With all the control at his command, Harry began, as if to a foolish child, “Jim, one third of all vaccines are useless. One third. They have been for about five years now. This isn’t just a bad run of flu, Jim, this is major. We aren’t talking about just one disease—not just a smallpox epidemic or a cholera epidemic or a meningitis epidemic. This is a pandemic, Jim. It has something for everyone. For God’s sake, call whoever is in charge of this before it’s too late.”
“There’s enough vaccines stockpiled,” Jim Braemoore said reassuringly. “We can stop it if it gets out of hand. It won’t be like a pandemic at all. You’re letting yourself be railroaded, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“Damn right I’m afraid. Think, Jim...”
“Harry, this is a well-controlled experiment. You’ll see. It can’t turn out the way you think. Precautions have been taken. It’s quite safe.”
“Bullshit!”
Jim spread out his hand to Harry. “Tell you what: you get your kit and go along home. I’ll have a word with Wexford in the morning. You’ll be back on the job in no time, everything straightened out. That’s the ticket.”
“There isn’t time...”
Jim reached over and buzzed his door opener. “Glad you came to see me, Harry. Knew we could sort things out if you did. Just wait until the worst blows over. Wexford’ll take you back. Shouldn’t be more than two, three months. Make it the end of summer. Don’t let this bother you. It isn’t like you. You’re a sensible man. You use those months for a vacation.”
“Vacation? With all this...”
“See, there you go again. Can’t do that, Harry. Take a rest, let yourself unwind.” Pointing to the door, he said, “Glad we had this chat. Knew you’d understand once conditions were explained to you. Not natural you wouldn’t.”
“But, Jim, you don’t realize...” Harry was desperate now. His hands closed on the edge of Braemoore’s desk, his knuckles white.
“Hate to kick you out, Harry, but there’s a meeting in administration. Must run.” He was out the side door before Harry had a chance to speak. He stood in the empty door and felt his courage fail.
“What do we do now?” Natalie asked half an hour later as she sat in the desolation of her tiny office.
“We call for help,” Harry said, his face grim.
Stan Kooznetz turned from the window, worry making his long face even longer. “Where do we get help, Harry? We can’t very well ask Congress.”
Harry shook his head, looking from Stan to Natalie to Eric to Lisa. There were so few of them, and they were out in the cold.
“I called Inner City,” Natalie said. “They fired eight doctors over there. They wouldn’t say who.” She was very tired, and her feet hurt. “I could use ten hours’ sleep,” she remarked to no one in particular.
“Not Congress,” Harry said suddenly. “We call West Coast Control in L. A. They’re in control of the medical system from here to Denver. They’ll have to do something about this.”
Lisa Skye laughed cynically. “What makes you think so, Harry?”
“Look” he went on as he saw the doubt in the other faces. “If one or two of us said something, they wouldn’t pay any attention. But damn it, there are seventeen names on that list. And eight over at Inner City. Has anybody checked Strickland or County General?”
“They aren’t giving out that information,” Natalie said in a parody of the secretary’s voice.
“Then you can bet some of them are fired, too. That means we have real ammunition. Amanda is a recognized expert in pediatrics. That gives us clout. We can talk to Radick and ask him to add his evaluation in an official complaint. Once L.A. starts investigating, it’s all over. They’ll have to put a stop to this thing.”
Does he really believe that, Natalie asked herself as she watched Harry. She knew that they would not be allowed to contact anyone. If the situation was this far out of hand, there would be no chance to stop it now. “I don’t like to bring up unpleasant things, but we’ve been ordered to house arrest as of an hour ago,” she reminded him. “Do you imagine we’ll be allowed to contact L.A.?”
“She’s right,” Lisa said. “We won’t get the chance.”
“Then we’ll make the chance. What’s the matter with you people?” he demanded. His face was reddening and he could feel his pulse race. “You’re giving up, is that it?”
“Retreating,” Lisa amended. “We don’t have a lot of choice, anyway. We might as well give up.”
“And where would we go, assuming they let us out of our apartments?” Stan paced the floor. “We aren’t going to be allowed anywhere near a hospital, and we’ve got to operate from somewhere. But you know what the housing situation is like. There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that we could find a place big enough and private enough...”
Suddenly Natalie looked up. “The Van Dreyter house!” she said, her face brightening. “We can take over the Van Dreyter house.”
“Oh, sure,” Stan agreed caustically. “They’ll hand over the biggest landmark in the city without a murmur.”
“You’re tilting at windmills,” Lisa agreed.
“Let her talk,” Harry said sharply. He sensed Natalie’s change of mind, and her awakening strength.
She set her jaw and went on. “In a couple of weeks it won’t matter what the city says. The house is sitting there, all thirty-six rooms of it. It’s furnished, it’s got all the utilities. We can take it over and use it like one of those old-fashioned co-ops. We could live there and work there. The house is central. Everyone knows about it. Word of mouth would do the rest.”
Lisa started to laugh, then sobered. “Okay. Call me Sancho. What makes you think it’ll work?” Natalie gathered up the remainder of her things.
“Because it has to.”
Harry felt the bus lurch as it went over the potholes. He tightened his grip on Natalie’s shoulder.
“You sure you don’t mind?” Natalie asked for the sixteenth time. “I could ask Carol if she’d mind if I stayed with her.”
“Jack Mendosa would love that, wouldn’t he?” Harry said cordially. “And with all that room they have: three rooms and a closet. A great bargain. One more should fit in somewhere. Maybe you could sleep in the bathtub.”
“All right,” she muttered. “But this will be awkward.” She stared past him out the window. Behind them the hospital was almost lost to sight, its seventeen white stories grimy with the foul air.
“Only until we move into the Van Dreyter house.”
She touched her valise. “How much room do you have?”
He grinned. “I’m lucky. I’m in one of the old apartment blocks. I’ve got four rooms, a kitchen and a bath. There’s lots of space. My brother and his wife used to share it with me, but they’ve moved to Phoenix, and the Housing Authority hasn’t evicted me yet. The rooms are good-sized, with nine-foot ceilings. You’ll like it, Natalie. You can have all the privacy you want.”
“House arrest,” she said bitterly. “On top of everything else.”
“It won’t last.”
The bus shuddered as it paused. The doors creaked open as passengers jostled each other and a few struggled out onto the pavement.
“One more stop,” Harry promised her. “We get off at the next one.”
A woman across the way began to cough, a thin, persistent noise that came through the susurrus of conversation.
“God, Harry,” Natalie said as the coughing grew worse. “There’s so little time.”
* * *
CHAPTER 5
A MECHANICAL VOICE INFORMED Harry that his call could not be completed as dialed and advised him to try again when the lines were open. He slammed the receiver back into the cradle, swearing.
“No luck?” Natalie asked, knowing the answer.
“I can’t get through,” he said, coming back into the living room. The frustration he felt showed on his face. “I’ll try to get Denning again. He should be willing to listen if I can reach him.”
Harry did not entirely trust Hall Denning, knowing that newsmen were a chancy lot, but he could think of no other possibilities.
“They won’t let you. We’re not going to talk to anyone until it’s too late.” She sat down, her head in her hands. “Besides, Denning is local. We need national attention on this. We might not be the only test area, you know. There might be others.”
Harry paused before sinking into the old chair opposite her. “Yes.” He studied the floor, a complicated parquetry of pine and oak that was once the pride of its first owners. Now some of the wood was gray with wear, some of the pieces missing altogether, the pattern patched with linoleum or old carpet.
“You tried to call the others?” she said when the silence between them had lengthened.
He nodded. “I can’t get through. They need official authorization. I haven’t got it.”
“Do you think we could sneak out?”
“There’re guards out there, remember?” he snapped, then relented. “I don’t know, Natalie. Maybe we could. But where would we go?” He wished she had an answer for that, but knew that she was as isolated as he.
“Did you hear the news this morning?” Natalie asked, changing the subject. Her hands were tightly laced together in her lap, and the tension increased as she waited for an answer.
“No.”
“They reported an outbreak of flu—a new variety, they said. They advised listeners to see their doctors if they became ill, and gave the usual warnings about avoiding public contact. You know the routine.”
“Yes.”
She stared out the window into the warm spring day where a gentle wind slid between the crowded buildings and tickled the river into ripples. Summer would be hot this year, and that would make it worse.
“What do you think about Senator Hammond? She might force the issue for us.” Harry said this hopefully.
“I tried to call her local office and they wouldn’t connect me. Besides, she’s in Washington right now. Congress is in session. I doubt we’ll see her back on this coast for a couple of months yet.” Natalie felt the deep fatigue of helplessness settle over her. For the last three days she had told herself that surely the hospital administration would call off the experiment by now, that they would realize what they had done and would attempt to reverse the pandemic. But she knew that this had not happened when she heard the news on the radio. By the time anyone could be convinced to help, it would be too late. It was too late now.
Harry rose from his chair, his hands swinging together and meeting in a blow. If he felt pain from this, he did not notice it. “We’re overlooking something. There’s got to be a way. I can’t simply sit here while the whole city dies.”
“And you think it’s easy for me?” Natalie demanded, stung.
“Well, you sure haven’t come up with any working alternative.” Quite suddenly he turned into the hall again and picked up the phone, dialing angrily. “Yes,” he said in a moment, “this is Dr. Smith. I would like to speak with Robert Craley...” He paused, and his expression grew thunderous. “No, no authorization.” In the next instant he had slammed the phone down. “No help from the Justice Department, either.” He walked slowly back into the living room, turning to Natalie again. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“I know,” she said, turning away. She studied the pattern of light and shadow on the wall behind her. “Even if we could get them to listen, no one would believe us. The hospital would offer some glib explanation and point out that we’ve been dismissed, making sure that they dropped a hint that we were guilty of something awful, and that would destroy what little credibility we have.”
“People aren’t that dumb,” Harry insisted, pacing the room. “If we could reach them, we can make them believe us.”
“The way you believed me when I first told you about it?” She waited while he thought this over. “Are you going to hand out broadsides in Stockton? Well? How are you going to get the attention you need, Harry?” Her own sarcasm hurt her and she got up, saying, “I can’t take much more of this, Harry. We’ve got to do something. You’re right about that.”
“I went to school with Bob Craley ... he might listen to me,” Harry said. “His office won’t connect me, but maybe I could call him at home.”
Natalie was about to object, then only sighed and left the room.
This time the news was calming: the city hospitals were taking care of all the flu patients in special wards, and for the time being were keeping them in total quarantine. The hospital administrators felt that this way the risk was minimized.
Harry watched the smooth face of the announcer as it flickered on the screen. “No one can visit,” he said, disgusted. “For their own protection, of course.”
Natalie pulled her hands together. “It won’t be much longer. They’re going to have to admit there is more than a flu epidemic going on.”
“But what good will that do? You’ve read the listener-response reports: almost everyone in the city thinks that the hospitals are doing a great job in keeping the public safe. They’re all certain that the emergency will soon be over. You know that’s not true, and so do I, but we’re nothing compared to the rest of them out there. Crap.” He flung himself across the room. “Deutch is on duty outside. I asked him if I could go out for some food. I said we were running low.”
“And?” Natalie asked, knowing what had happened.
“He asked for a list and told me he’d pick up what we need tomorrow.”
“I said I wanted to get some underwear. Same answer.” She thought for a moment. “Not that we could do much good even if we could get out. They’re not going to let us see the others or treat anyone. And if we open our mouths they’ll toss us in jail.”
Harry kicked at the floor, dislodging another worn parquet square. He bent over and shoved the wood back into place. “Never mind,” he said as he straightened up, and it was hard to tell if he meant the damage to the floor or the ruin that was waiting with the plague. “What’s for lunch?”
“Eggs,” she said. “Not real ones. Just the standard substitutes. There aren’t any real ones available until the first of the month. I signed up for a dozen. Deutch put my name in.”
Harry thought fleetingly of that. It was like everything else. There was not enough to go around. There was never enough. Not enough real food, not enough space, not enough time, not enough contact, not enough of life. His gloom descended once more.
Over lunch their thoughts turned, and Natalie looked away from her sulphur-colored omelet toward the grimy windows. “I miss the smell of spring. I used to take Philip out to the Great Belt Park, and this time of year it could be lovely.” Sunshine was reflecting off the white plastic counters and metal sink, making the small room shine.
“The smell is different this year.”
They fell silent and tried to eat the omelets.
After a while he began to hum, thinking of the bright flowers he missed, then filling in the words familiar to him since childhood:
Ring around the rosie
Pocket full of posie
Ashes, ashes, all fall down.
“Shut up!” she yelled at him.
“Humh? What for?”
“Don’t you know what that is?”
“What’s wrong with a nursery rhyme?” He thought perhaps it reminded her too much of her dead son. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I should have remembered.” He rose and came around behind her.
She pushed his hand away from her shoulder. “It’s the plague rhyme. It’s about the Black Death.”
Her voice was flat, all anger gone from it. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” She was saying that too often, but it was true: she said wounding, hurtful things to him to save herself from her own vulnerability.
Harry made an effort to change the subject once more. “I wonder if they’ll call us back?”
If there were anyone to call them back. He had heard that the administration at the hospital had been laying off staff members. Harry
had heard the names and knew that they were getting rid of the fighters, the mavericks who could not be trusted to go along with this carefully planned disaster.
But Natalie was talking. “It’s like being on a sinking ship with hundreds of other people and two leaky lifeboats, isn’t it? The odds aren’t good. Do you think we’ll make it?”
“Don’t talk that way.” He went to pull the blinds down.
“Knowing people...” she said as if she had not heard him, “... they’ll trample each other to death or hack the lifeboats to pieces.”
“Natalie, stop it.” He was about to reach for her when there was a tap at the window. His flat was four floors aboveground and the window was difficult to reach. The tap was repeated.
Cautiously he looked out.
“What is it?” Natalie asked from the table, almost afraid to be interested.
“I don’t know. I thought I heard—there it is again.” He looked more carefully, edging the window open.
Twelve feet beyond the window on the narrow building maintenance landing, perched a ten-year-old girl. One hand was filled with gravel, the other hand had two fingers stuck into her nose. “You the doctor?” she whispered.
“Both of us,” Harry answered, surprise growing slowly in him.
“Can you come quick? Just two floors down. My sister is sick.”
Harry frowned. “What about your mother? Can’t she get a doctor for you?”
“They left,” the girl said simply. “Mom and Pop both. The hospital doesn’t answer when I call—the line is busy all the time. I tried earlier, and it didn’t work.”
“Do your mother and father work?” asked Natalie, who had joined Harry at the window.
“Nope. Left. For good. Ces’lie’s real sick. Can you come?” She thought something over. “You can’t go out the door. Cops are watching it. I tried there first. But if you crawl along the ledge there...” She pointed to the narrow ledge under the window, which would provide little more than a handsbreadth to stand on.
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Time of the Fourth Horseman Page 9
