aren't in yet.'
'That's what I've been trying to tell you.'
'But we're dealing with something totally alien here, a contagion of comas?' Her sparkling gray eyes narrowed, reflecting her confusion.
'Finally,' he said with a smile.
'What?' she asked.
'We agree on something.'
She nodded, looking at him as if for the first time. 'I've read about you, Dr. Stroud.'
'Nothing flattering, I'm sure.'
'On the contrary. At any rate, won't you consider staying a little longer so that we can--'
He was shaking his head before she had time to finish. 'I'm done playing pincushion to your people, Dr. Cline.'
'But, Stroud.'
He pushed past her, going for the door. 'I've done my part for you, and it's been only a waste of time for the both of us. I've got to get to Dr. Wisnewski.'
She stopped him at the door. 'Please come to my office and let us talk, Dr. Stroud.'
'About what?'
'About Dr. Wisnewski, for one thing.'
She walked out ahead of him and together they went down the hall to the office that had been given over for her use. She asked him to sit down. He declined, remaining on his feet. She sat behind her desk, breathed deeply and looked tired.
'There has been no sign of this epidemic slowing, Stroud.'
'I am aware of that, Doctor.'
'We need your help, Stroud. If it was the steel plate in your head that kept you from going comatose for as long as the others, then perhaps we can learn something from you and--'
'You can't implant metal in every patient you've got in there. There must be twenty-five now that Weitzel is dead.'
'There are hundreds, Dr. Stroud.'
'Hundreds?'
'All across the city, every hospital.'
'It's really becoming an epidemic.'
'That's what I've been trying to tell you. Now, will you please listen to reason?'
'No, I mean ... I have to find Dr. Wisnewski. See if there is anything I can do for him.'
'There's nothing you can do for Wisnewski, but here you might possibly--'
'You're wasting precious time studying me. I'm not the cause or the cure of this thing! Don't you understand that? As for Dr. Wisnewski, the very idea of his attacking a man ... well, it's entirely impossible, out of character.'
'But it happened. Do you suppose that he is somehow manifesting the disease in another form entirely? He never went into coma as you and Leonard did.'
'Mine was a blackout, pure and simple.'
'You've suffered such attacks before?'
'Since the war, yes.'
'I see. Then it was just a coincidence of sorts, and we were wrong to place you in with the others.'
He paced before saying another word. 'Part of this madness unleashed by that pit--that's what Wiz's strange behavior is. Something ... some
'I must say you're persistent, sticking with that story. Do you really believe there is some ... some supernatural force at work here? Do you believe there is a supernatural power behind the misfortunes of those who--'
'Who is to say? You saw the body leave the bed. You haven't the experience with the supernatural that I have. I have seen and struggled with vampires, Dr. Cline, and with werewolves. Yes! Werewolves. And now this...'
'Do you really expect me to believe you?'
'Believe what you wish.' He spoke now as if to himself. 'It must have somehow taken hold of Wisnewski.'
'The man tried to drive a pickax through you, Stroud, and you're building a 'Satan-made-me-do-it' defense for him?'
'Wisnewski could never kill a man.'
'But he attempted just that, before witnesses.'
'Some evil was unleashed through him, something that goes for the control mechanisms--the center of consciousness--'
'Whatever it is, it goes right for the brain like ants to a feast; shuts it down tight. It's really a horror.'
'Death for a man like Leonard.'
'I've been watching his readout very closely, though, Stroud, and he at least shows an occasional fluctuation--as you had.'
'Really? What does that signify?'
'Not much, I'm afraid. It makes you want to interpret it as a struggle of sorts, as if Dr. Leonard is not giving in so easily as the others.'
'That'd be Leonard. He may appear frail, but his mind is ... well, he's the best.'
'Deviations in the EKG have continued since he was brought in. We're going to try the steel alloy, a direct injection into the bloodstream ... monitor him closely. Makes me feel like a goddamned engineer, working on a robot ... but these men ... well, may as well be robots for the condition they're in.'
'Did you learn anything at all from the substance your people scraped off the floor beside Weitzel's bed?'
'An odd mixture of minerals, alkalies, sulfur, methane. We'd learned from blood tests on the victims that they suffered respiratory alkalosis--'
'Which is?'
'Low blood levels of carbon dioxide and high levels of alkalinity in the blood.'
'Alkali ... sulfur ... methane. Doctor, how is that possible in a communicable disease?'
'To my knowledge, it isn't.'
'Yet Weitzel coughs up this ball of it.'
'We've been trying a treatment with acids, to restore the base balance between acids and alkalies in the body, but this hasn't worked. Perhaps, coupled with the metal...'
'Conventional methods of treatment are going to be of little help.' He went to a nearby coffeepot and poured himself a cup, offering one to her, which she declined. Stroud then finally sat down, sipping the hot brew.
'We're going to pursue every avenue,' she said.
He nodded. 'I'm sure you will. This isn't your first epidemic, is it?'
'Afraid not. I've worked quite a bit in developing countries where rickets and polio remain a terrible problem. I haven't long been with the CDC.'
'But you will be.'
'I wouldn't put down any bets. At least not yet.'
'Did you find anything else unusual in that muck that Weitzel spat at me?'
She shook her head in annoyance. 'He may've had a muscle spasm, Dr. Stroud, but he could not have spit at you or anyone else.'
'I didn't plant that stuff, Dr. Cline.'
'I'm sure you didn't.'
'So, did you find anything else?'
'Sulfur trioxide.'