couldn’t turn his back on them now.
“Hello? Hello, what… who is this?” she demanded when an officious-sounding clerk answered on the other end and asked for her name and the reason for her call. “What the fuck…”
She ended the call thinking it a wrong number and pushed the buttons for Calgleef’s direct number a second time. When the same clerk answered, Delaney dropped the phone by her side. She looked across the hallway at the men in the hazmat suits taping thick clear plastic over the windows, and she understood: all calls were now being monitored.
“Delaney, my name is Grace Delaney with the CDC,” she said cautiously into the phone, “and I’d like to speak with Director Calgleef.”
She made no mention of where she was. How many hospitals could there be that have been sealed off by the CDC and have their calls monitored by NSA, the CIA, the FBI or who-the-fuck knows?
“The nature of your call, ma’am?”
“Nature of my call? Are you fucking kidding me?” When she realized the calls were being monitored, Delaney thought some manners might help in obtaining her desired goal, which was to speak to Calgleef. But when the clerk asked for the nature of the call as if it was a call to the local county, she went ballistic.
“I need to speak with Calgleef, the vaccination recipients are attacking patients, we have a plague, a damn,” she paused to catch her breath, “pestilence has broken out and I need answers, damn you!”
“Hello, hello…” she repeated when the line appeared to go dead.
“Miss Delaney, how good of you to keep us up to date.” Calgleef continued to call her “Miss” instead of her medical title.
“Keep you up to date? You know damn well what’s going on here, or do you?” she snapped at him, her anger enough to catch the attention of the staff members nearby, until more calls for help from outpatients redirected their interest.
“I believe this batch of vaccines has been tampered with, Miss—” He started to spin yet another story but wasn’t allowed to finish. Delaney had had more than enough of his bullshit.
“Tampered with? You lying sack of shit, you have no idea what’s taking place in here, do you? You’re just doing what you’ve been told, right? Well, let me fill you in—the Baltic flu, or some super strain of it, has broken out in the outpatients who received a shot, and now they’re attacking staff of the hospital, biting chunks from their necks and drinking their blood… so there you go, Miss-ter Calgleef. Now you know exactly what’s going on in here!” She dragged his name out, then added, “Oh and now that your controllers have us sealed in, and you don’t have to worry about the profits being jeopardized from the sale of the vaccine. But of course you wouldn’t be part of that, would you?”
The return answer she got was the sound of Calgleef’s cell as it smashed against the wall.
Yep, the truth hurts. She made up the last bit about the controllers and the vaccine profits in her anger, but the response from the CDC director told her she had hit a nerve—a raw nerve.
Calgleef knew, Moya knew, obviously the pharmaceutical company and goodness knows who else also knew; to have access to government agencies and emergency services to cover their tracks, it had to be big: VERY, VERY BIG.
It would go without saying that if she knew, then they now knew she did, and there was no way they would let her out—not alive.
* * *
R iverside Hospital consisted of three floors and a basement all connected via elevators or stairs, with the basement and the roof of the building accessible only by keycard. ER was on the first floor along with outpatients, but on the opposite side an entry was also controlled by keycard.
It was these thoughts (patient safety rather than her own) that began to occupy Delaney’s mind as the minutes ticked by. She would like nothing more than to get her hands around that bastard Calgleef’s neck and squeeze the
“Hello? Hello, what… who is this?” she demanded when an officious-sounding clerk answered on the other end and asked for her name and the reason for her call. “What the fuck…”
She ended the call thinking it a wrong number and pushed the buttons for Calgleef’s direct number a second time. When the same clerk answered, Delaney dropped the phone by her side. She looked across the hallway at the men in the hazmat suits taping thick clear plastic over the windows, and she understood: all calls were now being monitored.
“Delaney, my name is Grace Delaney with the CDC,” she said cautiously into the phone, “and I’d like to speak with Director Calgleef.”
She made no mention of where she was. How many hospitals could there be that have been sealed off by the CDC and have their calls monitored by NSA, the CIA, the FBI or who-the-fuck knows?
“The nature of your call, ma’am?”
“Nature of my call? Are you fucking kidding me?” When she realized the calls were being monitored, Delaney thought some manners might help in obtaining her desired goal, which was to speak to Calgleef. But when the clerk asked for the nature of the call as if it was a call to the local county, she went ballistic.
“I need to speak with Calgleef, the vaccination recipients are attacking patients, we have a plague, a damn,” she paused to catch her breath, “pestilence has broken out and I need answers, damn you!”
“Hello, hello…” she repeated when the line appeared to go dead.
“Miss Delaney, how good of you to keep us up to date.” Calgleef continued to call her “Miss” instead of her medical title.
“Keep you up to date? You know damn well what’s going on here, or do you?” she snapped at him, her anger enough to catch the attention of the staff members nearby, until more calls for help from outpatients redirected their interest.
“I believe this batch of vaccines has been tampered with, Miss—” He started to spin yet another story but wasn’t allowed to finish. Delaney had had more than enough of his bullshit.
“Tampered with? You lying sack of shit, you have no idea what’s taking place in here, do you? You’re just doing what you’ve been told, right? Well, let me fill you in—the Baltic flu, or some super strain of it, has broken out in the outpatients who received a shot, and now they’re attacking staff of the hospital, biting chunks from their necks and drinking their blood… so there you go, Miss-ter Calgleef. Now you know exactly what’s going on in here!” She dragged his name out, then added, “Oh and now that your controllers have us sealed in, and you don’t have to worry about the profits being jeopardized from the sale of the vaccine. But of course you wouldn’t be part of that, would you?”
The return answer she got was the sound of Calgleef’s cell as it smashed against the wall.
Yep, the truth hurts. She made up the last bit about the controllers and the vaccine profits in her anger, but the response from the CDC director told her she had hit a nerve—a raw nerve.
Calgleef knew, Moya knew, obviously the pharmaceutical company and goodness knows who else also knew; to have access to government agencies and emergency services to cover their tracks, it had to be big: VERY, VERY BIG.
It would go without saying that if she knew, then they now knew she did, and there was no way they would let her out—not alive.
* * *
R iverside Hospital consisted of three floors and a basement all connected via elevators or stairs, with the basement and the roof of the building accessible only by keycard. ER was on the first floor along with outpatients, but on the opposite side an entry was also controlled by keycard.
It was these thoughts (patient safety rather than her own) that began to occupy Delaney’s mind as the minutes ticked by. She would like nothing more than to get her hands around that bastard Calgleef’s neck and squeeze the
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