secretary will tell you my fees and availability,” he told me, again looking to the door.
“I don’t have time for that!” I growled, knowing I’d never get back in again, that this was my only shot. “I need you to see her right away.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” he replied, getting that look about him, that tone, as if he’d just realized he was dealing with a madman—one who might have to be pacified.
I heard someone enter behind me and saw his look of relief. Security had arrived. “Please,” I begged, ’you gotta help her!’
Two guys grabbed me and one stuck a taser in my back and told me to calm down. They half-wrestled, half-shoved me toward the door, ignoring my efforts at digging my heels in.
“Please! Dr. Simon, you have no idea what she’s been through. She’s the bravest woman I’ve ever known—she lived all alone for four years in the old subway tunnels on the Island,” I cried out, willing him to listen. “Can you imagine? Could you’ve done that? Please, give her a chance!”
There was a pause and I realized that not only had the security guys stopped pushing me toward the door, but Dr. Simon was actually listening.
“I know I shouldn’t’ve come here like this, but she’s everything to me. And she deserves to be helped, more than anyone you’ll ever meet.”
Dr. Simon took a deep breath and told the security guys to release me and wait outside. “You’ve got five minutes,” he told me.
That was all I needed, a chance—and I tell you, I was as persuasive as I’ve ever been, assuring him over and over what a wonderful person she was, that if he met her, he’d know what I meant . . .’course, he realized straight off we were Detainees, but that didn’t seem to worry him—in fact, oddly, it seemed to make Lena that bit more interesting to him.
“She’s perfectly healthy otherwise?” he asked.
“Yeah, she’s fine,” I told him—and she is; whatever her sight problems, and maybe ’cuz of her change of circumstances, these days Lena looks so much more healthy.
He asked me a lot more questions, mainly about her surviving underground: what she ate, where she got water—but after a while he started glancing at his watch and I knew my time was up.
I had just one more question. “How much would it cost?”
“Do you have money?” he asked, unable to stop himself looking me up and down.
“I’ll get it,” I said, though I didn’t have the slightest idea how.
“I’ve been doing research into the growing incidents of blindness in the City—she might fit into that program. I could waive my feesbut my support staff would have to be paid. They’re not a charity. Probably somewhere in the region of eight to ten thousand.”
It was a lot of money, but it had been his fees I’d been really worried about. Thanks to Mr. Meltoni, I knew how much these guys charged. “Thank you,” I said, and I meant it. “That’s really kind.”
He just shrugged as if it was nothing, but I was genuinely moved. A few minutes later, having made an appointment for Lena for the following day, I was in the elevator, smiling to myself, ignoring the lingering doubt that I was getting into something I didn’t understand. It was the first real act of kindness I’d experienced since we arrived in the City, and I gotta say, it made me feel a little better about the place.
However, when I got to the ground floor, I was in for a shock. There was a whole room jam-packed with those zombie-sick, just like the ones on the beach. In fact, there were so many, people were queuing out into the corridor.
I walked by, moving to one side to let a couple of nurses pick a guy up who’d collapsed, taking the opportunity to snag several bottles of water that’d just been delivered and stuff them in my backpack.
As I got to the door, I glanced back. What the hell was wrong with those people?
It was well into the afternoon before I got back, and the amount of sidewalk-crunching
“I don’t have time for that!” I growled, knowing I’d never get back in again, that this was my only shot. “I need you to see her right away.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” he replied, getting that look about him, that tone, as if he’d just realized he was dealing with a madman—one who might have to be pacified.
I heard someone enter behind me and saw his look of relief. Security had arrived. “Please,” I begged, ’you gotta help her!’
Two guys grabbed me and one stuck a taser in my back and told me to calm down. They half-wrestled, half-shoved me toward the door, ignoring my efforts at digging my heels in.
“Please! Dr. Simon, you have no idea what she’s been through. She’s the bravest woman I’ve ever known—she lived all alone for four years in the old subway tunnels on the Island,” I cried out, willing him to listen. “Can you imagine? Could you’ve done that? Please, give her a chance!”
There was a pause and I realized that not only had the security guys stopped pushing me toward the door, but Dr. Simon was actually listening.
“I know I shouldn’t’ve come here like this, but she’s everything to me. And she deserves to be helped, more than anyone you’ll ever meet.”
Dr. Simon took a deep breath and told the security guys to release me and wait outside. “You’ve got five minutes,” he told me.
That was all I needed, a chance—and I tell you, I was as persuasive as I’ve ever been, assuring him over and over what a wonderful person she was, that if he met her, he’d know what I meant . . .’course, he realized straight off we were Detainees, but that didn’t seem to worry him—in fact, oddly, it seemed to make Lena that bit more interesting to him.
“She’s perfectly healthy otherwise?” he asked.
“Yeah, she’s fine,” I told him—and she is; whatever her sight problems, and maybe ’cuz of her change of circumstances, these days Lena looks so much more healthy.
He asked me a lot more questions, mainly about her surviving underground: what she ate, where she got water—but after a while he started glancing at his watch and I knew my time was up.
I had just one more question. “How much would it cost?”
“Do you have money?” he asked, unable to stop himself looking me up and down.
“I’ll get it,” I said, though I didn’t have the slightest idea how.
“I’ve been doing research into the growing incidents of blindness in the City—she might fit into that program. I could waive my feesbut my support staff would have to be paid. They’re not a charity. Probably somewhere in the region of eight to ten thousand.”
It was a lot of money, but it had been his fees I’d been really worried about. Thanks to Mr. Meltoni, I knew how much these guys charged. “Thank you,” I said, and I meant it. “That’s really kind.”
He just shrugged as if it was nothing, but I was genuinely moved. A few minutes later, having made an appointment for Lena for the following day, I was in the elevator, smiling to myself, ignoring the lingering doubt that I was getting into something I didn’t understand. It was the first real act of kindness I’d experienced since we arrived in the City, and I gotta say, it made me feel a little better about the place.
However, when I got to the ground floor, I was in for a shock. There was a whole room jam-packed with those zombie-sick, just like the ones on the beach. In fact, there were so many, people were queuing out into the corridor.
I walked by, moving to one side to let a couple of nurses pick a guy up who’d collapsed, taking the opportunity to snag several bottles of water that’d just been delivered and stuff them in my backpack.
As I got to the door, I glanced back. What the hell was wrong with those people?
It was well into the afternoon before I got back, and the amount of sidewalk-crunching
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