Nella coolly placed the booklist and pen back in the briefcase. "What did he mean by that?" wondered Mr. Courtlen aloud. Nella snapped the case latch closed. She stood, smoothing wrinkles from her lap.
"If he hasn't told you," she said, "I wouldn't worry about it. This is just narcissistic posturing, the same as his rules. Dr. Pazzo knows that we have more power than he does right now and it irritates him. He is simply trying to find a way to gain the upper hand by pretending to magically have information that no one could possibly have found in eight long years. There is no such information. Hundreds of investigators have meticulously examined that lab and his home."
Mr. Courtlen shook his head. "Doctor, my client may seem arrogant and controlling right now, but I assure you, he is not truly that way. This is something more."
"I know this is my first meeting with Dr. Pazzo, but it is also the first time he has had to engage with someone who has more power than he does. No offense, but up to this point, he's seen you as his employee, his subordinate. This may have been the first time that he realized that you and I can truly influence his fate and that he doesn't have any real control over either of us. This is just an attempt to manipulate us, to 'indebt' us if you will, by waving this secret in front of us and hoping we'll jump."
Mr. Courtlen still looked troubled. Nella sighed. "Look, if you really want to know what he seems to think is so important, take my advice and don't ask him anything about it. If you do, he'll just keep stringing you along. If you wait, he'll become desperate and tell you quickly in hopes of bargaining."
Nella walked toward the soldier at the end of the room. "I'd like to visit Ann Connelly, could you show me the way?" she asked.
"Of course," said the soldier and led the way down a narrow hall lined with small solitary cells. "We'd sure appreciate your help, Doc," the soldier said casually, "See, we don't want to keep her locked in a tiny, windowless cell, not when there is all this room to roam around in." He waved his hand back toward the large community room. "And considering what's likely to happen at the end of the trial- well, begging your pardon, Doc, but we can't really begrudge her what freedom she has left can we? It's just not human, you see. And some of us ... well, some us just got back to being human after all." The soldier blushed deeply and rubbed the back of his neck. Nella touched his elbow.
"Your compassion does you credit. And it's a rare thing to find even these days."
The soldier cleared his throat. They had reached the cell and a female soldier was watching the tiny slot of glass in the door.
"Well, you see Doc, we're afraid she'll hurt herself if we let her out. She chews everything-"
"Pica," said the female guard.
"Yeah, like Johnson says, she's got pica. And she shakes and trips a lot. She's not like any other zom- I mean Cured, I've ever seen."
Officer Johnson stepped away from the window for a moment. "The other prisoner says it's because she got a concentrated dose of the early prototype. Her brain is like swiss cheese now. The Cure won't help her."
"The kicker is that she did it on purpose," the male officer said, shaking his head, "Some sort of high pressure internship. Thought the bacteria would give her enough endorphins and adrenaline to stay up through exams. She did it without telling the others until it was too late."
Johnson spat. "Then that bastard Pazzo locked her in with the dead animals. I don't know how she survived as long as she did."
"They say you're the best at helping folks who didn't get all the way Cured. What do you think Doc, is there a way we can fix it so we can let her out for some exercise once in a while?"
Nella puffed out her cheeks in a slow breath. "I'm not sure," she said at last, "I'll have to examine her. But if there is permanent physical damage I'm afraid there's not much that anyone can do. Does she have a regular physician?"
"Sure," said Johnson, "But he basically just changes the bandages anywhere she's bitten herself and tells us to keep her clean. I think he's scared of her, he always leaves in a hurry."
"Well," said Nella, "I should probably get in there. Do you mind if I leave my briefcase here?"
"That's probably for the best."
Nella set the case down. Johnson held out a bag of carrots. "For the pica," she said, "just give them to her one at a time. It takes her a little while to get through them. Otherwise she'll try to bite you. But she can't help it." Dr. Rider took the bag of carrots and the pair of rubber gloves Johnson held out next. "She's no longer got the disease of course, but human bites can cause nasty infections, so you might want these just in case."
"Thanks," said Nella, snapping them on.
"She's really quite docile," said Johnson, "but Wells and I will be watching the whole time, so things won't get out of control."
"I appreciate that," said Nella. She took a deep breath with her hand on the door and prepared to meet patient zero in the greatest plague that ever befell mankind.
The room was lit erratically by a dull florescent bulb, its mate long burnt out and the drop-in shade littered with insect carcasses. Nella noticed the room itself was clean and utterly free of both furniture and debris. All the surfaces were padded and covered with vinyl, but they were blank, and endless cube of dull green.
Ann Connelly was wandering the edge of the room, her arms in a permanent self embrace inside a blindingly white straitjacket. Someone was taking care of her. Her face was clean and the little cuts she had somehow managed to inflict upon herself were freshly bandaged. Someone had taken the time to brush her hair and fix it securely so that it would not hang in her eyes. Still, with one glance at her stumbling movement and her constantly snapping teeth, Dr. Rider knew that there was something wrong. Ann's eyes slid over everything alike, not stopping even when Nella held out a carrot. However brilliant Ann Connelly had been before, might still be in some deep place, she offered no sign of it now. She kept wandering the perimeter, stumbling every now and then, though there was nothing to trip on.
"Miss Connelly," said Nella.
The prisoner stopped walking but didn't turn her head toward Nella. "Ann, I'm Dr. Rider. I'm just here to talk with you."
Ann started fighting the straitjacket. Her arms whipped up and down, giant worms writhing around the woman's thin chest.
"The teeth must gnash," mumbled Ann.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" asked Nella.
"The teeth must GNASH," Ann's voice was hoarse and toneless, a quality Nella recognized. When she had helped in administering the Cure, she had known many of the Infected to wake up from the drugged sleep screaming. Some of them took hours to stop. Some of them never did, their voice boxes losing the music that had once flowed through them.
"THE TEETH MUST GNASH!" Ann turned toward Nella and her jaw clicked together with a snap.
"THE TEETH MUST GNASH!" Ann lurched toward Dr. Rider, stumbling as if pushed from behind. She continued to shout in her broken voice, "THE TEETH MUST GNASH!"
"Okay, Ann, okay. Here-" Nella guided a carrot between Ann's rapidly clicking teeth. Ann chewed it immediately but began to choke. Johnson opened the door and calmly walked up to Ann. She untied the straitjacket releasing Ann's arms. "We only keep her in this so she won't chew her hands or claw at her face anymore. She'll be okay as long as you are giving her the carrots."
"Is she ever sedated?"
"She has to be to sleep, otherwise she just wanders all night until she collapses. But Mr. Green, her lawyer, said he doesn't want her drugged for the trial, so we only administer a very small dose of sedative at night."
"Thanks," said Nella as Johnson left the cell. Ann was holding the carrot with hands so thickly bandaged that they were no more articulated than wool mittens.
"Ann, do you know why you are in here?"
"Because the teeth must gnash. Because Dr. Schneider made all the teeth gnash. But I didn't know! I only wanted to feel better. I didn't know the teeth would want more!" Ann became frantic, sma
shing her hands into her face. Nella gently held Ann's hands for a moment and then handed her another carrot. She tried not to think of how similar the crunch of bone and the damp snap, snap, snap of the carrot between Ann's tireless teeth sounded.
"Can you tell me what happened? Do you remember how this started?"
Ann's teeth stopped. "So tired, so tired. But the eyes must see, they cannot close. They can never close! Dr. Schneider says so, she says to stay and to see. Always the eyes must see."
Ann paused to chew on the carrot and Nella winced without meaning to. "But then, they are so heavy, the eyes. Like glass marbles, rolling and rolling and scratching. They ache to close and Ann has mist inside her head. So Dr. Schneider gives her a key. It's the special key for the beast door. Dr. Schneider tells her the beast room will turn her eyes to flesh again. Her eyes will see without closing and the mist will drain from Ann's head, but only if Ann stays in the beast room. Only if Ann breathes what the beasts breathe. So Ann goes into the beast room many times. And she makes the teeth that gnash. She makes them everywhere but does not know. No, not even when they fill her own mouth." Ann stuck her bandaged hand between her teeth and before Nella could jump up to stop her, Ann's jaws snap around it. Ann's eyes streamed with tears as her mouth ground down upon the thick pads of gauze near her fingertips. Nella gently pulled Ann's hand away from her mouth and replaced it with another carrot.
"Okay Ann, okay. We don't have to talk more about it today."
Nella checked Ann's hand and rebandaged it. Ann became calm again, her gaze again like oil, sliding over the room and Dr. Rider without pause. Nella gently replaced the arms of the straitjacket but Ann didn't even seem to notice.
"Goodbye Ann. I'll come and see you again soon. Maybe we can get you out of this room for a while. Would you like that?"
But Ann just resumed her restless stumbling around the perimeter of the cell. She didn't even turn her head to look at the doctor. Nella left the cell profoundly depressed.
Sevita Das