The APOCs Virus (13 page)

"Mr. Pigott, I see you finally decided to join us," a  voice said.  It sounded a little too cheerful in Henry's opinion.

He tried to turn to the left but his movement was halted. He wore a bandage from his shoulder, across his chest, and up to his neck.  Trying to speak his words only came out as a grunt. 

A straw was placed at his lips and he drank the water.  He had no idea how parched his mouth was.  The liquid was absorbed before it reached his throat.  He took another giant gulp. Instead of turning just his neck, he turned his entire body to see the owner of the voice. 

"I'm your very own nurse.  Nurse Ryerson, Mr. Pigott, and it's my pleasure to serve you.  Believe me, having your very own nurse in a time when the hospital is so short-handed is quite a luxury.  You see, nothing is too good for you, you are a very special patient."  She said this without sounding condescending, (perhaps a little quaint, but definitely not condescending.)  

"In—the—house . . ." he tried to say, but it came out unintelligible. 

"Hospital?  Yes, you're in the hospital Mr Pigott.  You've been through quite a lot I would say.  That's why you're a bit of a celebrity around here.  You have made—I guess you could say—quite a recovery.  Anyway, it looks like the worst is over now.  I'm going to leave this with you," she said.  She demonstrated then handed him the pager.  "Just buzz if you need me." 

"What 'bout Nattie?" he barely got out. 

"Naughty?  Oh Nattie?" she said.  She was flipping the pages of his large chart.  "Ah yes, here it is.  You mean your wife, Mr. Pigott?  I'm sorry but we don't have any information on her, at least I don't in here.  The police have been informed that she's missing . . ..  We are to detain her for questioning if she happens to show up.  Perhaps you can ask one of the doctors when they arrive.  I do know that you had a visitor while you were out.  I think he said that he was your brother?—ah—brother
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in
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law?" 

Henry thought it had to be Dick Haloran, Nattie's brother.  He was supposed to ride to work with him the morning of the attack.   

"Here it is—Dick Haloran, your brother
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in
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law," she said.  She flipped more pages of the huge chart.  The chart was much larger than an ordinary one.  All the Apoc patients had a similar one.  It contained: police reports, eyewitnesses if any, the location of the attack, everything from allergies to lifestyles.  This chart wasn't an ordinary one, even for a MDR
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V6 patient, though.  Henry Pigott had survived the MDR
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V6 infection and had not made the 'turn'. 

"Here it is . . .." the perky nurse said.  " Mr. Haloran was the one that found you.  He is also the one, I believe, that reported your wife missing.  We got most of your information from him." 

"Did they check in house for Nattie?"  His voice was starting to come back. 

"Check the house?  Oh yes, Mr. Pigott, they did.  Your house, the garage everything, from what I understand it was quite through.  They even checked the automobiles." 

Even though Henry was lying on his back he slumped further into the bed. 

"Mr. Pigott, you really are a lucky man.  You were attacked by an Apoc.  A very serious attack, indeed.  The kind of attack . . . how should I say this?  The kind of attack people usually don't recover from." 

She thought as she looked at his chart.  “You're the only person we've had here so far that didn't die once infected, or change
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over. You were almost completely drained of blood.  You've been in the hospital about a day and a half. You have had a fever and have been delirious.  But it looks like you've made the turn." 

Henry knew she was trying to help, but he disliked her anyway. 

"Mr. Pigott you really are quite extraordinary.  There will be a scientist in later this afternoon.  A Dr Porter, just to ask you a few questions . . . that is, to start.  Anyway, the orderly will be bringing you some broth in about a half hour.  Got to build that strength up, you know." 

 "Nurse?" he said.  His voice cracking badly.  She gave him another drink of water from the styrofoam cup.  His lips were blistered from the fever, and when he drank the water it was like a sudden rainstorm in the desert.  A river of wet ran down one side of his parched throat. He took another sip. 

"Ah, that's better, how bad am I hurt?" 

"Actually Mr. Pigott, a side effect of the virus transmitted by the Apocs is accelerated healing.  Your shoulder wound has already healed." 

"Then why all the bandages?" 

"It's really more a brace than a bandage.  The way you were thrashing around we thought we would give the ligaments a chance to reattach and recuperate.  We were afraid you would pull a muscle." 

"How long before I can leave?"  

"I'm not really sure what kind of tests the doctors have planned.  And I'm sure Dr. Porter has some tests planned also.  The only thing keeping you here medically is getting you back on solid foods.”  

The nurse left and Henry was lost in a state of fugue until his food arrived.  He ate it slowly at first, then with such gusto he had another serving and a half. 

The doctors came and Henry was surprised to find that he had been sleeping.  He remembered what the nurse has said about the hospital being shorthanded on staff and was surprised to be examined by four doctors. They poked and prodded with an occasional 'oh' of surprise.  They removed the IV and neck bandages.  In addition to the four doctors, six other people were in the room asking questions.  They studiously recorded the answers in notebooks and completely ignored Henry.  He endured the perusal being only mildly grumpy.  The nurse earlier had said that he was special and he was starting to believe it. 

Henry thought the examination was over until the oldest of the four doctors was handed a the biggest needle Henry had ever seen.   After hard pressing with his fingers into Henry's abdomen, he swabbed a spot and inserted the needle, drawing out a brackish fluid.  Henry felt like passing out from the pain, then from the sight of the procedure.  The entourage left without saying a word. 

Henry was amiss.  He wished he would have had a chance to asked them a few questions.  He had already decided that he wasn't going to help the scientist if it meant staying in the hospital longer than was necessary. 

In another hour Henry was feeling even better.  His insatiable thirst surprised him.   He drank a pitcher and a half of water, two glasses of juice and a carton of milk, and now they were making his back teeth float. He decided to get out of bed and venture to the bathroom to make water—bedpans could be so demeaning. 

A long, steady stream poured out of him and he knew the true meaning of relief.  He had two hands on the sink as he waited for the endless torrent to subside.  He saw his reflection in the mirror. He saw a long pink scar reaching up to his neck from underneath the gown. 

He looked up from his reflection and caught the eyes of a young, beautiful, well
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dressed, woman.   

She was smiling and Henry realized the back of his gown was open exposing his hairy butt
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cheeks. "Listen, I'm too old and have too much on my mind to be embarrassed.  Are you another doctor?" he asked. 

"Yes I am," she said realizing she was blushing.  "I'm Doctor Porter, Dr. Ava Porter from the Department of Defense.  Did anyone mention that I was coming?"  

"So you're the scientist, huh," he said climbing back into bed, "for some reason I thought you'd be a man.  Listen I've been thinking about this and
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" She cut him off before he could finish.  "Mr., Pigott how much did they tell you about my visit?" 

"Nothing really.  Except that you'd probably want to do some tests on me.  I'm real sorry but I'm afraid I won't be able to oblige.  You see I've got to get out of here, I've got things that need tending to." 

"Why are you in such a hurry?" 

 He told her about the Apoc and about Nattie.  By the time he had finished tears were in his eyes.  The young doctor listened and really seemed to care.  Henry had been so engrossed in telling his story or he might have noticed the smile cross her lips when he had mentioned the name Abaddon. 

  "Mr. Pigott," she said. 

"Henry." 

"What?" 

"Henry.  Call me Henry." 

"Okay Henry," she said.   She picked her words carefully, “You don't necessarily have to stay in the hospital in order for me to do this test."  Was that a glimmer of hope she could see in his eyes?   

"I'm real sorry, Dr. Porter
--
" 

"Ava." 

"What?" 

"Ava.  Call me Ava." 

"Oh," he cleared his throat.  "I'm real sorry Ava.  I'm going to be pretty busy once I get out of here."  He stared at his hands, his eyes cast downward. 

"Henry, what if I told you where you could find this Apoc named Abaddon?" 

"What do you mean by that?"  His eyes shot up with surprise. 

"Oh nothing, never mind.  I was just thinking out loud.  Hey listen, I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time Mr. Pigott.  I realize what a busy man you are."  She looked like she was leaving.  "I know you must have a ton of things to do." 

"Now just hold your horses young lady!  I'm not that busy.   I'm mean, I'm not too busy to jaw
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bone a bit with a pretty lady.  Even at my age." 

"Mr. Pigott—Henry, I might be able to work something out if that's what you're trying to say.  I'll lay it all on the line.  I need to find out how your immune system was able to ward off the MDR
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V6 virus, but more importantly, I need to capture this Apoc, Abaddon—alive.  The results from your liver analysis have come back negative.  That means you are clear of any infection from the virus.  They
were
going to keep you for a couple of days of observation, but I’ll make you a deal.  If you're willing to help me I might be able to get you released by tonight.  Unless you have an objection, I'll get the paperwork in order and have you released.  Would six o'clock this evening be too early?"

"That'd be wonderful."  His smile was nearly ear-to-ear. "But before you go I'd like to ask you a question." 

"Sure." 

"If we do find this Abaddon character if Nattie’s there, if she is sick . . . you know has the virus, is there anything we can do?" 

 "Yes, there might be, but it all depends on how quick we can get to her.  You try to get some rest now.   I'll be waiting for you with a car about six
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thirty out front.  I'm going to send some of my people over to run a few tests on you in the meantime.  Okay?" 

"Not with that big horse needle again!" 

"No not with the big needle, but they might draw some blood, though.  Possibly scrape a few skin cells, but no horse needles I promise." 

Ava Porter glanced at her watch; it was ten
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thirty in the morning.  She'd have to be back here in eight hours.  That hardly gives me enough time, she thought.  The person she had to convince now wouldn't be as easy as Mr. Pigott.  Oh well, off to the beach, I can use a little sun anyway, she thought.  As the elevator doors shut behind her, she knew convincing Ethan Bell wouldn’t be as easy as Henry Pigott.

CHAPTER 13

LIVING CONDITIONS  

  The place had a different look than the other abandoned buildings on Oceanview Avenue.  It was four stories, massive and gray with ornamental gun turrets high atop the four corners.  The building inspired wonder from passers by. The morose, cracked and peeling building’s windows were boarded up from the inside If you looked closely you could see the old faded sign that declared it to be the King Henry Ice Company. 

The large cracks in the parking lot concrete had waist
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high weeds growing out of them.  Broken bottles; an old mattress; and a nineteen
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ninety-four Honda Accord sitting on its rusted frame, stood like sentries amidst the unwanted vegetation guarding the deposed king's palace. 

Old
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timers in the neighborhood could have told you about the King Henry Ice Company.  How back in the days before refrigeration, they used to cut ice from frozen lakes in Northern Virginia and West Virginia.  They would ship the massive slabs of ice to the area on the Chesapeake and Ohio railroad.  The area had an inexhaustible need for ice because of the booming fishing industry. 

The entrance to the building was enormous.  Two large drawbridge-style doors added to the English motif. The three
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foot-thick concrete walls kept the building cool even in the summer, much to the delight of the building's new residents. The amount of light entering the vast, central room was minimal, practically nonexistent.  The main room was surrounded by six tiers of balconies.  The floor of the room was sunk two stories below street level.  The balconies
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-or storage areas, completely encircled the building on the inside.  They once held items in cold storage, the more perishable items like seafood and meat near the bottom, and more durable goods
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like vegetables near the top.  The ice slabs were stored in the middle under layers of straw.  The walls of the building still had the layer of cork that was used for insulation, covering them, making the structure virtually sound
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-proof.  The tiers let the hotter air rise to the roof where it was removed with a giant exhaust fan. 

It was on these mezzanines that the Apocs now slept. 

Sleep was a friend to the Apocs.  Changing the internal workings of an organism was hard, tiring work.  After a good rest the changes could be visibly noticed
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especially if they fed first. 

Witnessing how they slept during the day one would think they had lost all sense of their humanity, when in fact, most of them had.  What were once troubled and unsatisfying lives, now were filled with a sense of perverted purpose.  To be an Apoc, was to belong.  The first wave of people with the virus had been the homeless, the indigents, and the people that no one would miss.  People in their old neighborhoods did notice the difference; quite frankly, they were glad they were gone.  These were the people that had slept in doorways, abandoned cars, and in cardboard boxes.  Yet the way they resided now was even more insufferable.