A.D.A.M.

by Melissa Caudle

  Dr. Bradford shook her head in confusion as a scowl crossed her brow. “And my graduate assistant? Where is she again? Everything is just so fuzzy.”

  “Both remain hospitalized and are in a coma. They are getting the best care the government can provide.”

  “None of this seems real. I have no memory of it at all.”

  “Maybe it’s better that way. Try not to think about it. You need your rest.”

  The SUV slowed as Spike pressed the brakes turning the vehicle into Dr. Bradford’s driveway and parked next to Jessica’s compact car.

  Agent Morrison and Agent Turner exited the car. As Agent Turner opened Dr. Bradford’s door, Agent Morrison retrieved a wheelchair from the back and then rolled it to Dr. Bradford.

  “I don’t think I need that.”

  Agent Turner extended her hand. “It’s for your safety. The last thing we want is for you to fall. Please, let us help you.”

  “I am a little weak. Thank you.”

  Together the agents helped Dr. Bradford out of the SUV and into the wheelchair. Agent Morrison pushed Dr. Bradford toward a recently installed handicapped ramp.

  Giles, in coveralls and a tool belt around his waist, exited the house.

  “Glad you’re home, Dr. Bradford. I’ve installed all the features you need to get around your house during your recovery. I’ll stick around a few minutes to see if you need anything adjusted.”

  Agent Morrison pushed Dr. Bradford up the ramp and into her living room.

  “Do I know him? He seems very friendly.” Dr. Bradford glanced around the room.

  “Yes, he is the janitor at your research facility. He wanted to do this for you when he heard about your accident.”

  Agent Turner abruptly cleared her throat and glared at her counterpart. “The doctor says it is best we do not give you any information to encourage you to regain your memory on your own. Are we clear on that Agent Morrison?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  The front door opened, and Ryan dressed in blue scrubs entered. “How’s my patient doing? Where are my manners? I’m Ryan Ledford, and I’m your home-based nurse. It is a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Bradford.”

  The former military lab of Dr. Bradford’s still contained the large empty tank and the remnants of her research. In the middle of the floor, two hospital beds were occupied by Jessica and Rebecca; both unconscious and connected to oxygen machines and intravenous tubes. Dr. Gilbreth inserted a syringe into Jessica’s IV port.

  General Anbar entered. “How much longer for a complete memory wipe.”

  “The younger the patient, the longer it takes. They have more brain cells that quickly rejuvenate.”

  Jessica’s eyes fluttered and barely opened to an out of focused room. “Where am I?”

  Dr. Gilbreth leaned over Jessica. “You’re in a medical research facility.” She prepared another syringe. “There was a terrible accident with you and your sister.”

  Jessica struggled to glance at Rebecca as Dr. Gilbreth inserts another syringe into Jessica’s IV port.

  “What’s wr...” Jessica closed her eyes and remained motionless.

  Dr. Gilbreth stroke her hair. “You’ll be fine. You won’t remember a thing.” She glanced toward General Anbar. “Her memory wipe is completed.”

  Dr. Bradford sat in her extremely clean-living room in the wheelchair by the biosphere as Giles changed the ceiling’s lightbulb. She noticed the new tank Jessica bought as well as the five-gallon jug filled with water. One frog swam close to the tank, but the other floated dead. “Poor little baby. I’m surprised you lasted this long.”

  A frown of uncertainty and familiarity crossed her face. She looked at the empty tank and then back to the original tank. How long was I away? She touched the side of the biosphere near the dead frog. She shook her head as a nanosecond memory of the white doughy blob that floated in the tank in the lab flashed. She grabbed her forehead as she glanced toward the biosphere orb again.

  Giles stepped from the ladder. “Excuse me, Dr. Bradford. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave for the day?”

  “As a matter of fact, I would love my chair moved closer to the television. Also, if you can, do you mind changing the frog tank water? One of them is dead. It looks like I bought a new tank but can’t really remember doing it.”

  “Easy enough.”

  “I’m going to make some tea. Do you care for a cup?”

  “No, thanks, you enjoy.”

  Dr. Bradford struggled to stand from the wheelchair. The pain took her breath away as she sat.

  “Let me get your nurse for you.”

  “That’s a splendid idea. I’m weaker than I thought.”

  Giles exited the living room into the hall.

  Dr. Bradford, in pain, placed her head into her hands.

  Giles and Ryan entered the living.

  Ryan stood at her side. “Ma’am, is there something I can assist you in doing?”

  “Yes, thank you. I want some hot tea if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll make you some right away.”

  “Not necessary; just help me to the kitchen. I don’t think I’m strong enough to make it there on my own.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Ryan pushed Dr. Bradford into the kitchen, and then immediately filled the tea kettle with purified water from the sink.

  Giles lifted the large, cumbersome chair as if he carried a loaf of bread and placed it close to the television. “I’ve moved your chair.” His words reached into the kitchen. “I’m starting on the frog tank and then heading out.” Giles emptied the jug of water into the new biosphere. As it poured, some splashed on his face. He wiped his face leaving a temporary neon yellow streak across it. “I’m out of here; call me if you need anything.”

  Dr. Bradford shuffled to the entry between the kitchen and the living room. “Thank you, Giles, you are very kind.”

  “You keep telling me that.”

  “I don’t remember ever having a conversation with you.”

  “It must be from your head injury. Take care.” Giles left.

  Dr. Bradford shuffled to the front of the stove as she waited for the water to boil. She glanced around the kitchen and then stared at the pictures of her, Jessica, and Rebecca on the refrigerator.

  Ryan’s brow creased. “Something wrong?”

  “I think I should remember who is in these pictures, but one of them doesn’t look familiar. I must know her, or she wouldn’t be on my refrigerator.”

  “I hate to break the news to you; she’s also in pictures in your hall. You definitely know her. Look, you need to rest. Let me finish making the tea for you. Please sit back down before you fall.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  Ryan assisted her back into the wheelchair and, then pushed Dr. Bradford into the living room. “Giles moved your chair; let me help you to sit there.”

  “Great idea. Thank you.”

  With Ryan’s assistance, she positioned herself onto the chair as she winced in pain.

  “Take it easy. There is no need to rush.”

  “I’ll keep reminding myself of that.” She drew in a long deep breath and exhaled. “How about that tea?”

  As if on cue, the tea kettle whistled sending Ryan bolting toward the kitchen.

  She glanced up at the infant sculpture on the fireplace mantle.

  Tears flowed as she wept.

  Ryan returned carrying a hot cup of tea. “You’ve had a long day. Why don’t you have your tea in bed?”

  “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

  Ryan assisted her to her feet.

  She took a deep breath. “Just one more minute, please.” Her eyes fixated on the infant sculpture. She stroked it as gentle as a mother would of any infant. To my beloved son, may the Angels of the Lord protect you until we can be together again. “Ryan, what hospital was I taken to after my wreck?”

  “I don’t know, why?”

  “It just seems odd I don’t
remember the last four weeks of my life.” She took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. “The baby. I saw a baby.”

  “That’s enough, Dr. Bradford. It’s time to get you into bed. There wasn’t ever a baby involved.”

  He assisted her into the wheelchair. She gazed at him. “What do you know about my accident?”

  “Nothing, really. I know you need your rest.”

  He pushed the wheelchair toward the hall.

  President Corbin postured behind the majestic mahogany desk in the oval office. The door opened.

  “Madam President, General Anbar has arrived.”

  “Send him in and hold all my calls.”

  “Yes, Madam President.”

  CHAPTER 14 – A.D.A.M.

  Patrick and Stephen readied for the broadcast of What Matters. Henry counted down to go live. There was something strange and vibrant about Patrick - stronger in confidence and more alert than usual.

  Patrick took a cleansing breath. “And, now I’ll say my final goodbye and wish a speedy recovery to my co-host, Rebecca Newcombe. Today is the last show as I have taken a position as the Press Correspondent with the FBI. However, always remember, what matters to you, matters to me. Farewell friends. I’m Patrick Algiers signing off.”

  Dr. Bradford sat on the edge of her bed; head slumped. Ryan retrieved the walker from the corner of the room and pushed it toward her.

  “If you must get out of bed for any reason, you must use this. Let me show you how.” Ryan gripped the walker to demonstrate the proper use. “Put your weight on it to ease yourself out of bed, and if you want to go anywhere, push it, and then walk.”

  “I’m familiar with how to use a walker, but thank you.”

  He grabbed a pitcher of water from the nightstand and filled her glass. “I’m sorry for your pain.” He handed her two pain pills. “This will help you fall fast asleep in about twenty minutes.”

  “Thank you. Are you sure we have never met?”

  The tea kettle whistle drifted from the kitchen. A puzzled-deep-burrowed frown creased Dr. Bradford’s brow, and her eyes darted upward as a flash of Jessica making tea in the lab abruptly emerged.

  “Yes, very certain. I’ll go get your tea.” The tea kettle continued to whistle as Ryan exited the room.

  Giles, who drove a red Ford 1969 Mustang, pulled into the parking lot of the New Orleans FBI headquarters. He exited his car; and as he whistled a happy tune, he skipped with athletic energy up to the front entrance. He scanned his badge and entered the building.

  “Good morning, Giles.” The building guard pursed his lips. “Whatever treatment you’re getting for the bum leg of yours certainly is working.”

  “I feel better and more energetic than ever.”

  “I can tell. No more limp.”

  “That’s called a miracle. Have a great day.” Giles bolted up the stairs. I feel great. He continued his path up five flight of stairs and bolted into the work area. “Good morning, everybody.”

  Agent Turner looked up from her computer. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Just feeling great for a change. Anyone want coffee?” He bolted for the break room.

  Agent Morrison and Agent Turner both stood and followed Giles in hot pursuit. “Turner, what’s gotten into him?”

  “That’s what I want to know. Either Gile’s has been faking his limp, or he’s on a powerful drug.

  When they entered the break room, Giles bent over and slurped the water flowing from the faucet.

  Agent Morrison placed his hand on Giles’ back. “Thirsty, are you?”

  Giles slurped the water as fast as he could.

  Agent Turner’s eyes darted toward her partner, then back toward Giles. “You must be thirsty. Have you thought about using a glass?”

  “I have cotton mouth.” Giles continued to slurp as they remained stunned by his unusual behavior.

  Giles lifted from the faucet. “I hope I can work with you two again.” Slurp! “It’s been amusing.”

  “Yeah, really fun. Come on, Morrison. We have reports to finish before the night is out.”

  The agents left Giles, who continued to slurp the water. He went to the water cooler. This time he filled a cup and then chugged the water. Slowly, his lower lip turned neon yellow, and then his eyes filled with a yellow glaze. His body jerked as if about to vomit. What looked to be bile, foamed from his mouth. He bolted as he clutched his stomach.

  The sun rose over Dr. Bradford’s home as Ryan’s silhouette haunted the front window. He exited the house and picked up the morning newspaper in the yard, and then tossed it onto the porch. He entered his car and drove away.

  Dr. Bradford shuffled into the living room with the aid of the walker. An earbud dangled from her ear; the white cord reached to her pocket. “Oh, Stephen Stone Diamond, what do you have to say this morning?”

  “It’s been a long time coming. I think more people should question the government.”

  She shuffled to the infant sculpture and then stared at it. Sadness enveloped her heart. I love you so much.

  “I can’t believe how gullible some of us are and take what we read or hear from the government as gospel. Just because it’s printed, doesn’t mean it’s the truth.”

  Dr. Bradford fed the frogs and then shuffled her way to the kitchen.

  Agent Morrison and Agent Turner exited FBI headquarters. He threw his hands into the air. “Well, would you look at that. Giles’ car is in my parking space.”

  “That’s strange. I thought he left hours ago. After the slurp chat, I didn’t see him all night or this morning.”

  “Knowing him, he’s probably asleep in the janitor’s closest.”

  They both laughed at the sarcastic joke.

  Dr. Bradford’s cell phone rested on the countertop. She filled a teapot with water and then placed it onto the stove. You don’t say, Stephen, for once you’re making sense.

  “Several weeks ago, caller five zero four phoned into the show, and I began an unusual conversation.”

  Dr. Bradford stopped dead in her tracks and listened with more intent. He’s talking about Jessica.

  “She talked about whistleblowing as she feared she and her colleagues were caught up in a government conspiracy. I haven’t heard from her since. The strange thing about this, her boss, Dr. Sandra Bradford, and the reporter covering the case, were all recently in a car wreck. Does anyone out there know what this encrypted message means? Her last words to me were tick tock, tick tock goes the clock.”

  The tea kettle whistled, again jogging Dr. Bradford’s memory as she grabbed her head.

  “No one has seen or heard from any of them.”

  Dr. Bradford shook her head as she closed her eyes. A vision of Jessica preparing the slide as Rebecca observed the day she was removed from her lab by the FBI.

  The typical industry bathroom with a drain centered on the floor reeked of carbolic soap and urine. Overnight, Giles had lost his energy.

  The long-torturous night had returned Giles to his pathetic state; his scars returned as did his limp. He gagged as bile traveled up his esophagus.

  He limped to the sink basin, turned on the faucet, and then splashed the cool water onto his face. By the looks of him, he may as well have splashed acid as his skin wrinkled. He sank to the floor, landing by the drain. He curled into a fetal position and shivered like a meth addict in need of their next fix.

  Dr. Bradford poured her tea as Ryan entered through the side door carrying a bag of beignets. "I see you're still here."

  “Thought you would want something to eat. Giles told me they were your favorite.” With his back turned, he prepared a small plate as Dr. Bradford glared harshly at him.

  “That was kind of you.” Her hands fisted as her lips pursed.

  Ryan handed her the plate.

  Dr. Bradford flashed a fake-as-they-come-pleasant smile and then stared at the beignets.

  “They are your favorite, right?”

  Dr. Bradford took a deep breath and
closed her eyes as the vision of young Adam with white-powdered sugar covering his face surfaced from a long-forgotten memory.

  “Is everything all right, Dr. Bradford?”

  “I don’t want to appear rude, but could you please give me my space today? I’ll be fine without you.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “Then would you mind going to the pharmacy and picking up my new prescription and a box of menstrual pads? You can do that for me, right?”

  “I was just out; I wish I’d known this earlier.”

  Dr. Bradford flashed him a go-to-Hell glower.

  “The pharmacy on the corner, right?”

  Dr. Bradford struggled to retain her pleasant composure. “That’s the one. You’re a Godsend. Thank you.” Again, Dr. Bradford forced a smile.

  “I’ll be back in a jiffy. It’s time for your morning exercises.” Ryan left slamming the door behind him.

  She glanced at the clock above the stove, and then shuffled to the refrigerator and gazed upon a wallet size picture of her infant son. Her heart sank with deep-boned regret.

  After catching her breath, she opened the fridge. She reached for the milk, but to retrieve it, she had to move a clear-glass container filled with moldy mashed potatoes. Disgusting.

  She peeled back the Saran wrap. A flash of the white doughy blob floating in the lab’s tank flashed in her mind’s eye. Her heartbeat increased as beads of sweat formed across her upper lip. After poking her finger into the potatoes, she rolled some into a ball fixating on her creation. I don’t understand. She threw it back into the bowl and then slammed the refrigerator shut causing her son’s picture to fall to the floor.

  Oh, Adam. I love you. She struggled to retrieve it. As she put the image under a magnet to hold it in place, she had a vision of her taping his picture to a tank and the blob morphing into her son. “Dear God!” She snatched the picture, quickly stuffing it into her robe’s pocket.

  In the conference room, General Anbar, Commander Anderson, and Patrick engaged in a discussion. The General cleared his throat. “It’s time to inform the President.”