"A narcotic, very powerful, especially in such concentration. This alone could turn a man into a zombie."
"But your blood tests showed none of this?"
"No ... very strange ... if it came from inside Weitzel. Almost as if it were stored like a hormone in an organ."
They stared long into one another's eyes for several silent minutes.
She pulled her gaze from him and continued. "We also found high levels of succinic acids, choline and..."
"Yes?"
"Mephitis, an odorous gas."
"What does that tell you?"
"Very little, except that none of this should have been in that hospital room with you men."
"What is this acid and choline?"
"In the human body, they are natural by-products of succinylcholine, normal body chemicals. They break down after death into their component parts."
"Sounds to me like you had graveyard muck under your scope, Doctor."
"Not so fast. The drug is also used in careful dosages as a muscle relaxant during surgery of the abdominal cavity. Its presence in a hospital room is not altogether remarkable."
"But encased in fluid and mud spewed forth by a supposed coma victim?"
She dropped her gaze. "You can't expect me and the others here to believe that some sort of demon possession is involved here, Dr. Stroud, can you?"
"No, I guess I can't expect that from any of you medical people. Now, if I may, I'm out of here."
"Dr. Stroud, please tell me this. Do you recall anything at all of your experience when you were under?" she asked.
"I may in time, but for now ... sorry. Sometimes I have total blackout from which I recall literally nothing. Other times I may get fragments ... bits and pieces coming back..."
"You can tell me nothing more?"
"Sorry."
"What about hypnosis? Would you submit to a test?"
"A test? Do you ever do one test, Dr. Cline? Look, I'm on my way out of here. I'm surprised Nathan hasn't already sent a car for me."
Stroud drained his coffee, got up and asked, "Will you please just do all that you can for Dr. Leonard?"
"Of course we will."
"Have you heard anything at all from Nathan? I have to arrange to see Dr. Wisnewski, and Nathan may be my only way in."
A look of fatigue and perhaps defeat colored her features as she leaned back in her desk chair. Stroud saw something skitter past her liquid gray eyes, something she was hiding. He wondered a moment about her past, what had brought her to be here in New York at this time. She might well be wondering the same of him.
Finally, she said, "I'm afraid Commissioner Nathan does not know that you ... that you are out of coma, Dr. Stroud."
"What? But that was our agreement!" He was astonished.
"My secretary has been trying to get through to him for hours, but--"
"But? But what?"
"He's about the hardest man in the city to reach right now and--"
"And nothing, Doctor. We had an agreement. You broke it, pure and simple. Damn, you've just strung me along, and you're still trying to find reasons for me to stay put."
"Don't you care about what's happening here? Don't you see this is the only rational way to proceed? I thought you were a reasonable man!"
"I try to be, but sometimes, Doctor, reason is not enough."
"Then think about this!" She rushed to catch him at the door. "You could very possibly be a carrier; by coming into contact with others, you could be exposing them to this unknown disease."
He took a deep breath, realizing she was right. "I'll have to risk that."
"Haven't you any moral compunction whatso--"
He hated to do so, but Stroud closed the door in her face. He must rush as quickly as possible to Commissioner Nathan's. The man must be frantic by now, losing Leonard and Stroud to apparent coma, losing Wisnewski to madness and seeing the plague numbers rise without any idea what was going on.
Stroud had to slip from the hospital quietly without any attendant press or other attention. He found a service elevator and made his way out the back. He had to get to Wisnewski.
-6-
Stroud had called for a cab but he was told it might be an hour, maybe two, before one could get to him. Every cab in the city was on call and when Stroud stepped out onto the street he knew the reason why. Sirens were blaring everywhere. Every medic, every cop and every good citizen in New York had been pressed into service as ambulances roared through the congested streets. Panic was rampant. There was evidence of some looting, and there was evidence everywhere of the alien disease. People who had contracted the disease were in such large numbers now that many lay in the gutters, alleyways and streets, others afraid to touch them. All of the plague victims, eyes staring wide from inside bodies they could not maneuver, were like zombies. Their muscles and minds were locked in various poses of frozen gesture where they lay.
A man rushing by Stroud had tears in his eyes when he came face-to-face with Stroud and said, "There're too many of them! Too many! I ... I can't help it ... can't..." The man dashed off, stumbling as he went.
The man who had screamed his frustration in Stroud's face had good reason, as mad as he sounded, for it came clear to Stroud that the streets were now filled with insanity. Stores were being openly looted, youngsters making off with VCRs, camcorders, tape decks, while older citizens were going in for jewels. The break-ins and looting had apparently become too much for police along with trying to contain the epidemic.
Everywhere Stroud looked he saw the fallout from the evil that had been unleashed on the city; it could all be traced back to that damnable ship and Gordon's unquenchable desire to build yet another skyscraper the likes of which the world had never seen. It was apparent to Stroud that this ship below the city was meant never to be disturbed, but now that it had been, what were their alternatives? How did you combat an evil that worked through the body chemistry of mankind, taking control of their minds, turning them into unknowing servants?
Stroud saw a pair of frightened children holding hands, zigzagging first toward him and then away, fearful of everything that moved. He shouted out to them not to fear him, but they raced on without turning an ear to him. Still he shouted, praying they would heed him, "Get to a church, a hospital or hospice!"
The sound of sirens continued in Stroud's ears as he made his way toward downtown Manhattan and One Police Plaza where he hoped to locate Nathan. He'd been unable to reach the commissioner by phone.
From an alleyway behind him a madman suddenly rushed Stroud with a claw hammer. Stroud sensed his presence moments before the hammer came down, grazing Stroud's shoulder when he bobbed and brought his fist into the man's abdomen. The blow seemed to have no effect on the man and Stroud suddenly realized from the look in the attacker's eyes, and the deathly pallor of his skin, that he was under the control of the affliction. Stroud saw the same unnatural glow in the whites of the man's eyes as he had in Weitzel's. Whatever this thing was, it seemed to be bent on destroying Abraham H. Stroud. Why? Stroud now grabbed the hand with the hammer in it, twisting and tearing, but the zombie's strength and grip on the weapon were incredible. Finally, Stroud brought up a knee to the thing's groin, and when this had no effect, he did it again and again. Still no visible effect and the thing was gaining strength while Stroud was weakening. The hammer was pulling free of Stroud's grip and would momentarily crush his skull, steel plate and all, when Stroud saw a speeding car coming toward them.
Stroud knew his timing must be perfect as he backed the creature at his throat toward the street. He brought up a leg and wrapped it around the ankle of the mad zombie and, letting go of the hammer, shoved with all his weight, toppling the crazed man into the path of the vehicle which pinned him beneath its grillework. In the screeching of tires and horn, Stroud thought he heard a voice escape the dead man, or was it simply air? It seemed to say, Esruad ... Esruad. Stroud saw that the deadly claw hammer lay in the gutter down and across the street, where it had flown on the impact.