by Ann Pino
Doc and May looked up. “It’s authorized,” Doc said in a tone that barely carried across the room. “Mind the patients and try to keep people out of here.”
Cassie shut the door. Lightheaded and weak in the knees, she sat on the edge of Julilla’s mattress. “It’s like Frankenstein in there.”
“Not a bad way of describing it.” Julilla motioned Cassie closer and lowered her voice. “They decided that since that kid wouldn’t likely wake up, they would take the gland in his brain and see if the hormone from it will help Zach.”
Cassie shuddered. It was a good idea, but something felt wrong about it, too.
“Damn fucking unethical, if you ask me. That boy wasn’t dead and might’ve even been awake, just unable to communicate. It happens, you know.” Julilla rose on one elbow, beat up her pillow and lay back down. “They killed that boy so Miss China could play mad scientist with his brain.”
“No,” Cassie said, shaking her head. “I’m sure they wouldn’t have done it if they thought he would’ve gotten better. But Zach will die for sure without a cure and if the growth hormone can help…”
“It helps. It doesn’t cure. People talk about these things around me as if I’m just a dumb ex-jock who doesn’t understand anything that doesn’t involve a ball. But they’re wrong. They killed a brave fighter for his brain chemicals.”
“Maybe he would’ve wanted it that way,” Cassie said weakly. “Maybe he was an organ donor or something.”
“Give me a fucking break.” Julilla rolled over and drew the sheet to her chin. “Go away, eco-girl. I thought you had principles, but I guess not.”
Chastened and thoughtful, Cassie began making the rounds, checking charts and vitals. She tried to concentrate, but every time her mind returned to the gory scene in the next room her stomach churned and a wave of doubt washed over her. They were really no better than the Obits if they were going to kill people for their pituitary glands, but was it so wrong to kill someone who was about to die anyway? Because of him Zach might live a little longer and they would have some of their questions answered.
She spent some extra time with Zach. His breath came in heaving rasps that echoed with rattling mucus, and blue splotches were appearing beneath his skin, spreading like stains as his blood vessels broke. Cassie knew that on the inside, his organs were bleeding, slowly liquefying inside his skin. What compassionate person wouldn’t try to save him if the only cost was that of a boy who was already dead in every way that mattered?
She was still at his side when May came out of the next room with a syringe in her hand. While she searched for a usable vein, Cassie went to see if she could help Doc clean up. To her relief, she found the soldier’s body already shrouded in an old curtain. She wouldn’t have to look at that poor boy’s brain, at least. But there was an equally repulsive matter to deal with—Rochelle was on her knees puking into a plastic bucket.
“It didn’t seem to bother her until it was all over,” Doc said.
Rochelle gave a final heave that brought up a little clear fluid, then lay on the floor, pale and sweating.
“I felt the same way when I cut into his cranium with the bone saw,” Doc went on.
Rochelle whimpered and her lips turned white.
“Maybe you can tell me about it later,” Cassie said. She squatted beside the girl and took her hand. “Think you can walk, honey? Let’s take you to the ward so you won’t have to lie on the floor.”
Together she and Doc dragged Rochelle into the next room and laid her on a mattress. After a few minutes, May came over. “What happened? Did all the blood and brain matter finally get to her?”
Rochelle rolled over and would’ve vomited into her pillow, had there been anything left in her stomach.
Cassie silently cursed Doc and May for their lack of sensitivity. “Let her rest. She’ll be fine in a few minutes.” She headed back to the operating room, motioning for them to follow. “Do you really think the hormone will work?”
“We should know within twenty-four hours,” May said.
May and Doc kept up an excited chatter about the events of the morning as they cleaned up. For her part, Cassie kept her head down, focusing on the work in front of her and trying to ignore their conversation, lest she be as sick as Rochelle.
“Want to put any of this stuff into compost?” Doc asked.
No way was she going to eat a potato composted with blood and brains. “No, thanks.”
They had put everything away and were wiping things down with bleach when Alaina rushed in. “You may want to hide,” she blurted. “Pharms are here.”
* * *
May and Cassie scooped up what they could of the lab equipment and hurried into the nearest stairwell. They had no flashlights so they counted the stairs under their breath, fighting the claustrophobia of darkness as they climbed higher and higher. Finally Cassie tested a door and they stumbled into the dim hallway of the seventeenth floor. “This should be good enough,” she said. They selected a room, and while May settled in, Cassie started back down.
Far below, she heard the sounds of fire doors opening and slamming, of running feet, terse instructions and panicked protests. The Pharms weren’t taking over, were they? She hesitated on the eighth floor landing, unsure if she should continue down and risk capture.
Finally the stairwell was quiet again and she decided to see if Doc needed help. If the Pharms were after the laptop or information about the growth hormone research, all the evidence they needed was in that clinic.
She bypassed the direct entrance to the ward and peeked in the door of the waiting room. It was empty, but she heard rough, unfamiliar voices in the next room, the measured tones of Doc’s replies and the occasional snarled retort from Julilla. Great. Alex must not have sent anyone to help, if weak and unarmed Julilla was Doc’s only protection.
But what could Cassie do? She didn’t know how many Pharms were in there, what weapons they had, or what kinds of drugs they might have taken. She was about to slip away and get one of Alex’s people, when her eyes lit on a towel-draped bucket—the waste from the operation and Rochelle’s bout of vomiting. Fighting her revulsion, Cassie dumped the gasoline can of congealing blood into the bucket and added some brain matter for good measure.
With the reeking bucket in her arms, she kicked the door to the next room loud enough to be heard, but not so loud as to startle. From the other side there was a pause, then an order. Doc cautiously opened the door.
“How many?” she whispered.
Doc mouthed the word “two.” He recognized the bucket and his eyes widened as he guessed its purpose. He moved back so she could enter.
Cassie affected a polite and efficient air as she sized up the two Pharms with their greasy hair and filthy lab coats. They had the malnourished complexion of addicts and they turned dilated eyes upon her. “I heard you were looking for this,” Cassie said.
They stared at the bucket, uncomprehending.
Cassie moved closer, trying to time her move for maximum effect. “This isn’t all, but there’s more if you want it.”
“We want the laptop,” one of them said, moving toward her. “So unless you’ve been keeping it in a bucket—”
Cassie heaved the bucket, drenching the two young men. As they screamed and shuddered, Doc and Julilla dragged Cassie into the ward and shoved a desk against the door.
“That won’t hold them long,” Julilla said. “We need backup. Fast.”
“Is this a takeover?” Doc asked.
Cassie didn’t know but she had to get away. Her nostrils refused to let go the reek of vomit and it was choking her. “I’ll get help. You okay for now?”
Julilla took a scalpel from her pocket. “Armed and dangerous.”
From her mattress in the corner, Rochelle got to her feet. Clearly whatever was wrong with her was more than just disgust at the morning’s surgery. She took a few wobbly steps toward them. “I can help.”
“Right,” Julilla said. “If they come
in here you can puke on their shoes.” She turned back to Cassie. “What are you waiting for?”
* * *
The halls were quiet now. Cassie made her way to the spiral staircase and started down, keeping a wary eye out for Pharms. When she reached the lobby she found it empty, without the usual gaggle of sullen children.
Conference Suite A seemed the most logical place to go, so Cassie hurried down the hall and found a knot of armed teens in fatigues, white coats and Kevorkian-style eye makeup standing around the door to the conference room. Two Regents guards were also in the group and they nodded at Cassie in recognition.
“What’s going on?” she said.
“It’s just a parley,” one of the Regents said. “Everything’s cool.”
Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “Everything is not cool.” She turned on one of the Pharms. “Two of your people are harassing our doctor and a patient in the clinic.”
“They’re on orders to do a search.”
“They were making threats.”
He shrugged. “They might’ve gotten carried away.”
“This is ridiculous.” Since no one moved to stop her, she pushed her way through the door, startling a motley group that included Mundo, Alex, and several Pharms.
Mundo glowered at her from the head of the conference table. “This is a private meeting, Cassie. Go about your usual business. The Pharms aren’t here to bother anyone.”
“Well, someone needs to tell that to the two in the clinic.”
Mundo turned to a long-haired teen in leather pants and a duster. “Did you send your people to harass my doctor?”
The Pharm leader gave an arrogant jerk of his head. “I told them to make some inquiries.”
“They were doing more than that,” Cassie informed him.
“I’m sure you’re overreacting. Your people probably provoked them.” At Cassie’s disbelieving stare, he added, “I’ll send someone to check it out.”
“No,” Mundo said. He looked at Alex. “I want you to check it out personally.”
“I’d rather not get drawn out of the meeting at this point.”
“Check it out fast, then.”
Alex glanced at Cassie in annoyance, then stomped out the door.
“Anything else?” Mundo asked.
Cassie looked around. “No, that was it.”
“Good. Shut the door behind you as you leave.”
EXCERPT FROM CASSIE’S JOURNAL:
The Pharms came nosing around today. Their leader said they only wanted to know why we wiped out the Christian Soldiers, but we weren’t fooled. The Christian Soldiers didn’t believe in taking drugs, medicinal or otherwise, so as far as the Pharms were concerned, they were just useless troublemakers whose only saving grace was that they kept some of the smaller groups in line.
What the Pharms were really after was Dr. Brody’s laptop and any information we might have about what’s on it. I don’t think they knew for sure we had it, otherwise they probably would’ve done a full-out invasion. But they asked a lot of questions about why May and the twins had been coming around so often. May will have to be more careful and many of us are worried about her. The twins, of course, can take care of themselves.
Rochelle is sick. At first we thought she was reacting to the disgusting operation they did on the comatose guard. Instead, it appears she has food poisoning. Since no one else has it, I questioned her when she was feeling a little better. She didn’t want to tell me at first but finally she confessed that she got the rotten food from Eleven. She didn’t know it was bad, of course, and he told her all he wanted in return was a kiss. Once he had her alone, he demanded a whole lot more.
I’m furious that Eleven took advantage of her and I was all set to go downstairs and tell Mundo, but Rochelle made me promise not to tell. She feels stupid and doesn’t want Doc to know.
Honestly, I don’t think anyone around here would care if they knew, except to maybe take Eleven off storage duty. If a girl sells herself for extra food, people nod their heads in sympathy. They’re all either doing the same thing or have seen too much of it to be upset any more. Even I’m not as outraged as I would’ve been a year ago. I think I’m more sad for her than anything else.
So it was a dramatic day with a lot going on. Jay missed most of it, out foraging. He, David, and the others heard rumors and hurried back just as the Pharms were piling into their police cruisers to go back to wherever they came from. David was disappointed he missed all the action, but Jay was just glad I was okay.
* * *
Dammit! Sasha just came by. Nisha’s water broke and Doc needs help. It figures this would happen while Rochelle is sick. What the hell? I don’t know how to deliver a baby. I guess I’m about to find out. I hope it’s not completely disgusting and that I’m not as incompetent as I feel.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cassie bathed the squalling infant in a basin, trying not to think about the blood and strangely colored waxy bits she washed off him. She did her best not to get the tied-off stump of cord wet, but didn’t succeed. Well, unless someone had a secret stash of milk or formula, or could forage some in a hurry, it didn’t matter if the stump got infected. Still, it might be wise to cauterize it, if only so no one could accuse them later of not having made every effort.
She wrapped the baby in a towel and held him close, wondering how to make him stop crying. “Should I take him to Mundo?”
Doc had been staring at the body, but now he looked up, devastation etched in the contours of his face. “I did the best I could.”
Cassie suppressed a sigh. They had been over this several times already. “No one in their right mind would think you should’ve been able to save her. You didn’t have the right meds and equipment to deal with seizures, not to mention you’ve never been to medical school.”
Doc bowed his head again. “It won’t matter to Mundo.”
Cassie bounced the baby, hoping the motion would soothe him. The poor thing was hungry, but what could she do about it? “He has to find out sometime, and you were able to save the baby.”
“So he can die without a mother to feed him.”
“Go hide in one of the upstairs rooms for a day or two if you think it will be that bad.”
As she made to leave the clinic, Rochelle came up to her, still pale and wobbly. She begged to see the baby and smiled at his pudgy face. “He’s sweet. I wonder what Mundo will name him?”
“I sort of hope he doesn’t.” Cassie nestled the baby against her chest. “He’s going to die, so it’s best not to get attached.”
Rochelle frowned in consternation. “There has to be a way to get food for him. Your boyfriend can do it, can’t he?”
The look in her eyes was so earnest that Cassie didn’t have the heart to remind her that while Galahad might be a good forager, he couldn’t conjure infant formula out of the air. “I’m sure he’ll do everything he can. Now lie down and rest. You need to be well in case we find a way to feed him. You said you wanted to be his nurse, remember?”
Galahad was waiting for Cassie outside the clinic door, but Mundo was not. “He’s already celebrating with his buddies in the conference suite.” Galahad leaned in to get a better look at the baby. “Boy or girl?”
“Boy. He seems okay. I mean, he’s got the right number of toes and all that, but—” she adjusted the baby’s towel. “We lost Nisha.”
Galahad’s silence lasted so long that Cassie thought he had nothing to say and started walking toward the stairs. After a moment he caught up. “It doesn’t look good for the kid, does it?”
Cassie shook her head, glad he didn’t need an explanation of what was required to feed an infant and why they weren’t likely to find it in the devastated city.
They went down the spiral staircase in thoughtful silence. A group of children waited below and rushed forward, curious to see the new arrival, but Galahad took Cassie by the elbow and steered her clear. “I’ll make sure no one gives you a hard time.”
“He better not blame Doc, is all I have to say. He did everything he could. We both did.”
“No one will doubt that.” His gaze returned to the baby. “So what kind of milk can babies drink?” At her puzzled expression, he added, “I was thinking of the Zoo Tribe. We’re not real friendly with them, but they’re tight with the Thespians and maybe they still have those petting zoo goats.”
“I suppose goat milk would be better than nothing, but do you think we can get some every day?”
“I was thinking of getting a whole goat, not just the milk.”
“That would be expensive.”
“Mundo has an emergency stash of trade goods.” By now the guards outside Conference Suite A had spotted them and Galahad slipped an arm around Cassie’s waist. “Just stick to the facts. I’ll bring up the goats, first chance I get. Then we’ll see how much Mundo really cares about his kid.”
Cassie tightened her grip on the child and barely had time to nod in reply before they were surrounded and the questions began.
* * *
The emergency barter cost them dearly, but by nightfall they had their goat and they made a home for it in the concierge office. Starting the next morning there would be new chores on the rotation chart—mucking the office and pulling weeds from vacant lots to feed the goat. But for now, a more urgent question loomed. How to milk it?
“You didn’t ask?” Alaina said, resting a hand on her hip and staring at the udders.
Galahad had the decency to look embarrassed, but David snapped, “You don’t like the deals we make, go make some yourself.”
“We did it third-party,” Galahad explained. “We had the Thespians do the negotiations without telling the Zoo Tribe it was for us. The deal almost didn’t go through. By the time it was over, we weren’t even thinking about how to milk it. We just wanted to get it back here before anyone reconsidered or stole it.”
Cassie sighed. “Looks like a visit to the Librarians is in order.”