Seinfeld: "Prognosis-NEGATIVE!"
Summary: Flying to London with older Elaine (following the action of "The Number and Address of the Beast", George (the Vampire "Say is it with a y or an I, Elaine?" "Y?" giggle… "If you're Danish, George."), tells her his idea for a new version of the lousy horror film the gang had once been eager to see…
Part V…
"So what? What?! What?!" Kramer, twisting hands in fevered and panicked anxiety as George and Elaine watched, both sipping at their respective wines, '84 Chambrolet, excellent of course. "Do we just sit here and wait for THEM to kill us?! How can you just sit and swill that fiend's wine and eat his Chateaubriand...Which does smell damned good...Like nothing's happening?! We're trapped here, trapped! Trapped, George! Trapped, Elaine! Trapped! You can't just sit and eat!"
"My dear fellow..." George sighed. "Such panic gets us nowhere."
"How do you know that's not poisoned?! Poisoned, George?!" Hapless wave of arms...
"I didn't. Until I took it upon myself to sample it first...Kramer, it's not poisoned. I'd never have let Elaine or you try it till I'd confirmed that."
"How would you know? You could be dying right now! Dying, George!"
"Kramer." George sighed. "As a vital member of the New York Yankees, and through my own past researches, I'm quite familiar with all the major toxicological agents and their effects. There's nothing deadly in this meal or the wine. Not that I expected Lang would try to poison us this way. Far too easily detected and suspicious. Now calm down and try to think clearly, for once, old fellow. We'll need all of us with cool heads to escape this place and Dr. Lang's plans for us, which I do agree are probably not benevolent."
"George? You really believe Lang's evil?" Elaine, sighing slightly.
Meet a great guy who's even a famed doctor who I really think likes me...And he's Dr. Frankenstein and looking to kill us all...
"There are definite signs that something evil is at work here, Elaine."
"Really?" downcast air… Say? "Why would you need to be familiar with poisons working for the Yankees and George Stein...Oh...Right." she nodded at his look.
"I'd guess just about every week, uh?" she grinned.
"Especially after his worst trades, yes." George sighed. "I fear for the man, Elaine. There's no one around him now willing to take a bullet or a poisoned calzone for him now. But as to the Evil at work here...There are clear signs if one is observant." solemn nod.
"Yeah, like a pig man wandering around, if THEY haven't killed him!" Kramer cried.
"Who is THEY, anyway, Kramer?" Elaine stared.
"The big boys, Elaine...Don't be naive. Big Pharma...They're testing gene therapies, microchips, creating killer pig men to rule the world."
"I hardly think Big Pharma would want to kill their customers, Kramer." George noted. "And I think Dr. Lang is desperate to conceal his work even from the hospital authorities."
"How do you know that?" Kramer asked, annoyed.
"No hospital would order out for patients. Especially those they were scheming to kill. If the hospital wanted us dead, we'd be dead now. Lang can't act till tonight, clearly...When staff is at its lowest. And we've only seen that attendant Claude, Nurse Claire, and a couple of likely clueless security guards. More to the point...We're past shift change by three hours, yet Claude and Nurse Claire are the only ones who've ever come by, even to bring our meals just now." appraising nod.
"Yeah...We haven't seen a change of staff, that's right." Elaine noted. "Unless they're too busy here to leave… "
"I've observed the hospital staff changes for three days, my dear Elaine." George shook head. "Only the ICU staff has had to pull double shifts. And I would note that no self-respecting head nurse in a major New York hospital would ever bring trays. No, attendant Claude and Nurse Claire are sticking to us to keep the staff away. In fact I doubt anyone else knows anything about us except whatever vague tale Lang has put out."
"Well, then...He can't just kill us." Elaine stared. "If the staff don't know why we're here or even that we're here..."
"But when no one's around..." Kramer, trembling. "He and his flunkeys can bump us off and just dump a few extra corpses into the morgue...Or the East River."
"Regrettably..." George sighed. "I suspect that is the case."
…
"Hello, Mr. Seinfeld..." Nurse Claire, bearing, in fact, a tray… "Just wanted to see you got your dinner, with Dr. Lang's compliments."
"Oh, my..." Jerry beamed. "What service. There aren't many hospitals where you'd not only get a gourmet meal, but a head nurse would bring it."
"Well, as Dr. Lang told you when he visited you after seeing your friends, he feels...As we all do..." beam. "Personally responsible for you all being exposed like this. And I'm happy to see you're comfortable, Mr. Seinfeld. Is the wine acceptable?" she eyed him.
"It's heavenly, thanks. Say, there's an extra glass...Care to join me?" he suggested.
"Well...Normally I wouldn't...When on duty. But actually I'm off duty just now, so, just a dash..." she smiled. He offering glass.
"I'm understand you're a comedian, Mr. Seinfeld." she beamed. "May I?" indicating the chair next to the one he'd taken to sit down for his meal. "We could share the tray rack..."
"Why don't we?" he agreed enthusiastically.
"How are my friends, by the way?"
"We're hopeful...But we must see the results of the tests."
"Oh, have they been tested already?" he eyed her.
"Certainly. We should know their situation by tonight..." smile.
"Hmmn...What?"
"Your friends, Mr. Seinfeld...Their test results..." Up here, buddy, smile.
"Oh, right...Yes, my friends. Well, I'm sure you'll take care of them."
"Oh, yes. We will." she nodded. "So, it must be quite a life...Stand-up comedy?"
"Well, it's a living...I've been on the Tonight Show."
"Really? I'll have to tape it the next time you're on, Mr. Seinfeld."
"Call me Jerry." he smiled.
"Claire..." she smiled.
"That's spectacular." he beamed.
"You're sweet. Uh, Jerry?"
Hmmn…? He looked up.
"You know our patient was very ill." she offered solemn look.
"Oh? He died, didn't he?"
"Yes. And while I hate to say..." sigh.
"Jerry?"
"Oh, yeah...Hi." he looked up.
"I hate to say it. But your friends may not make it, if they've been infected."
"Oh? That's a shame..." he murmurred.
Ummn… "I mean, that's terrible, of course." he looked up at her face, she maintaining a solemn look.
"I'd feel so responsible but I did have to warn you...Jerry." she breathed.
"Well, I doubt it was your fault, Claire..." he patted her hand.
"Oh, you're so kind...Jerry." she embraced him.
Oh...My...God…
I think they're real, he noted.
And...Spectacular...
…
"Yes, Mr. Sanger...We can proceed this very night, once the hospital's settled down a bit for the evening. Bring Donald by at eight and we'll start the treatment. No, come directly to the doorway near my office. Claude my assistant will guide you to my personal lab...Yes, the dank, dark one from this morning. Excellent. See you both then. Goodbye." Lang hung up.
"Claude..." he looked up from his desk at the hulking attendant in scrubs… "You've prepared the treatment room and the containment cell?"
"All set, doc." Claude gave thumbs' up. "You think we'll need to keep the kid in the cell like we did the pig man?"
"Well, the treatment is just about perfected but the initial stages can induce a degree of violence, as you know all too well."
Claude putting hand to previously nearly strangled by several subjects neck...Yeah.
All too well…
"What about those people?"
"Yes, our guests. We'll dispose of them as soon as possible...Though, come to think of it, it is a shame to waste potential test subjects. Hold off on the contaminated fluid for now, Claude. Just take blood samples from the three and that fellow, Seinfeld. We may need controls while young Donald undergoes therapy. I'm rather curious about how that Kramer might respond to the treatment, there's an interesting subject..." he reflected.
"We can't keep em in that room much longer." Claude, a bit anxious. "The guards might talk and some of the staff are asking why the room is bein' kept locked."
"No, tonight we'll have to transfer the three to my personal lab. We have sufficient space to hold them. But, Claude...See Ms. Benes' room is properly comfortable. Use my grandfather's room for his lady subjects, it should be quite acceptable."
"The other two?"
"Throw them in the regular cells, they won't be able to make trouble down there. As for Seinfeld...I believe Nurse Claire has him well in hand." snide chuckle.
Claude snickering as well a moment till Lang eyes him.
"What are you snickering about?"
"Well, Boss...I just..."
"Get on with your work, you fool. And do nothing to disturb Ms. Benes. I'm still deciding about her fate just yet." brief contemplative smile. Ah, Elaine…
So sorry to have to tell you the tragic fate of your male companions...But, Life does go on...
"Gotcha, Boss." wink, nod.
"Get out of here!" Lang fumed at Claude who hastily fled.
["George, you know...Peterman and me...We never..." Elaine, nervously. "I mean he did once tell me to include myself among his lovers in his autobiography but...Never..."
"Nah, this is just kinky evil sex appeal...You get it, as a publisher. Gotta have a little in a story like this...Ya know?" George explained.
"Oh, really." Molly/Susan frowning. "You've thought about Elaine this way a lot, eh?"]