"Damn! Damn! Damn!" a female voice shouted from inside one of the space suits. She came to Stroud and shouted, "Just what the hell do you think you were doing?"
"You must've heard the voice? You must've seen--"
"We heard nothing."
"We saw nothing," seconded another of the suits.
"I just held a conversation with something inside here, inside of that man."
"Hallucinating," said one of the doctors. "Not uncommon in people coming out of coma, Dr. Cline."
"Dr. Stroud," she said, "I am Dr. Kendra Cline, Centers for Disease Control, Atlanta. You might be interested to know, sir, that you are the only man to come out of this thing. As for Simon Weitzel, you're welcome to look at the monitor tapes. He never regained consciousness; therefore, you could not have held a conversation with him."
"It wasn't Weitzel I was talking to."
"Are you sufficiently calm, Dr. Stroud, to allow us to release you now?"
"Yes, please let me up."
As Stroud regained his feet, he pointed to the soiled bedcovers and the tobacco-like stain on the floor. "Have your lab people determine the content of that substance, Dr. Cline, and handle it with the greatest care."
"What is it?" asked the second doctor.
"It came out of Weitzel, just before he died. Ectoplasm of some sort."
"You don't really expect us to believe that, do you?" asked Dr. Cline.
Stroud stared through the thick protective glass mask that she wore and into her deep, probing gray eyes. She was a beautiful woman, he thought. "Believe what you wish. I guarantee you one thing, Dr. Cline."
"And that is?"
"You won't have any other explanation for how it got here. Now, I want out of here."
"You don't expect us to let you go without running some tests, Dr. Stroud."
He stared again at her. "Tests? I don't have time to play guinea pig for you, Dr. Cline."
"I can have you restrained, if I must!"
"Really? And how exactly would you do that?"
"With the help of these men."
The orderlies moved in on Stroud again, threateningly. "All right, all right ... a few blood tests, serums, but that's it, and then I'm out of here. I've got to get back to the museum, help Dr. Wisnewski and Dr. Leonard, if we are to beat this ... this thing."
"I'm afraid I have bad news for you regarding Drs. Wisnewski and--"
"No, no!" He wanted not to hear this. "Tell me they are not dead."
"Dr. Leonard is over there," she said, pointing to the last man in the row of thirteen that lay on one side of the spotless ward. "In deep coma, like yourself until now. We can only hope--"
"And Dr. Wisnewski?"
She drew a deep breath, and even through the mask, he could see the concern on her features. "I'm afraid Dr. Wisnewski is under arrest and--"
"Under arrest?"
"Aggravated assault," the male doctor beside him said.
"Wisnewski? That's impossible! That's madness!"
Dr. Cline calmly said, "He attempted to murder you, Doctor, with a pickax. I'm telling you this bug--whatever it is--is--"
He cut her off, going over to Leonard's body and staring down at the poor man. "Where is Wisnewski being held?"
"Bellevue lockup, psychiatric ward."
Stroud drew a deep breath, trying to comprehend the far-reaching effects of their having entered the dangerous archeological site. It must have been filled with the spores of the creature, and the little bastard rat things saw to it the infectious bacteria of the monster got into their protective wear.
"We must know what brought you back, Dr. Stroud, if we are to help the suffering whose number is doubling, tripling each hour!"
"Whoa, hold up ... I am not the answer to your prayers, Dr. Cline."
"That's apparent! But the contagion is spreading, rampant--"
"My God. How long have I been under?"
"Sixteen hours."
"I've got to get out of here."
"We need you here, Doctor."
"No, I'm needed out there and at the dig."
"Are you crazy? You can't go anywhere near there again; at least not until we can determine the medical causes of this epidemic."
"Medical causes ... What if I told you there were no medical causes, Doctor? Suppose the entire episode was beyond human medicine and technology? Suppose I told you it has to do with the supernatural?"
"Then I'd have to say you should be kept longer for observation. This thing drove Wisnewski into madness. Perhaps you have overcome the effects of the coma, but not the madness."
"All right," he said, "run your tests as quickly as possible. Then I'm out of here, and for God's sake, get me out of this death camp, and do what you can for Dr. Leonard."
"Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Stroud," she said, indicating to the others to ready the next room for Stroud's tests. "Perhaps there is some antibody in your blood which withstands the assault, and if so, Dr. Stroud, we must begin work on isolating this defense and using it as rapidly as possible. Is there anything about your blood or body chemistry, that you know of, that might save us some time?"
"X-ray my head if you like," he said.
"What?"
"The only difference between me and these other men is that part of my skull is metal."
"A steel plate?"
"Yes."
"Vietnam?" she asked.
"Again, you are right, Doctor."
He could tell she wanted to rub her chin to help her thoughts move along, but she couldn't touch the cute thing within the space suit. "And you think the metal somehow protected you? Has some sort of immunity properties?"
"No, I don't know that. All I know is that I have had a history of seizures since the plate was installed. I don't believe it has any immunological qualities with relation to the comas induced in the others."
Stroud did wonder at the back of his mind, however. Perhaps the mixed blessing of the plate had saved him in a roundabout manner. Perhaps the blackout, happening when it did, had had the effect of short-circuiting any hope on the creature's part of putting him into permanent coma as it apparently had with the others.
"You don't sound very convincing, Dr. Stroud."
"I don't believe that the plate itself has any inherently useful properties to combat this thing. However, it's simple enough to test, and you have a room filled with guinea pigs. The plate is made of a simple steel alloy, the sort used in any medical facility for the purpose of bolting a crushed skull together."
"We'll liquefy it and try it in cc's in the bloodstream."
"Whose bloodstream? Dr. Leonard ... start with him," said Stroud.
"It could be dangerous."
"I made Dr. Leonard a promise before this happened. If there's a chance."
"We'll do it."
For the first time since meeting her, he saw her face relax. She was a sharp-minded, strong woman, he decided. New York was lucky to have her.
"In the meantime, we'd like to run extensive tests on your blood and serums, Dr. Stroud, just the same."
"But you'd be pinning your hopes on the wrong man, and wasting valuable time if--"
"Whatever this thing is, Doctor, it's transmitted easily and fast, through touch, through the pores, from victim to victim, and it's spreading across this city like wildfire."
"Then get your lab people to work on that brown gunk that Weitzel spewed up. Find out what properties are--"
"What do you think we can learn from vomit, Dr. Stroud?"
"It's not every day you see a comatose patient's body lift off the bed, is it?" He didn't expect an answer, so he barged on. "Or talk without regaining consciousness."
"I admit there are incongruities here, but when you're dealing with an unknown disease ... perhaps once we isolate the cause, we will be able to explain the ... the..."