Protocol 1337 (14 page)

“My gut tells me that this will end in disaster, but my heart tells me to let you do it. You got one week, Haus, and consider that my final favor to you. The only reason I am even giving you that much is because I think your dad would have let you do it. One more thing, Haus...” Reese says.

“What's that, sir?” I ask.

“Don’t die before I do. I want to at least explain my actions to your father before he kills me for a second time.” Reese says.

“Not planning on it, sir!” I reply before the Dlink goes dark. I decide to head down to the lower levels and begin my investigation. I meet two guards outside the elevator chatting. I notice the name tag on one uniform, J. James. He has long flowing hair and a well grown goatee. “I am SPC A. Haus; I am investigating the homicide that occurred earlier. I am under the authority of General Stratton to question whoever I deem fit. For the record, what's your full name, soldier?” I ask.

“Well, isn’t that cute, but for short, I am going to call you JJ from here on out. First question... When someone asks for your full name, have you ever replied I'M JAMES JAMES BEOTCH?” I ask.

“No, sir!” JJ replies.

“Well, that’s a damn shame. I think that would be funny as hell, but I digress. Where did the murder happen?” I ask. After getting the answers I needed from JJ, I enter the elevator and descend downward. It takes quite a while to reach the 17 shaft. I read the placard outside the double doors Area 17: Caution Radiation Zone. I open the doors and my foot crushes something as I enter. It,s a piece of glass, one of many scattered across the floor. I can see a lab stool leaning up against the wall. It's obvious to me that someone had used it to shatter a window in the working area.

I peak my head inside and see a large amount of blood on the counter and floor. An outline of a fallen body is marked with the number two. There is a large amount of debris scattered all over. A haunting testament to the violent act that was committed here. I can see a meandering trail of blood soaked footprints pacing about the room. “Disturbing, isn’t it?” Captain Hayes' voice makes me nearly leap out of my skin.

“You enjoy sneaking up on people and giving them a heart attack?” I say.

“The General told me to expect you down here. Picture yourself in the victim's shoes... Sitting down here in the dark 14 hours a day, never seeing the daylight, or family for that matter. It takes a toll on a person and even the most stable individuals lose their minds.” Hayes says.

“Well, in that case just follow me, but I have to warn you, we had to resort to some extreme measures to detain him.” We walk down a long hallway and Hayes gives me more details along the way.

“According to the witnesses the day started out like any other shift, then Dr. Perry became upset over some mineral stains on the lab equipment. The first victim tried to reason with Perry and it escalated quickly. Perry stabbed him in the neck with a dissection scalpel. After that, the others ran from the room locking him inside. Perry then ravaged the lab, smashing everything in sight in a fit of anger. Unfortunately, the victim bled to death as the others watched in horror.” Hayes says.

“Didn’t they call for help?” I ask.

“One victim pulled the fire alarm and then hid in a closet. The other tried to keep Perry locked up, but he smashed the window with a stool. Once responders arrived on the scene, Perry had already beaten one of them to near death. Perry was attempting to gain access to the closet using a fire axe. Luckily, responders were able to tackle Perry and restrain him while back up arrived.” Hayes explains.

We arrive at the containment cell and the armed guards stand down once they see Hayes. I look inside the room. There is a blood soaked body lying on a bed. His arms and feet have been bound to the rails of the bed. There is an IV dripping into his arm, and I can only guess what kind of drugs they are using to sedate him. “Is there a first aid kit nearby?” I ask.

“Yes, there is one just down the hall a bit in that alcove.” Hayes replies. I walk over to the alcove and remove the small white box from the wall. I put on a set of latex gloves and place a face mask over my mouth. I grab some cotton swabs, a small flashlight, and a plastic bio-hazard bag. I walk back to the door and open it slowly. I can hear Perry tossing, rambling incoherently in his drug induced coma.

I creep gently to the side of his makeshift prison. There is an open wound on his forehead. I take out the cotton swabs, dab them in a little bit of blood, and slowly place them into the bio-hazard bag. I seal the bag then double check it to make sure it's air tight. I remove the flashlight from my pocket and lift back one of his eyelids. I don’t even have to shine the light into his eyes. I can see that his eyes have been frosted over by blood. I drop the flashlight and run from the room.

I slam the door behind me and press my back against it. I slide down to the floor and I sit there in shock for a few moments. Then, better sense takes hold of me. I rip off my face mask and remove my gloves. I fight to get to my feet, looking back into the room at Perry. I wipe the sweat from my brow then back away slowly. The world is spinning and I can't seem to hold it all in place.

“That man is infected... We gotta get out of here now!” I scream into the near empty hallway. I stumble backwards, attempting to get my balance.

“Easy, Haus... You're just shaken up looking at him like that. Just breathe man... Don’t hyperventilate, just relax, slow and easy breathing.” Hayes instructs me.

“No, we need to get the general right now! He has to lock this place down. The virus is spreading and we are all going to die.” I scream.

“Medic! Sedate this idiot before he does something stupid.” Hayes yells. A man rushes to my side and injects me. I try to fight but the feeling is too strong. Soon the light grows dimmer and then the darkness tugs me under.

Drugs can do a lot of things to people, but from my experience, the dreams are the worst part. They don’t make any sense, just a slurry of randomness that attempts to present itself as making sense. It never does and leads to more confusion. While the purple elephants are dancing in my head, the real world is ticking along without me.

When I finally break free of my slumber, I am in the infirmary bed. The light of the new day has broken through the windows and I can smell the pine trees. I open my eyes hoping to see the faces of my loved ones, but no one is there to greet me. I hit my call light button and wait for my designated help to arrive.

“How long have I been out?” I ask.

“Two days roughly, are you ready to eat?” The nurse's voice replies. I know it's all in my foggy head, but she reminds me of Eve. After I let my eyes adjust, I am left with reality. She is a polar opposite of Eve, an older woman in her 60's, wrinkles and all.

“Dr. Cox was attacked last night in his apartment. Some meth heads broke in hoping to find some cash. Cox was home at the time and suffered greatly for it. He is in ICU at Spearfish Regional Hospital. When you feel up to it, I think you should visit him.” Stratton says.

CHAPTER TEN

A New Friend

It was nice of the general to allow Bucky to escort me to see Cox. The drive was filled with Bucky bragging about his liaisons with his many women friends. I found most of his stories too far-fetched, but every time I challenged him about it, he called me a hater. It made the ride a little more light hearted, but I was still very concerned for Cox. Why would some drug addicts try to rob him? He lives such a plain life and shows no sign of wealth. I suppose the drugs warped their minds enough to make the decision for them.

Soon, we arrived at the hospital and we made our way to Cox's room. We were greeted by a freckle faced doctor looking over his charts. “I’m sorry, are you family?” Dr. Peterson asks.

“Yeah, that’s my brother. What in the hell happened?” I reply as I rush to his bedside.

“He has suffered some severe stab wounds. He is lucky to even be alive. His body is in shock and has lapsed into a coma. We have been doing our best to keep him stable. His vital signs are weak but improving. He has had multiple blood transfusions, and surgery was a success to repair the damage done to him. Had the knife been two inches to the left, it would have done irreparable damage to his heart. Like I said before, it's a miracle he even made it this far.” Dr. Peterson explains.

I have a hard time seeing Cox like this. I can barely recognize his swollen and bruised face. There is a breathing tube running down his throat. Tubes and sensors are covering his mangled body. I should have been there for him and maybe none of this would have happened. He asked me to be his best friend, and when he needed me most, I let him down. I lean forward to his ear and whisper into it. “I got those blood samples you wanted, doc.”

Cox's eyes fly open, his torso springs up from the hospital bed in an upright position. He grabs the sides of my head with his hands and holds my face in front of his. He tries to scream, but the tubes restrict him. His eyes meet mine, and I can see the determination of his will. His fingernails dig into my scalp as he holds my head in position. The words come out as muffled slurs, the gaze in his eyes never falters. Machines are beeping like crazy, and his heart is racing. He shakes me back and forth as if he wants to say something important.

His grip begins to loosen, and his eyes lose focus on mine. He slowly slips backwards as his eyes roll back into his skull. His body slams back into the hospitable bed as Dr. Peterson screams for a nurse. His heart monitor flat lines as people swarm into the room. I slump back against the wall, and watch them try to bring his soul back to his body. After five agonizing minutes, I walk slowly out of the room like a ghost, and park myself into a chair outside his room.

There are nurses and doctors alike struggling with chest compressions and breathing bags behind me. I can't escape the look in his eye as he held me in his iron grip. I can hear his voice screaming at me from behind the tangle of tubes. I can clearly hear him chewing me out for not helping him and for being so selfish. He tells me that I left him for dead, and had I done my job, he would still be alive.

I can't tell how much time passes before I am disturbed from my dream state. I can hear a familiar voice talking to me, but I can't quite place the name. “Your brother is going to be fine.” Dr. Peterson says.

“What do you mean, fine? I just watched him die!” I reply.

“No, your brother had what we call a sudden awakening. Simply put, the patient is in a coma, given the right stimulus, rapidly exits the coma displays behavior of a non-comatose patient before lapsing back into a coma. And, more often than not, deeper than before. We were able to revive your brother and ultimately stabilize him. I don’t want you to misinterpret this as a sign of progression. The reality of the matter is that this outburst has set him back substantially.” Dr. Peterson explains.

“So, he's not dead?” I ask.

“Not in the traditional sense, no. Brain dead... well that’s a remote possibility. Everything at this point is subject to speculation. Some patients come around, others do not, and there isn’t a time frame attached to these things either.” Dr. Peterson explains.

“Please excuse my interruption doctor, I am investigator Amos Havana. Can I have a moment to speak to this man? I would like to ask him some questions about his brother.” Amos says.

“Absolutely, officer I have other patients to tend to.” Dr. Peterson says. Peterson adjusts his stethoscope around his neck, grabs his chart, and walks away. The investigator has a cleanly shaven appearance with no hair at all. The skin on his head shines in the daylight which is in stark contrast to his dark brown eyes. The bone structure of his face looks as if he was chiseled from stone. A few pock marks littered with random scars adorn his face.

Amos is wearing a black two piece suit with a burgundy shirt and a silver tie. His black shoes are perfectly polished, showing well-worn signs of frequent use. “I am sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” Amos asks.

“Glad you cleared that up with me. I was curious as to the difference of the last names there. So let's take a few steps back, Mr. Long, how did you know Dr. Cox?” Amos asks.

“I was in charge of his personal security, but due to factors beyond my control, I wasn’t able to be around him lately. It started out as a security assignment but we became friends. Now when he needed me most, I wasn’t there and I am beating myself up over it. I can't help but think that I could have prevented all of this.” I say.

“That is totally understandable, but I am sure you did everything you could to protect him when you had the chance? Amos asks.

“Oh, yeah! I went above and beyond the call of duty on that one. In fact, I am pretty confident that I helped him lose his virginity.” I say.