The Virus

by Steven Spellman

  About twenty minutes passed by the time Delilah finally exited the lavatory. The assistants were standing silently in the same spot, but now they rushed to her to escort her back to her room. “So, is there any chance I can get that room with a bathroom attached to it.” asked Delilah, as she followed the assistants back to her quarters. “Isn’t it bad enough that I haven’t been outside since I got here? I mean, I understand that I’m important and all, but can’t I make a single phone call? My father could send some of the help from my house to wherever this place is. They know what I need, and then you guys wouldn’t have to walk me to the bathroom like a three-year-old.” Delilah didn’t really think that the servants at her home would be brought here, but if she could get in touch with her father, he may be able to free her of this horrible confinement, so she figured that any argument that supported that objective deserved at least the chance to be aired. Unfortunately, the reality soon surfaced of how she was abducted and subsequently drugged right there in her father’s presence. If these people could trespass on private property and take her while her wealthy and affluent father was right there in the room, there was probably nothing he could do now that she was held prisoner in this god-awful colorless facility. It was definitely not an encouraging realization to dwell upon, but Delilah partially consoled herself by the fact that she was making headway in getting her demands met at the moment. If nothing else, it was a start.

  “Where is Dr. Crangler anyhow?” she asked as she approached her room. One of the assistants stopped at one of the large double windows that lined nearly every room like this in the facility. He peered into the window and sighed deeply in relief. “He’s right there, thank God.” Said he “So, Miss Hanson, if you have any further request, they should be directed to him.” Delilah saw the doctor, or rather the back of him when she walked to the window where the assistant was standing, as he surveyed her room. The door was already opened so the leading assistant led Delilah in quickly, and just as quickly stood to the side just inside the room. The remaining assistant did likewise after Delilah entered. Meanwhile, Dr. Crangler, hearing the steps of his awaited guest, turned on his heels with a swiftness and anger that belied his age and professional reserve.

  “What…!?” the doctor barked, unable to articulate a spirited assault for the tide of anger that currently engulfed him. “What…!?” he tried again. He gestured in every direction and it was clear that he could hardly control himself. “Report to Operations, immediately!” he demanded to his two silent staff members, once he calmed down enough to speak a complete sentence. “Immediately!” he yelled again, even though his assistants were already making their hasty exit. He watched with a grimace as they passed the double windows of the room toward the operations department. Then, he turned around to Delilah, who was sitting quite comfortably on her new white leather couch. “Miss Hanson…” he began.

  “Listen, Dr. Crangler,” Delilah kindly interrupted, “I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but it feels likes months. I mean, guys in black suites trespass on my property, take me from my house, drug me,” she sounded especially displeased with this last bit, “and then bring me to whatever this place is, where guys in white suits stick me in a room—one without a connected bathroom I might add—and just leave me to rot. I mean, really. Everything’s white all the time, I’m just now getting some of the products I need, and no one will tell me when, or if, I’ll ever leave this place. Now, you said that I was important, that you needed me to find a cure for this virus thing that’s out there. Well, if I’m so important, why shouldn’t I be treated like it?” Delilah paused to give the doctor a chance to answer, but he just stood there, seething, glaring at her as if she was truly insane. “You know,” she continued, completely undaunted, “it wouldn’t be a bad idea to let me call my dad and have him send some of the help here. I mean, it would…”

  “Absolutely not!” demanded the doctor. “As a matter of fact, all of this…this…stuff,” the doctor gestured toward Delilah’s latest room additions, “will have to go back immediately, including you. I’m going to have you moved back to the room you were in as soon as I have all this nonsense removed.”

  One of things that Delilah had demanded from Dr. Crangler’s nervous assistants in his absence was that she be moved to be a different room, the room she was in now. She had already figured the doctor wouldn’t be so receptive to the other things she had gotten changed, but she didn’t think he would cause such a fuss about her being relocated to a different room. After all, she reasoned, what was the difference? As far as she knew, the entire facility was nothing more than a hodgepodge of equally blank rooms, but, even so, there was a reason she had herself moved to a different location, and she had no intention of returning, as she firmly asserted to the doctor.

  Delilah stood her ground. “Absolutely not!” she returned, “I am not going back to that room or any other room.”

  The doctor was about to assure her in no uncertain terms that indeed she was, but didn’t. Getting the information from Geoffrey’s notebooks was still his main objective, and he didn’t want to be further distracted. Even though he was furious with his assistants as well as the absurdly arrogant young lady standing before him just now, he didn’t want to waste precious focus he needed elsewhere, engaging in combat with Miss Hanson. Any other time—any other time—he would’ve been more than happy to show this spoiled little celebutant who was boss here, but not this time. Instead, the doctor asked, “And exactly why not, Miss Hanson?”

  “Because, I’m not a peep show, Dr. Crangler.” answered Delilah with heightened fervor. Unfortunately for the doctor, his reluctance to engage in territorial mortal combat with Delilah was only encouraging her to be more bold in her campaign to get her way. “It’s not like I approve of it, because I certainly do not, but it’s one thing for you people to have cameras everywhere,” she continued, “but it’s a whole other thing for me to have to see this huge window all the time where I know people are watching my every move. And since I haven’t seen another woman around here yet, I know that there are most likely nasty, maybe old, men on the other side of that window-thing you have set up. Oh, yeah, that’s right. I know there’s somebody on the other side of that window in my old room. I saw your guys talking to it when they thought I wasn’t looking.” Delilah gave the doctor a knowing look that was meant to inspire guilt. Meanwhile, he just stood there, dumbfounded at this woman’s arrogance, but again, this was not the time for the battle he would’ve enjoyed engaging with her.

  The doctor sighed in exasperation. “I need to run some tests on you and I don’t have time for this at the moment, Miss Hanson.” he hissed her name, “If you will just cooperate with me, then we can get this over with as soon as possible.”

  It was more than apparent to Delilah that she was wearing the doctor down, which was exactly her intention, and she couldn’t have been happier (except, of course, if she was immediately released from this place). She smiled innocently and nodded slightly in intimation that she would cooperate. The doctor, for his part, exited the room in great strides (Delilah fancied to herself that his very steps were those of defeat), and returned some time later, trailed by three of his assistants—none of whom were the ones from earlier, not surprisingly—each was carrying or pushing some kind of medical apparatus. Once these pieces of equipment had been properly set up in Delilah’s new room, the assistants left a second round of medical equipment, then a third. By the time they were finished, Delilah thought that she may have to undergo medical tests until the Second Coming; and oddly enough, this was not far from the doctor’s intention. The myriad of blood tests, stress tests, disease screenings, more blood tests, etc., was indeed of paramount importance, but by no means did all of them have to be performed in a single day. Delilah had not grown an immunity to The Virus, she just hadn’t contracted it, so synthesizing a cure from her blood would be much more difficult than it would otherwise, but the cure—if it could even be found—would certainly not be produc
ed in a day, a week, or even a single month, so performing all the these arduous, painstaking tests at once was essentially meaningless.

  Unfortunately for Delilah, the only purpose for doing things this way was to cause her as much discomfort as possible. Of the many things she didn’t know about this secret facility was that Dr. Crangler was not, as she had assumed, the top ranking official here. He had superiors that he had to answer to that Delilah would never lay eyes upon—some of the same officials that had authorized her abduction, in fact. Now, these officials knew (mainly because Dr. Crangler had explained it to them), that the work to be done concerning Delilah was a delicate endeavor. Delilah’s body had to be functioning completely up to par for the doctor to be able to extract the kind of biological samples he needed to possibly find a cure for The Virus. That meant that Delilah had to be free of diseases, contaminants, and other things, but it also meant that she could not be excessively stressed, as the effects would be just as hazardous. Unfortunately for Dr. Crangler, this meant that he could not vex this terribly spoiled young woman like he desperately wanted to, but it wasn’t to say that he couldn’t pursue other routes to annoy her, and right now, one other route was to run tests on her until she was past exhaustion, and then run more tests. Of course, if Delilah had known what was going on, she would’ve used this information to her advantage, but she didn’t, so the doctor used it to his.

  He ran Delilah on a small treadmill for a myriad of stress tests, drew blood until her arms nearly looked like a heroin addict’s, and then ran her again. He was as falsely polite to her as she had been to him as he connected all manner of uncomfortably-cold leads to her torso and legs and recorded the findings. He pricked her fingers, cut unnecessarily long samples of her hair, forced her to pee in countless cups, and all while, his attending assistants looked on with considerable confusion. When he finally finished, five and a half grueling hours later, Delilah was asleep nearly as soon as he informed her that they were done for the day. After everyone had left, he looked at Delilah, a little surprised at just how unprofessional he had been, before leaving the room himself. He didn’t have much time to dwell on the ugly facets of human nature because he still had to sort through the results of the many tests he’d performed, and try to make sense of them. After all, even though he and Delilah would likely resume cold war combat as soon as she awoke, there was still a virus to cure, and the destruction that was being wreaked above ground would not wait.

  Chapter 17

  Days passed before Delilah saw Dr. Crangler again and though there was a new set of assistants assigned to her now, she soon managed to work them to her own benefit as deftly as the last bunch. Not only did she get a few more pieces of furniture in her room, but she also pressured the new guys into getting her some new clothes and hair accessories—colorful cloths and hair accessories. This was Delilah’s boldest move yet and it wasn’t a great surprise to her that shortly after her newly-acquired things showed up, so did Dr. Crangler. The assistants were still in Delilah’s room setting up her new things when he arrived. She was trying to convince one of them to give her an amateur foot massage when the locking mechanism of her door unlatched and the doctor roared in.

  “I want Miss Hanson moved to another room and everything cleared out of this one right now!” the doctor bellowed. “I specified at the briefing that there was to be nothing of color placed into her room unless I approved it personally!” The doctor’s fists were clenched and trembling, his face was flushed, and his words came in angry gasps.

  “But you said not to disturb you for any reason, you said…” one of the assistants began.

  “Damn it all!” shouted the doctor, “I don’t care what I told you. I said no color in this room!” The assistants traded confused glances. Looking at how similar the bewilderment was on each of their faces, Delilah had a nearly overpowering urge to burst out in hysterical laughter. It was always a great joy for her to be reminded that she had the ability to put men into such great disarray. Meanwhile, the doctor continued, “Now move Miss Hanson to another room and clear this one out immediately!” The two disorientated subordinates struggled nearly in vain not to stumble over one another as one headed for a piece of Delilah’s furniture to drag it out, and the other for Delilah. Delilah had been enjoying the chaotic scene, but now, she sprang into action. Rising to her feet in one swift movement, she held her arms out in front of her in intimation that she wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Hey, Hey! Stop right there!” she yelled so loudly that everyone in the room, the doctor included, was startled motionless. “I already told you, Dr. Crangler, I’m not going back to that room or any other one. Now, I’ve been trapped here long enough without anything but white walls to look at. I’m not a barbarian, I’m a woman. And if you expect me to cooperate with you so you can get whatever it is you’re trying to get from me, then I’m going to have some things.” With this heated declaration, the battle between the doctor and Delilah was brought to an undeniable head. She had waited long and worked hard to secure the things that now populated the room, and the thought of having to be taken backward so easily was more than she could take. A year ago, these clothes (they weren’t even designer for goodness sake!), these pieces of furniture, the girlie hair things, all of it would’ve been little more than an insult to her routinely pampered palate, but now… Well, now, after all she’d been through, and living in the confines of a place so completely devoid of style and excitement, these things actually meant something.

  “Miss Hanson, I will have you sedated if you refuse…” began the doctor.

  “I dare you!” Delilah squealed. The gloves were off, the games were over, and Delilah was completely swept away in frustration that had been building up inside her since this whole Virus nonsense began. “I double dare you!” The words themselves could’ve been shouted by a child, but the tone and fierce determination that accompanied them were anything but. “That’s right, I heard one of the other asshole doctors say that you couldn’t sedate me again. You need to get this vaccine or whatever from my blood, and if my blood is loaded with a bunch of drugs, then it’s no good. You need me, whether you like it or not, and I’m not cooperating one damn bit if I have to sit in a room all day alone with nothing and no one to look at but you and your flunkies. Do you understand me?” Delilah was at fever pitch now. She didn’t know if she was helping or hurting her cause, but it didn’t even matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was that she had had enough of the ‘white treatment’ and if life was going to be hell for her, then she would damn well make sure it was the same for the doctor as well.

  “And another thing.” Delilah continued erratically, “I want to get out of here and see the outside. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but if you don’t let me out of this place for a while, I’m gonna go crazy. And if I go crazy, I’m gonna make damn sure that I take somebody with me. And why the hell can’t I get more than one fucking station on the television or the radio? And I want some more clothes! And why the hell can’t I call my father?” Delilah was delirious with anger, her arms flailing in every direction and her squeals brought to an ear piercing crescendo. With every protestation, she moved closer to the doctor, so much so that he was actually concerned for his physical safety. Fortunately for him, her outburst exhausted all her energy before she could cause him bodily harm. Now, she stood just before him, her eyes wild and angry, and her delicate breasts heaving for precious breath. It was clear on her face that she had many more angry ultimatums to shower upon the doctor, but not the energy or the breath to demand them. The doctor was again struck dumb. He had expected Delilah to be discontent with his decision to remove her and her newly-acquired things from the room, but he certainly had not expected how spirited that discontent would be.

  Meanwhile, the assistants had wisely vacated the room and reported back to Operations, some time ago. Now, one of them returned, and upon entering the room, whispered something into the doctor’s ear. The doctor and Delilah were standi
ng in the same position with the same expressions as before, but now, with the assistant whispering in his ear, the doctor’s face assumed a series of expressions, something like varying degrees of realization, until at last, a mysterious and mischievous smile alighted on his lips. This smile widened as the assistant continued whispering and, by the time the assistant exited the room again, the doctor’s face was completely different. His smile was broad, stretching his lips against his teeth and bunching his cheeks together in deep ridges, the light in his eyes twinkled, and his posture was more relaxed. Much more.

  “You know, Miss Hanson,” began the doctor, after some contemplation. The mirth with which he uttered Delilah’s name warned her that somehow the tides had changed—and not in her favor. “I think you may have a point. Perhaps it is time we give you a few more privileges. After all, you are vitally important aren’t you? And we can’t have our VIPs feeling like prisoners can we?” Delilah didn’t like the catch in his voice. “So,” the doctor continued, “not only can you keep all your things, but I’m going to have one of our mirror trucks summoned immediately, and you’re going to get a nice, long, scenic ride out. I’ll even see if I can get you out of the compound and into the countryside for a while. How does that sound, Miss Hanson?”

  Delilah squinted at the doctor. “And what’s the catch?”

  “Oh, no catch, Miss Hanson,” answered the doctor, as he turned to leave. He turned back just before he reached the door. “Well, perhaps there is one little catch.” “You see, Miss Hanson,” Dr. Crangler resumed, “according to our findings, we believe we can indeed synthesize a permanent cure for The Virus from your blood, just not your present blood. To produce a cure for this unique pandemic, we need a particular type of stem cell, a type of stem cell which your body would only help produce only under certain circumstances...a type of stem cell found in umbilical cord blood.”