all. She didn't look quite as lost as Dr. Mwabi, but she was no Todd Mayfield.
"We don't feed her," Luco said quietly. "We're hoping Zoe will give us a good indication of life expectancy."
More long moments passed as they stared in at Zoe. A month before, Detective Anthony Heron had watched his partner die in the next cell and ceased to think of Zoe Koplowitz as anything more than an abomination. But without that personal attachment, the staff at Arthur Conroy were moved by her. They felt pity for the child and guilt over their own feelings of disgust at what she had become.
Solomon cleared his throat. "Have we seen enough, now, Dr. Luco?"
Once again, Luco didn't show him the respect of looking in his direction. She continued to stare at Zoe. "You tell me."
"While I can certainly see the urgency of your work, it doesn't change the legality of our issue. Candid can still produce Head Shot and bill it any way they like."
"I hardly think so," Lochschenborg interrupted. He looked directly at Solomon. In fact, he got right in Solomon's face. "You'll inform your clients that their misrepresentation of the disease is a violation of federal health laws and they will not only recall the product, they will offer up a public explanation and correction at their own expense."
"Mr. Lochschenborg…"
"In fact, Mr. Solomon, they will have five hours from now to do so."
"Five hours! " Solomon cried. "Have you lost your mind? I'll have a stranglehold on you in three."
"Don't play chicken with me. Public health is my job and, after seeing this complex, I assure you that I will be pulling no punches when it comes to this disease. In five hours, I will be issuing new warnings to the public. The very first of those warnings will instruct them not to believe what they read on labels of sensationalized medicine bottles."
Luco couldn't help but smile. She was almost as elated by Lochschenborg as she had been by Lance that past weekend (although in a very different way). After their earlier conference, she had been convinced that she was on her own. Lochschenborg had seemed like nothing more than an ineffectual figurehead. Sometimes, it was good to be wrong.
***
THREE weeks earlier, zombies invaded the Sisters of Charity emergency room. One of the young doctors on duty that afternoon was a man by the name of Peter Ventura. He watched three colleagues die that day as well as two of the hospital’s security guards. One of the dead was Dr. Veronica Leke, the head of the ER. He hadn’t particularly cared for her, but he had respected her well enough. She’d run a tight ship. The ER was closed down for a week after that. Truth to tell, there was no rush to open it up again. Once the news broke, people left the city in droves. Peter wasn't one of those to flee but it wasn’t due to any sort of inner strength. Unlike most of the panicked all over the city, he had faced zombies firsthand and survived. And survived was just about all. In the wake of the trauma, he spent just about every conscious minute in his apartment. He downloaded and watched every last zombie movie he could get his hands on. This had the predictable effect of rubbing his agitated nerves raw to the point of anguish. He spent hours and hours scribbling plans on paper and figuring out just how he was going to survive the apocalypse, comparing his notes with the actions of the survivors in those movies. The trouble was that all of the movies seemed to end badly. His planning became more frantic as the days wore on. He couldn't sleep. Surely the world was crumbling right outside his door…
That was his first week.
After that he collapsed from exhaustion. He awakened hours later in his bed completely unaware of how it was he had arrived there. He was hungry and thirsty and dirty and he’d soiled himself while sleeping. His beard was seven days old and matted and greasy. On his way to the shower, he heard some noises
"We don't feed her," Luco said quietly. "We're hoping Zoe will give us a good indication of life expectancy."
More long moments passed as they stared in at Zoe. A month before, Detective Anthony Heron had watched his partner die in the next cell and ceased to think of Zoe Koplowitz as anything more than an abomination. But without that personal attachment, the staff at Arthur Conroy were moved by her. They felt pity for the child and guilt over their own feelings of disgust at what she had become.
Solomon cleared his throat. "Have we seen enough, now, Dr. Luco?"
Once again, Luco didn't show him the respect of looking in his direction. She continued to stare at Zoe. "You tell me."
"While I can certainly see the urgency of your work, it doesn't change the legality of our issue. Candid can still produce Head Shot and bill it any way they like."
"I hardly think so," Lochschenborg interrupted. He looked directly at Solomon. In fact, he got right in Solomon's face. "You'll inform your clients that their misrepresentation of the disease is a violation of federal health laws and they will not only recall the product, they will offer up a public explanation and correction at their own expense."
"Mr. Lochschenborg…"
"In fact, Mr. Solomon, they will have five hours from now to do so."
"Five hours! " Solomon cried. "Have you lost your mind? I'll have a stranglehold on you in three."
"Don't play chicken with me. Public health is my job and, after seeing this complex, I assure you that I will be pulling no punches when it comes to this disease. In five hours, I will be issuing new warnings to the public. The very first of those warnings will instruct them not to believe what they read on labels of sensationalized medicine bottles."
Luco couldn't help but smile. She was almost as elated by Lochschenborg as she had been by Lance that past weekend (although in a very different way). After their earlier conference, she had been convinced that she was on her own. Lochschenborg had seemed like nothing more than an ineffectual figurehead. Sometimes, it was good to be wrong.
***
THREE weeks earlier, zombies invaded the Sisters of Charity emergency room. One of the young doctors on duty that afternoon was a man by the name of Peter Ventura. He watched three colleagues die that day as well as two of the hospital’s security guards. One of the dead was Dr. Veronica Leke, the head of the ER. He hadn’t particularly cared for her, but he had respected her well enough. She’d run a tight ship. The ER was closed down for a week after that. Truth to tell, there was no rush to open it up again. Once the news broke, people left the city in droves. Peter wasn't one of those to flee but it wasn’t due to any sort of inner strength. Unlike most of the panicked all over the city, he had faced zombies firsthand and survived. And survived was just about all. In the wake of the trauma, he spent just about every conscious minute in his apartment. He downloaded and watched every last zombie movie he could get his hands on. This had the predictable effect of rubbing his agitated nerves raw to the point of anguish. He spent hours and hours scribbling plans on paper and figuring out just how he was going to survive the apocalypse, comparing his notes with the actions of the survivors in those movies. The trouble was that all of the movies seemed to end badly. His planning became more frantic as the days wore on. He couldn't sleep. Surely the world was crumbling right outside his door…
That was his first week.
After that he collapsed from exhaustion. He awakened hours later in his bed completely unaware of how it was he had arrived there. He was hungry and thirsty and dirty and he’d soiled himself while sleeping. His beard was seven days old and matted and greasy. On his way to the shower, he heard some noises
Similar Books
Winter Be My Shield
Jo Spurrier
Sextet
Sally Beauman
The City of Lovely Brothers
Anel Viz
False Moves
Carolyn Keene
How To School Your Scoundrel
Juliana Gray
Dragonlance 03 - Dragons of Spring Dawning
Margaret Weis
Puppy Fat
Morris Gleitzman
The Unexpected Son
Shobhan Bantwal
The Summer Hideaway
Susan Wiggs
Freedom at Midnight
Larry Collins, Dominique Lapierre