by Brian Myrick
Old World Pharmaceuticals
B r i a n M y r i c k
Copyright © 2019 by Brian Myrick
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the three woman that mean
the world to me.
Vivian Philips
Samantha Myrick-Reynolds
Tamsen Bridges-Myrick
Table of Contents
Chapter One: The Year Is 1985
Chapter Two: The Year Is 1980
Chapter Three: The Year Is 2018
Chapter Four: The Year Is 1980
Chapter Five: The Year Is 2018
Chapter Six: The Year Is 2018
Chapter Seven: The Year Is 1984
Chapter Eight: The Year Is 2018
Chapter Nine: The Year Is 2018
Chapter Ten: The Year Is 2018
Chapter Eleven: The Year Is 1986
Chapter Twelve: The Year Is 2018
Chapter Thirteen: The Years Is 2018
Chapter Fourteen: The Year Is 1988
Chapter Fifteen: The Year Is 2018
About The Author
Chapter One
The Year Is 1985
T
he full moon rises into the night sky and the world is quiet. It’s late into the night and there is a cool breeze blowing now that its late fall. Three men dressed in nice suits and two women in business suits stand in an empty and desolate parking lot in front of a large building that houses a dairy farm office. The sign on the door to the building reads Old World Dairy Farm. The building is located a good way outside of Houston, Texas, but this late at night the tiny lights of the city can still be seen far off in the distance. Blinking and flickering as the city moves through the night. Under a dim parking lot lamppost, all five can be seen holding champagne glasses preparing to toast them.
Azreal, a stern looking and powerfully built man in his early thirties, with sharp eyes, and a worldly presents about him says. “We have all been in this world for a long, long time with nothing to offer it; all we have done is take from it, some of us more than others, but it is time we started giving back to this world.”
Samuel, in his mid-thirties a tall slender man, with a pale and defined face and sharp jawlines to match his nose. His strong large hands wrapped around his glass while he takes a sip from it then says, “Now that we have learned what we are actually capable of, there is no need for us to live in the shadows anymore. We can finally coexist with the humans.”
The third male, Gabriel, looks to be in his late twenties, small and quick, dark of face, with restless eyes that darting back and forth always looking at what is around him, and a sly smile. He walks away from the others and looks at the building, “Do you really think now is the time for this new beginning, the switch from cattle to pharmaceuticals? Humans won’t accept us after they find out how we have lived all these years, even with these new gifts that you want to give them. We have always lived in the shadows, and it has served us well.”
Samantha, female, tall with long black hair, in her early twenty’s and a body meant for a swimsuit, “There is no chance that humans will forgive me for the crimes I’ve caused against their race.”
“This is a big move, but we have to evolve, or we will die,” says Haley, a female, cute with an average build for a woman in her early thirty’s, nothing particularly stands out with her, she could easily be walked past in public and never noticed unless you know her, says as she turns toward the other two. “The world has changed around us, and we haven’t changed; it’s time. To really make this work, it will take a much larger workforce than the cattle dairy and require a lot more trust in our new human friends.”
Gabriel turns back towards the group and walks up to Haley, then pats her on the shoulder before taking his spot next to her. She glares at him. Gabriel rolls his eyes and looks at the others.
“Here is a thought, why don’t we evolve into the kings and queens of this world?” Gabriel says.
“Enough Gabriel, we have heard and seen this from you for hundreds of years now!” Azreal snaps at him. “We will eventually be caught robbing humans and feeding or killing them. Those days are past us now. We must help each other and change our ways if we want to survive.”
With super speed, Azreal moves across the parking lot to stand next to Gabriel and puts a firm hand on his shoulder. Azreal looks deep into Gabriel’s eyes. “We have overlooked your indiscretions and frequent rule-breaking for many years now. You have placed all of us in jeopardy many times. You need this new venture and to co-exists with humans most of all, to control the urges I know you struggle with.”
Gabriel puts his head down in shame and remorse, then gathers himself and looks back into Azreal’s eyes. “I will go along with these new beginnings for the good of the group, but I will never trust humans.”
“Then we agree,” Samuel says, as he turns to look at Haley, “Start the steps necessary to move forward with us leaving the cattle business. Azreal and I will continue to make new human friends who can help us along the way.”
“Even with our new friends, this will still take time to get going,” Haley says.
Samantha chuckles and rolls her eyes, then looks over to Gabriel, “All we have is time...”
Azreal with his hand still on Gabriel’s shoulder guides him back to the group. All five stand in a semicircular facing each other. With the crickets chirping endlessly in the cool night, and the sound of leaves rustling on the trees as the breeze blows past them.
“Then, let us all toast to this new start,” Azreal says as he lifts his glass once more into the air.
“Yes, before our drinks get cold!” Samantha says.
The others raise their glasses up to meet Azreal’s toast. Samantha drinks vigorously and some of her glasses contents runs down her chin in a single dark red line of blood. She quickly wipes the drop with her finger, then licks it off the tip of her finger with a smile.
All five of them finish their drinks and begin walking away from the building. At the edge of the parking lot is a large steel dumpster. As they pass by it they throw their glasses into the open dumpster. The glasses, each drained completely, land with a crash as they break on the trash inside. Behind the parking lot is a long pipe fence that holds cattle inside of it. On the other side of the fence, a large strong bull lays on the grass motionless, lifeless, still bleeding out from the gaping wound in his neck. Next to the bull on the soft green grass is an empty champagne glass’ box.
***
The Year is 2018
On an evening with a sky full of clouds, two black, four-door sedans with federal license plates pull into a parking lot past the dumpster and the long pipe fence that still holds cows inside of it. The doors slam as two occupants leave the vehicles at the same time, Dan Miller and Frank Garcia. Dan in his mid-40s, stocky and strong but slightly overweight, starting to show the signs of his age with a receding hairline and a weathered face that has seen many summers. Dan walks away from his car first, carrying a thick, brown folder tight to his body. He starts to make his way to the front door of the building. The sign on the front door now reads Old World Pharmaceuticals.
The much younger agent in training, Frank, has a thin and wiry stature, with an eager to impress expression written all over his face as he, follows and hurries to catch up with Dan at the front door of Old World. They both shake of
f the chill brought in by a gust of wind as the doors to the building slide open for them.
“Wait up Dan, they’re not going anywhere,” Frank says once he gets behind Dan in the entryway.
“Get a move on Fucking New Guy,” Dan says and increases his walking speed to enter the building.
The two of them enter the Old World Pharmaceuticals lobby and look around. At the other end of the lobby is a reception desk, sitting behind the desk is a young woman in her early 20s. She is intently watching the news on a wall-screen TV in the adjacent waiting area. She hardly notices Dan and Frank walk in as they walk up to the receptionist’s desk, and Dan sets his folder down with a thud.
“Hello, Ma’am. We have an appointment with your bosses. We’re with the FDA.,” Dan says in a deeper than normal and stern voice.
The receptionist breaks away from the news she is watching on the TV to notice Dan and Frank standing in front of her. Dan flips open his wallet to show her the badge inside of it. Then quickly flips it back shut and slides it back into his pocket.
“Oh, sorry,” the receptionist says, “I was just waiting to see if there are any new leads with that news story.”
Frank leans around Dan to look at the receptionist. He looks at her with curious eyes then gives her a slight smile. She returns it.
“Are you talking about the missing-person story?” Frank asks while he turns to observe the television for a moment.
“It’s the only story on the news now, and it’s not a missing-person case anymore, it’s a missing people case. Have you even been watching it?” The receptionist looks away from Dan and Frank for a moment and out the large, glass window next to her. Off on the horizon, the sun is beginning to set.
The receptionist looks back and down at her scheduling book. There is only one entry in the book that reads Meeting with Food and Drug Administration Agents. Then the receptionist looks back up at Dan and Frank. “You guys are early,” she says and closes the scheduling book. “You can just wait in the waiting area. I’m sure they will see you in a minute.”
Dan and Frank walk over and take a seat in the waiting area and start to watch the TV while they wait for the meeting. On the TV screen a silly commercial with a clown and kids playing at a new indoor entertainment center opening in Houston.
The news comes back on with the news anchor saying, “We have a live update on the latest in a series of missing persons reported. Let’s go live now, to the Houston PD.”
The news program cuts to a briefing area in the Houston Police Department, a public relations officer walks to the podium and sets down some papers, then thumbs through them. His face is concerned and focused. “Good evening, everyone,” the officer says after clearing his throat. “I wish I had something better to tell you, but we are still working with the leads we have and there are no new developments in the missing person cases of Vivian Leigh, Liz Reed and Ruby Thomas.”
“Can you tell us anything else? Do you think these cases are connected?” a reporter’s voice asks loudly over the chatter of the crowd in the briefing room.
“That’s a good question, and we are exploring that possibility also, we are working on every possible lead,” the officer answers, “but what I can tell you is the full resources of our department are being utilized, and we are hopeful that all three of these young women will be found alive and well. I’m sorry, but that is really all I have for you now.” The news cuts back to the regular newsroom and the news anchor.
Back in the lobby of Old World Pharmaceuticals, “Wow, so it’s up to three people now,” Frank exclaims.
Listening to Frank the receptionist shouts over to him “It’s three now but there was, I think, three other girls about a year ago. Yeah, three. I know it’s going to be the same guy.”
“You think so?” Frank shouts back.
“You aren’t here to gossip about the news with the secretary,” Dan says and gives Frank a stern eye.
Frank looks away from the receptionist and back at the TV, the room goes silent, except for the TV playing in the background. The sun is all but gone now; a fading, hazy light on the horizon is all that is left of the day.
The receptionist’s phone rings and she answers it. “Yes, Sir. I will show them in.” The receptionist hangs up the phone and stands up from her desk. “They’re ready for you two, follow me, please.”
They walk through a doorway and up a small flight of stairs where the receptionist leads them past a room lined with desks and chairs, all of them empty and old. Some old lab equipment is placed in the corner of the room also.
“This building is pretty big for being out here in the middle of nowhere,” Frank says to the receptionist.
“Yes, it is huge,” the receptionist says, “but I haven’t seen most of it; it’s off-limits to the regular employees because that is where they do all the lab work, and I think there is even a basement too. This used to be just a dairy farm a long time ago.”
“A dairy farm, like, with cows?” Frank asks.
“That’s what would be on a dairy farm,” the receptionist says with a smile and a giggle. “Didn’t you see some of the cows when you pulled up?”
“Well yes, but I didn’t really think about them,” Frank replies.
“Come on,” Dan says to Frank as Dan picks up his walking pace to get in front of the receptionist.
They continue to walk down long hallways and then come to an elevator at a dead end to the hallway. The elevator doors open, and they step in. The receptionist presses the top button and the elevator rises to the eighth floor.
As the elevator opens, there is a hallway with offices on both sides of it. Beyond that the hallway leads to two large double doors, reinforced with steel, as one might see in an old castle, solid and thick.
“Right through those doors, gentlemen,” the receptionist says.
Dan and Frank walk down the hallway and stop at the double doors, “Those are quite the doors,” Frank says as he runs his fingers along the intricate iron designs mounted to the heavy wood doors. The doors open from the inside startling Frank and reviling a large room.
Dan and Frank enter the vastness of the conference room. An oval table made of thick solid looking wood occupies the middle of the room all through the table is a detailed and intricate carving with many layers of clear polyurethane on top to protect it. Beyond the table is a patio with a view of the city lights of Houston, far off in the distance. Above the patio windows and door, are steel rolling shutters that can be closed during the day to block the sunlight and for security also. Every wall in the room has large pieces of artwork that looked like it should have been in a museum. Separating the art is dark cherry wood panels and columns that matched the intricate woodworking on the ceiling.
Seated at the back side of the table in oversized, plush red chairs are Gabriel, Haley, and Azreal, who all look the exact same as they did thirty-three years ago in the parking lot of their building. But Samuel, is now noticeably older, he looks to be in his late 60s, and Steven O’Hara, a man in his late 40s, glasses, average build but from his looks, he obviously doesn’t own a gym membership, are also seated at the table.
“Good evening, gentleman,” Steven says, “please have a seat, and we can get started with this meeting.”
Dan and Frank make their way to the table and sit down, in regular cheap office chairs on the other side of the table. Dan opens his brown folder and pulls out several neatly organized stacks of papers, then sets them out in front of him in the precise places he wants them, neat and orderly. Then checks them again so the papers are straight, lined up and spaced equally from each other. Dan looks the papers over while he slowly rolls the fingers of his right hand on the table. Index, middle, ring, pinky finger. Slow gentle thuds on the table. Index, middle, ring, pinky finger. Over and over.
“So, you guys have produced several very impressive drugs, since what, I think 1986?” Dan asks. “That’s a long time, I’m sure your shareholders ar
e very happy with your work.”
“You know, this is a privately-owned company,” Azreal says as he looks up from Dan’s compulsiveness of rolling his fingers on the desk. “We took this meeting in hopes of resolving whatever concerns you have and moving forward with our work. I am sure you can see the need for this medication to get to the people that need it quickly.”
Dan looks up from his papers at Azreal with a cold, hard stare. Everyone on the other side of the table is watching Dan’s every movement as if they were vultures waiting for a meal.
“I know more than anyone else what it means for children to get the medicine they need,” Dan says and looks back down at his papers again, continuing to slowly roll his fingers on the table, then, he suddenly looks up at the group again. “You know what? I have a question. It’s a question I have had for a long time. Why do you only make limited amounts of these miracle drugs? None of your listed ingredients in any of your drugs is in short supply, so why can’t you make more? Why haven’t you made more?”
“That is company business,” Haley scruffs, “and I don’t see any need to discuss that in this setting. We were under the impression your agency had questions about our new drug, XP1, that we would be able to clear up for you.”
“You’re right,” Dan says. “We do have some questions about that, also. So, no answer on why you only make small batches, huh? And why you only let certain doctors administer your drugs? Nah? I didn’t think you would have much to say about that, but okay.”
The room is quiet while Dan looks from person to person, waiting for an answer. Nothing. They all look at him with blank stares, waiting for him to make the next move.
“Come on, guys this company was on fire,” Dan says and raises his eyebrow towards them. “One unexplained, new miracle drug after another for years. Then, nothing for the last 10 years? What happened? Did you just decide you made enough money and quit? Did all of you just go on vacation?” Dan sitting in silence staring at the other side of the table, waiting for some kind of response, any response, but nothing comes. “Nothing again huh? okay.”