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The doctor watched him for a moment. His eyes darted around the small waiting area by the station. “Look, I agree with you. This is complete bullshit, but they’ve already threatened to take away my medical license if I don’t cooperate.”
“Who is threatening you? How can they do that?”
“The CDC.”
Lance recoiled. “The Center for Disease Control? Fuck me.”
“That’s right. There’s something big going on and they’re trying to keep a lid on it. Afraid of panic and all that.”
“Doctor Brown?” Nurse Pam stood behind the counter. “You’re needed.”
“I’ll be right there.” He turned back to Lance, whispering. “Honestly, I don’t even know that much right now, so I couldn’t tell you a whole lot even if I wanted to.”
“Is it the blonde woman with the veins through her face?”
Dr. Brown looked around nervously before giving him a curt nod.
“I saw her down on the street. She was stumbling around, talking to herself. She looked like hell. I’m the guy that saved her from getting hit by a car.”
The doctor nodded again but said nothing.
“What’s wrong with her?” Lance asked.
“Doctor Brown. You’re needed right now.” Pam’s hands were on her hips.
“Coming,” Brown said. “Mr. York, listen—”
“Lance.”
“Lance. Listen, I have several patients to attend to—”
“I saw someone else that looked like her. Is this thing contagious?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Are there more than just two of them who are sick?”
“So far we have twenty people with similar symptoms.”
“Doctor Brown!” Pam stormed around the counter, heading their way.
“Come find me later,” Brown said. “I might know more. To hell with the CDC—people have a right to know.” He turned and met the nurse halfway. They whispered furiously at each other, looking over their shoulders at Lance before disappearing around a corner.
Lance stood in the hallway, mind reeling.
Twenty people.
They were in deeper shit than he could have imagined.
He slowly walked back to his room, unsure of what to do next. The severity of what was happening in the hospital started to sink in as he walked through the door, finding Don and Liz waiting for him.
They were talking as he entered and stopped abruptly, turning their attention to him.
“So, I just talked to a doctor.” Lance sat on the bed, grateful to get off his feet.
“And?” Liz asked.
“And we’re in deep shit. He says they have twenty people in here with the same symptoms as that woman. Apparently, the CDC is involved now.”
“The CDC?” Don dropped his face into his hands. “Fuck me.”
“That’s what I said. They’re threatening the doctors too—telling them not to say anything to anyone.”
“But he told you all of this?” Liz got up and paced around, her hands fidgeting by her sides.
“I guess he’s disgruntled. He told me to find him later on because he might know more. Right now, they don’t know what it is.”
“It’s obviously contagious though, right? If twenty people have it, then it’s getting around,” Liz said.
“Yeah.” Lance grabbed the remote control for the television off a little stand by the bed and pressed the power button. “That’s the assumption I’m making.”
He flipped through the channels until he found a news station and turned the volume up.
“…still aren’t commenting on the cause for the quarantines, but we know there are at least four U.S. cities with hospitals on lockdown…”
Lance’s stomach sank like it had a ball of lead in it. Whatever they were dealing with had spread and it did so at an alarming rate. Four cities were affected already—how many more would suffer the same fate by the end of the day?
“We need to get out of here,” Liz said, tremors playing hell on her inflection. “This can’t be happening.”
“How do you expect us to do that?” Don asked, his head still in his hands. “The hospital is surrounded and apparently the CDC is involved now. We’re screwed.”
“Maybe this is the safest place for us.” Lance didn’t believe what he said, but he hoped it would keep Liz from blowing a gasket.
“What do you mean?” Mascara ran down her cheeks in thin lines, staining her clear skin.
“If they figure out how to treat this thing, we’ll be first in line. Any precautions they figure out will be communicated to us first. Yes, we’re closer to it than I’d like to be, but we’ll know what’s going on, and how to treat it, before anyone else.”
“What good does that do us if we’re dead?” Her pacing resumed.
Lance shrugged his shoulders, giving up. He knew from experience that the only way she’d calm down now was on her own. The more he tried to keep her relaxed, the more wound up she became.
Don fished a cell phone from his pocket and manipulated the touch screen.
“Calling your wife?” Lance asked.
“Me?” Don glanced at Liz, an odd expression on his face. “No way—never been married.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got an idea. Maybe I can move some money around and get a special favor from someone. See if we can’t get out of here.”
“Are you going to bribe someone?” Liz went back to pacing.
“You think that’ll work?” Lance asked.
“Don’t know till you try.” Don walked into the hallway, yapping into the phone, asking for a man named Frank.
“I should call my parents and let them know we’re all right.” Liz grabbed her cell from her purse and sat on the edge of a chair, her feet tapping on the floor.
For years, Lance told Liz that she needed to smoke marijuana or get a Xanax prescription, something to calm her ever-present fidgeting when she was nervous. He wanted to force feed her a pill now.
“Dad? Yeah, I’m OK. We’re stuck in the hospital though. Lance, of course.” She scowled at him as she filled her father in on the situation.
Lance mumbled to himself and leaned back in the bed, ignoring her drone. Over the past two or three years, he often overheard her talking on the phone to one of her parents, spilling the details on how much of a loser he’d become. He could only imagine how vindicated her father felt over the situation.
That man loved to hate Lance. He told everyone he could that his son-in-law would implode one day and that Liz would come running home. He was right, of course.
And it seriously pissed Lance off.
“Frank? Frank!” Don stood in the doorway, staring at the screen of his phone. “What the hell? No signal? That’s impossible. The damn thing just had four bars.”
Lance instinctively reached for his left pocket, intent on grabbing his phone, before remembering that his clothes were destroyed and belongings had gone AWOL.
Liz yammered on, fear fueling her wagging tongue.
“Liz, are you sure he’s still on the phone with you?”
“Don’t interrupt me. Sorry, Dad, Lance is… hello?” She pulled the cell from her ear. “Damn it!” After several swipes and button presses, she threw the phone back into her bag. “Nothing.”
“Could they block cell phone signals?” Don asked.
“They? The CDC?” Lance’s attention went back to the TV, hoping to find more answers there.
“Yeah, the government.”
“Probably. Or the towers could be jammed from everyone panicking and trying to make calls.”
“…more of the smoke bomb pranks have continued throughout the day, despite the dire situations many cities are now facing. We would hope that whatever group has decided to play these tricks would understand that now is not the time for…”
Lance tuned the broadcaster out, not caring about a couple of knuckleheads playing tricks on people. He turned to the window to his right and looked at the darkening sky above. The night was approaching.
“Maybe we should get some sleep,” he said. “If we’re lucky, we’ll get more answers in the—”
The rumble of massive engines filled the streets outside the window.
Lance grimaced as he slid from the bed and walked over, peering down. Humvees and armored vehicles pulled in front of the hospital, cutting off access to the surrounding streets. Armed service men and women in full camouflage hopped out and trotted into the building.
“Holy shit.”
“What?” Liz walked up beside him, following his gaze. “Oh my god.”
Don stayed in his seat. “Now what’s going on?”
Lance placed his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. “The military just arrived.”
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