Then she would have to call Lance.
The nurse who'd called her came up to her as soon as she passed through the inner door and sealed it. The
Ward
was crowded. Luco wasn't sure if there were more cases of the infection or just more cases being reported. They had expanded into two rooms and opened up a number of the private areas to make room for more beds. To her it looked like a makeshift combat hospital.
"How long since the bite?" Luco asked, taking the chart.
"Forty five minutes," the nurse, a short Caribbean woman with round hips and round face answered.
"Did you set him up for chemo?"
"I tried, ma'am, but he's refusing treatment."
Luco stopped in mid stride, her eyes never leaving the chart. The nurse stopped with her. She was tense. Luco could feel her tension. She supposed that the nurse expected a verbal reprimand. If it was another day, she might have gotten it whether she deserved it or not. Not today, though. For some reason, not today.
Handing the chart back to the nurse, Luco marched over to one of the few remaining private areas and passed through the curtain.
Heron was sitting up in the bed looking at something on his phone when she came in. He looked up and seemed surprised. He offered a
good afternoon.
"The nurse said you've refused treatment."
He nodded. He was probably wondering whether or not she even cared. "Antibiotics don't work and intensive chemotherapy will keep alive for what? A couple of days?"
Luco looked away. "Maybe a week."
He snorted out a bit of laughter. "A week of being bed ridden and throwing up. No thanks."
She looked directly at him, determined not to be bullied by his attitude. "It's another week of life during which we might have a breakthrough."
"No thanks," he repeated. "I've already gone through chemo and in this situation, the cost far outweighs the benefit."
She couldn't really argue with him. Mostly she pushed it on people too frightened to give up. Mostly she used the treatment as a research tool to measure the limits of the body's tolerance. While it did give people extra time, it hadn't saved even one life. Not even one.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked quietly.
He nodded. "When it happens, I want to go to the
Zoo
."
"What?" At first she didn't even understand the request. She thought he meant an
actual
zoo.
"I know you don't believe that there's anything left of a person after he turns and maybe you're right. But I want my fair chance."
Now that his wishes were clear, Luco was more dumbfounded than ever. Was he really asking her to provide him with a good life as a zombie? "Lieutenant, I'm not sure we can do that. The
Zoo
is restricted to special research cases."
And it's being closed up and the specimens are scheduled to be destroyed.
"Then make me a special research case."
"Lieutenant," she began as if talking to a mental patient.
But he cut her off. "I know it sounds crazy but the world is a crazy place. If there's anything of me left inside after I turn then you will see it. I promise you."
That was some promise. He may as well have promised to come back from the grave. Oh, wait…
She wanted to argue with him. The whole notion was ridiculous. But her softer side recognized that he was dying. Whether or not she granted him the favor, he wouldn't know it. Dead is dead. So she nodded.
"I've got to get back to work now," she said, sure that he wanted her to go as much as she wanted to go. "Let the nurses know if you need anything."
"Thank you, Dr. Luco," he said and then went back to his phone.
***
Ludlow didn't go right to the morgue. He went back to his office first, stared at screen saver on his computer monitor, the system laying miles and miles of pipework over and over again. That particular escape from reality lasted less than five minutes.
Damn you!
he thought as he left the office and headed across the installation.
There were four guards on duty in the morgue. Thankfully, he didn't know any of them. They spared him just a glance as he entered. His face was well known in the installation so they didn't have any reason to question his being there.
He tried to look official as he studied the labels on the drawers. So many people went into and out of the morgue very quickly. If there wasn't much left of them, they were cremated. Others went to the
Butcher Shop
for a variety of tests. He remembered the story of the screamer. A zombie had been sent to the
Butcher Shop
for surgical tests and had let out a scream as soon as the doctor had cut into him. Ludlow hadn't been there. Just the story was enough to chill him.
The labels on the drawers were mostly recent. It didn't make sense that the inanimate first zombie would still be in the morgue, untouched. But as he got closer to the end, the dates started to spread out more. Large jumps took him deeper and deeper into the past. Finally, at the second drawer, he saw the name
Lucy Koplowitz
. She was there.
And Larry was in the first drawer.
Ludlow had never seen Larry Koplowitz. Not even a picture. He had once asked Lucy to show him pictures of her family, but she refused. She didn't want to associate him with them. He hadn't even seen Zoe until he'd come to the
Zoo
. He was curious about what Larry looked like. So curious that he found his hand wandering to the handle of his drawer. But he stopped himself and withdrew his shaking hand. Now that he was there in the morgue, he didn't know what to do. Did he really want to see Lucy's corpse. She was dead. Johan Stemmy had shot her in the head right before Zoe had bitten his leg. Whatever was inside that drawer was just a body, right?
Right?
Closing his eyes and swallowing, he pulled open the drawer. He didn't look to see if any of the guards were watching him. Only suspicious people looked at the guards. Inside the drawer was a body bag. The label read
Lucy Koplowitz
and had a date of death on it. Through the black vinyl, he could just make out the contours of her face. Even through the opaque material, her features looked sunken. He laid a hand upon her and shut his eyes. He daren't open the bag.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
The bag suddenly shifted beneath his palm and he jumped back. Now the guards noticed and their guns came up quickly. Ludlow stared down at the body bag, waiting for it to move but it didn't.
"Forgive me," he said to the guards with a little laugh. "Just a bit jumpy is all."
"Are you going to be checking that one out, Dr. Ludlow?" one of them asked in a clipped tone. She hadn't lowered her gun.
"No," he said. "I just…I knew her is all…"
Quickly, he threw his weight up against the drawer and slammed it shut. He muttered a quick goodbye and then fled the room.
***
I didn't expect to see you again today.
Still jumpy from his encounter in the morgue, Ludlow looked up and down the corridor. There was another new guard on patrol. The shifts changed fairly frequently, guards moving from location to location throughout the course of the work day. The benefit was that each guard was familiar with the entire installation. They also didn't have the opportunity to grow complacent during their short patrols. Ludlow wondered how long it would be before they all discovered just how insane he had become.
He
knew how crazy he was. He wasn't even denying it. The rational part of his brain told him that there was no way that Todd could actually be talking to him. The rational part of his brain told him that he was inventing the voice so that he could hash out his guilt with one of the victims. The rational part of his brain told him to visit a psychiatrist before things got out of control. But who ever listens to the rational part of his brain? After all, it certainly hadn't been the rational part of his brain that had sent him to see Lucy. It had been Todd. So he'd had to come back. He'd
had
to.
"I had no right to be cross with you," Ludlow said. He was reticent about admitting that he had visited Lucy. Of course, if Todd was just another piece of Ludlow's brain, then he already knew that anyway.
Ha ha! Here I am, dead and with a ruined brain all because of you and you're worried about mouthing off?
"It's the little things." Ludlow tried smiling.
No. It's the big things. I want you to fix me.
"I can't do that. I don't know how. I don't even think it can be done."
Then don't fix me. I'm okay the way I am.
Ludlow looked up. Todd was leaning up against the wall, striking a pose.
I guess I'm bored, though.
"Would you like me to fetch you a magazine?"
Oh, ho! Funny guy!
"I'm sorry," Ludlow said, hanging his head. "What
would
ease your boredom?"
Well…I wouldn't mind getting out for a while.
Ludlow looked him right in the eye. "Are you mad?"
Todd looked right back.
No. I'm dead. You're mad.
"Well this is quite enough." He turned away. "It's one thing to have a chat, but quite another to listen to requests for favors."
But I've already got my travelling clothes on.
Ludlow turned back and saw that Todd was now perfectly clean with his face shaven. He was wearing a dark pinstripe suit and velour fedora. He looked like a mobster from a black and white movie. All he was missing was the Tommy Gun.
"Too much…" Ludlow mouthed. "Have to go now."
As he left the room, Todd followed him with his eyes and tipped his hat just before the doctor disappeared. And even though Ludlow was long out of range, he heard Todd say,
See you later
and knew that it was true.
***
It was getting close to the end of the work day when Naughton finally showed up at
Arthur Conroy.
He didn't bother to go and see Luco, knowing that someone would spot him and recognize him. After that, it was just a matter of time before it got back to her that he was in the building. So instead he went straight to the
Ward
to see Heron. Luco had called him hours earlier to let him know that the lieutenant had been bitten. At the time, he'd been involved with Kraemer from Homeland Security. Apparently, the whole day had been a formality just as Heron had predicted. The meeting in the morning had given Kraemer an opportunity to assess the Commissioner, the Mayor, and Naughton himself. The inspection of the hospital allowed him to see which facets were worth bringing to Atlanta and which were better left behind. The brand new NYPD Undead Unit was being swallowed up and placed under direct control of the FBI. It would have been disbanded entirely if not for the fact that there were so many experienced officers who were a part of it. As for its leadership, the Federal Government was not so impressed. After Heron had missed the morning meeting Kraemer had made up his mind to drum the lieutenant out of the unit.
Not that that really mattered now.
As he stepped into the
Ward
, he looked around the room at the sick and the dying. And the dead. Since there wasn't enough staff to monitor every bed at all times, those at the very end of the sickness were strapped down. The nurses and orderlies tried to have them removed before they turned but sometimes they turned so quickly that it was impossible. So they might wind up staying strapped to the bed for a few minutes, struggling to get at the fresh but rapidly spoiling meat all around them. Heron was nowhere to be seen, but a busy nurse pointed him in the right direction.
When he stepped through the curtain, he caught Heron squatting next to the bed, reading the instructions for assembly and disassembly. The lieutenant looked up at the interruption and smiled.
"It's about time you showed up."
"What are you doing?"
Heron climbed back into bed and lifted his phone off of the mattress. "The battery died and I was looking for something to read. Did you get my email?"
Naughton nodded, sitting on the corner at the foot of the bed. "That map's not particularly useful, but Baches has been cleaning out the building all day. They're taking it really slow."
"Good. What did the Homeland Security guy say?"
Quickly, Naughton filled him in on what had been going on all day.
Heron laughed. "So he's firing me on my last day?"
That made Naughton laugh, too. "He says that compared to New York, the rest of the country is clean. That's an exaggeration, of course. You and I have seen the numbers. But when a situation pops up somewhere, it gets resolved. Here, everything seems to escalate."
"That's because it started here," Heron replied. "The rest of the country is still three months behind us. Once people in other cities start getting the same ideas as the people here, their escalation will be quicker."
"I told him that and he took it to heart. A day with Ralph Kraemer has taught me a lot about him and the people he works for. He's aggressive and doesn't care whose feelings get hurt. But he's more than competent. I suppose his job isn't really designed for nice guys."