The Soul Collectors

18

The person standing outside her Plexiglas door, dressed head to toe in a thick white biohazard suit, wore the same accoutrements everyone else did when they came into her room: gloves that ran up to the elbows; an M95 gas mask that covered the face, ran over one shoulder and down the spine, and connected to a lithium-battery air purifier/respirator. It rested against the small of the person's back, on a belt.

At this distance, Darby couldn't see a face through the clear visor but she suspected her latest visitor was a man, based on the height and width of the shoulders. The man waved an ID card across the keycard reader, then punched in a code. A stainless-steel tray rested against his hip and was held in place by the other gloved hand. She saw a stethoscope, glass vials, empty tubes and needles covered by plastic tips.

A slight whine as the security cameras turned to the man entering her room. Darby crossed her hands behind her head and watched as he lumbered across like an astronaut navigating the terrain of a strange planet.

He placed the tray on the foot of her bed. The cameras' whine disappeared, replaced by silence. She looked at his respirator pack.

'How are you feeling this morning, Miss McCormick?'

The man had an effeminate voice and she detected a slight lisp. She looked up at his clear visor and saw the dark blue eyes underneath thick eyebrows that formed one big hairy caterpillar.

'Have we met?'

'No,' he said, uncapping the plastic tip of a needle. 'Any problems breathing?'

'Are you a doctor?'

'I am. Tell me about your breathing. Have you been experiencing any — '

'Do you have a name?'

'Dr Jerkins.'

'Like the hand lotion.'

'Yes. Now please, about your breathing.'

'My breathing is fine. My vision is fine. No nausea.'

'What about problems swallowing?'

'Now that you mention it, yes.'

He looked up from the tray, his eyes bright with interest. The human guinea pig had a symptom.

'I'm having trouble swallowing this bullshit about you people not knowing what I was exposed to,' Darby said calmly. It irritated her, having to maintain this calm pleasantness. She forced a smile, then added calmly: 'And please don't feed me the line about how you're still running tests. You've been drawing blood for days and you've refused to tell me the name of this sedative you keep injecting into my system. My head feels like it's gone a few rounds with Chris Brown.'

'Chris Brown?'

'Rihanna's boyfriend. You know, the pop singer. He beat the shit out of her. It was all over the news.'

'I'm afraid I missed it. In any case, that lethargy you're feeling is one of the side effects from the sedative we gave you to manage the pain from your fractured ribs, and to make sure you didn't go into respiratory distress.'

'Which brings us back to the original question, which I'll ask for the last time. What was I exposed to, Dr Jerkins?'

'It appears you were exposed to sarin gas.'

'Appears?'

'Your blood work is inconclusive, which is why we've — '

'What about the bodies in New Hampshire? Did you take blood samples?'

'We did. They died of sarin gas exposure. Sarin gas, Miss McCormick, is a nerve agent originally developed by the Germans as — '

'As a pesticide,' Darby finished for him. 'Sarin gas is clear, colourless and odourless. It can exist on a person's clothing for up to half an hour, which explains why I was immediately decontaminated. Exposure to the gas, or even a small drop of liquid on the skin, results in loss of consciousness, convulsions, paralysis and then respiratory failure.'

'In layman's terms, yes, you're correct. But, as I was trying to explain before you interrupted me, we keep drawing blood to make sure you haven't been exposed. And these tests take time, Miss McCormick. I know you believe we're stalling you, but I can assure you this is not the case.'

Dr Jenkins turned back to the tray. He picked up the uncapped syringe and stuck the needle into a glass vial. Demerol, a narcotic pain medication used to treat moderate-to-severe pain. No wonder why her head felt like it had been beaten. She always had bad reactions to Demerol.

'I don't want a shot,' she said.

'You need it.'

'I can deal with the pain.'

'Yes, I'm sure you can. You seem to have a very high threshold. But we're more concerned about coughing. You've been coughing during the night, and if you cough hard enough, it could refracture one or more of your ribs. That's where the Demerol will help.'

He placed the syringe back on the tray and picked up an alcohol swab packaged in foil.

'I want to see copies of my blood work,' Darby said.

'Sergeant-Major Glick will have to authorize that. He's detained at the moment, but he wanted me to tell you he'll speak to you as soon as he arrives later this evening.'

'You spoke to him?'

'The man you spoke to over the intercom did. He promised to come here and answer all of your questions.' He removed the swab from the foil and then turned to examine her arms. 'I think we should use the right one this time. The left is looking rather bruised.'

'No injection until I see my blood work.'

'Miss McCormick, it's vital for your health — '

'And it's vital for your health, Dr Jerkins, that you stay right where you are.' Darby smiled politely. 'Touch me and you'll be wearing your balls as earrings. Might be a good look for you, since I don't know which way you swing — no offence.'

He studied her, trying to determine whether she was serious or blowing off steam.

'Be reasonable,' he said, with a small vibration in his voice.

He took a step closer. 'This will be over in just a moment.'