The Magic Bullet

by Andrew Neiderman

  “How fast will you know if that’s going to happen, Allan?”

  “Pretty fast. He would get fever, chills, become nauseous. I don’t know how sophisticated these bad guys are, but if they’re not, I can snow them under long enough for us to get out, assuming they uphold their side of the bargain.

  “The complication here,” he continued, “is Vico’s had two full doses of chemotherapy and is already in a somewhat weakened, precarious state.”

  “Poor guy,” Taylor said.

  “I wouldn’t be flippant about this, Taylor. They killed Warren,” Demi reminded him.

  Taylor was about To make another sarcastic comment when they saw headlights on the dark street behind them. Demi seized Allan’s arm.

  “Easy,” he said.

  “They could kill us all.”

  “I don’t think so. That would be quite a mess to cover up,” Allan told her. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was more like a prayer.

  They watched the two vehicles turn into the driveway. Demi leaned to her right to see Lois and Ralph.

  “Ralph’s driving the second car,” she said happily. “I see Lois. They’re all right.”

  She started to open the door.

  “Don’t,” Allan said, reaching across the seat to grab her arm. “Don’t do anything until they tell us to do it. You don’t want them to feel threatened in any way.”

  She closed the door. They watched Scooter step out of Ralph’s car. When he opened the door, Demi could see Jodi in the car light. She looked so tiny, as if she had shrunken with fear.

  Tony quickly came up beside Scooter and, after a few words, got into Ralph’s car’s rear seat and closed the door. Frankie Vico made his way slowly to join Scooter. It looked like even those few steps were difficult for him.

  “Why don’t they let Ralph, Lois, and Jodi out? Why did that man get in with them?” Demi asked.

  “They want us to understand they’re still hostages,” Allan said. “Maybe you should stay in the car, too, Demi.”

  “No. I won’t let Taylor in there without me.”

  “Then keep your cool. Just take it easy. You don’t want to spook them. We’ll get out of this. I promise,” he said.

  Scooter approached their car, and Allan rolled down his window.

  “We’ll go inside now, Doc, and you’ll do your magic. You do it well, the boy and his mother get into your car and Ralph and his family can drive off with you. Understand?”

  Allan nodded. “Are you sure everything I need is in there?”

  “Everything you wanted and more has all been arranged, yes. There’s an animal caretaker here, but he’s been instructed to remain in the back. Let’s go.”

  Allan, Demi, and Taylor got out. Frankie Vico glared at Allan.

  “You brought this on yourself, Doc. You and Doctor Weber playing God. Well, now I’m playing God,” he said.

  “And I’m the Angel of Death,” Scooter added. “Or maybe just an angel. Isn’t this fun?”

  He nodded at the front entrance. Allan put his arm around Taylor, who held Demi’s hand. The three of them walked to the animal clinic. Demi looked back at Lois and Ralph, but it was difficult to see because of the shadows draping the automobile.

  There was a small lobby dimly lit by the light spilling from the open door of the room just behind it. Scooter led the way, and Frankie followed. Allan noted how weak and tired he looked and behaved. Scooter opened the door to a fairly good size examination room and stepped back for everyone to enter. The moment they did, Allan was surprised at what he saw.

  The table had been set up for Frankie, but another table had been set up beside it with a catheter and a plastic bag for collection. The assorted needles, bandages and medications were on a table beside it.

  “What’s this?” Allan asked. “I explained on the phone that I would need only to use a hypodermic needle the same way a lab technician takes blood for tests. I then inject Mr. Vico. I don’t need that much blood, and it would take hours for the transfusion.”

  “That donation isn’t for Mr. Vico. It’s for his cousin’s daughter-in-law,” Scooter said. “It’s mainly why I’m here, even though we all love Frankie and want to see him recuperate quickly,” he added, smiling at Frankie.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She has breast cancer. So you can help her, too, and be a bigger hero.”

  “You don’t understand. Even…”

  “It’s too late for discussions, Doctor Parker,” Scooter said. “I’m not very good at negotiations anyway. I don’t have the patience. We take care of Frankie and then junior contributes a pint for another purpose.”

  Allan looked at Demi and then at Taylor, who he could see had finally lost his bravado.

  “That wasn’t part of our bargain.”

  “Hey, you’re not exactly in a position to bargain, Doc,” Scooter said.

  “Listen Tome, please,” Allan pleaded. “The results we’ve had with this…I can’t even call it experimental procedure…it was first a pure accident, and then I went ahead and…”

  “Oh, Doc, please. You’re wasting everyone’s time, and Frankie here will be the first to tell you that there is no time to waste,” Scooter said. He took out his pistol. “Look, there is someone here who is not necessary for our purposes,” he added, looking at Demi. “Shall I convince you of our determination the way I used Warren to convince Mr. and Mrs. Walker?”

  “No,” Allan said quickly. “All right, all right. Let’s get Mr. Vico comfortable.”

  “You get him comfortable,” Scooter ordered.

  Allan helped Frankie take off his jacket. He could see from his complexion and his eyes that he was near exhaustion. His breathing wasn’t regular, and he surely had an elevated blood pressure. He helped him lay down on the table and fixed the pillow under his head. Then he rolled up the sleeve of his left arm and nodded at Taylor.

  Taylor sauntered over to his table, brushed it off, and then hopped up on it.

  “Haircut and shave, please,” he said.

  Scooter laughed. “Cool kid,” he said. “Smart.”

  “I just want to help Mr. Vico get along,” Taylor said, his bravado returning.

  Demi took a deep breath and stepped back so she could shake her head at Taylor without Scooter seeing.

  Taylor laid back. Allan prepared Taylor’s arm, unwrapped the syringe, and found the vein.

  “How much you taking for Frankie?” Scooter asked.

  Allan looked at Taylor.

  “Twenty-four cc’s,” he replied and began filling the tubes. As soon as he had four, he began to transfer the blood to another hypodermic.

  “Why don’t you start the kid on the pint?” Scooter suggested, waving his pistol at the catheter.

  “Let me do this right, first, please. I don’t want to waste anything or make any errors.”

  Scooter smiled at Demi. “It’s great to have a concerned, professional physician with us, isn’t it?”

  She backed up another step and looked at the door. The building, except for the muffled sound of the dogs now barking more intently, was quiet and dark.

  Allan approached Frankie. He had his eyes closed and then opened them slightly.

  “You all right?” Allan asked him.

  “Get on with it,” Frankie ordered. “I seen what you did for that guy. Do it for me.”

  “Look, the circumstances weren’t exactly similar. I know to a layman it looks…”

  “I don’t want to hear your medical bullshit. I’m dying anyway, ain’t I?”

  “We’re all dying,” Scooter said, glaring at Allan. “Some faster than others, faster than they ever imagined.”

  “All right,” Allan said. “I’ll do what you ask,” he said and began injecting the blood. He watched Frankie’s eyes and his breathing carefully. After the second tube, he saw Frankie shudder.

  “Damn cold in here, ain’t it?” he said.

  “Not as cold as the grave,” Scooter offered. Frankie grunted. />
  Allan injected another tube.

  “I don’t feel so good. You sure you’re doing this right?”

  “You’re still suffering the side effects of your chemotherapy, Mr. Vico,” Allan said. He glanced at Scooter, who shrugged and smirked.

  He really couldn’t care less about Frankie, Allan realized. Someone far more powerful is running this show.

  After the next tube was injected, Frankie squirmed.

  “I think…I’m going to throw up,” he said.

  “If you do, heave the other way,” Scooter said. “This normal?” he asked Allan.

  “People have a variety of reactions to transfusions, yes.”

  Frankie’s complexion whitened more. He groaned and then brought his hands to his chest.

  “I don’t feel so good,” he said.

  “Doc?” Scooter asked.

  “Give it time. Relax, Mr. Vico.”

  “Get started on the kid,” Scooter ordered.

  Frankie moaned.

  “I don’t like this,” he said. “Something’s not right.”

  “Let me get him a glass of water,” Allan said turning.

  “Forget him. He got his, now get to the kid,” Scooter ordered firmly.

  Allan glanced at Demi. She looked petrified. Frankie squirmed more, moaned louder, complained of being too hot, then too cold.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Scooter told him. “Let’s go,” he told Allan and waved his pistol.

  Allan moved back to Taylor. Frankie struggled to sit up.

  “Hey, relax,” Scooter told him.

  “I don’t like it. It’s worse than the fucking chemo…somethin’…he poisoned me or somethin’…”

  “With blood? Don’t be an idiot. I’m standing here watching him,” Scooter said.

  Frankie shook his head, rubbed his kidney, and then started to dry heave.

  Scooter leaped backward to avoid getting sprayed if he started throwing up.

  “What the hell is this?” he asked Allan. “It don’t seem normal Tome.”

  “I think he’s having a hemolytic transfusion reaction,” Allan said. “I tried to tell you, but…”

  Frankie swung himself off the table. He wobbled.

  “What the hell’s a hemo whatever?”

  “It can be serious. This looks like it is. He’s going to need to go to an emergency room immediately,” Allan said.

  “Emergency room? This is the emergency room, and you’ve got one helluva emergency on your hands if you don’t get moving on that kid,” Scooter said. He eyed Frankie who wobbled again, grasping the table to keep himself from toppling.

  “Forget the kid,” Frankie muttered. “Get me to the hospital. You heard him. Something’s gone wrong.”

  “Get you to…what are you fucking out of your mind?” Scooter said. “You’re going to die anyway, ain’tcha? Just lay down.”

  Frankie looked at Allan.

  “You did this…you…Tony!” he screamed.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Scooter said. He stepped toward him.

  Frankie shook his head.

  “Tony will get me to the hospital,” he said.

  “You’re fucking this up,” Scooter said. “He can’t leave those people and take you to the hospital.”

  “I’m going,” Frankie insisted and started toward the door.

  Scooter seized him at the back of his neck and shoved him back toward the table. He hit it and spun toward Scooter, who put his hand on his chest to hold him back. Desperate and in total panic, Frankie reached down, grabbed the emptied syringe and shoved it into Scooter’s chest, right at his heart. Scooter, shocked, looked down at the needle dangling there.

  “What the fuck…”

  He swung his pistol and caught Frankie on the left temple. He struggled to hold on, but Scooter hit him again, and he fell back against the table and then slowly sat, stunned.

  Demi screamed. Scooter started to turn toward her, but Allan charged forward and grabbed Scooter’s arm with his left hand while pushing hard on the syringe still in Scooter’s chest. They struggled, doing what looked like a strange Kabuki dance because Scooter’s strength seemed to be seeping out of his body through the syringe along with the blood that was now leaking faster around the needle. He wore a look of total surprise as Allan got the upper hand and managed to shake the pistol from his grip. The moment it fell, Demi seized it.

  And then suddenly, Scooter stopped struggling. It looked like he was smiling.

  His legs buckled, and his tall, lean body poured downward to crumble at Allan’s feet.

  For a long moment, no one moved.

  “Wow. Good work, Doc,” Taylor said.

  Allan kneeled beside Frankie Vico. His eyes were still opened, but he was in a daze, his breathing heavy and difficult. He gasped.

  “He’s going into cardiac arrest,” Allan said.

  Demi turned toward the window.

  “Lois, Ralph, and Jodi,” she cried in a whisper.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “How long are we supposed to sit out here?” Ralph asked. He wasn’t as timid about confronting Tony as he had been confronting Scooter.

  “Long as it takes,” Tony said.

  “I’d like to take my daughter to the bathroom.”

  Tony looked at Jodi, who had pressed herself tightly to the corner of the seat in order to keep herself as far as possible from him.

  “She ain’t complaining.”

  “She’s too frightened to complain.”

  “I’d like to take a piss, too. She’ll hold it in. Put a cork in it,” he told Jodi and laughed.

  “How can you do this?” Lois asked him. He stared at her as if the question had been asked in a foreign language. “How can you be so cruel to a child?”

  “You talk too much,” he replied instead of answering. “If I was you, I’d shut my mouth.”

  They all turned when Demi stepped out of the front entrance of the clinic.

  “What the hell is she doing out here? Don’t nobody do nothin’ until I say,” Tony ordered. He opened his door as Demi started toward them. “Hey, where’s Frankie? What’s going on?”

  “Doctor Parker says we’ve got to get him to the nearest hospital emergency room,” she replied, continuing toward them. “It didn’t go well in there. Doctor Parker says Mr. Vico’s having a hemolytic transfusion reaction. He needs your help immediately.”

  “Hemo, what?”

  “A bad reaction to the blood transfusion,” she said.

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “No, it’s not bullshit,” she countered firmly. “Mr. Vico sent me out here to get you to help him. Doctor Parker can’t leave him. You have to hurry,” she said.

  “Where’s Scooter? Why can’t he help him? Why can’t Doctor Parker?”

  “The man you call Scooter and Mr. Vico had an argument, and Scooter is dead.”

  Tony just smiled.

  “Dead? How’s he dead?”

  “Mr. Vico had a fight with him and killed him,” Demi said “You can see it all for yourself.”

  “Why would they fight?”

  “Scooter wasn’t very concerned about your friend. He didn’t care if he had a bad reaction or not,” she explained. “Well?” she followed when he didn’t move.

  “Frankie killed him? How could he kill anyone? He’s half dead himself. This is just a bunch crap. You’d better tell me the truth and fast,” Tony said, pointing the pistol at her.

  “I am telling you the truth. When you go in, you will see for yourself,” Demi said. “If I were you, I’d hurry. Doctor Parker thinks Mr. Vico could die any minute. He said he’s going into cardiac arrest and he needs to get him on a defibrillator.”

  “De…what?”

  “You’re wasting precious time. He’s dying!” Demi cried, her arms out.

  Tony stopped smiling. He pulled back the hammer on his. 38 and pointed at her.

  “If you’re lying, you’re all dead meat.”

  “I’m not lying,” Demi said
firmly. “Would Mr. Vico or your Scooter permit me to come walking out here like this to lie to you?”

  Tony thought a moment. That did make sense.

  “All right. Everyone out. Now!” he screamed.

  Lois moved quickly to get out and open the rear door for Jodi. She embraced her quickly. Ralph stepped out, and Tony followed, stepping back so he was a safe distance from both Demi and Ralph.

  “What happened, Demi?” Ralph asked.

  “Just what I said. Mr. Vico had a reaction to the transfusion. He was stubborn and wouldn’t listen to Doctor Parker. He tried to explain that blood type plays a critical role in all this,” she explained loudly enough for Tony to hear it all.

  She looked back at Tony, hoping he followed the explanation and wouldn’t do anything impulsive. He looked like he was starting to believe her.

  “When he asked to go to the hospital, the man called Scooter wouldn’t let him, so they got into a fight,” she added.

  “You’re absolutely sure Scooter is dead?” Tony asked, his face clouded with confusion and incredulity.

  “You’ll see it all for yourself, but please, for Mr. Vico’s sake, move quickly.”

  “All right. You all go ahead of me,” Tony said, waving the pistol at them.

  Lois, now carrying Jodi, came around and joined Demi and Ralph, who started for the animal clinic’s front entrance.

  “Is Taylor all right?” Lois asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And Doctor Parker?”

  “He’s okay,” Demi said. “As soon as we enter and the lights go on, move to your left and kneel,” she whispered. “Nothing more,” she emphasized. “We’ll all be all right soon. I promise.”

  “What?”

  “Quit talking so much,” Tony ordered.

  Demi moved faster and opened the front door. She stepped back to let Ralph, Lois, and Jodi enter. Tony gestured for her to enter, too.

  Demi stepped in, and Tony followed. Just as he entered the lobby, Taylor, hovering on the left, turned on the lights. Before Tony could respond, Allan pushed the office chair on which Scooter’s corpse was tied with some adhesive bandage. It rolled toward Tony, whose eyes bulged with surprise. The hypodermic was still lodged in Scooter’s chest.

  “Drop your gun now,” Allan said, holding Scooter’s pistol pointed at him.