Hour 23 (4 page)

Dana continued on the mostly empty street when the song she was listening to was abruptly interrupted by yet another high pitched tone.

“This is a test of the Emergency Action Notification System. This is only a test—”

The Prius hummed louder as she began the uphill drive towards Henderson High. Above the sounds of her motor and stereo, Dana could hear a helicopter go buzzing by above her. Through her windshield she watched it ascend then disappear above the hill before again having to jam on her cars brakes. There was something sitting in the middle of the street—maybe a dead animal? Dana swerved to avoid it.

Driving slowly, Dana peered out her driver’s side window to make out what was lying in the middle of the street. She quickly placed her hand over her mouth and recoiled in horror.

The object was not road kill or garbage. It was unmistakably two short legs, one of them with a black buckle shoe still attached, both dressed neatly in long white stockings. The legs traveled up to a green skirt that was covered in blood and, from the looks of it, intestines.

Dana fought the urge to get sick and drove further onward. She followed a slight curve in the road before being greeted by a flood of red and blue lights.

There was a barricade made up of several yellow, heavy gauge fences and emergency vehicles. The barricade blocked the short section of road between Dana and the high school. In the ditch to her right was a totaled, black Ford Explorer. Surrounding the wrecked vehicle were persons dressed head-to-toe in hazmat suits. They stood around the crumpled Explorer, carefully examining the wreckage. Behind the barricade fences were several police cruisers and a large black van. Dana slowed her car to a stop. One of the vans behind the barricade had lettering different from the others—Dana couldn’t quite tell, but it looked like “C.D.C.”

Why is the Center for Disease Control responding to a vehicle fire—

A loud knock rapped on Dana’s driver side window, startling her. Outside was a tall, masculine police officer. The word “BLANKENSHIP” was stamped into a brass nametag above his left breast pocket.

“Roll down your window, ma’am.”

Dana obliged.

“Where are you headed to this morning?” the officer asked.

“I’m…I’m a teacher. An English teacher at Henderson,” Dana stuttered.

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to carefully turn around here, and head back the way you came. You coming from home?” The officer’s voice was devoid of emotion and very matter-of-fact.

“Home?” Dana mumbled. “I’m not going home. I need to be at my job, I need to help—”

“We have everything under control,” Blankenship said, leaning away from the car.

“You can’t keep me from going into my job.”

“Ma’am—”

“You need to let me through right now, I need to be at—”

“Ma’am,” Blankenship repeated with irritation. “No one is allowed through.”

“I want to speak to your supervisor.”

“I don’t have time for this shit,” Blankenship said. He reached for a leather pouch on his belt, unbuttoned it, and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

“Are you serious right now?” Dana said.

“Step out of the car, ma’am.”

Dana threw her hands up. “Fine. I’ll leave.”

Blankenship put the cuffs back in their pouch and gave Dana a smug look.

She pulled the steering wheel as far left as it would turn, and cautiously made a U-turn on the narrow road. As she pointed her car opposite of the barricade, she could see the hazmat workers had moved to the middle of the street. They were zipping up a small black bag where the pair of legs once were.

Driving carefully, Dana descended Pigeon Hill and headed back towards the town below.

FOUR

“What the hell do you think this is all about?” Min asked. He was standing on the stoop of the Cooper’s home, glancing anxiously up and down Elm, waiting for the ambulance to arrive.

“Precautions. Covering their asses. You know how these things go.” Jim hocked a wad of spit into the lawn beside him, then finished tapping out a text message to Chloe—
I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you to class. Long story. Tell you later.

“Whatever,” Min said. He tugged at his belt. “I mean, I’m not worried about it. I’m up to date with my immunizations.”

Jim ignored his partner’s whining and stared at his cell phone screen. He hoped for a reply from his daughter before the ambulance arrived; he’d been in enough hospitals to know cell phone reception was spotty at best.

“Fucking Ingram,” Min continued, oblivious to Jim’s disinterest in having a conversation. “Eighteen hours in and he sends us out for blood work. I just wanna’ get home, you know? I broke up that fight at the mall last week, and Ingram didn’t insist on blood work then. And I’m telling you, I had a much better chance of catching something nasty in the Penny’s clearance outlet than I did from Mr. and Mrs. Fuckin’ Brady back there.”

Jim nodded politely.

Just beyond Jim and Min, a crowd of reporters had formed. For the most part they hadn’t been a bother, which surprised Jim since double homicides were such an unheard of rarity in East Violet. Most of the news crews waited patiently on the sidewalk, camera’s aimed at the front door of the Cooper’s home. One reporter, however, was bold enough to press his luck. The reporter leaned over the yellow crime scene tape that sectioned off the front lawn of the house from the street.

“Officer,” the reporter begged, “Officer can you tell us if—”

“Behind the line please,” Jim said.

“Can you tell us if this morning’s murder is related to the recent attacks in New York City?”

Jim froze.
What attacks in New York City?

Worried about how much Ingram would grind his ass if he said something stupid—or looked stupid, for that matter—Jim responded by saying, “Per department policy, I have no comment. This is an ongoing investigation.”

An ambulance rolled slowly towards the front of the house with lights flashing but no sirens.

“Fuck that guy,” Min said as he walked towards the waiting ambulance. He motioned for Jim to follow. “Fucking journalists. Come on.”

Min ducked under a piece of yellow tape, then held it up so that his partner could clear it easily.

The ambulance popped up onto the curb between a news van and a fire truck, and the rear doors swung open. A tall, thin man peeked out, his face hidden behind a mint-green surgical mask.

“You boys Chow and Whiteman?” the man asked, pleasantly.

Both officers nodded.

“Great,” the man said, patting two gurneys in the ambulance. “I know you must not be very thrilled, but this is your limousine to East Violet Memorial this morning. Come on in.”

Jim and Min carefully pulled themselves up onto the chrome bumper of the ambulance and then inside. They each took a seat atop gurneys opposite one another. The masked man closed the doors behind them, then took a seat between them towards the front of the vehicle. Once seated, he gave the driver’s cabin of the ambulance a firm
whack
with his hand, and the vehicle took off.

“And you are?” Min finally asked.

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. My name is Dr. Merrill—”

“A doctor, huh?” Jim asked. “Paramedics take the day off?”

“Hah, well, yes,” Dr. Merill answered nervously. “Consider this a  special circumstance. You want to be cleared by the best, and that’s me.”

Jim fidgeted. It didn’t make sense to be riding in an ambulance with a doctor, unless something horrible had happened. It made him uneasy.

“Five star treatment, eh, Jim?” Min quipped.

“Very well, gentlemen. I have a few questions I’m going to ask while I take a look at you, and it’s critical that you answer them honestly, please?” The doctor snapped on a pair of latex gloves and pulled a pen flashlight from his front coat pocket. “First off, who came into direct contact with the deceased this morning?”

“Well, I did,” Min answered. He raised his hand slightly, as if he was answering a question for a grade school teacher.

“M’kay, describe that encounter to me,” the doctor said. He shined a light from one of Min’s pupils to the other.

“The female victim was having difficulty breathing. She was in shock after being beaten. I administered chest compressions followed by mouth to mouth resuscitation.” Min spoke firmly and deliberately, ignoring a sour knot starting to form in the pit of his stomach.

Doctor Merrill let out a long “hm” followed by a click of his tongue. “And I’m correct in assuming you were wearing gloves and using a mouth shield while you did this?”

Min shook his head. “They were back in the car. She was in bad shape, doc. I didn’t want to waste anytime running back to my cruiser.”

Furling his eyebrows, Doctor Merrill turned to Jim.

“And how about you?” the doctor said.

“I never touched her.”

“Not at all?” The doctor asked curiously.

“Nope.” Jim said.

“What about any blood at the crime scene? Did you come into contact with that?”

“Nope. Nothing.”

“Forgive me, officer,” Dr. Merrill said charmingly. “It’s just that…” the doctor pointed at some dried, splotchy blood stains on Jim’s uniform.

“Cut myself shaving this morning. Now how about telling me what the hell this is all about?” Jim demanded. “What exactly was in that lady’s blood that’s got you all worked up?”

Doctor Merrill sighed and folded his hands on his lap. “You know, the gentleman back there who died, he was a colleague of mine. Dr. Cooper. And, he had a lot of high-risk patients these past few days. Until his autopsy comes back clean, we have to rule out any possible health risks to your partner and yourself. That’s all, officer.”

Jim paused, searching for the right words to describe what he had seen that morning. “We shot him, doc. We shot him and he just kept attacking his wife, like it was nothin’. Afterwards we had to do the same thing to her. What was in their blood that made this happen?”

Doctor Merrill just laughed. “Yes officer, there was something in their blood that caused their abnormal behavior. It’s called adrenaline. I can’t speculate on why Dr. Cooper so senselessly attacked his wife; I wasn’t there. But I can assure you that both Dr. Cooper’s adrenal gland, as well as his wife’s, had emptied every last drop between the time you showed up and the time they passed. Surely you’ve encountered such things before in your line of work.”

Jim thought. There was a junkie the year before that he busted behind a gas station. He was so jacked up that Jim’s taser cooked him for fifteen seconds before he dropped; it shouldn’t have taken more than five. There was one other time, a few years before that, when Jim and Min wrestled a drunk to the ground outside of the Frosty Boot downtown. Jim had broken the assailants nose before he submitted to being cuffed. Still, after a mostly quiet decade of police work, Jim was certain he had never seen anything like what he saw on the floor of Dr. Cooper’s kitchen.

For the rest of the ride to the hospital, Doctor Merrill continued a basic examination of the two officers: tongue depressors went in mouths, blood pressure cuffs were wrapped around biceps, lights were shone in ears. Between each inspection, the doctor would scribble a line or two of notes into a pocket notebook.

“Uh-oh,” Doctor Merrill said as he examined Jim’s right ear. “The light is shining through to the other side!”

No one laughed.

When the ambulance pulled up to the front of East Violet Memorial, several nurses were waiting outside with stretchers. Dr. Merrill hopped out of the back of the ambulance first and quickly approached the team of doctors and nurses standing by.

Dr. Merrill began talking to a slender, older gentleman sporting a thick gray beard and round eyeglasses. The doctor spoke in a hush, glancing behind to make sure he was out of earshot of the officers.

“It’s here again, Litchfield. It’s here,” Dr. Merrill said with exasperation. “I’ve tried to keep them as calm as possible…but, it’s here. Same as Marc, Damian, and the others.”

Litchfield groaned. “And the doctor and his wife?”

Dr. Merrill shrugged. “Both dead.”

“So which of them have it? Both?”

“Chow, the Asian guy, he’s one hundred percent green,” Dr. Merrill explained.

“Are you sure?” Litchfield asked, glancing at the ambulance.

“One. Hundred. His heart is beating like the proverbial jackhammer, and his temperature is skyrocketing. Just like we’ve had all morning.”

“All right,” Litchfield said, stroking his beard. “And the other guy?”

“Him…I’m not so sure,” Dr. Merrill said. “On paper he seems clear. But we can’t know for sure. Run all the tests and keep him locked up for the next few hours. From what I understand, the crime scene was gruesome. It would be a miracle if he’s clean.”

“Okay then,” Litchfield said. He waved a hand to the team behind him. “Give them the works.”

Several nurses hopped onto the ambulance. “Each of you lie down, we’ve got it from here,” one announced. She pulled a clear plastic mouthpiece over the front of Min’s face.

“What’s this about?” Min gasped.

“Just relax,” the nurse said.

Min tried to pull the mask from his face, but was too weak. His arms had already turned to rubber. Tingly waves rolled from his shoulders to his fingertips.

Jim also attempted to protest, but the mask pulled over his face was pumping a steady flow of gas. He felt his hands go limp. His stretcher hit the pavement with a reverberating
clank
. Puffy, silvery clouds drifted above his face. He focused what remaining energy he had into shifting his head right, so that he could see his partner. Min was already being rushed off far ahead. His head returned to its natural resting position, and again he stared up into the sky. The sun was a dimly lit bulb hidden behind layers of murky clouds. Gradually, darkness crept in; just out of sight at first, until the sky above flickered and faded into black.

Jim woke up to the steady hum and beep of a machine beside his head. He blinked a few times, desperate to focus on his fuzzy surroundings. Then, he tried to move his arms and legs. Nothing.

Jim balled his hands into fists, let out a grunt, and again tried to pull up his arms. It was useless—both arms and legs were snugly strapped to the metal railings of his gurney.

Free to move his head, he carefully studied the room around him. It wasn’t like any other time he had been in a hospital room. The walls were draped with thin, translucent sheets of plastic. In the outside hall, indiscernible bright lights and shadows moved back and forth; Jim was unable to see clearly through the layers of plastic. In the center of his room was a single fluorescent light shining down on him. There was no one else nearby.

Jim took deep, steady breaths. A lifelong claustrophobe, he was quite displeased with his current situation. Pushing his head up, he could see a single tube snaking its way from a saline bag draped above him and into a vein in his left wrist. His uniform was gone, replaced by a paper nightgown that left him feeling chilled.

The officer jerked in his confines once or twice before growing irritated. “Nurse!” The word came out hoarse and quiet. “Nurse!” He tried calling out over and over again. With each yell the word left his mouth stronger than the time before.

After a moment, he heard a zipper from the front of the room open and close. A figure approached, outfitted head-to-toe in a yellow hazmat suit. To Jim, it felt like being in outer space; he was isolated in a strange, softly lit room, with what looked like an astronaut approaching him.

“Hey there,” a small face said with a smile, the globe around it cartoonishly oversized in comparison to the head it covered. 

“Who are you?” Jim said hoarsely.

“I’m Nurse Young, but you can call me Sherri.”

“Sherri?”

The face nodded under her giant hazmat helmet.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jim asked bluntly.

Sherri smiled. “You just came to, huh?”

Jim’s bewildered face was enough of an answer.

“Hang tight. I’ll have the doctor visit you.”

Sherri disappeared to the back of the room, unzipped the tent-like flaps once more, and left. Not long after, another yellow space ranger appeared in the door way and approached Jim’s bedside.

“Officer, how are you feeling?” the doctor asked, his voice somewhat muted by his suit. Still, it was vaguely recognizable.

“And who the hell are you?” Jim asked.

The figure went to pat his face before his hand whacked into Plexiglas. He had forgotten that he was wearing a hazmat helmet.

“Forgive me, when we met earlier I had a paper face mask on. It’s me, Dr. Merrill. I suppose I have a different mask on now, but that’s the nature of the beast today.”