woman
alone."
Shawn didn't have anything to say. It was a
thought that had occurred to him over and over again in the past
twenty four hours. Clearly the zombie apocalypse had not come.
Outside the walls of this prison there were people doing their jobs
and going to school and meeting for lunch. He thought about Marcus
often, a hot fire in his gut.
The detective seemed finished with him then,
his point made. He stood up and knocked on the door. When the
officer opened it for him to leave he turned back to Shawn and
said, "When they ask you why you killed that woman you say you were
scared."
Shawn pursed his lips and blew. "I ain't
scared of nothin'."
"You say it, Shawn," the detective told him.
"You tell them you were scared of the end of the world."
***
IT was getting close to dinner time
when Heron got back to the Manhattan hospital where Stemmy had
undergone surgery. He was out and had been moved to recovery in an
isolation ward. They wouldn't tell him where so, despite three
cigarettes on the way over, he started to throw a tantrum. It
wasn't a childlike kicking and screaming tantrum, though. It was
more of an adult shouting and threatening tantrum. When the people
at reception had had enough of him, they made a phone call and
asked him to wait.
He gave them exactly two minutes.
Captain Lance Naughton appeared from one of
the many exiting hallways and walked right up to Heron. Naughton
wasn't the kind of guy that just appeared places. If he was there,
the situation was serious. He had his hands up in the air before
Heron could say anything and beckoned him away from the room full
of people staring at him.
"I hear you went to see Shawn Rudd," Naughton
said as they passed radiology.
Heron shivered.
"Yeah," the detective said.
"Did he say anything useful?"
Heron shook his head.
"Listen to me, Anthony. Stemmy's still a
little groggy but he's awake. We've got him quarantined because the
doctors found a rampant bacterial infection on the wound. It seems
to be spreading."
Heron went cold inside. All he could think
about was the face on that little girl. Eight years old with cute
blond curls and a death mask of a face, all grey skin and bugged
out eyes. Was that what was going to happen to Stemmy?
Naughton turned them into a short passageway
that ended in a metal door with a keypad and a buzzer. The captain
hit the buzzer and waited for the door locks to click. He then
pushed his way through and Heron followed.
Behind the door was a staircase that led down
into the basement of the hospital. The lighting was good for a
stairwell. Heron wasn't sure but he felt like they went down at
least three flights. At the end was another door with another
keypad/buzzer set up. Naughton repeated the process and led the
detective into the isolation area. It was darker in here than
outside. The labs were well lit but the passages were dim. Inside
the rooms he could see various people at work. Most of them gave
the two police officers barely a glance as they passed through.
Eventually they reached yet another door. This time it opened with
just a push of Naughton's hand. In here were the patient rooms.
Though there were large windows through which one could see in, the
rooms were sealed tight. Naughton stopped.
"Stemmy's at the end of the hall. Don't go in the room."
Heron nodded.
"And, Anthony, the little girl is in the room
next to Stemmy. We need her…it…the way it is."
Heron nodded again.
Naughton turned and left him.
Heron took a deep breath before he started
down that passageway. There were rooms on either side of him. He
could see through the glass into the enclosure. There was a bed and
a nightstand and a TV. There was an adjoining bathroom. A large
drawer was set below the viewing window. It was hermetically sealed
at both ends and could be used for transferring meals or what not.
That way people didn't have to put on
alone."
Shawn didn't have anything to say. It was a
thought that had occurred to him over and over again in the past
twenty four hours. Clearly the zombie apocalypse had not come.
Outside the walls of this prison there were people doing their jobs
and going to school and meeting for lunch. He thought about Marcus
often, a hot fire in his gut.
The detective seemed finished with him then,
his point made. He stood up and knocked on the door. When the
officer opened it for him to leave he turned back to Shawn and
said, "When they ask you why you killed that woman you say you were
scared."
Shawn pursed his lips and blew. "I ain't
scared of nothin'."
"You say it, Shawn," the detective told him.
"You tell them you were scared of the end of the world."
***
IT was getting close to dinner time
when Heron got back to the Manhattan hospital where Stemmy had
undergone surgery. He was out and had been moved to recovery in an
isolation ward. They wouldn't tell him where so, despite three
cigarettes on the way over, he started to throw a tantrum. It
wasn't a childlike kicking and screaming tantrum, though. It was
more of an adult shouting and threatening tantrum. When the people
at reception had had enough of him, they made a phone call and
asked him to wait.
He gave them exactly two minutes.
Captain Lance Naughton appeared from one of
the many exiting hallways and walked right up to Heron. Naughton
wasn't the kind of guy that just appeared places. If he was there,
the situation was serious. He had his hands up in the air before
Heron could say anything and beckoned him away from the room full
of people staring at him.
"I hear you went to see Shawn Rudd," Naughton
said as they passed radiology.
Heron shivered.
"Yeah," the detective said.
"Did he say anything useful?"
Heron shook his head.
"Listen to me, Anthony. Stemmy's still a
little groggy but he's awake. We've got him quarantined because the
doctors found a rampant bacterial infection on the wound. It seems
to be spreading."
Heron went cold inside. All he could think
about was the face on that little girl. Eight years old with cute
blond curls and a death mask of a face, all grey skin and bugged
out eyes. Was that what was going to happen to Stemmy?
Naughton turned them into a short passageway
that ended in a metal door with a keypad and a buzzer. The captain
hit the buzzer and waited for the door locks to click. He then
pushed his way through and Heron followed.
Behind the door was a staircase that led down
into the basement of the hospital. The lighting was good for a
stairwell. Heron wasn't sure but he felt like they went down at
least three flights. At the end was another door with another
keypad/buzzer set up. Naughton repeated the process and led the
detective into the isolation area. It was darker in here than
outside. The labs were well lit but the passages were dim. Inside
the rooms he could see various people at work. Most of them gave
the two police officers barely a glance as they passed through.
Eventually they reached yet another door. This time it opened with
just a push of Naughton's hand. In here were the patient rooms.
Though there were large windows through which one could see in, the
rooms were sealed tight. Naughton stopped.
"Stemmy's at the end of the hall. Don't go in the room."
Heron nodded.
"And, Anthony, the little girl is in the room
next to Stemmy. We need her…it…the way it is."
Heron nodded again.
Naughton turned and left him.
Heron took a deep breath before he started
down that passageway. There were rooms on either side of him. He
could see through the glass into the enclosure. There was a bed and
a nightstand and a TV. There was an adjoining bathroom. A large
drawer was set below the viewing window. It was hermetically sealed
at both ends and could be used for transferring meals or what not.
That way people didn't have to put on
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