Heron shrugged. There was an awkward silence between them.
"Have you told Alicia?" Naughton finally asked.
Heron's eyes fell to his hands. "My phone died."
Naughton started to laugh. Really laugh. "That might be the worst excuse I've ever heard."
"Yeah, I know." He started laughing as well. He felt a little guilty, thinking that they were laughing at Alicia's expense. After all, when she found out about his bite, there would be very little to laugh about. At least he wouldn't have to tell her about the cancer.
At that moment the curtain parted and Luco walked in. "When did you get here?"
"Not too long ago." Naughton stood up and gave her a quick kiss.
She looked at Heron. "Can I get you anything?"
"A phone charger," he said and he and Naughton began to laugh again.
"I'll see what I can do," she answered in a clipped tone. She didn't really know how to react to their attitudes. When they finally stopped laughing, she asked, "How are you feeling."
Heron took a moment to self assess and then answered, "Fine, really. In fact, I could use something to eat."
He did look all right. There were no circles under his eyes and his nose hadn't started to bleed.
"That's strange, isn't it?" Naughton asked. "Shouldn't you be sick by now?"
Luco tapped a finger on her hip and thought about it. It had been almost four hours since Heron had arrived, which meant that it had been well over four hours since the bite. His preliminary blood work had shown evidence of the bacteria so he had definitely been infected. While it was true that some bodies fought the infection better than others, no one had gone so long without at least showing signs of fatigue.
"I need another blood sample," she said. She left the enclosure and came back a moment later with a blood work tray. Heron sat cooperatively while she took the sample. Then she left them without a word.
The awkward silence had returned.
"Why don't you go with her?" Heron asked. "I think I'd like to be alone for a bit."
Naughton looked at him. "You sure?"
Heron smiled and nodded. The simple phrase
are you sure
always meant the same thing. Naughton desperately wanted to go after Luco but wouldn't if Heron really wanted him to stay. He was out the door in a puff of smoke.
As much as Naughton had noticed a change in Heron over the past several months, Heron had also noticed a change in Naughton. Naughton had always seemed so detached. But not anymore. Maybe it was the zombies or the effect it had had on his life and his job and those around him. Maybe it was just Luco. Whatever the cause, that detachment was now fleeting. Naughton expressed a personal opinion a lot more than he had in the past. Heron remembered the night Stemmy had died. Naughton had been compassionate but otherwise unemotional. And he'd been a lot closer with Stemmy than he'd ever been with Heron. Naughton had known Stemmy for more than twenty years.
Getting out of bed, Heron slipped aside the curtain and stared out at the
Ward
. The poor nurses and orderlies were worked to the point of exhaustion. They were practically zombies themselves. He couldn't imagine what it was like running around this giant windowless room three stories underground day after day. There was nothing to see but the dead and the dying. There was no hope.
On his left was another curtained enclosure. On his right, still another. His was in the middle of a row of seven of them, the last row of private "rooms" to be kept intact. How long would it be before they were all gone? How long would it be before all of the people were gone? A crash came from behind the curtain on his left and he jumped. A nurse looked over, fear crossing her face.
Moving quickly, the hospital gown flapping behind him, Heron parted the curtain and stepped inside. What was the worst that could happen?
The patient had been strapped to a gurney, but had struggled so fiercely that one arm had come free. The gurney had toppled onto its side and the patient was trying to wriggle free.
"Calm down," Heron said, leaning in. "Let me help you."
When the patient turned her head, Heron jumped back in alarm, nearly tripping over the hospital gown. There was no patient there. Just a zombie.
Two orderlies rushed inside quickly. They were wearing rubber gloves that reached halfway up their biceps. Together, they managed to restrain the right arm and lift the gurney. The woman struggled and struggled throughout the whole ordeal, trying to use her pinned arm, and snapping with her teeth.
When it was over, one of the orderlies noticed Heron. "Sorry you had to see that."
He shrugged. "Do you have a phone charger?"
The orderly hesitated a moment.
"I need to call my wife," Heron explained.
The orderly nodded. "I'll see if I can scare one up."
Heron thanked him and left the curtain area. He was badly shaken. The zombie strapped to the table had seemed so pathetic, like a rabid animal. Heron hadn't been disgusted or angered, just saddened. Was this the new humanity?
A few minutes later, Naughton and Luco came back into the
Ward
with giant smiles on their faces. Heron was still standing outside of his curtain, wishing badly for a cigarette. He knew what their expressions meant but didn't have it in him to smile back.
"Let's go inside," Luco said, ushering him through the curtain. "I don't want anyone to hear this."
They moved inside and Heron sat down on the bed. "It's gone, right? There's no more infection."
Luco nodded. Jesus, even she was happy for him. What was the world coming to? "I'm going to need to run a lot more tests to find out the cause but…"
"I already know the cause."
This stunned both Luco and Naughton. They stared at him, waiting for further explanation.
"It's the cancer. Apparently, nothing beats cancer. Not even the zombie plague."
Naughton was shaking his head. "Wait a minute. The cancer's gone. You had surgery and chemotherapy. You're in remission."
Heron shook his head. "My latest series of tests showed that it had survived and spread."
"When did you find out?"
"This morning."
Luco, gripping the clipboard that held his chart said, "Well, you're free of the infection anyway. I can't determine what effect it's had on you until we run those tests. Why don't we head up into the hospital so we can do them properly?"
Heron nodded. "I'll just get my things."
He shuffled about the place, gathering up his things, wondering whether this was good news or bad news. He didn't tell Naughton that he had gotten bitten intentionally. Now that the infection was gone, he had to face the cancer again. Unlike when he'd been given the news that morning, he didn't feel free or elated. He wasn't frightened, though. Just depressed. Taking on the zombie infection had been his Hail Mary. He'd attempted to beat the cancer with something stronger but it turned out that cancer was the strongest of all.
As he double-checked to make sure he had all of his things and grabbed his dead cell phone, he realized just how unfair it was that he hadn't yet called Alicia. What would he tell her now? Though he could see how eager Luco was to get him upstairs for tests, he didn't think he could wait any longer. He borrowed Naughton's phone and ushered them out of the enclosure. Taking a deep breath, he made the call.
***
When Ludlow returned to the
Zoo
, he was feeling far less sure of his intentions. The rational side of him had scurried away and was hiding in a deep dark corner of his mind. Paul was back on duty and standing just inside the corridor when the doctor entered.
"Hi, Rudy," he said. "You all right?"
Ludlow shrugged. "Stress, you know?" To most of the staff, Ludlow was a high profile geneticist who had signed on to assist Dr. Luco. Only a handful of people knew his real connection to the zombie plague. That in and of itself was an additional weight upon his shoulders. There were so few people to whom he could talk.
Paul nodded, smiling. "Hey, this is my last rotation. Do you want to grab a beer when it's over?"
It was a tempting offer. Ludlow had so few friends in the States and had shied away from forming relationships. "Maybe."
Paul nodded again, this time with an air of finality, and began his long walk to the other end of the
Zoo
.
Can I come?
Ludlow looked in at Todd. Now he was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a tight black shirt. He looked a bit healthier, a bit more filled out.
"You can't come," Ludlow said. "I'm sorry."
Then what are you doing here?
"I wish I knew."
You wouldn't have come if you weren't going to let me out.
"If I let you out, Paul will stun you and put you back into your room. Then he'll arrest me and where will we be then?"
That's a good point. I'd miss our little talks.
"Well, that makes one of us."
Ha ha. That's a good one, Rudy.
But Ludlow didn't feel much like laughing. Instead he sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Todd's cell and stared in at him. When he blinked, Todd returned to his normal self, naked and dirty. But he was still standing up against the glass, his empty eyes pointed toward Ludlow.
What do you want to talk about, then?
Ludlow didn't answer and Todd didn't say anything else. They just stood there like that until Paul wandered back over.
"Rudy?" he asked dubiously. "What are you doing?"
Ludlow didn't answer at first. Then, when Paul prompted him again, he asked, "You do see him, don't you, Paul?"
Paul looked through the glass. There was Todd, standing right up against it, fingers splayed out on the smudged surface. "Of course, I do. But I try not to really look at them. You probably shouldn't either."
Paul wasn't stupid. He knew that Ludlow didn't really have any business in the
Zoo
. The behavior specialists came to stand and stare at the zombies for hours. Some brought laptop computers and chairs. But Ludlow's work was in the laboratory with tissue samples. His frequent visits were becoming alarming.
"This one is special," Ludlow said with pity in his voice.
Paul looked at it and then back at Ludlow. "How so?"
"He talks to me."
"No kidding." Paul smiled and reached down to help the other man to his feet. "I think you ought to go."
Getting up, Ludlow focused his eyes on the guard. "Why should I do that? I have clearance."
"It’s not the clearance, Rudy." He tapped his head. "It's the
clearance
."
That didn't make any sense.
"That doesn't make any sense."
Helping Ludlow to his feet, Paul took him gently by the arm and nudged him toward the door. "Why don't you get your things together and then we can go have our beer? I'm only on for another twenty minutes."
Ludlow stopped and turned back to Paul. Furtively, he glanced at Todd. Todd was wearing a long sleeved polo shirt with a cream yellow sweater over it. He had on these ridiculous knickers and a beret. He took a mock swing with an imaginary golf club.
"Rudy?"
"He wants me to let him out," Ludlow confessed. "To make up for what I've done."
Paul's hand found the panic button on his radio.
He's going to sound the alarm!
Todd shouted.
"There!" Ludlow cried, turning and grabbing Paul by both of his arms. "Did you hear him? He just cried out."
Paul struggled free. "Rudy, don't make me…"
"He's behind you!"
Too late, Paul turned. Todd was strong and coordinated, unlike any other zombie Ludlow had seen. He spun Paul on his heels, keeping complete control of the hapless guard's arms. Then he reached up, grabbed Paul by the head and broke his neck. Without hesitation, he stripped Paul of all of his clothing, set the clothing aside, and began to feast on his flesh.
Plastered up against the wall, Ludlow could do nothing but watch. Disgusted by what he was seeing, he knew now that his responsibility for lost lives had redoubled. So, powerless to stop Todd from continuing his cannibalistic endeavor, he slumped down against the wall and prayed that he was next.
***
Heron told Alicia everything that had happened to him that day, starting with the doctor's prognosis and ending with the cure for the incurable infection. She took it well. Well, she took it silently. He supposed that if it weren't for the two fatal illnesses he had experienced that day, she'd have torn right into him. Thank heaven for fatal illnesses. Instead she controlled herself and asked if she could come see him. He told her she should do that. It would do them both good.
Just before turning him over to an army of lab technicians, Luco told him that he wouldn't be able to go home that night. It didn't surprise him, but it didn't make him happy to have to hear it from her. While there was no sign of the infection, they weren't taking any chances on a reoccurrence. Heron had a penchant for reoccurrences. The techs wasted no time in putting him into the one of the full body imaging machines. There were actually two more appointments for the day but Luco had trumped them. Wherever you went in the hospital, the word
zombie
got you priority over everything else. The machine confirmed that the cancer was still present in the lungs and the lymph nodes and pancreas and several other parts of his body. It was just everywhere.