Before I ventured out of the bathroom, I waited a few seconds for my racing heart to slow down and to be sure he wouldn’t come back for something he’d forgotten. I put the keyboard back in its place, took one last look around, checked that the coast was clear, and headed out.
My legs were trembling as I walked down the hall. The first part was done. Now I just had to get weapons and supplies.
I came around a corner and ran right into Mrs. Compton. The reverend’s rotund secretary looked at me suspiciously.
“Oh, señor, I just spoke with Sue Anne. She said you weren’t feeling well and you’re going to home. You don’t look so good.”
I smiled faintly. My face was covered in sweat, and I guessed that dust from the bathroom had stuck to my skin, giving me an eerie gray appearance.
“Be sure to stop by the hospital on your way home. You might be coming down with the flu.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” I babbled. “It’ll run its course. Plus the hospital’s on the other side of town. I’d waste more time driving there and waiting—”
“I insist you see a doctor,” interrupted Mrs. Compton. Suddenly the secretary’s face brightened. “Wait a minute! You don’t have to go to the hospital.”
“Oh? Why not?” I mumbled hopefully. Time was running out and I had to get rid of that annoying woman, fast, without raising any suspicions.
“I’ve got a great idea,” Mrs. Compton said as she grabbed my arm and practically dragged me down the hall. “Dr. Ballarini’s team of physicians is in the health wing. He’s a papist Italian, but he’s a nice person and a great doctor. I’m sure he’s not too busy to check you over. The reverend holds him in high esteem.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Dr. Ballarini and his staff are from the CDC in Atlanta. They arrived two weeks after the Wall went up around Gulfport, praise the Lord. Fortunately one of our patrols found them. Satan’s creatures, those Undead, would’ve reduced them to pieces of meat in a few days. Scientists are always thinking about their projects, not about survival.” The secretary frowned. “I’m sure they don’t pray enough.”
“Scientists?” The missing piece of the puzzle was falling into place. “Why’re they so important?”
Mrs. Compton looked at me wide-eyed. “You don’t know? Cladoxpan is their main project. Dr. Ballarini and his team developed it.”
I was speechless. Cladoxpan, the mysterious drug that slowed TSJ down. I’d been racking my brain, trying to figure out how a fanatical preacher had gotten ahold of such a drug. Now I understood. Before the Apocalypse, the CDC in Atlanta was the most important center for viral research in the world. A lab somewhere in the former Soviet Union was the only other place thought to have facilities and experts to equal the CDC. If anyone could find a cure for TSJ, it was the CDC.
But what were the odds that a team from the CDC would end up in Gulfport? That Greene was one lucky son of a bitch. He’d won the world’s biggest lottery.
As all that ran through my mind, we came to a door blocked by two Green Guards slumped behind a desk. One of them looked bored as he leafed through an old copy of Playboy; the other one was cleaning his nails with a toothpick. I suspected this was one of the worst duties an Aryan could be assigned. Even so, they were armed with M16s and had big pistols hanging from their belts.
“Mrs. Compton, good morning, ma’am.” The Aryan tossed the magazine under the desk so fast it seemed to vanish into thin air. The other guy threw the toothpick on the floor and jumped to his feet.
“Good morning, boys. How are you?” Compton said, giving them the once-over, her hands on her hips. “You haven’t gotten in any trouble lately, have you?”
“No, Mrs. Compton,” they answered in unison. It was comical to see those tattooed brutes act like scolded children in front of short, stout Susan Compton.
“Oh, no?” she answered, in a withering tone. “Then why has Mr. Grapes stuck you with this post? I know it’s not because of your good looks.”
The Aryans muttered an answer and hung their heads. I realized they were more afraid of what Mrs. Compton might tell Reverend Greene or Malachi Grapes than they were of her.
“I need to see Dr. Ballarini and his staff. Open the door, please.”
“Of course, Mrs. Compton. We can let you pass, but not this man. He isn’t authorized.” The guard pointed at me, as if he needed to clarify who he meant.
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Compton waved her hand as if she were shooing away a fly. “This gentleman works at the Office of Hispanic Helots. And he’s my niece Sue Anne’s boss. I’ll vouch for him.”
The Aryans looked at her for a few seconds. Finally, the guy with the clean nails, who seemed to be in charge, shrugged.
“Alright. If you say so.” He pulled out a heavy ring of keys and opened the three locks on the door. “But you both have to sign the register.”
I scrawled my signature below Greene’s secretary’s and we walked through the door. What the hell I was going to find in there?
27
As we walked down the hall, the first thing I noticed was a sweet, acidic smell. Not unpleasant. Just the opposite. It also smelled vaguely familiar.
Radiating authority, Mrs. Compton led me down several empty corridors. “We’re now in an annex of city hall. This used to be a bank. Since there’s no banking system or money anymore, there was no need for it. It’s one of the safest buildings in Gulfport.”
I nodded politely, taking everything in. I cast a worried glance at my watch. Time was running out and I hadn’t gotten weapons or supplies. If I knew my friend, he’d already snuck into the ghetto, tracked down Lucia, and brought her back. Here I was, walking alongside a talkative old woman to see a doctor I didn’t need.
Mrs. Compton stopped and turned, giving me a very serious look. “What we’re doing is highly irregular. Dr. Ballarini’s team doesn’t see any patients except the reverend. I’m only doing this because I want us to have a good working relationship. On top of that, I hope you treat my niece well. I know the girl doesn’t come off as terribly bright, but she is hardworking and comes from a good family. She’ll be a great secretary if you give her a chance.”
I put a hand over my heart and told a monstrous lie in my best lawyer voice. “I give you my word that I’ll be the most caring and honest boss Sue Anne could hope for.”
“I knew we’d understand each other.” The woman gave a satisfied grunt and opened the door to what was once a boardroom.
The managers of the bank would’ve been very surprised to see what had become of their beautiful room. The huge walnut conference table had been shoved against a wall; lined up along it were three large electron microscopes, a centrifuge, an autoclave, and other equipment I couldn’t identify. Through the door at the far end, I spotted another room just like this one. Half a dozen grave men and women in white lab coats moved among the instruments, engrossed in their work.
“Signore Ballarini.” Mrs. Compton walked over to a tall man who was peering into a microscope. “I need your assistance.”
Dr. Ballarini turned toward us. He was a handsome man, about fifty, with expressive eyes. White hair and a salt-and-pepper goatee framed his face. He blinked a few times, clearly annoyed by the interruption, and set down a notebook in which he’d scribbled a jumble of numbers and chemical signs.
“What I can do for you, Mrs. Compton?” he replied politely, his very proper English filled with the music of Italian.
“Can you spare five minutes to give this gentleman a checkup? I think he’s coming down with the flu.”