Bleeders Read Online Free Page B
into the front and turned his attention to the radio as Jeremiah sized me up, and me him.
"This is Car Six Eight. Control, come in," Miller said.
"Go ahead, Six Eight."
"We have one suspect dead, another apprehended but injured. We need an ambulance and a meat-wagon as soon as possible."
"The wagon I can do. Ambulances are all busy."
Miller paused. "All of them?"
"That would be a yes," Control said with a hint of a sigh. The tone didn't sound like police protocol. "It's been a hell of a day, like I said. The best I can do is send a van to your location so you can take them to New York Presbyterian."
"I'm, uh..." Miller glanced in the rear-view, looking very confused. "We have a guy here who's been bitten, he needs medical sooner rather than later."
"Sure, he needs help but I don't," I said.
There was a pause on the line. "Repeat that, did you say bitten?"
"Affirmative."
I raised my tied hands and said, "Hey, don't forget me." The big guy looked over at me. I turned to the side to show him my shoulder. He leaned back in his seat with even more disbelief on his face than before.
Miller said, "We have two individuals with bites. Why?"
"Orders came in a few minutes ago, anyone sick or bitten is to be taken to Yankee Stadium."
Miller pulled the mike from his mouth. The big guy and I exchanged looks. Then Miller said, "For what, a hot dog?"
"It's the Red Flu, they're setting up a treatment center at the stadium for extreme cases, and that includes bites. Apparently it's gotten pretty bad overseas. They're trying to nip it in the bud before we follow in their footsteps."
"That's gonna be a negative on the stadium, Control, we're way too far from there. New York Presbyterian is the closest to us, we can take the two there for treatment."
"That's a negative on your negative, Miller, these orders come from the top. I'm afraid it doesn't matter how far you are, Yankee Stadium is your destination. Over." His voice was stern, a little too stern, maybe to cover up his own disbelief of the situation.
"Okay," Miller grumbled. "Over and out."
Officer Miller looked uneasy as he mulled over what he'd just heard. I couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking, but I can tell you what I was- New York City was in bigger trouble than anyone was saying. In all the years I'd lived there, including when I was a kid during the time of the terrorist attacks, I had never heard of Yankee Stadium being used as anything but a megaphone for those loudmouth Steinbrenners. If I hadn't spent the last hour in the back of a cop car, I might actually know what was going on out there.
I kept thinking about those late-night conspiracy shows, how the government has repeatedly lied to the public to protect their own asses, or as they would say, to protect the public interest. I would always ask myself how people were so naive, how they didn't get that terrible things were hidden right under their noses. At first I thought it was because they were like cattle, being led this way and that way, but not everyone they interviewed was as dumb as all that. Then, on a more positive note, I thought maybe it was human nature to trust the authorities, to believe they have our best interests in mind.
Just then, Diaz came back to the car. "What did Control say," he asked.
Miller hesitated. "Well," he said, "it looks like you'll get to see the Yanks after all."
Now I know the truth, why people are so naive: because no one knows they're in a horror movie until it's too late.
CHAPTER SIX
On the way to the stadium, what the dispatcher said about the ambulances started to seem actually believable. Emergency vehicles were speeding left and right, lights flashing and sirens blaring through the streets. Traffic was slow as shit. It seemed like everywhere we turned, accidents were holding us back. Even Officer Miller's heavy-handed use of the squawk box stopped working after a while.
The big guy,
"This is Car Six Eight. Control, come in," Miller said.
"Go ahead, Six Eight."
"We have one suspect dead, another apprehended but injured. We need an ambulance and a meat-wagon as soon as possible."
"The wagon I can do. Ambulances are all busy."
Miller paused. "All of them?"
"That would be a yes," Control said with a hint of a sigh. The tone didn't sound like police protocol. "It's been a hell of a day, like I said. The best I can do is send a van to your location so you can take them to New York Presbyterian."
"I'm, uh..." Miller glanced in the rear-view, looking very confused. "We have a guy here who's been bitten, he needs medical sooner rather than later."
"Sure, he needs help but I don't," I said.
There was a pause on the line. "Repeat that, did you say bitten?"
"Affirmative."
I raised my tied hands and said, "Hey, don't forget me." The big guy looked over at me. I turned to the side to show him my shoulder. He leaned back in his seat with even more disbelief on his face than before.
Miller said, "We have two individuals with bites. Why?"
"Orders came in a few minutes ago, anyone sick or bitten is to be taken to Yankee Stadium."
Miller pulled the mike from his mouth. The big guy and I exchanged looks. Then Miller said, "For what, a hot dog?"
"It's the Red Flu, they're setting up a treatment center at the stadium for extreme cases, and that includes bites. Apparently it's gotten pretty bad overseas. They're trying to nip it in the bud before we follow in their footsteps."
"That's gonna be a negative on the stadium, Control, we're way too far from there. New York Presbyterian is the closest to us, we can take the two there for treatment."
"That's a negative on your negative, Miller, these orders come from the top. I'm afraid it doesn't matter how far you are, Yankee Stadium is your destination. Over." His voice was stern, a little too stern, maybe to cover up his own disbelief of the situation.
"Okay," Miller grumbled. "Over and out."
Officer Miller looked uneasy as he mulled over what he'd just heard. I couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking, but I can tell you what I was- New York City was in bigger trouble than anyone was saying. In all the years I'd lived there, including when I was a kid during the time of the terrorist attacks, I had never heard of Yankee Stadium being used as anything but a megaphone for those loudmouth Steinbrenners. If I hadn't spent the last hour in the back of a cop car, I might actually know what was going on out there.
I kept thinking about those late-night conspiracy shows, how the government has repeatedly lied to the public to protect their own asses, or as they would say, to protect the public interest. I would always ask myself how people were so naive, how they didn't get that terrible things were hidden right under their noses. At first I thought it was because they were like cattle, being led this way and that way, but not everyone they interviewed was as dumb as all that. Then, on a more positive note, I thought maybe it was human nature to trust the authorities, to believe they have our best interests in mind.
Just then, Diaz came back to the car. "What did Control say," he asked.
Miller hesitated. "Well," he said, "it looks like you'll get to see the Yanks after all."
Now I know the truth, why people are so naive: because no one knows they're in a horror movie until it's too late.
CHAPTER SIX
On the way to the stadium, what the dispatcher said about the ambulances started to seem actually believable. Emergency vehicles were speeding left and right, lights flashing and sirens blaring through the streets. Traffic was slow as shit. It seemed like everywhere we turned, accidents were holding us back. Even Officer Miller's heavy-handed use of the squawk box stopped working after a while.
The big guy,
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