Woody pulled out his cell phone and started to dial.
"Stop. Don't," Julia mumbled as forcefully as she could.
"We have to get you a hospital," Woody explained.
"No, you can't. No one can leave or come in."
"Why not?"
"Yea," Bug
interjected, "Why not? You need to…"
"Listen to me!"
Julia screamed, fueled by aggravation and pain, "The bullet was
tipped with a formula that emits harmful gasses into the air. Those
around won't become ill right away and some people are unaffected
by it, but for 24 hours, everyone is contagious. You can't bring
anyone else in here and can't send anyone out until the time has
passed." She fell back from her self-propped up position. Everyone
was silent, trying to understand what was happening.
"But you can't stay here. You need medical attention." Bug tried to reason.
"I'll be fine," Julia grimaced, "Nigel. Nigel, look at me."
The tear-soaked face of Nigel looked from Julia's wound to her face.
"Look here, uncle. I'm going to be fine, but I need you to calm down. You need to hack into the KGB Underground data base and pull up information on that man. His identification will be in the heel of his shoe."
Nigel nodded, dumbfounded. Julia reached up and wiped Nigel's face dry. Garret, always the voice of reason, broke the silence.
"Well if we can't leave or bring people in, we'll have to take care of your wound ourselves, get the bleeding to stop. Nigel, bring her into my office. Lily, get some sheets to put on the couch. Bug, Woody, get that man into autopsy, get an ID, everything you can find about him and his gun and whatever, if anything, is left in the weapon. Where in the world is Jordan?"