Mr. 8

Chapter 30: The Rescue

The doctor wasn't even looking at him.  He stared down at the syringe, as though it were the most fascinating object he had ever seen.

Denton took a step forward to read his identification badge. The young man stumbled back to keep his distance. When he looked up, his eyes were wide and his lips were stretched thin.

"Dr. Malone," Denton said, mustering his severe, authoritative tone normally reserved for the classroom. "I don't think you understand the gravity of what is going on here. I have very likely been exposed to infectious pathogen or possibly a dangerous parasite. If the CDC hasn't been called already, you need to do it now. I don't need a sedative. I need to be put into a quarantined environment." A hand grabbed his left forearm and clamped down. Denton felt the tug pulling him back. He began talking faster, each word rising in volume and pitch. "I don't think it's airborne, but I should be in a room with separate ventilation, until we know more."

"Look, Bud," the officer with the snide attitude said from over Denton's shoulder. "You can either take your coat off, or we can do it for you. But I don't think you're going to like that."

"Just cooperate," his partner said, scratching the short, stubbly hair above his ear. "If you didn't notice, it's a zoo out there. The storm's causing havoc all over town. Every minute we're here with you is time we could be spending helping people with real problems."

Officer Adams remained silent. He stood there, blocking the thin gap in the curtain. There was a look of sympathy on the man's face, but when he spotted Denton studying him, he folded his arms and frowned.

"Look, don't make this any harder than it needs to be," Dr. Malone said. "I promise I'll give you a full blood workup, after the shot. Let's just stop wasting time. There are too many sick and injured people out there."

Somehow Denton had become the bad guy for not going along with this. But what were his options? How long could he argue before these policemen roughly stripped him? And what good would arguing do? He had to just hope that when they ran his blood they would realize their error and start taking him seriously. He began to pull off his old overcoat. His arm was released, so he could remove it from the sleeve, but the patrolman stayed close.

Dr. Malone let out an audible breath and slouched a little. Denton draped the coat on the bed and rolled up the sleeve of his sweater.

He was just unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt, when a raised voice roared over the din of the ER. "Do I look okay to you? I demand to see a doctor!"

All eyes turned toward the source, even though the hospital curtain blocked any possible view. The noise that had filled the area with a static drone just seconds before hushed, like everyone was collectively holding their breaths. The air in the tiny examining area grew tense. There was hostility in the words that suggested an imminent threat.

The officers placed their hands on their sidearms, on guard for whatever might follow. The young doctor paled and his forehead creased. He seemed to be waiting to find out what new misfortune the night had brought him.

Denton froze in place. Wet, quivering jelly began to replace the muscles in his legs. The voice of the irate man off in the vague direction of the admissions desk was Cole Radnor's.

"No, I'm not going anywhere," Radnor shouted. It was punctuated by a deafening crash echoing across the floor.

A woman screamed, "Security!"

All three patrolmen rushed out, throwing open the curtain. Dr. Malone followed fast behind them. It became readily apparent that whatever kind of madman they might have suspected Denton of being, they felt that the one out in the lobby required more immediate attention.