Read Online Ward Z: Revelation by Amy Cross - Free Book Online

tendril seemed to have reached up through the squirrel's body, winding around the spine until it poked up into the skull itself.
    “Invasive,” she whispered, taking a small clamp and using it to gently dislodge the lower jaw. Tilting the dead creature's head back, she could see that the black tendril seemed to extend significantly into the brain cavity. She took a moment to peer at the squirrel's face, before looking back down at the main bulk of the tumor, which remained a large, shiny black mass in the abdominal cavity.
    Grabbing a different scalpel, she pressed gently against the side of the tumor, and she could immediately tell that the interior seemed to be fairly solid. Running the scalpel's blade to the base of one of the tendrils, she considered cutting it loose before deciding, instead, to focus on the main mass. Placing the edge of the blade against the tumor, she began to slice a thin section away.
    “Fuck!” she exclaimed as a spray of black liquid burst from the tumor, hitting her on the face and neck. Her protective glasses kept her eyes safe, but she felt a faint burning sensation on her chin. She grabbed a towel and wiped herself clean, but the black mass in the squirrel's abdomen was already starting to deflate a little.
    Heading over to the other side of the lab, she wiped some more of the black liquid from her face and neck, before grabbing her phone and bringing up her brother's number.
    “Hey,” she said as soon as she was put through to his answerphone, “it's me. Listen, this might sound weird, but... Do you remember that ridiculous story you told me about an incident a couple of years ago at Leadenford Hospital? The one that supposedly got covered up after the whole place was destroyed?” She glanced back over at the dead squirrel. “Well, I really don't want to set you off on another of your conspiracy rants, but I think I might have something that you're going to find very interesting. Call me back as soon as you get this message.”

Chapter Eight
     
    “This is a mop,” Marlowe said, handing Lizzie a mop.
    “I know.”
    “And this is a bucket.”
    “I know.”
    “And this,” he continued, turning to look at the three portable toilets lined up in the shade, a few hundred meters from the cabins, “is your task for the afternoon. Just be glad you got sanctioned on the first day. There hasn't been much time for anyone to make too much of a mess.”
    “What about medical waste?” she asked.
    He turned to her, with a hint of panic in his eyes. “What?”
    “Twenty-odd cancer patients are using these things,” she continued. “God knows what drugs they're all on for their conditions. Don't you think there might be some toxic material in their waste?”
    “Huh,” he replied, looking back at the plastic cubicles, which were resting haphazardly on the grass. “I never really thought about that. You might be right.”
    “And the chemicals used to keep the toilets clean?”
    He sniffed.
    “And needles?”
    “Do you think there are needles?” he asked, turning back to her.
    “If anyone has to self-inject, and if they're dumb enough to flush the -” She paused, suddenly aware of the clueless look on his face. “Never mind, I'll make up a policy on the fly.”
    “Well, maybe -”
    “I can do it,” she told him, turning to look back at the cabins just as the rest of the campers headed off to get started with the afternoon's aerobics class. “Just leave me alone to get on with it, and I promise that by dinnertime these toilets will be cleaner than you can possibly imagine.”
    “That's a good way to see it,” he replied with another sniff. “Take pride in your work.” Turning and heading back to the cabins, he began to lazily scratch the back of his trousers.
    “Gross,” Lizzie muttered, turning back to look at the toilets. Figuring that she might as well get started, she took the bucket over to a nearby free-standing tap and began to fill it with cold water, before