“Mr. Lampert?”
The Old Man stirred, opened his eyes and looked up.
“Whuh?”
“Oh, it’s just your meal,” Justin said, moving the tray back into place. “You should eat.”
“Meh,” Lampert grimaced. “I don’t want it. Not hungry.”
“But you must eat. Your recent convalescence has left you very weak.”
“Uh huh. But I still ain’t hungry. You want it?”
Tamping down the impulse to snatch up the food and shove it into his mouth, Justin shook his head and smiled.
“No sir,” he lied. “This food is for you. Please, try to eat.”
Lampert eyed Justin with that penetrating stare again, just for a moment, and then gave a shrug and reached for his fork.
“I suppose,” he grumbled, spearing a delicious-looking chunk of what was probably horse meat. “After all, alls you poor sons o’ bitches got is that soy paste. I guess I should be thankful.”
Justin waited as the Old Man methodically polished off the food, chewing like a machine, and then drank off a glass of purified water.
“Ah,” he said, putting down the glass. “There. All gone. Happy? Do I get a gold star or anything?”
“Would you like one?” asked Justin, smiling thinly. “Or perhaps a balloon? Maybe a lollipop?”
“Naw, I’m good,” Lampert chuckled. “Sure wish you guys had some cigarettes, though. I sure could use a smoke.”
“Yes, well,” said Justin, “I am afraid I can’t help you there. None of us smokes.”
“Yeah, I guess not, bein’ doctors and all. Funny, though. I woulda thought they’d have banned cigarettes. Sure seemed like they were gonna, last I recall.”
“Oh, they did,” nodded Justin. “In 2044. It was a Constitutional Amendment. But, like alcohol prohibition back in the 1920’s, it didn’t last. People smoked anyway and a large black market and gang culture quickly sprang up. Well, anyway, the amendment was repealed in 2046, and we’ve had cigarettes ever since. Apparently, from what I’ve heard, they have become a rather valuable commodity. I have even heard that they’re used as currency in some places.”
“I’ll bet they are!” Lampert nodded. “Lotsa other hard-to-get shit, too, probably, like all the shit they don’t make anymore. Yup, supply and demand, Doc. Supply and demand. Well, I guess some things never change.”
And off he went again, this time at great length on the quality and availability of various consumer goods; cigarettes, gasoline, foodstuffs… Justin tried to act like he was interested, but after a good hour he was fed up.
“Um, Mr. Lampert?” he interjected, when the Old Man paused for breath.
“What?”
“Have you thought of anything?” asked Justin mildly.
“About what?”
Justin suppressed the urge to scream. “About our situation,” he said, through clenched teeth. “How to find the Bloodclaw’s stash.”
“Oh, that,” said Lampert blithely. “That’s easy…”
“Yes? And?”
Lampert opened his eyes and gave Justin a sort of smirk. “Have a party!” he said, inexplicably.
Justin shook his head. “I don’t understand. A party?”
“Yeah,” said Lampert. “A nice big, after dark-type bonfire party. Then, while everyone’s dancing and reveling and whatever, send one or two o’ your crew out with the metal detector. I’d also advise bringin’ a gun of some sort, but that’s up to you. Shit, I still say you should go grab whoever’s out there watchin’ us, but if you guys are gonna be all wussy about it.”
“A party…” said Justin, thinking. “Well, I suppose that might work. But who’s to say that the watcher, whoever it is, isn’t sitting right on top of the stash? What then?”
“If that’s the case,” said Lampert, “you’re humped. And you’ll hafta take out the watcher. That, or I guess you could just sit here and starve to death.”
“Good point,” Justin nodded. “And let’s hope that is not the case. Still, it seems awfully dangerous.”
“Ya gotta better idea?” asked the Old Man petulantly. “Because I can just shut the fuck up and lay here, if that’s—”
“No, not at all!” Justin hastily interrupted. “It’s a fine plan! And I do appreciate your thoughts. It’s just that…” He trailed off, frowning and shaking his head.
“Just that what?”
“Well, just that I’m not entirely… comfortable with sending someone to do such a thing. After all, they’re doctors and nurses and students, not soldiers.”
“Gonna hafta make do, I guess,” shrugged Lampert, and then yawned. “Use the best ya got. Anyways, I’m gettin’ pretty shagged here, Doc. I could use a little nap.”
“Oh, of course…” Justin said, remembering that this was a patient to whom he was speaking. “You need your rest. I’ll check on you a little later.”
“Whatever.”
Feeling testily that he’d been dismissed somehow, Justin shrugged, got up, dimmed the lights, and quietly let himself out. In the corridor he found Barbara Cass waiting for him. The chief nurse looked impassive and stoic as always, her plain, somewhat pasty features set in their usual neutral expression. She handed Justin a video board as he approached.
“Dr. Poole’s imaging,” she said, nodding at the board. “Thought you’d want to see it right away.”
“Yes, thank you,” said Justin, taking the device.
“So how’s the Old man today?” she asked.
“Oh, fine…” said Justin absently. “Still kicking…”
“And what about the rest?” asked Cass. “Food, water, gas…”
“I’m working on that,” said Justin, a bit nettled. “But right now, I think I’d better review these test results. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course, Doctor,” she said, moving aside to let him pass. “I’ll attend to Mr. Lampert.”
Nodding, Justin left her to it and went to his lab cubicle and sat down at the table. With a thumb he flipped the video board from standby mode to active, scrolled down past dozens of entries for “Lampert, H.” to “Poole, L.” and then tapped the screen to bring up Dr. Poole’s chart and relevant tests and imaging. Of primary interest were the radiation scans, which showed that, as suspected, the injury to Dr. Poole’s leg—specifically his right femur—was not all that bad; it was a fracture, but it didn’t go all the way across the bone and there didn’t seem to be any signs of splintering or complications. They should be able to simply set it and cast it up. Well, at least that was some good news.
Absently, preoccupied with his latest chat with the Old Man, he switched off the v-board and set it aside. Mulling it over, he decided that Lampert’s plan had merit and that, furthermore, it was pretty much the only course of action left. They simply had to have supplies. The sticking point was that the mere thought of sending someone out on this kind of mission made him break out in a cold sweat. And even if he could screw himself up enough to order someone to go skulking about in the night with a metal detector, who would he choose? And even if he picked someone, they’d be more than within their rights to laugh in his face and tell him to go straight to hell.
Chewing on a cuticle, he thought about it, but nothing particularly useful came to mind. Finally, after much deliberation and soul-searching, he decided. He knew just the man for the job. Then, pushing the whole bundle of twisted thoughts into the back of his mind, he went to see to Dr. Poole.
Chapter Seven
Tonight on Prison Brawl, presented in HDS, two top teams face off as the Leavenworth Assassins go head to head with the Pelican Bay Panthers in the divisional playoffs! After last week’s loss of Big Bob Skullcracker, can the Assassins bounce back to beat the west-coast Cinderella boys of Pelican Bay? And can Panthers star Eyeball Simpson overcome his latest brutal shanking? Plus, tonight is Kid’s Night! All kids under twelve watch for free! Watch Prison Brawl in amazing HDS tonight!