Ebola K: A Terrorism Thriller: Book 3 Read Online Free Page B

the signs.”
    “Got it.” Paul kept a better eye on the signs.  “We’re going to the silo first?”
    “Yes.  We keep the volunteer reconvalescent donors there.  You pick them up three at a time and take them to your clinic where—”
    “My clinic?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I don’t understand.” Paul pictured a clinic with beds and laboratories and medical machines.
    “What’s not to understand?”
    “I don’t think I’m qualified to do anything in a clinic.  Colonel Holloway said my—”
    Marazzi stopped and turned to face Paul.  “Don’t get pretentious.  Your clinic is a room.  That’s it.  Three beds and three plasmapheresis machines.  Don’t ask me what they used the room for when the Air Force ran this place.  I don’t know, and I don’t care.  Your job is to take the list you get each day and accompany the guards to the silo.  You pick the three volunteers from the list, and you and the guards bring them to your clinic.  The guards restrain them so they can’t get away.  You give them an injection and then—”
    “An injection?” Paul asked.  “Of what?”
    “It’s a cocktail of anticoagulants and vitamins and some other stuff.  It thins the blood to make the harvest go smoother and keeps the volunteers healthy.”
    Paul didn’t like the idea of giving shots.
    Marazzi continued.  “You hook them up to the plasmapheresis machines—”
    Paul stopped Marazzi with a raised hand.  “I don’t know how to do that.”
    “I’ll show you but you better learn quick, or you can work upstairs burning bodies with the other dumbasses.”
    Paul grimaced.
    Marazzi exaggerated a patient breath.  “You hook them up to the machines.” Marazzi patted the crook of his elbow with two fingers.  “One line.  It pumps the blood out, processes a bit and pumps it back in.  Then repeats until it’s done.  Takes anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour to get a full bag of plasma out.  You tape up the hole, get the guards, and bring the volunteers back to the silo for another three.  That’s it.  That’s all you do.  Throughout the day, a dipshit named Larry Dean will come by and haul the plasma to the processing center.  Got it?”
    “The processing center?”
    “They do stuff to the plasma before it ships.  After that, it’s called serum.  Don’t worry about that part.  You just get the plasma.  Got it?”
    “I guess.” Lots of gaps still existed in Paul’s picture of his day.  “What time do I come to work?”
    “You start when I drop off the list.”
    “When?”
    “When I get there.”
    “Where will that be?” Paul asked.  “You’ll bring them to my…where do I sleep?”
    “You sleep in the clinic.”
    Paul’s face showed what he thought of that.  He didn’t like it one bit.
    “You got three beds in there.  If you’d rather sleep in a cage with the volunteers, I can arrange that.”
    That sounded worse.  Paul shook his head.  “I stay in the clinic, then? I sleep there.  I work there.  Can I leave?”
    “Colonel Holloway told you about the fence?”
    Paul nodded.
    Marazzi shrugged.  “Go where you like.  But be there in the morning when I drop off the list.  Don’t screw around during the day.  Drain your reconvalescent donor volunteers every day.  Everyone on the daily list.  Got it?”
    Paul nodded.
    Marazzi marched up the tunnel.  The place reminded Paul of the plastic cage he kept hamsters in as a kid, only human-sized and covered in apocalyptic rot.
    Paul followed.  “Why do you call it a clinic?”
    “Reasons.”
    Paul waited for more of an answer but Marazzi didn’t offer anything else.  He looked around and noticed a significant crack in one of the curved support beams.  “These things have been empty a long time.”
    “I guess.” Marazzi looked at the walls but didn’t break his stride.
    “Why here?”
    “Why here what?” Marazzi was becoming irritated with answering questions.  He probably didn’t even like