Robert W. Walker (10 page)

"All right," he said, "run your tests as quickly as possible. Then I'm out of here, and for God's sake, get me out of this death camp, and do what you can for Dr. Leonard."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Stroud," she said, indicating to the others to ready the next room for Stroud's tests. "Perhaps there is some antibody in your blood which withstands the assault, and if so, Dr. Stroud, we must begin work on isolating this defense and using it as rapidly as possible. Is there anything about your blood or body
chemistry, that
you know of, that might save us some time?"

"X-ray my head if you like," he said.

"What?"

"The only difference between me and these other men is that part of my skull is metal."

"A steel plate?"

"Yes."

"Vietnam?" she asked.

"Again, you are right, Doctor."

He could tell she wanted to rub her chin to help her thoughts move along, but she couldn't touch the cute thing within the space suit. "And you think the metal somehow protected you? Has some sort of immunity properties?"

"No, I don't know that. All I know is that I have had a history of seizures since the plate was installed. I don't believe it has any immunological qualities with relation to the comas induced in the others."

Stroud did wonder at the back of his mind, however. Perhaps the mixed blessing of the plate had saved him in a roundabout manner. Perhaps the blackout, happening when it did, had had the effect of short-circuiting any hope on the creature's part of putting him into permanent coma as it apparently had with the others.

"You don't sound very convincing, Dr. Stroud."

"I don't believe that the plate itself has any inherently useful properties to combat this thing. However, it's simple enough to test, and you have a room filled with guinea pigs. The plate is made of a simple steel alloy, the sort used in any medical facility for the purpose of bolting a crushed skull together."

"We'll liquefy it and try it in cc's in the bloodstream."

"Whose bloodstream?
Dr. Leonard ...
start
with him," said Stroud.

"It could be dangerous."

"I made Dr. Leonard a promise before this happened.
If there's a chance."

"We'll do it."

For the first time since meeting her, he saw her face relax. She was a sharp-minded, strong woman, he decided. New York was lucky to have her.

"In the meantime, we'd like to run extensive tests on your blood and serums, Dr. Stroud, just the same."

"But you'd be pinning your hopes on the wrong man, and wasting valuable time if--"

"Whatever this thing is, Doctor,
it's
transmitted easily and fast, through touch, through the pores, from victim to victim, and it's spreading across this city like wildfire."

"Then get your lab people to work on that brown gunk that
Weitzel
spewed up. Find out what properties are--"

"What do you think we can learn from vomit, Dr. Stroud?"

"It's not every day you see a comatose patient's body lift off the bed, is it?" He didn't expect an answer, so he
barged
on. "Or talk without regaining consciousness."

"I admit there are incongruities here, but when you're dealing with an unknown disease ... perhaps once we isolate the cause, we will be able to explain the ... the..."

"You did see the body levitate, didn't you?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Good, at least you acknowledge that much."

"Come with me, Dr. Stroud," she said, holding a white-gloved hand to him. "Please."

"On one condition."

"All right."

"That you have someone contact Commissioner James Nathan at once to apprise him of my ... my recovery."

"All right," she replied, and he followed her lead.

Stroud sat through test after test--blood serums, urine, skin, body and CAT scans, the gamut. The entire time he was listening to an inner voice, one that had come to be well known to him by now: his dead grandfather's voice. It came at first like a faraway bird calling to its mate, deep within. It was telling him there was no time to lose.

"All right, you've had your tests and you've found nothing whatever unusual about my blood or my immune system that would be of help to those poor devils in there," he told Dr. Cline when she entered and as he began to pull on a shirt.

She looked at the other doctor in the room and waited for him to leave before she spoke, her full, deep voice filling the room. "So far, Dr. Stroud, there's no evidence that you are carrying any sort of contagion, but all the tests aren't in yet."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"But we're dealing with something totally alien here, a contagion of comas?" Her sparkling gray eyes narrowed, reflecting her confusion.

"Finally," he said with a smile.

"What?" she asked.

"We agree on something."

She nodded, looking at him as if for the first time. "I've read about you, Dr. Stroud."

"Nothing flattering, I'm sure."

"On the contrary.
At any rate, won't you consider staying a little longer so that we can
--
"

He was shaking his head before she had time to finish. "I'm done playing pincushion to your people, Dr. Cline."

"But, Stroud."

He pushed past her, going for the door. "I've done my part for you, and it's been only a waste of time for the both of us. I've got to get to Dr.
Wisnewski
."

She stopped him at the door. "Please come to my office and let us talk, Dr. Stroud."

"About what?"

"About Dr.
Wisnewski
, for one thing."

She walked out ahead of him and together they went down the hall to the office that had been given over for her use. She asked him to sit down. He declined, remaining on his feet. She sat behind her desk, breathed deeply and looked tired.

"There has been no sign of this epidemic slowing, Stroud."

"I am aware of that, Doctor."

"We need your help, Stroud. If it was the steel plate in your head that kept you from going comatose for as long as the others, then perhaps we can learn something from you and--"

"You can't implant metal in every patient you've got in there. There must be twenty-five now that
Weitzel
is dead."

"There are hundreds, Dr. Stroud."

"Hundreds?"

"All across the city, every hospital."

"It's really becoming an epidemic."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you. Now, will you please listen to reason?"

"No, I mean ... I have to find Dr.
Wisnewski
. See if there is anything I can do for him."

"There's nothing you can do for
Wisnewski
, but here you might possibly--"

"You're wasting precious time studying me. I'm not the cause or the cure of this thing! Don't you understand that? As for Dr.
Wisnewski
, the very idea of his attacking a man ... well, it's entirely impossible, out of character."

"But it happened. Do you suppose that he is somehow manifesting the disease in another form entirely? He never went into coma as you and Leonard did."

"Mine was a blackout, pure and simple."

"You've suffered such attacks before?"

"Since the war, yes."

"I see. Then it was just a coincidence of sorts, and we were wrong to place you in with the others."

He paced before saying another word. "Part of this madness unleashed by that pit--that's what Wiz's strange behavior is. Something ...
some
thing
that is diabolical spoke to me through
Weitzel
and--"

"I must say you're persistent, sticking with that story. Do you really believe there is some ... some supernatural force at work here? Do you believe there is a supernatural power behind the misfortunes of those who--"

"Who is to say? You saw the body leave the bed. You haven't the experience with the supernatural that I have. I have seen and struggled with vampires, Dr. Cline, and with werewolves. Yes!
Werewolves.
And now this..."

"Do you really expect me to believe you?"

"Believe what you wish." He spoke now as if to himself. "It must have somehow taken hold of
Wisnewski
."

"The man tried to drive a pickax through you, Stroud, and you're building a 'Satan-made-me-do-it' defense for him?"

"
Wisnewski
could never kill a man."

"But he attempted just that, before witnesses."

"Some evil was unleashed through him, something that goes for the control mechanisms--the center of consciousness--"

"Whatever it is, it goes right for the brain like ants to a feast; shuts it down tight. It's really a horror."

"Death for a man like Leonard."

"I've been watching his readout very closely, though, Stroud, and he at least shows an occasional fluctuation--as you had."

"Really?
What does that signify?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. It makes you want to interpret it as a struggle of sorts, as if Dr. Leonard is not giving in so easily as the others."

"That'd be Leonard. He may appear frail, but his mind is ... well, he's the best."

"Deviations in the EKG have continued since he was brought in. We're going to try the steel alloy, a direct injection into the bloodstream ... monitor him closely. Makes me feel like a goddamned engineer, working on a robot ... but these men ... well, may as well be robots for the condition they're in."

"Did you learn anything at all from the substance your people scraped off the floor beside
Weitzel's
bed?"

"An odd mixture of minerals,
alkalies
, sulfur, methane.
We'd learned from blood tests on the victims that they suffered respiratory alkalosis--"

"Which is?"

"Low blood levels of carbon dioxide and high levels of alkalinity in the blood."

"Alkali ...
sulfur
... methane. Doctor, how is that possible in a communicable disease?"

"To my knowledge, it isn't."

"Yet
Weitzel
coughs up this ball of it."

"We've been trying a treatment with acids, to restore the base balance between acids and
alkalies
in the body, but this hasn't worked. Perhaps, coupled with the metal..."

"Conventional methods of treatment are going to be of little help." He went to a nearby coffeepot and poured himself a cup, offering one to her, which she declined. Stroud then finally sat down, sipping the hot brew.