Hallways Part Six
"Frank! I need you to check the air conditioning units for the building."
"I just finished doing that. Sent the samples across to Natalie."
"Do it again, and look for artificial toxic substances."
"You think someone poisoned the air conditioners?" Frank's voice trailed off, as he thought about Patricia Ashton, about the people that had already died. "Jesus. What does she think it is? Cordillia?"
Stephen shrugged, suddenly weary. "That's what I'm afraid of. If it is cordillia, then there's…."
Frank cut him off. "Then we'd better pray that it's not." He forced weary, aching muscles to work, and lifted his samples case. "I'll go check the air conditioning units again."
"Thanks Frank."
Frank forced himself to smile. "That's what you pay me for."
"I want to be a doctor when I grow up." Patricia's voice was raw, her throat hoarse from coughing.
"Do you sweet heart?" Miles forced himself to smile. "I'd bet you'd be a real good one as well." He attached the drip to her vein and stood up. "There. All done."
Patricia smiled up at him, all her innocent faith in him, her life in his hands.
His smile froze on his face.
Numbly he walked from her room. He could feel her faith chasing after him, haunting him.
The face plate of his suit misted up. The walls of the building, the walls of this sick fucking building, closing in around him, swallowing him, burying him. He couldn't see, couldn't breath.
Clawed at the join of his suit with desperate fingers, tearing the helmet off.
Sudden cool air rushed across him, cooling his fevered skin.
Closing his eyes, breathing deeply, Miles sank against the wall.
Wondering how long he could hide in the hallway. Wondering how long it would be before he had to go back and face the faith in that little girl's eyes.
He stood up as she approached the table. "Eva, you look as beautiful as ever."
Despite herself, she smiled at his words, her hand rising to push her hair behind her ear. "And you Patrick, have turned into a shameless flatterer."
"Part of the job description, Eva. You know that." He pulled the chair out for her, the way he always had, then walked back to his own seat.
The waiter appeared at their table. "Would madam like a glass of wine?"
She nodded and watched him pour the wine into a delicate glass. She looked up, catching his eyes on her, dark and hungry. She felt herself drawn in. Drowning.
She heard him whisper. "What happened?"
This had been easy, oh so easy, when she had talked to Connor. But now, here with him…
This was so fucking difficult.
Eva shook her head. Forcing her voice to be strong, confidant. "You know I cant tell you that."
He didn't look away from her. "You know that's not what I meant."
Her breath, her confidence disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. She could barely manage a whisper. "I know."
Patrick leaned across the table, still holding her with his eyes.
And then his arms were around her, pulling her close to him, like he always had, kissing her.
An anchor to a drowning woman.
"I need more samples Stephen."
"Who?"
"Everybody."
"What?"
"I need to check something." She ran her hands across her face, trying to stave off her exhaustion. She paced across the small lab, her neck and shoulders aching. "I…I think I've made a fuck up somewhere."
"Natalie." His voice, commanding, reassuring. "I've known you a long time and I've never seen you make a fuck up."
"I must have, the results don't make any sense."
"Tell me."
"I tested the samples you sent across." She swallowed hard, bracing herself for his anger at her, his disappointment with her. "If they're accurate, Stephen, they all have it. They've all been infected."
