'The town has been officially deserted. The people to a soul evacuated, the roads leading inward sealed and barricaded. It was done on FEMA's order.'
'That's not supposed to be possible without my countersignature.'Clark knew what this meant. The incident had grown too large for one lowly Captain to be in charge anymore. Someone upstairs must have relieved him of duty and the papers were still in the mail. It was hardly surprising but he didn't like it at all. 'Did those trigger-happy deputies ever find her? At least tell me they didn't kill her.'
'There's still an all points bulletin out for her. They wish to take her to protective custody.' Vikram grabbed his beard in a tight fist. 'I am afraid though their description, is not so good. Age eighteen to forty-five. Blonde. Tattoo on the stomach.'
'That describes half the women in southernCalifornia ,'Clark said, scowling. 'They didn't get a single photograph of her?' Of course they hadn't. The debacle at the hospital parking lot had been completely FUMTU (Fucked Up More Than Usual). He came up to the final envelope of the Bag and peered in. Through the cloudy mylar he could make out a figure like an obese white grub with stubby arms and legs gliding along a series of instrument trays, touching each tool in turn. That would be First Lieutenant Desiree Sanchez, the woman he'd come to talk to, dressed in a one-piece biological safety ventilated garment. A space suit, in biowarfare lingo. There was another occupant of the innermost reaches of the Bag and he wore nothing at all. Shriveled, grey, mutilated'one of the original victims from the prison. He was held to a gurney by four-point restraints butClark could see him writhing and jerking even through the translucent wall. 'Good afternoon, First Lieutenant,'Clark said into an intercom box dangling by a cable from the ceiling. 'I trust you've completed your initial assessment.' He let go of the talk button and looked at Vikram. 'They just abandoned the town? The entire town? That's madness.' Vikram opened his mouth to respond but Sanchez's voice grated out of the speaker first.
'Sir, no, sir.'Sanchez put down the aural thermometer she'd been holding and came closer to the wall so he could see her better. She snapped to attention and they exchanged salutes. 'I have not completed my assessment because I was unable to sedate the patient. Sir, your orders clearly stated that no biopsies or invasive procedures were to be performed on a non-anesthetized individual.'
Clarknodded silently. He'd wanted his sufferers to be as comfortable as possible. In their confused state they could hardly agree to medical examination but at least he could manage their pain. 'Perhaps you'd care to elaborate, Sanchez,'Clark suggested, gritting his teeth.
'Sir, I applied a narcotic sedative, namely morphine, in increasing doses at four hour intervals. I continued to up the dosage well past the safe human level. No matter how much I injected into him however his behavior and affect remained unchanged. A few minutes ago I applied what would be an instantly lethal dosage and as you can see the patient remains fully motile. I'll reiterate: that should have killed him. It didn't.'
Clarktried to thrust his free hand into his pocket so he could reorganize the small change there. Unfortunately he'd left his coins with his uniform back at the entrance to the Bag. 'Do you have an explanation for that?'
'I do, sir. The patient is already dead.'
Clarksaid nothing and eventually she continued.
'The patient demonstrates no vital signs at all. No respiration, no pulse. I can't measure his blood oxygen levels because from what I can tell his blood has coagulated and dried up in his veins. He's dead, by pretty much any medical or legal definition I can think of. What we have here is not a human being any more, but a zom-'
Clarkstabbed the talk button on the intercom. 'That will be enough.'