Cat Adams - The Isis Collar

“You think maybe it’s not us but the fact you’re half dead? It’s throwing off every sample we put in.”

Well, yeah. That could be it, too, I suppose. “So why do you keep drawing blood? I thought it was saliva that was infectious.”

He shrugged as he reached for my arm with latex-covered fingers. “Mine is not to ask why. The doctor in charge ordered more blood. I just get it.”

I sighed and tried not to look as he tied off my biceps and pressed for a vein. My eyes closed just before I flinched from the poke of the needle. “You going to leave me any for later? I don’t know how well I replace my supply without help.”

He’d already seen the teeth the first time he’d come in the room—after the nurse who had been first assigned refused to get close enough for me to grab. He wasn’t impressed or afraid, which surprised me.

It was sort of nice. But also sort of weird.

Just as he was pulling out the needle there was a thump against the wall that made us both jump. It was the tenth time since I’d arrived and it was getting annoying. The tech missed with the cotton ball and a small spray of blood followed the needle out of my arm. “Oops. Sorry about that. What was that?”

I held the cotton ball against my arm while he opened yet another Band-Aid. I already had two others on the opposite arm. “Don’t know. But it’s driving me nuts. You’d think an isolation ward would have thick enough walls to not bother the other patients.” When I said “patients” his face lost what little color it already had. I’ve known a lot of lab guys who don’t get in the sun much. But his sudden look at the wall made me realize he might know very well what was on the other side. “What? Who’s in the next room?”

He caught himself and turned a fake smile toward me. I knew it was fake because I’d worn one myself many times. “I need to get these samples back to the lab. The doctor will be in shortly.”

Yeah, right. Shortly. That was hospital speak for “whenever the hell he gets here.” I let Brad go without questioning him more, but I would be finding out what was in that next room before I left.

In fact, Dr. Gaetano showed up with another man in a white coat after another hour had gone by. I raised my brows and let out a frustrated sigh and said to neither, and both of them, “Y’know, it would probably be better for patient morale if you didn’t put a clock on the wall to watch the hours tick by. At least a magazine would have helped.”

His gaze flicked up the wall and he nodded before opening the metal chart in his hands. “Good point. We’ll have it removed.” Then he met my eyes and a glimmer of humor peeked out from inside the vivid green. “But luckily for you, the wait is over, so I won’t have to bring you reading material.”

Oh, thank the Lord! “The tests came back negative?”

He nodded once. “Dr. Swanson and I were just going over the results. We’re very fortunate to have him on staff. He’s actually seen cases of M. necrose in the field in the Sudan.”

The short, stocky doctor had a swarthy edge that resembled classic Greek, despite his surname. “I’ve been admonishing Dr. Gaetano for not taking photographs of your calf while the infection was at its peak. It’s hard to judge when the saliva, blood, and tissue appear normal. But I finally found the antibodies I was looking for in your blood in this last sample. It’s just taken a little while for it to develop.”

Oh. Photographs. Yeah, that would have been handy in case there were other victims. Oops. I flinched involuntarily when something hit the wall again. Both the doctors looked at the wall and then at each other. “Okay, so what is that? The tech earlier stared at the wall like it terrified him.”

Dr. Swanson shrugged. “It probably did. Frankly, I’m appalled it’s still here.”

Gaetano let out a weary sigh. “This isn’t Sudan, Panos. The situation’s not that simple.”

The other doctor merely shrugged like it was an argument he wasn’t willing to revive. “Perhaps. But I think it would be useful to show Ms. Graves what she narrowly avoided and why it’s important she’s very open and honest about her recent interactions with people.”

The way he said it made Dr. Gaetano frown and let out a slow breath. “It’s not a freak show. It’s a person’s life, Doctor.”

Swanson’s eyes were both sad and fierce. “No. It’s a person’s death , Tom. She deserves her life to mean something.”

“Um,” I interrupted. “If I have a vote, I’d like to see. I’m not easily shocked. If that matters for anything.”

Dr. Gaetano passed over my chart to Swanson with a slightly disgusted expression. “Show her if you must. But I want no part of it. I have rounds to make.” He stormed out the automatic doors with fists clenched. I risked a glance at Dr. Swanson, who just shrugged.

“He’ll get over it. Tom is a clinical researcher. He hasn’t seen the things I have in the field.”

Ah. “In other words, he’s not jaded yet.” I understand that. Been there, done that, have the bloody T-shirt.

“He’s not being realistic. But that’s going to have to change. And soon. We only have six isolation wards. If this really is the beginning of a coming pandemic, he won’t have any choice.” He turned and crooked his finger for me to follow.

Um. So no, while still in my hospital gown. “Can you give me a second? If I’m being discharged, I’d like to wear real clothes out of here.”

He really had been a doctor too long, because that was apparently the first moment he noticed the gown. “Oh! I’m sorry. Of course. I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

It didn’t take me long to change, simply because I had no idea when the door might next open. I hated that I had to wear the butt-cheek-revealing jeans but hoped the only reason Dawna hadn’t delivered the clothes was because of the isolation ward. I doubt they allow many visitors. It’s not ICU. It’s even a step above quarantine. When I walked out into the hallway, Dr. Swanson was reading my chart. I didn’t know how much was in there, but I was betting there was a lot from the specialists I visited, since several of them were based out of the hospital. “Interesting reading?”

Rather than being startled or appearing embarrassed, he looked up and nodded eagerly. “Fascinating. You’ve had an interesting life. And death.”

“And life again. I’m planning to stay on this side of that coin.” That made him quirk a smile my way. “Shall we?” I motioned down the hall, but he closed the chart and pointed in the other direction.

He moved into the lead since obviously I had no idea where I was going in the maze of hallways. We reached a doorway after a series of turns that left me unsure where the hospital entrance was if I had to navigate back. “The patient you’re going to see is in an advanced state of M. necrose—where you could have gone without Mage DeLuca’s and Dr. Gaetano’s quick intervention.”

I was getting a little nervous about him opening the door, but instead of the door opening, the press of a button opened a window through it. Great. How many people had done that to me while I was sitting swinging my legs from the exam table?

That thought was swept from my mind as I caught sight of what was in the room. I say what instead of who because I had no doubt there was no who left inside the walking corpse behind the reinforced door. “My God.” I unconsciously crossed myself even though I’m not Catholic. There are some things that sort of require appealing to a higher power. “She’s not alive, is she?”

I could tell the zombie I was staring at was female simply because of the curves and tatters of the skirt covering the blackened lesions on a background of red and purple oozing skin. The eyes were white and unseeing as the zombie walked around the room, searching for … well, I don’t know what. “What is she looking for?”