Chapter 20

Tuesday, June 9, 1987

Julie's early lunch consisted of a small bowl of chicken broth spooned to her by Connie who took to making choo choo noises. Connie's motherly conduct had the opposite of its intended effect. Julie wanted to reprove her, but all she could do was open her mouth like a good little girl.

After Julie finished eating, queasiness turned her stomach. She vomited on the blanket and sheet. Warm liquid soaked through her bandages.

"I'll be back later. I have an appointment," Connie said as the nurse pulled back Julie's blankets.

An appointment? Who do you know in L.A.? Julie wondered.

The nurse drew near with a pair of scissors. "It's okay, Sweetie. We needed to clean your incision anyway." She reached for the head control lever. "I'll need you to lay flat. Just try to relax."

Closing her eyes, Julie dreaded the movement and winced through it.

"It's okay, Sweetie. Almost there."

Once exposed, Julie's chest revealed a layer of caked up blood and yellowish-brown drainage coming from a six-inch incision on her right breast. Julie studied it, wondering if the surgeon made the best cut possible. With four years of medical school, Julie took on the role of group doctor during her time with the Resistance, performing several operations on Human and Visitor subjects.

She noticed another small area stitched together, to the right of the surgical incision. Entry wound. She thought of Donovan's crack at her for not wearing a bulletproof vest and wondered why she should have suspected danger in going to Science Frontiers. So many questions about Saturday's rendezvous remained unanswered. At this point, holding a normal conversation with Donovan seemed impossible.

#

Donovan's pulse raced as adrenaline surged through his body. He wanted to pull off to the side of the road and beat Steve Maitland into a bloody pulp.

Manipulative, cocky, good for nothing… He thought of a few more choice descriptions.

"How much farther?" Steve asked from the passenger seat.

"Can it." Keeping his eyes on the road in front of him, a couple blocks later, Donovan stopped in front of the familiar, brick building. Ham's van occupied the driveway.

Ham's back?

"Carlton Lab?" Steve asked.

"You know it?" Donovan exited the car. Steve followed him to the front of the building.

"A subsidiary of Science Frontiers," Steve said. "They manufactured a drug to help Humans recover from food processing hibernation."

Donovan shoved the door open. "Julie tell you about it?"

"No. I interviewed for Carlton just before Bates was gunned down by your people."

Donovan refrained from sharing it was Ham who'd shot the elder Bates during a prisoner exchange between the Visitors and Resistance. Observing Ham pass between rooms carrying cardboard boxes, Donovan hurried toward him.

"Where in the hell have you been? I've been trying to find you."

"You need to take these boxes to your place." Ham walked out into the lobby, carrying one in his arms. Pausing in front of Steve, he glanced at Donovan. "You bring this idiot with you?"

"He insisted."

"You killed someone?" Steve asked Ham.

Ignoring him, Ham headed to a small room.

"Did you kill Pico?" Donovan followed Ham with Steve right behind him.

"He was an old man sick with lung disease." Ham squatted to lift another box.

"We'll see about that. Maitland's here to do an autopsy."

"With what?" Steve asked. "I came to corroborate your story and get a mucosal sample. Where's the corpse?"

"We need to rule out that Julie didn't catch the same disease Pico and his victims had." Donovan pulled the lid back from a cardboard box. "What's in these?"

"Julie's disks," said Ham. He toted another box into the lobby. "You can keep them safe at your place 'til she recovers."

"Her data disks?" Steve asked with excitement in his voice. "I'll keep them for her."

"Like hell you will," Donovan glared. "Ham, show him Pico's body. I'll pack these up in my car. You can take our panty boy home for me"

"Your what?" Steve demanded.

"Get busy." Donovan picked up a box then carried it to his car.

#

Donovan, you really are a pompous S.O.B., aren't you?

Steve scanned the foul smelling room Ham had directed him to. The stench of death intensified as Steve neared the corner of the lab. Flies swarmed over a heap on the floor. Pulling a pair of latex gloves, a swab and empty vial from his jean pocket, Steve cautiously inched near Pico's rotting corpse. He looked the body over. Holding his breath, resisting the urge to gag, Steve pried Pico's jaw open, shoved a cotton swab in and touched it to the pharynx. Fixed, beady brown eyes stared back at Steve. As he released Pico's head, it fell back uninhibited.

Cervical fracture, Steve guessed. But maybe not the cause of death?