Victor rubbed his liver-spotted forehead with both hands. “If you take some boat out into this maelstrom and poison it, how do you expect to get back to shore once the deed is done?”
“None of that will concern me anymore. Because once I’ve fed those bastards their medicine, I’m going to drown myself.” He gave Victor a grim smile. “You know why I have to do this.”
Victor turned away. “You brilliant men can be so blind. Men like you are so absurdly intelligent, so gifted in such a narrow, specific field of study, that it’s as if the most obvious life skills, details, and morals sometimes slip right through the cracks.”
“I don’t agree with your premises.”
“Of course you don’t,” Victor scoffed. “You don’t even realize what I’m getting at.”
“I just want to die with dignity, Victor. And all the victims, like Edna, John Morris, Matthew Lecroix, and Glenda Alvarez, I don’t want others in their condition to have to suffer anymore. I want them to die with dignity, too. What’s so immoral and blind about that?”
“No one dies with dignity, Gabriel. Men can only live with dignity. Life is just like your alcoholism, don’t you see? There is no quick or easy escape from your struggle, and the only exit will always be there, looking you in the face every day, always open for the taking. But there’s no dignity to be found in such an exit, so don’t pretend otherwise. Dignity comes from taking the harder road, the sober road, fighting through adversity instead of giving in to it. Dignity comes from walking that road from one day to the next, knowing that things might get worse and that everything you love might be taken away from you, yet persevering anyway and never surrendering who you are.”
Gabriel squeezed his hands into fists. “What I’m doing here is a sacrifice.”
“You can’t sacrifice what you don’t care about in the first place. You’re not thinking clearly.” Victor paced toward the door then turned around abruptly. “What about all those thousands of people up and down the East Coast, innocent victims of the Black Virus? What about your friends and neighbors, the infected residents of this very nursing home?”
“I care about all of those people.”
“Evidently, you don’t.” Victor shook his head. “You don’t care about any of them because you know full well that by poisoning the Schistlings, you’ll be pulling the trigger on all of the people who are most depending on you. If the Schistlings die, those innocent people will die, as well. What you’re doing, Mr. Schist, is murder.”
“No,” Gabriel replied. “It’s euthanasia.”
Chapter 40:
Experiment
A few hours after Victor Calaca marched out in a furious huff, the light bulb of Gabriel’s desk lamp went out. Gabriel entertained the notion that Victor had shut off the electricity, covertly trying to get in the way of his plan, but then he realized how ridiculous that idea was. It was just that he’d never seen Victor so angry.
Though it was two in the morning, he still heard Bernard’s TV on the other side of the curtain, so the electricity was still on. He rang his call bell, and after a thirty-five minute wait—the nursing home was becoming increasingly understaffed and stressful, with LNAs too busy taking care of Black Virus victims to have much time for anything else—Harry brought him a new bulb. The replacement bulb was one of those funky, corkscrew-shaped energy-saver things that looked as if it’d been made by aliens.
The Schistling antidote, a golden liquid in a long plastic vial, stood in the center of his desk. Edna’s blood sample, streaked with black sludge, was right beside it.
Gabriel pulled on rubber gloves and lowered a pair of safety goggles over his eyes. After placing a mask over his mouth and nose, he poured Edna’s blood sample into the antidote.
Instantly, the toxin went to work. First, it burned right through the human blood and dissolved every trace of red. Within seconds, all that remained was the black Schistling residue.
The vial started shaking. Steam rose from the top. The black residue swished madly back and forth, trying to escape from its new hostile prison. Gabriel pushed a small rubber stopper into the top of the vial and leaned closer. Come on. Kill it. The toxin melted through the surface of the black sludge. The vial shook even more and almost toppled over.
He grabbed the vial with his gloved hands. “Don’t even try escaping. You asked for this, you goddamn Schistlings. You asked for it.”
The black mass lost form and began to spread, breaking into tiny pieces. It then dissolved into smaller and smaller particles. The black fluid emitted a horrifying, high-pitched telepathic shriek that lanced through Gabriel’s skull. The dying smudge was somehow still in pain and fighting to live.
Finally, it dissipated into nothingness. There was no piece of Schistling residue left in the vial.
Take that, you bastards.
Gabriel’s course of action was as clear as a well-drawn map. The next day, he would escape from the facility, steal a boat, and end the onslaught of the Black Virus.
After that, out there in the center of the ocean he loved, he would finally be permitted to die.
Chapter 41:
Alive
Gabriel slept through breakfast and lunch and awoke with a newfound sense of purpose. He got out of bed, looked out the window at the sunlight, and smiled. Today, he was finally going to die.
He stepped into his pants with the joy of a child getting ready for his first day of summer vacation. He buttoned up his nicest shirt and put on his infamous detective ensemble.
To start his final day, he decided to venture down to the dining room for supper. That would be different, as he had always eaten in his room. The dining room was usually a bit hectic for his solitary sensibilities, with too many people and too much frivolous conversation. But that day, he would make an exception.
Afterward, he would return to his room and make a final phone call to Melanie. That part he was nervous about, but it was important. Once that was done, he’d start preparing for his escape. He would leave later that night, after the other residents had gone to bed and the nurses were busy with their paperwork.
Gabriel grabbed his cane and strolled around the curtain. “Hello, Bernard!”
Bernard, dressed in nothing but slippers and pull-up underwear, was struggling to put on a new white V-neck. He looked over at Gabriel. “Hey buddy. Can you help me with this shirt? Having trouble.” He scrunched up the shirt and handed it to Gabriel.
Gabriel shook it out. “Um, Bernard, this is a pillowcase.”
“Oh, huh. Wow. No kidding. No wonder I couldn’t get my arms in.”
Gabriel dropped the pillowcase into Bernard’s hamper and retrieved a T-shirt from the closet.
Bernard took the shirt then shook Gabriel’s hand. “Thanks, man.”
“No bother.” Gabriel headed out into the hallway.
Tap. Tap. Tap. He was finally going to die. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever been so happy. He wished he could share his happiness with Melanie, but there was no way that she would understand. She was too young. When he did call her, he’d have to make it seem as if today was a regular day.
The doors to the dining room were wide open, but Gabriel was the first one there. He stood by the door, waiting for someone from the kitchen staff to seat him. When no one came, he chose a chair in the back, so he’d have a good view of everyone entering. He hoped Mickey Minkovsky or Bob Baker would show. Part of him even wanted to see Victor, though he was still worried that Victor might try to stop him.
He laid his napkin on his lap. Sitting there at one of the white-clothed tables actually felt nice, like going out to a restaurant.
A few minutes later, a blond-haired girl from the dining staff emerged from the kitchen. She looked at Gabriel with surprise. “Hey! I’ve never seen you in here before. Are you new?”
Gabriel smiled. “Might as well be.”
“Oh, okay! Well, the meal tonight is just a chicken sandwich. We’re kinda short-staffed. Plus, there’s not that many people eating in the dining room anymore.”
“No? Well, a chicken sandwich is okay. May I have a glass of cranberry juice, please?”
“Sure. I’ll be right back with that.” The frizzy-haired girl returned to the kitchen.
Alexandra Harrison, a tiny white-haired woman clutching a stuffed baby doll named Juanita, was wheeled in by one of the LNAs. She was placed at a table across the room from Gabriel. When the server brought Alexandra a glass of Coke, the elderly woman held the straw up to the doll’s mouth instead of her own.
Bob Baker rolled in with his usual scowl. A pack of cigarettes peeked out from the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. He took a seat off in the corner, where his plate of hotdog cubes was quickly put in front of him. Baker looked down at the food then pushed it away. “Noooope,” he grumbled.
Evidently, the cubes had been cut too thin. The blond server sighed, took Bob’s plate, and hurried away to get a replacement. After giving Bob a new set of hotdog cubes, she brought a glass of cranberry juice to Gabriel’s table.
