relaxed and sat down at the picnic tables scattered over the common area. Stan put the weapon away when he saw that no one was going to bolt. He spoke through the intercom again. Nella walked up to him and Kevin trailed behind her. Stan turned toward her. “Sorry Doc, that means you too.”

“How long ago did he break the vials?”

“The Warden said Dr. Pazzo requested permission to start a small vegetable patch in the yard sometime last week. He got seed potatoes from the cafeteria. And Sunday night he reported that he was sick and requested cleaning materials for his cell but refused the guards’ offer of help and also turned down a visit to the infirmary.”

“Bleach?” asked Kevin.

Stan sighed and nodded.

Kevin tried to push his glasses up again, hitting the eyepieces of his mask. “Sunday. Where are the potatoes? And where are the vials?”

“Who knows? Flushed maybe? They weren’t important after he’d infected himself. And they might have led to his getting caught.”

Nella grabbed Stan’s arm, her glove slipping on the smooth plastic of his suit. “Stan, that means he could be contagious right now! All those people at court- Frank-” She started for the door but Stan held her back.

“You can’t go out there Dr. Rider.”

“Someone has to stop him and warn them. What if he’s not contagious yet? He wouldn’t have done it until the night before last, after he found out about Ann’s condition. What if there’s still time? More than half the City is in that courthouse right now Stan-”

“I know. I already notified the Warden. He’s calling the Governor right now. I’m sure the courthouse will be cleared in a matter of minutes.”

“But he needs to be isolated-”

Stan firmly pushed her onto a bench. “Everything that can be done is already happening. There’s nothing we can do without risking even more people.”

Nella’s eyepieces were misting up and she couldn’t tell if she were crying or sweating or both. Stan sat down beside her. “He’s going to be okay. Frank’s harder than he seems. I’ve known him a long time Nella,” he patted her knee and the plastic crinkled, “He’s going to be mad with worry about you, but he’s going to be okay.”

“We can’t just sit here Stan-”

“We didn’t just sit here. We caught him. If you and Frank hadn’t figured this out when you did,” Stan sucked in a whistling breath through the mask, “Well, now we still have a chance. A good chance that we got ahead of Pazzo. And, please don’t take this the wrong way Dr. Rider, now it’s time to let people who know better what we’re dealing with take over and do their jobs. We’ve done our part and then some. Just try to relax and I’m sure we’ll be playing cards with Frank in light quarantine by the end of the day.”

“Um, sorry to interrupt sir . . .” Kevin was still standing near them and he shifted his weight to one foot nervously.

“That’s okay, Kevin wasn’t it? What’s on your mind?”

“It’s just that- well, if we’re going to get sick, we were sort of wondering