LovewithaChanceofZombies (7 page)

“In my quarters.”

He disappeared, and she had no choice but to follow him if
she wanted to hear more.

It was a short, silent walk to Lucas’ quarters. Just before
he closed the door behind them, he asked her, “You’re sure you’ve gotten
everything you need out of the lab? What about out of your room?”

“There’s nothing important in my room,” she said. “I
wouldn’t have left anything in there to get stolen while I was sleeping here.”

“Good.”

The door closed with a solid clunk, shutting them into the
room, and Lena reached over and turned on the overhead light. Wincing, Lucas
threw an arm up to shield his eyes against the sudden glare.

This timing is for the best.

“No…” she began, but couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Afraid so.” He lowered his arm slowly, squinting. “I didn’t
think about the headache because I’m pretty used to those, but then the fever
kicked in about an hour ago. And now this thing with the lights, I guess. It’s
ramping up quick.”

From under the couch, Nye pulled a tattered duffel bag that
clanked when he set it on the table. He unzipped it to reveal an assortment of
easily recognizable hardware.

“Locks. Where did you get those?” There were hasps and
padlocks, deadbolts, hotel-style latching door guards, all jumbled together.

“I’ve been taking them off every storage room and locker,
the old offices one floor up, anyplace I could find whenever you were off talking
to Watson. Help me get them on the door?”

Lena nodded. “I’ll do this while you get the bed set up.
I’ll just do five of them though. You know if they really want to come in, none
of this will stop them?”

“I know,” he admitted, “but it makes me feel better. Maybe
it’ll buy us some time. If I’m already out of it and locked up, maybe Watson
can convince Cochrane to let us at least finish the experiment.”

Lena’s hands trembled at first, making it hard for her to
manage the tools. The doorframe was wood but the wall behind was cinderblock,
and the screws were all of different lengths, so the installation was tricky.
Having a task to focus on helped. By the time the second hasp was in place and
she’d turned the key on the heavy padlock, her hands and mind were steady. She
peeked behind her occasionally, checking on Lucas as he moved slowly around the
hospital bed, setting up the IV poles and putting the monitors into place.

The fifth lock, a thick sliding bolt, gave her a bit of
trouble. By the time she glanced over at the doctor again, he had changed into
his loose pajama pants, and Lena automatically admired his lean, shirtless
torso before reminding herself that ogling Nye was inappropriate at this time.

Besides, he looked too thin. He hadn’t been eating well.

“One last meal?” she suggested. She knew they had the
supplies for it.

“Can’t,” he replied. “I haven’t eaten at all today, as it
happens. I just didn’t have any appetite, but that’s a lucky thing. Less for
you to deal with later.”

He’d already explained the various tasks she’d need to
perform while he was unconscious, many of them unpleasant. Lena didn’t mind.
She’d dealt with worse in her time. It was no more than anyone might have to do
for a loved one who’d grown old, ill, disabled. Her willingness to do all that
just meant Lucas was a loved one, and Lena had waited a long time to have one
of those.

It wasn’t until after she’d finished locking them in that
Lena considered her first instinct should probably have been to follow orders.
She’d been placed with Nye to protect him, but also to protect the colony. He’d
started to turn. She should be shooting to kill. She hadn’t even thought about
it though. Instead she’d just started helping him.

As if he’d read her mind, Lucas spoke up. “You can leave if
you need to. I’ll understand. This wasn’t what you signed on for.”

“You can’t do this by yourself,” Lena objected.

“I wouldn’t try. I’d use the syringes instead, like I
planned to before. Will you stay with me until…?”

Until I’m dead.
He didn’t need to say it. Lena didn’t
need to hear it. “No.”

“No?”

“No. I mean I’ll stay, period. I’ll help you.” She tossed
the tools back in the bag and joined him by the bed.

Lucas frowned down at her. “I want to kiss you but I can’t.
Can’t risk it now.”

“I know,” she said with a matter-of-fact nod. “Come on.
Let’s get started.”

Chapter Nine

By the time the knock finally came, Lucas had been under for
nearly an hour. Lena sat on a chair next to his bed, listening to the hypnotic
chorus of sounds from the monitors and the respirator. Everything had gone
smoothly, with Lucas’ obsessively detailed outline providing Lena with all the
guidance she’d needed to complete the process once Lucas had done what he could
on his own.

He looked smaller, she thought, all hooked up and sleeping like
the dead.

Not sleeping. Comatose
, she reminded herself. An
important difference.

When the knock came again, harder, she sighed and went to
the door. “We’re not coming out,” she called.

“Stanton!” Watson’s muffled voice came through the wood.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? This isn’t a game, now open the damn
door!”

“Sorry, sir. The doctor is not in.”

Another pounding knock, then a pause. “What are you talking
about, Lena? What have you done?”

“He’s already under, sir. You can see him in another three
days.”

“Jesus. Stanton, you can’t do this. You may be
insubordinate, but you’ve never been stupid or crazy. Unlock the door!”

She didn’t answer again, and after a few more minutes of
ranting, Watson went away. To make his announcement, she supposed. Possibly
with some slight changes in wording, to allow for these new circumstances.

Before she pushed off from the door, where she’d been
leaning as Watson yelled, she ran her fingers over the five locks. One at a
time, she checked them for soundness. Screws secure, doorframe holding firm,
each hunk of metal doing its job to keep them safe.

After that it became part of her hourly routine. Check the
monitors, check the vital signs, check the fluids going in and out, check the
locks.

I only have to do this seventy-two times
, she told
herself. Three days. And then Lucas would wake up. She tried not to let herself
think about the odds of that happening, the slim chance she had to pull off
getting him safely through the coma and out the other side. The chance of it
working as they hoped was slimmer still, but thinking about that wouldn’t help
her now. Lena checked the locks instead, and then started the whole routine
again.

Watson came back later that night, knocking on the door more
gently this time.

“Still not coming out, sir,” Lena told him. She rested her
whole body against the door, leaning on the familiar voice of authority on the
other side for support, even if she couldn’t do what he was ordering her to do.

“I figured.” His voice was grim, and she could well imagine
the expression on his face. “It’s getting ugly out there, Stanton. The folks
are not happy with this situation. Half of them want to ‘free’ Nye, and the
other half want to shoot him.”

“Do they have torches and pitchforks yet?”

“This isn’t the time to be a smart-ass, Stanton.”

Lena thought there was probably no better time in the world
to be a smart-ass. What did she have to lose now? The only thing that truly
mattered, she realized, was lying on a bed behind her, breathing into a
ventilator tube and turning into a zombie.

“I’m in love with him, you know,” she told Watson. “Thank
you for that.”

“I know, honey. But you’ve got to accept—”

“Not yet, I don’t,” she said firmly. “I can’t believe you’ve
got an angry mob out there. It’s only for three days. He’s locked up. He’s in a
coma, for Pete’s sake, he can’t hurt anybody.”

There was another long pause before Watson spoke again.
“They don’t know. Cochrane didn’t want to tell them about the treatment. He
thought it would raise people’s expectations for nothing, and they’d want us to
start trying it on anybody in quarantine.”

“So you’re letting them think he’s just locked himself up
down here and is refusing to end it? That’s what you want them all to think of
Lucas Nye? They can’t. People
need
him. They need him to be the hero
doctor. And if this works…”

“Lena, if he wakes up, you’re both dead. If you come out
now, while he’s still unconscious, that’s another story.”

It could be over. The whole thing. They could shoot the
prepared syringes into Nye’s IV and he’d simply never wake up. That would be
easy.

Lena glanced at the hospital bed and its fragile-looking
occupant, then slipped a hand down the flat of her stomach. Too soon to tell
either way, but what if she was already pregnant? She could come out now and
have the baby, although it would be the child of Lucas Nye, the cowardly
traitor doctor, if the crowd outside never learned the truth. Or she could stay
and finish the procedure and take a chance on the slim hope of success.

“No deal,” she told Watson. “And you should tell the crowd
the truth. He deserves that much. If he dies, he died trying to find a cure.
Let them decide how they feel about that. You tell them, Watson.”

* * * * *

She knew there were guards stationed outside the door.
Jonesie had knocked at one point, asked if she needed anything. Told her he was
rooting for her. Cochrane had come down as well and threatened to saw through
the door if she didn’t open up. Lena heard murmurs outside, then a final pound
on the door before Watson spoke up.

“I explained that the door has a metal facing and a chainsaw
would throw sparks. Not such a good idea when you’re trying to bust into a room
with oxygen tanks in it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lena said, laughing. She felt giddy and
knew she was too tired to stay awake much longer. It had been close to
thirty-six hours already. Nearly halfway there.

“He’s pissed off at me anyway,” Watson continued. “I told
them the truth. You were right.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, clutching at the smooth, cool
surface of the door.

“They’ve been singing for hours now, with candles and
everything. Some sort of vigil. I think it has Cochrane rattled. He never could
believe that Nye isn’t interested in his job.”

“A candlelight vigil? For Lucas? Oh, he’d think that was
hilarious. But awful at the same time. He kind of hates all that.” To her
horror, she choked up, squeaking the last few words out as tears started to
fall. She was so tired, and there were still thirty-six more hours to get
through.

“It’s a lot to live up to,” Watson agreed. “You okay in
there, Stanton?”

“I’m fine. He’ll live up to it, sir. He will.” She slid down
to the floor, leaning back against the door for just a moment to rest her eyes.

* * * * *

A crashing thump against the back of her head woke Lena and
she sat upright in terror, unable to place herself for a moment. The sound came
again, and she recognized it for a knock on the door just as she heard Watson
speaking.

She’d fallen asleep by the door, but for how long? In a
panic, she rushed to check on Lucas, only returning to the door when she’d
satisfied herself that he was stable.

“Lena?” Watson was starting to sound anxious, his knocking
growing louder.

“I’m fine, sir,” she shouted over the noise. By the clock on
the wall, she’d slept for close to three hours, and she felt considerably more
lucid than the last time she’d spoken to Watson.

“You had me worried there.”

“I was checking on Lucas. How are things on the outside,
sir?”

“Better than they were this time yesterday. Say, do you want
some help in there?”

“Nice try.”

She could hear Watson chuckle, even through the door. “No,
really. The vigil worked a change of heart with Cochrane. Here, don’t take it
from me.”

Another man spoke up. “Lena? It’s Roger. If you let us in,
we can take over for you. I’d really like to check on the boss for myself, no
offense.”

“Roger?” She recognized the voice of one of Lucas’
assistants, a friendly young medic who’d come down to the lab several times
over the past few weeks. “Who’s ‘us’? Is Watson telling the truth?”

“I’m hurt that you don’t trust me,” the old military man
grumbled.

Roger spoke up again. “The admiral’s telling the truth.
Cochrane made a speech to everyone at the vigil about half an hour ago, then
gave us the okay.”

“They’re still out there?”

“That’s the whole point of a vigil. They’re staying out
there until this is done. Not much else is getting accomplished at the moment.”

“Come on, Lena,” a female voice urged. It sounded like
Linda, another of the medics, who’d been a registered nurse in her former life.
“Let us check him out. It’s safe, I promise. I wouldn’t lie for them. Not with
Lucas’ life at risk.”

That sold her, although she picked up her rifle and readied
it anyway. She opened the locks one by one, struggling with that last tricky
bolt until it finally shot to the side. The door swung in, and she had to step
back as four of Lucas’ team rushed past her, ignoring the weapon.

“Come on in,” she said wryly. They were already swarming the
bed, doing all sorts of medical things and talking in the clipped, urgent tones
of critical care. When nobody else accosted her, Lena placed the gun carefully
in the corner where she’d been keeping it, feeling a little abashed. Watson was
at the door, glaring at her.

“You’re a loose cannon, missy,” the admiral told her
sternly. Then, to Lena’s vast surprise, he scooped her into a bear hug. “You
scared the shit out of me. Dammit, this is what I get for trying to fix you up
with a doctor?”

She laughed, the sound muffled against Watson’s solid chest.
Then she burst into horrible gulping sobs, crying like she’d never done in her
life. The relief nearly choked her. Watson patted her back awkwardly but kindly
and ignored the mess she was making of his shirt. Lena felt ridiculous,
helpless against the wave of emotion and exhaustion.

“I think you need to get some sleep,” Watson suggested when
she’d finally hiccupped and sniffled her way back to some semblance of
equanimity.

“I won’t leave him,” she said immediately, jerking away.

“Calm down, Stanton. Nobody’s going to make you leave. Stay
here, just rest for a while.”

Roger chimed in, “We’ve got this, Lena. He looks pretty
stable. You’ve done a good job. The admiral’s right, you need to sleep for a
while.”

Lena started to object then realized she was being
ridiculous. The plan had always called for some of Lucas’ team members to be
there. She’d only gone it alone because she and Lucas had no other choice at
the time.

She rounded the couch and approached the hospital bed,
looking down at Lucas for a long moment. He looked half dead already, the bones
in his shoulders pushed to cadaverous prominence over the hospital blanket that
covered him to mid-chest. His muscles were lax, his face pale and haggard. Lena
bent down, careful not to disturb any of the tubes, and pressed a kiss to his
forehead before straightening up and nodding at Roger and the other three.

“Okay. I’ll sleep.”