Authors: S.L. Grey
The Ward (16 page)
It’s not often you get the chance to read your own case file. These damn doctors never tell you anything when you ask them. It will be great to get some real answers at last. At this
clinic they probably keep proper records and test results. It’s likely they’ll have ordered copies of all the tests from New Hope already. Finally I can find out exactly what was wrong
with me. And what’s in this drip. And where I am, for that matter.
‘Mr Farrell! So
wonderful
to have you up and about. We
really
should refresh that drip.’
I shove the folder under the sheets before the nurse notices it. She’s dressed in a retro-cool nurse’s uniform: short skirt, bobby socks. There’s nothing sexy about it, mind
you – she’s too squat and middle-aged to pull it off – but it’s comforting.
‘I’m Nurse Essigee, Donor Farrell, and I’ll be taking care of you until your procedure. Welcome to Preparation Ward.’
Did she just say
Donor
? She does have an odd accent. I thought she was Bulgarian or something at first, but it could be Italian. Maybe she said ‘Don’. Don Farrell. I like the
ring of that.
‘Okay, but I was supposed to be discharged. I had the measles, and I’ve recovered.’
‘You have a wonderful spirit,’ she trills. ‘Just
perfect
! Now I’ll change your drip. It appears that someone gave you the… Let’s see…’
She checks the label on the drip bag, which is half full of clear liquid and then consults the chart at the foot of my bed. ‘Yes, that’s right… Soon sort that out.’ She
bustles out and comes back a few seconds later with a brownish liquid and hangs it up. With incredible efficiency, she switches the drip. I watch her trained hands moving with graceful speed. The
needle and loop in my arm are inserted so delicately that there’s not a snag of pain. The sticky tape doesn’t even pull at my skin. My bruised right arm – where that grey freak
did something to me back in New Hope – has been treated and covered with a gossamer dressing.
‘But can you tell me why I still need to be on the drip?’
‘Administration’s orders. The representative will be doing the rounds later, and you can ask him everything you really need to know.’
Her voice reassures me. I do feel at ease. I can remember feeling panicky about something a moment ago, but now I’m not sure what it was all about. I know I was thinking about Katya
– my gorgeous Katya, I really hope she’s okay. And her dad – of course he’s worried. Who wouldn’t be? I can worry about it all later. I feel a bit tired. For now,
my—
‘For now, your job is just to get big and strong. You’re almost ready.’
‘Yes, Mom.’
An alarm pierces my sleep.
The nurse rushes out, muttering under her breath. The alarm must have disturbed her while she was changing my drip. I roll over, trying to shift the cobwebs from my head, and remember the folder
as my body crumples over it. God, I’m tired, all I want to do is drift back into oblivion again, but this might be my only chance to find out why I’m in here. The folder nags me as it
presses into my side. Maybe I should just find out why they’re giving me this goddamn drip, and when I can go the fuck home.
And find Katya.
It’s an effort, but I shove a pillow behind me, shift up to a slumping sitting position and open the folder.
Joshua Alphonse Farrell
Ward: Preparation H
Donor
Is that what I heard the nurse calling me?
Node: Johannesburg, ZA, New Hope Hospital (Node 2:34:765/f)
Age: 31y 267d
Weight (pre-catalyst): 208.77 lb
Weight (admission): 168.21 lb
Weight (projected post-prep): 192.87 lb
Est. Harvest Mass: 117.63 lb
Height: 6’3”
Viabilities:
All intern. organs viable (ex. liver, right temp. lobe, cardiac left vent.) – spec. note: special value hair, teeth. Skin suitable for grafts (ex. upper arms,
thighs, some acne on neck and shoulders). Ocular compromise (keratitis as side-effect of catalyst) but intervention by transfer agent should result in viable ophthalmic elements (assess corneas
on harvest and discard if suboptimal).
Close this folder. Now. Put it away. Forget you ever saw it. Nothing good will come of this.
But I can’t pull my eyes from the page. I keep reading, guiltily, hungrily, like I’m delving into someone else’s diary.
Supervisor assessment:
Excellent, high-gain candidate, but special care to be taken during preparation to maintain levels of organic
stimulants to avoid aggressive withdrawal. Suggest this be balanced with 70% rather than the normal 80% solution of sulfamethazine hormone, in a haemoglobulin base. 1
unit 3-hourly for preparation term to encourage optimum haemopoiesis and tissue bulking. Monitor heart stress 2-hourly and escalate donation cycle if the stress rate reaches 85th centile. This
Donor is liable to have a short viability span on such an intensive preparatory course, but viable tissue is of high value and priority harvest is recommended.
Sedate with opiate-family suspension if necessary. Mild to medium aggression.
Sales Department (Improvement Division) input:
Client workups have been performed. 9 potential Clients already shortlisted. (See Workup Figures 1 through 9, appended hereto, reflecting Client specifications.) Will
have no difficulty with immediate placement.
Scout Department report:
Candidate has been shortlisted for several months. Scout team was concerned by elevated adenosine triphosphate levels, dissatisfaction at work, and lifestyle of sexual
partner, Katya Angela Forrest, who is an habitual reliant on semi-organic stimulants. Onsite scouting agent M.R. monitored candidate and noted improved alpha-E tendencies which, if continued as
plotted, would lead to optimal induction in 3 to 5 periods. However, a domestic dispute at the candidate’s dwelling on 3rd Wet Shift, Deep Discount Cycle 3 (14 November upside), increased
risk ratio to viable tissues beyond the Pot-Eichmann scale recommendations and necessitated immediate catalysis.
On upside 14 November, immediately following the departure of Katya Angela Forrest, catalysis was initiated by the scout team. The candidate was intercepted on approach to his vehicle
and infected with an accelerated paramyxovirus which presented within 150 upside-equivalent moments as acute measles. The domestic dispute prior to induction was regrettable, as it resulted in
raised cortisol and adrenalin levels in the candidate’s muscular tissues, which then had to be flushed at the transfer node as effectively as the short timeframe allowed. In accordance
with Ministry frugality procedure, section 14a, candidate was sequestered in upside facility to recover to optimum recyclability. Suboptimally, candidate absconded from the upside facility and
early transfer to Preparation Ward was necessitated. Viability of muscular tissue will be compromised at an estimated range on the Walters-King scale of 3.4–5.1%.
Despite these factors, the Supervisor and Administration concurred that the risks were outweighed by the potential harvest and that the unscheduled catalysis was the optimal course of
action. (See Appendices 1a [records of consultation with Senior Administrator Plate and Supervisor Blow], 1b [record of advice from same] and 1c [responsibility escalation addendum], herewith
in duplicate. Original and copies duly captured and forwarded to Procedures Office.) The candidate is a mild to moderate security risk, and should be handled with caution, and the Supervisor
has suggested that the donation cycle should be given priority scheduling status.
(Transfer agent N.M. reports that the candidate has reacted well to calm authority and non-invasive techniques. Preparation staff may try persuasion rather than invasion at first
contact.)
Administration protocol checklist:
Tissue analysis requisition
Contact report templates
‘What have you got there, Mr Farrell?’
I try to shove the folder under the bedclothes again but the contents spill out onto the floor and slide in a slick arc across the tiles. The ziplock bag containing the Polaroids slides fastest
and furthest, all the way to the nurse’s blue shoes. She looks at me, her dead, black eyes burning me.
Holy fuck. They’re planning to feed me up until my heart explodes. They’re planning to… They’re planning to… There’s only one thing for me to do. I have to
go. Right now. But my body won’t move, and at the same time my leg muscles seize, and pain screams up them and through my spine. I feel the piss warming the mattress beneath me.
‘Now, now, Mr Farrell. I was looking for that. A cooperative Donor would have handed it in without reading it. Did you not see the stamp reading “Confidential” on the
cover?’
I can’t speak. The pain in my muscles blots out every thought in my head.
‘I’m sure you did, Mr Farrell.’ She approaches my bedside with another drip bag. ‘Anyhow, let’s move on. I apologise for not refreshing your treatment immediately.
I was called away, you see. We seem to have an intruder on the ward, and nobody’s quite sure what… to do… with her.’ She hangs the drip and the brown liquid starts
siphoning through the tube. I feel my veins desperately sucking it in, as if they know that whatever’s in there will make the pain go away.
‘So many people want to join our wards,’ she coos on. ‘It’s a real honour to be chosen, you know. You are among the elite, Donor Farrell.’ I think I believe her. It
is really very comfortable here. ‘Your job is simply to rest and to grow big and strong.’
Something inside my mind fights sleep. I’m tormented with a roll of images, of unresolved thoughts, and my mind lurches and tumbles as my body wants it to rest. My heart’s going to
explode. They’re going to draw on me. With knives? They’ve been watching Katya. Where is Katya? Is she at home?
I remember what happened on Monday morning. Somehow those cryptic notes in my file have made it all come rushing back.
Domestic dispute
…
intercepted on approach to his
vehicle
…
Katya was leaving me. And it wasn’t a surprise. She’d done it at least four or five times before. Always after a weekend before a big job: always on a crazy downer after a binge. But
this time there was something different, something more intense about her. This time it was as if she meant it.
You only love me for my face!
she screamed, then she took a cut-glass tumbler from the counter and smashed it against the worktop.
Well
, she said,
take a good, long look, you
bastard
.
It’s the last time you’ll see it
. And for a moment I thought she was going to hurt herself. I grabbed the shard of glass from her, cutting both of us in the
process. She tucked her hair back with her bleeding hand, that’s how the blood got on her face. I tried to touch her, but she left. Her bags were already packed.
Then, later, I was pissed off, nothing else to do but go to work. I headed down to the parking garage and this stinking fucking homeless guy came out of nowhere and rammed into me. I nearly had
a fucking heart attack, I thought I was being hijacked, but he just mumbled something and stumbled off.
Look where you’re going, you stupid motherfucker!
I yelled, taking deep breaths
until I got my pulse back under control.
I was so stupid. Katya would never have hurt herself. She would never have done anything to her face. Christ, the amount of time I’d spend watching her make herself up in the walk-in.
I’d pretend to sleep and just watch her, five, six in the morning. She’d make herself perfect for me every day before I had to see her. She knew what I liked.
I’m woken by a massive cramp all the way from my back to my heels. It feels as if my leg muscles are tearing themselves off the bone. The momentary relief at having
remembered, at knowing that I didn’t hurt Katya, dissolves in the scour of pain. I try not to scream; I don’t want that nurse to come, but eventually the pain overwhelms me and I let it
go. I bellow like it might bring this building down around me, like somehow I might have some luck and that nurse will be killed and—
‘My goodness. Nurse Essigee really should be reported to the Administration. The number of times I’ve noticed guests on this floor with empty drips and, my goodness, Mr Farrell, has
she not even bothered to have your sheets changed?’
It’s Nomsa. What the fuck is Nomsa doing here?
‘I moonlight as a supply nurse on these wards,’ she continues, as if reading my thoughts. ‘And when I found out that you were transferred, I made sure to look you up.
It’s lovely to see you. But I’m sorry to hear about your setback.’
‘What do you mean? I was supposed to be discharged.’
‘You’re in no condition now, are you? I heard you crying out across the ward.’ She comes to my bed and lays a soothing hand on my arm. ‘Muscle pain, is it?’
‘Yes. These massive cramps in my legs. All over actually.’
‘That’s right. This treatment sometimes has that side effect.’
‘But what’s wrong with me? Why wasn’t I discharged?’ I stop. I remember having that discussion with Nomsa, but I can’t recall anything else. I was in a hurry to get
out… That’s right. I got that orderly’s access card, and went…
Oh my fuck. I was with Gertie. It was Nomsa. She stopped us.
‘Where am I, Nomsa?’
‘You’re in Preparation Ward.’
‘Preparation for what?’
She looks at me for a few moments. I can’t read her face. That’s been my problem all along. I can’t read her. I look at her name badge. RN Nomsa Makgatho.
Transfer agent N.M. reports that the candidate has reacted well to calm authority and non-invasive techniques
.
Preparation staff may try persuasion rather than invasion
at first contact
.
‘You’ve been selected, Mr Farrell. It’s a great honour. Your physique is of the finest calibre. The measles took their toll, though, so we’re simply getting you back to
your optimum… To your optimum health.’