LovewithaChanceofZombies

by Delphine Dryden

  “No. I mean I’ll stay, period. I’ll help you.” She tossed the tools back in the bag and joined him by the bed.

  Lucas frowned down at her. “I want to kiss you but I can’t. Can’t risk it now.”

  “I know,” she said with a matter-of-fact nod. “Come on. Let’s get started.”

  Chapter Nine

  By the time the knock finally came, Lucas had been under for nearly an hour. Lena sat on a chair next to his bed, listening to the hypnotic chorus of sounds from the monitors and the respirator. Everything had gone smoothly, with Lucas’ obsessively detailed outline providing Lena with all the guidance she’d needed to complete the process once Lucas had done what he could on his own.

  He looked smaller, she thought, all hooked up and sleeping like the dead.

  Not sleeping. Comatose, she reminded herself. An important difference.

  When the knock came again, harder, she sighed and went to the door. “We’re not coming out,” she called.

  “Stanton!” Watson’s muffled voice came through the wood. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? This isn’t a game, now open the damn door!”

  “Sorry, sir. The doctor is not in.”

  Another pounding knock, then a pause. “What are you talking about, Lena? What have you done?”

  “He’s already under, sir. You can see him in another three days.”

  “Jesus. Stanton, you can’t do this. You may be insubordinate, but you’ve never been stupid or crazy. Unlock the door!”

  She didn’t answer again, and after a few more minutes of ranting, Watson went away. To make his announcement, she supposed. Possibly with some slight changes in wording, to allow for these new circumstances.

  Before she pushed off from the door, where she’d been leaning as Watson yelled, she ran her fingers over the five locks. One at a time, she checked them for soundness. Screws secure, doorframe holding firm, each hunk of metal doing its job to keep them safe.

  After that it became part of her hourly routine. Check the monitors, check the vital signs, check the fluids going in and out, check the locks.

  I only have to do this seventy-two times, she told herself. Three days. And then Lucas would wake up. She tried not to let herself think about the odds of that happening, the slim chance she had to pull off getting him safely through the coma and out the other side. The chance of it working as they hoped was slimmer still, but thinking about that wouldn’t help her now. Lena checked the locks instead, and then started the whole routine again.

  Watson came back later that night, knocking on the door more gently this time.

  “Still not coming out, sir,” Lena told him. She rested her whole body against the door, leaning on the familiar voice of authority on the other side for support, even if she couldn’t do what he was ordering her to do.

  “I figured.” His voice was grim, and she could well imagine the expression on his face. “It’s getting ugly out there, Stanton. The folks are not happy with this situation. Half of them want to ‘free’ Nye, and the other half want to shoot him.”

  “Do they have torches and pitchforks yet?”

  “This isn’t the time to be a smart-ass, Stanton.”

  Lena thought there was probably no better time in the world to be a smart-ass. What did she have to lose now? The only thing that truly mattered, she realized, was lying on a bed behind her, breathing into a ventilator tube and turning into a zombie.

  “I’m in love with him, you know,” she told Watson. “Thank you for that.”

  “I know, honey. But you’ve got to accept—”

  “Not yet, I don’t,” she said firmly. “I can’t believe you’ve got an angry mob out there. It’s only for three days. He’s locked up. He’s in a coma, for Pete’s sake, he can’t hurt anybody.”

  There was another long pause before Watson spoke again. “They don’t know. Cochrane didn’t want to tell them about the treatment. He thought it would raise people’s expectations for nothing, and they’d want us to start trying it on anybody in quarantine.”

  “So you’re letting them think he’s just locked himself up down here and is refusing to end it? That’s what you want them all to think of Lucas Nye? They can’t. People need him. They need him to be the hero doctor. And if this works…”

  “Lena, if he wakes up, you’re both dead. If you come out now, while he’s still unconscious, that’s another story.”

  It could be over. The whole thing. They could shoot the prepared syringes into Nye’s IV and he’d simply never wake up. That would be easy.

  Lena glanced at the hospital bed and its fragile-looking occupant, then slipped a hand down the flat of her stomach. Too soon to tell either way, but what if she was already pregnant? She could come out now and have the baby, although it would be the child of Lucas Nye, the cowardly traitor doctor, if the crowd outside never learned the truth. Or she could stay and finish the procedure and take a chance on the slim hope of success.

  “No deal,” she told Watson. “And you should tell the crowd the truth. He deserves that much. If he dies, he died trying to find a cure. Let them decide how they feel about that. You tell them, Watson.”

  * * * * *

  She knew there were guards stationed outside the door. Jonesie had knocked at one point, asked if she needed anything. Told her he was rooting for her. Cochrane had come down as well and threatened to saw through the door if she didn’t open up. Lena heard murmurs outside, then a final pound on the door before Watson spoke up.

  “I explained that the door has a metal facing and a chainsaw would throw sparks. Not such a good idea when you’re trying to bust into a room with oxygen tanks in it.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Lena said, laughing. She felt giddy and knew she was too tired to stay awake much longer. It had been close to thirty-six hours already. Nearly halfway there.

  “He’s pissed off at me anyway,” Watson continued. “I told them the truth. You were right.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, clutching at the smooth, cool surface of the door.

  “They’ve been singing for hours now, with candles and everything. Some sort of vigil. I think it has Cochrane rattled. He never could believe that Nye isn’t interested in his job.”

  “A candlelight vigil? For Lucas? Oh, he’d think that was hilarious. But awful at the same time. He kind of hates all that.” To her horror, she choked up, squeaking the last few words out as tears started to fall. She was so tired, and there were still thirty-six more hours to get through.

  “It’s a lot to live up to,” Watson agreed. “You okay in there, Stanton?”

  “I’m fine. He’ll live up to it, sir. He will.” She slid down to the floor, leaning back against the door for just a moment to rest her eyes.

  * * * * *

  A crashing thump against the back of her head woke Lena and she sat upright in terror, unable to place herself for a moment. The sound came again, and she recognized it for a knock on the door just as she heard Watson speaking.

  She’d fallen asleep by the door, but for how long? In a panic, she rushed to check on Lucas, only returning to the door when she’d satisfied herself that he was stable.

  “Lena?” Watson was starting to sound anxious, his knocking growing louder.

  “I’m fine, sir,” she shouted over the noise. By the clock on the wall, she’d slept for close to three hours, and she felt considerably more lucid than the last time she’d spoken to Watson.

  “You had me worried there.”

  “I was checking on Lucas. How are things on the outside, sir?”

  “Better than they were this time yesterday. Say, do you want some help in there?”

  “Nice try.”

  She could hear Watson chuckle, even through the door. “No, really. The vigil worked a change of heart with Cochrane. Here, don’t take it from me.”

  Another man spoke up. “Lena? It’s Roger. If you let us in, we can take over for you. I’d really like to check on the boss for myself, no offense.”r />
  “Roger?” She recognized the voice of one of Lucas’ assistants, a friendly young medic who’d come down to the lab several times over the past few weeks. “Who’s ‘us’? Is Watson telling the truth?”

  “I’m hurt that you don’t trust me,” the old military man grumbled.

  Roger spoke up again. “The admiral’s telling the truth. Cochrane made a speech to everyone at the vigil about half an hour ago, then gave us the okay.”

  “They’re still out there?”

  “That’s the whole point of a vigil. They’re staying out there until this is done. Not much else is getting accomplished at the moment.”

  “Come on, Lena,” a female voice urged. It sounded like Linda, another of the medics, who’d been a registered nurse in her former life. “Let us check him out. It’s safe, I promise. I wouldn’t lie for them. Not with Lucas’ life at risk.”

  That sold her, although she picked up her rifle and readied it anyway. She opened the locks one by one, struggling with that last tricky bolt until it finally shot to the side. The door swung in, and she had to step back as four of Lucas’ team rushed past her, ignoring the weapon.

  “Come on in,” she said wryly. They were already swarming the bed, doing all sorts of medical things and talking in the clipped, urgent tones of critical care. When nobody else accosted her, Lena placed the gun carefully in the corner where she’d been keeping it, feeling a little abashed. Watson was at the door, glaring at her.

  “You’re a loose cannon, missy,” the admiral told her sternly. Then, to Lena’s vast surprise, he scooped her into a bear hug. “You scared the shit out of me. Dammit, this is what I get for trying to fix you up with a doctor?”

  She laughed, the sound muffled against Watson’s solid chest. Then she burst into horrible gulping sobs, crying like she’d never done in her life. The relief nearly choked her. Watson patted her back awkwardly but kindly and ignored the mess she was making of his shirt. Lena felt ridiculous, helpless against the wave of emotion and exhaustion.

  “I think you need to get some sleep,” Watson suggested when she’d finally hiccupped and sniffled her way back to some semblance of equanimity.

  “I won’t leave him,” she said immediately, jerking away.

  “Calm down, Stanton. Nobody’s going to make you leave. Stay here, just rest for a while.”

  Roger chimed in, “We’ve got this, Lena. He looks pretty stable. You’ve done a good job. The admiral’s right, you need to sleep for a while.”

  Lena started to object then realized she was being ridiculous. The plan had always called for some of Lucas’ team members to be there. She’d only gone it alone because she and Lucas had no other choice at the time.

  She rounded the couch and approached the hospital bed, looking down at Lucas for a long moment. He looked half dead already, the bones in his shoulders pushed to cadaverous prominence over the hospital blanket that covered him to mid-chest. His muscles were lax, his face pale and haggard. Lena bent down, careful not to disturb any of the tubes, and pressed a kiss to his forehead before straightening up and nodding at Roger and the other three.

  “Okay. I’ll sleep.”

  Chapter Ten

  This time it was beeping, not pounding, that woke Lena up.

  The change in the steady, reassuring rhythm of the vitals monitors sounded in her ears, harsh as a death knell, and she leapt from the bed, nearly crashing the partition over in her haste to get to Lucas’ bedside.

  “Clear!”

  Lucas’ limp body twitched under the paddles Linda held to his chest. One of the other medics spotted Lena and held her back. She couldn’t remember his name.

  “What’s happening?” The monitor continued its unsteady, fluttering beep, nothing like the regular pulse she’d grown accustomed to hearing. The fourth medic, Shanda, was squeezing the bag on the ventilator, her eyes trained to the monitor’s screen.

  “Stay back, please,” said the nameless medic.

  Lena clutched at the man’s arm, trying to force it down and out of her way. “What the fuck is happening?”

  “V-fib,” Roger said.

  Linda nodded to him. “Six hundred.”

  After Roger fiddled with a knob on the crash cart, she pressed down on the paddles again. “Clear.”

  There was a pause…and then the beep, steady and true, the sweet sound of Lucas’ life continuing, and the world slowly returning to order.

  Lena’s own heart felt as if it were about to crash through her chest, and she had to swallow twice to moisten her mouth enough to speak.

  “What happened?”

  None of them seemed particularly concerned, which baffled her.

  “He had a bit of a hiccup in his heart function,” Roger explained, “but he looks good now.”

  “Oh…”

  “It can happen,” Linda said as she replaced the paddles on the cart. “It’s always a danger with this process. He even left you instructions for just such an occasion.”

  Now that the red terror was receding, Lena vaguely recalled the set of directions in Lucas’ notes. She was struck with the knowledge, sure and horrible, that she couldn’t have done what the team just did. Not by herself. Lucas had to have known that.

  “Thank you. All of you,” she said humbly.

  “We would have come down here with you when you locked yourselves in to begin with. If we’d known. Lucas was being selfless, as usual, I suspect,” said Linda.

  Lena shook her head. “No. There was no time to let anyone know. He was already symptomatic when Watson gave us the news.”

  That broke all of their calm for a second or two, until Roger shrugged and grinned, his smile gleaming white against his dark skin. “Heroes. Always gotta have the dramatic timing.”

  Lena smiled back. “And the candlelight vigil.”

  Shanda snorted. “We’re never gonna let him live that one down.”

  She had allowed the ventilator to resume its steady, whirring, automatic cycle—another familiar sound to soothe Lena’s nerves. In the middle of it all, Lucas slept on, oblivious.

  * * * * *

  Despite Lucas’ obsessively detailed notes and patient description, Lena had not been quite sure what the awakening process would look like. It turned out to be slower and less dramatic than she’d imagined. He slept for hours after the ketamine and pentobarbital were withdrawn, until she had gone through anxiety to boredom to impatience and back again, sitting there waiting for him to open his eyes.

  Then, when he finally opened them, it was only to blink a few times, slide a glance her way, and slip back into unconsciousness for another few hours.

  “This is normal,” Roger explained. “It’ll be a while before he’s lucid if you want to go stretch your legs.”

  “I’m staying,” she said firmly.

  She stayed, but she shared dinner with the medics and slept through most of another night before her waiting was rewarded.

  Somebody nudged her awake, and Lena panicked for a moment when she couldn’t place herself and couldn’t feel the stock of her gun when she slapped her hand out to the side. Only air met her hand, and after flailing a few times, she woke fully to realize she was on the couch and Linda was patiently and gently shaking her shoulder.

  “Someone wants to see you.”

  Lena bolted up and turned to see Lucas watching her weakly. His eyes were barely open, and he looked ready to fall asleep again at any second, but a faint smile curved his lips when she came over to the side of the hospital bed. They had taken the ventilator out, though he still had two slender oxygen tubes trailing over his cheeks.

  Lena ran her fingers over his forearm and down over the restraint to clasp his hand. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what he whispered. When she bent closer, he grinned and sniffed at her before he murmured, “Braaaains…”

  Lena’s mouth fell open. Lucas shrugged as much as the restraints would allow. She started to laugh, and he smiled again as his eyes drifted shut once more.

&n
bsp; “We’ve been dosing him with the hemp oil,” Linda whispered. She and Luis, the medic whose name Lena had had trouble remembering at first, were taking the night shift. “It seems to be working. He’s been telling that same joke to everyone, but he also knows his name and where he is. He’s asked for you a few times. We tried to wake you a few hours ago, but you were out like a light.”

  “It’s okay. I’m… I’m just so…”

  She burst into tears yet again. A few minutes later, it occurred to her that this had been happening a lot lately, and it was certainly out of character. But then she looked at Lucas and cried again, happy tears, and forgot all about how odd it was that she was crying all the time.

  She cried again when he woke up the next time, although the tears finally tapered off after a few days. His lucid periods grew longer, his color improved and he showed no inclination to devour Lena or any of his assistants.

  They all agreed it was almost as though he wasn’t a zombie at all.

  * * * * *

  A week later, when Lucas was back on a regular diet—with hemp oil supplements—and shuffling all the way down the hall and back on his own, Lena noticed that one of his legs was still dragging a little.

  “You’re shambling,” she wailed. Then she threw up.

  * * * * *

  “You’re definitely pregnant,” Shanda told her a little while later. “Congratulations.”

  “Yeah. Probably it was all that unprotected sex we were having,” Lucas remarked. His speech was growing clearer by the day, and he hardly slurred at all.

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Lena said sullenly. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the development, now that Lucas was going to live. Based on the testing the team had been doing, he didn’t even seem to be carrying the virus now. There was talk of using his blood to create a vaccine, and Watson had given him the all-clear to have the run of the colony again after one more week in confinement. Provided, of course, that he didn’t eat anybody in the meantime. People had already started coming in to consult with him in the few visiting hours his fiercely protective staff allowed. The vigil outside had ended in a wild celebration that people were still recovering from.