Athena’s tears fell unbidden when she saw the bright color of Mrs. Mendoza countenance, patient 409, a sharp contrast to the previous near-death state of the aged woman.
She didn’t care for the police officials and people who turned to stare at her in surprise, wondering why she was crying so unabashedly.
They wouldn’t understand, she thought, wiping off the tears that refused to heed her command to stop falling. Her life’s work had been on the brink of being contaminated, being extinguished, and yet there stood a flicker of hope that maybe the gang’s plans would be foiled once again.
She was so engrossed with her thoughts, fighting to stop her tears from falling, that she didn’t notice when the female officer sat near her again, until the latter tapped her reassuringly on the shoulder. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
"You see, everything is working well. I’m sure you’ll be out of here soon."
Athena nodded her thanks, fixing her eyes on the screen. Mrs. Mendoza was about to speak.
"Hello, my name is Mrs. Vanessa Mendoza. Some of you might be familiar with the name. My husband and I run the popular Mendoza’s Motors Company."
Patient 409’s voice was very steady and clear, and Athena’s heart warmed at seeing the woman full with life again.
"Well, I met Athena a few months ago upon her resumption at Whitman Hospital. At that time, I was already a patient there, afflicted with the Grey disease, just waiting for my death day because, as we were told, there was no cure. But then, she came, and everything changed."
Athena leaned in closer, her heart pounding.
"I was cured at the first trial..." Mrs. Mendoza paused, her voice thick with emotion as tears streamed down her cheeks, tears of gratitude mingling with relief.
The station was silent; curiosity and anticipation filled the air, pulling everyone closer into Mrs. Mendoza’s story.
"Then I was infected again. I don’t know how it happened, but the symptoms just returned. My husband rushed me to the hospital. This time, though, it was different. The disease progressed rapidly, degenerating my body at an alarming rate. I barely had time to process it."
A brief pause.
"Doctor Athena gave me the usual dosage, but nothing happened. Then she tried a triple dosage, as her assisting doctor had informed her while administering the medicine, but my body resisted the drugs, birthing more problems. Honestly, I thought I would die then. The pain was too much..." The woman shook her head, visibly shuddering at the memories of the agony she had endured.
"Two days later, Doctor Athena came to my ward with an injection. She said it was newly improved. I trusted her, just like I did the first time, and gave her consent. She injected me, and a few hours later, I was already feeling better. My improvement motivated the others to give consent too... and one by one, they got better as well... but then, something changed last night..."
Tension swelled in the room now, and Athena pressed her head forward as if doing so would allow her to absorb everything Mrs. Mendoza was sharing. She didn’t even notice that the female office beside her had mirrored her actions.
"Last night, we were moved to one room by a nurse on duty. He mentioned it was a safety measure for those infected with the disease..."
Athena furrowed her brows. A male nurse? Who was that? When had that command gone forth? Who had given it? Was it Finn?
"He was with two other men." Mrs Mendoza continued, breaking Athena away from her thoughts. "They guided us to this room. We didn’t think much of it at the time; we were just trying to avoid infecting others. But later, I woke up to voices in the middle of the night—like an argument. I didn’t catch much, but they were discussing injecting our drips with a particular medicine..."
Athena’s heart raced. What medicine could that be? Succinylcholine again? The implications were alarming, and she couldn’t help but feel the urgency clawing at her.
"I had to do something," Mrs. Mendoza continued. "So I tried waking up the patients, but they were mostly still unconscious. I had no choice but to hide in the cabinet, listening and watching through a tiny crack. I watched them enter the room and inject something into the drips. Their maniac laughters, as they left the room thereafter, filled me with dread; I heard them say they would see how Doctor Athena would escape this one."
"Can you identify them if you see them?" The reporter asked, his voice firm.
"No," Mrs. Mendoza replied, shaking her head. "The hospital was quite dark then."
Nice answer, Athena thought. If the woman had claimed she knew, she would become a target for immense retaliation. It was better the latter claimed to be unknowledgeable about the men. That would keep her safety intact.
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