"Young ... lady ... I... must ... insist ..."
"Frankie!" Don ran over to the hospital bed and grappled with her.
"Frankie, stop it. You'll kill him."
"No shit, Don. That's what I'm trying to do."
"He just wants to help you."
"He's not sticking me with that needle!"
"Can't ... breathe ..." Dr. Maynard turned purple and the veins bulged in his cheeks.
Don struggled to break her grip.
"Listen to me, Frankie."
"No! You don't understand." Her eyes were huge, her pupils dilated.
Mucous ran from her nostrils as she trembled with shock.
The door opened. Don turned to see Jim, Danny, a nurse, and another doctor in a white lab coat staring in open-mouthed astonishment.
"Get over here and help me," he grunted. "She's killing him!"
"Can't..." Maynard wheezed, "br ..."
"Frankie!" Jim ran over to the bed and helped Don pull her off.
Dr. Maynard collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. His fingers probed the bruises on his throat.
"She-she tried to kill me," he retched.
"Frankie, what the hell is wrong with you?" Jim asked.
"She just snapped," Don told him. "One minute she was fine. Then she saw that needle in his hand and all hell broke loose."
"Jim," Frankie panted, "don't let him stick me. No needles. Please? I helped you. Now I'm ... I'm ... asking ..."
Her eyes rolled up into her head, and she collapsed back on to the bed, unconscious.
Don turned to Jim. "She doesn't like needles?"
"I guess not. I think-she may have had a problem with heroin at one point. There's track marks on her arms. Scars."
Danny watched from the doorway.
"Is Frankie going to be okay, Daddy?"
"I think so, squirt. She was just tired. That's all." He tried to sound casual and thought he did a pretty good job-but inwardly he felt disturbed that Danny had been exposed to the scene. Sure, this was nothing compared to everything else the boy had experienced, but that didn't make it right.
Dr. Stern helped Maynard to his feet.
"That cunt," Maynard snarled. "I can't believe that she-"
Jim was in his face before he could finish.
"Mister, we appreciate all that you folks have done for us. But if I ever hear you call her that again, you'll be the one that gets knocked out. Do you understand me?"
Maynard blinked, and then mumbled an apology under his breath.
Don frowned. "Hell of a bedside manner you've got there, doc."
Stern tried to sooth them. "We're all under a bit of stress. Let's just calm down, shall we?"
"Yeah, sure," Jim grumbled. "Whatever."
Stern took Maynard by the arm. "Joseph, perhaps you should get some rest. You were up all night working in your lab again, weren't you? I'll take over here."
"Thank you, Carl." Maynard looked at Jim. "My apologies."
"Mine too. Kelli, can you give Joseph a hand?"
"Of course. Come on, Dr. Maynard."
Without another word, Maynard allowed Kelli to lead him from the room.
As he passed by them, Jim and Don caught a whiff of something-rotten, like the man had rolled around in road kill. He noticed that the nurse was wincing too.
"Gentlemen," Dr. Stern said, "I'm going to ask you to leave as well. I need to get her into surgery, and now I'm shorthanded.
I'll let you know how she is as soon as I've finished."
He picked up the telephone on the desk and dialed an extension.
"Yes, can you send someone up to Examination Room B and have them give our new arrivals the tour? And have the rest of the standby nursing staff report to sick bay on the double. Thank you."
He hung up the phone.
"Somebody will be with you shortly. They'll show you to your living quarters and help you get assimilated."
"Sounds good," Jim replied, not liking the sound of assimilated. "I'm exhausted."
Distant thunder boomed outside, and both Don and Danny jumped.
Stern chuckled, sliding the needle into Frankie's arm.
"Relax," he told them. "You're all safe now."
The thunder rolled across the sky again and dark clouds blocked out the newly risen sun. Fat raindrops exploded against the window.
The doctor pulled out the needle and placed a cotton ball over the puncture.
"We're safe and sound. See?"
In her dream-because this time she knew it was a dream right away-Frankie stood on a street corner. Zombies bustled all around her: some in business suits with cell phones at their ears, others in blue jeans and T-shirts. One of them, obviously a tourist, gawked at the skyline. Its I Love New York T-shirt was crusted with dried juices. Some walked zombie dogs on leashes and others jogged, pieces of their bodies falling off in their wake. The streets were congested with zombies driving cars and pedaling bikes. A taxi driver leaned on his horn, cursing in a language that was old when the world was young. A bus flashed by her, and Frankie recoiled in disgust at the rotting faces staring back at her from the windows.
A zombie with a bloodstained beret perched atop its head stepped forward and said, "Hey baby, how much for a blow job?"
"Fuck off," Frankie snarled. "I don't do that anymore."
"You're standing on the street corner. How much? I've got money."
He pulled out a greasy wad of bills. His decaying fingers left splotches on the money. Then he produced a needle.
"Or maybe you'd like some of that old black tar instead?"
"Not interested," Frankie said. "I don't do that shit anymore either.
Now get out of here."
The zombie stuffed the crumpled money back in its pocket and jammed the needle into its eye. Then it pulled down its zipper, releasing something that looked like a gray, bloated sausage. Insects swarmed over the rotting member. The pubic hair was matted with filth.
"Come on, sweetheart. How much to suck my cock?"
The corpse squeezed the shaft, and a maggot spurted from the hole at the end and fell to the sidewalk. The zombie's shriveled testicles squirmed from the inside with more maggot sperm.
"Get the fuck away from me." Frankie pushed the creature off the curb.
"Bitch," it mumbled, and stalked away.
Frankie took a deep breath, trying to decide what to do next.
A hand touched her shoulder.
"I told you to fuck off!"
She spun around.
Martin smiled sadly at her.
"Preacher-man," she gasped. "What are you doing here?"
The old man didn't reply.
"Hey, what the hell?"
Martin pointed over her shoulder.
"What is it?"
He pointed again, his face grim.
Frankie turned.