Austin offered a conciliatory wince and said, “Maybe you ought to go see the doc.”
“We’ll see.” Terry knew he wasn’t going. He didn’t go to the doctor. Not unless he absolutely had to. For now, he could still handle it.
“Plus, she’s really cute,” Austin said. “I’d probably fake an illness just to go see her.”
* * *
Terry beat Kat and the kids home so he reclined on the couch with a dampened hand towel over his eyes. What in the hell is going on with me? Do I have a freakin’ tumor? He buried the thought and sought solace behind closed eyelids.
The door opened, and Kat, Jonathan, and Tabitha walked in. “Hey. You okay?” Kat asked.
Terry turned and began to sit up. The pain had lessened for the moment. “Yeah, I’m okay. Had a bad headache most of the day.”
“Oh no. Well, are you hungry?”
“I could eat,” Terry said.
“Good. Come in the kitchen and help me with dinner.”
As Kat began to grab ingredients for supper, she also began the speech she had prepared, “So, I think it would be nice if we had Rick over for dinner and you two could meet.”
Terry’s head throbbed at the suggestion. “The guy who works for the Chancellor?” Terry raised his eyebrows at his sister’s back.
“Yes, Terry. Rick, the guy who works for the Chancellor. I think you might actually like him if you gave him a chance. And don’t start with me again about his job. It’s a job, that’s it. We all have a job. An assigned job—remember? Besides, I’ve been seeing him for a few weeks now, and I intend to keep doing so. You’re just going to have to get over it.”
Terry choked back his real reply and instead said, “Okay. When?”
Now Kat turned around to face him with a broad smile. “Yeah? Okay—I could call him right now.”
“Great.”
Rick showed up about thirty minutes later with a six pack of black label beer, (granted, that’s all there was at the commissary) and a smirk. Terry hated his expression straight away and later realized that was just his face. He hated his face.
“Hi, you must be Rick,” and Terry extended his hand.
“Yes, I am. Where’s Kat?” No handshake. Yep—Terry hated him.
“She’s in the kitchen. Just through there,” and Terry motioned with his hand. The throbbing in his head was back and gaining momentum. It was shaping up to be a memorable night. Kat’s giggles and an excited squeal escaped the kitchen. Terry would’ve rolled his eyes if it didn’t hurt so badly to do so.
“Kids! Come on out here. I want you to meet someone!” Kat hollered.
Jonathan and Tabitha scuttled up the hallway from the room they shared. “Yeah, Mom?”
“Guys, this is Rick—my friend.” Kat’s eyes shifted back and forth between Jon and Tabby looking for a reaction.
“Friend? Like, boyfriend?” Jonathan asked. Tabitha covered her mouth and giggled. Jonathan was stoic-faced and stared unblinking, waiting for an answer.
Kat looked at Rick and then to Terry, then back to Jon. “Well…Rick is a good friend, Jonathan. We’ve been—“
“Yep. That’s what I thought, Mom.” Jonathan spun around and headed straight back to his room.
Rick looked at Kat, shrugged his shoulders and cracked open a beer. “Beer?” he asked to no one in particular.
“I’m sorry about that. He’s still hoping his dad will show up, and we will get back together again.”
Rick laughed at that and tipped his head back to chug his beer.
Tabitha looked up at Kat with eyes full of worry. “When is Daddy going to get here, Mommy? Do you think he’s okay?”
“Yes, honey. I’m sure Daddy is fine and on his way right now,” Kat said, but she lied the words.
Rick chuckled again between slurps.
* * *
The rest of the night was just as great. Jonathan wouldn’t come out for dinner, and Terry couldn’t blame him. He was ready to retire to his room as well, and it wasn’t just the headache. Tabitha was teary, and Kat was embarrassed. Rick was oblivious to everyone but himself.
Just what in the hell did she see in this clown anyways? Terry wondered, but he made sure not to wonder it out loud. No, that would never do.
At last, Rick showed interest in someone other than himself. “So, Terry. It’s Terry, right?” Terry nodded solemnly. “Okay. So, what do you do?”
“I am in the thrilling field of bio-sanitation,” Terry said.
Rick laughed again. Terry was beginning to hate the laugh that went with the face. “Are you…serious?” More laughs.
Kat nudged Rick under the table and gave him the look.
“Is that funny, Rick?” Terry asked, his spine stiffening and headache intensifying. He didn’t care now.
“Oh, no—sorry. I just thought you were kidding is all.” More laughing, slightly stifled now. This time, Kat stomped her heel into Rick’s foot.
“What the hell?” Rick barked, then just as quickly, “Oh, sorry, babe. That just surprised me is all.” Back to Terry, now. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to offend. A job’s a job, right?”
Terry realized then that the smirk never left Rick’s face. It was ever present. He hated Rick’s face.
Terry stood up and cleared his plate. “I’ve got to get to bed, Kat. My headache’s back. Goodnight, Tabby.”
“Um, okay…I want you to go and see the doc in the morning,” Kat said.
“Yeah. Goodnight, you two.
Terry walked down the hall to his room, and as he turned his doorknob, he could hear Rick’s tut.
“What the hell is wrong you?” Kat asked. “If you’re going to show up here drunk and act like an asshole, don’t bother coming back.”
Rick set his beer down, wiping his mouth with the palm of his hand. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been under a lot of pressure at work…. It won’t happen again. Forgive me?”
Kat’s sternness melted, giving way to smile. “Yes, I forgive you. Now, come here and give me kiss…asshole.”
“Hey, now,” Rick said, grinning as he pulled her in.
CHAPTER NINE
Terry showed up early at the clinic and sat in the brightly lit lobby, shielding his eyes, waiting for his turn to be seen. His headache was like a drumbeat now, building up to the crescendo. A cursory glance with half-opened eyes told him he wasn’t the only one with a headache.
Besides him and other headaches, there were some apparent flu sufferers. A woman seated nearby began a coughing fit that escalated to vomiting. God, please let this vaccine protect me from that. Some of the others in the waiting room moved away with disgust and horror evident on their faces. Terry just sat with his head cradled in his hands, as if he could contain the throb with his grasp alone. If only.
A janitor came out with a face mask and cleaned it up. Terry thought he heard the man gag through his mask, but he couldn’t be sure with the pounding in his head. Then the smell hit him, and Terry did gag. Big mistake. The gag only intensified his headache which quickly cured him of his revulsion to the smell.
There was no smell now. Only pain. And why is it so goddamn bright in here? His eyelids were insufficient at best to save him from the searing pain, the light seemed to drill into his brain. He cupped his hands over his eyes and when he thought he could take it no more, the orderly on shift called to him.
“Terry Burrows? You’re up, the doctor will see you now.”
Terry stood, and a bolt of pain nearly dropped him. His knees shook like jello, threatening to betray him as his head had already done. The orderly rushed to Terry’s side and grabbed his arm. “Here, let me help you.”
“I’m good. I got it,” Terry said.
Terry followed Otis Kearns, the orderly, back to the exam room, stepped up and sat down on the exam table.
“It looks like you’re having a time of it,” the orderly said. “When did it start?”
Terry strained to read the man’s name badge—Otis.
He was a large man with a beard. Kind of a funny looking nurse, Terry thought. “It started, I think, maybe—two days ago.”
Otis nodded his large head, hung from a thick neck while scribbling in his notebook. Terry massaged his temples lightly and asked, “Can we turn out the lights in here?”
“No, I’m sorry,” Otis said. “Here—let me see if I can find something you can use for a blindfold.” He went to the cabinet hung over the sink and began to rummage around. “Voila, let’s try this,” he said, holding up a roll of gauze. Otis wrapped it gently around Terry’s tortured head blocking the harsh fluorescents.
“Thank you,” Terry said.
“So, what’s your story, Mr. Burrows?” Otis asked. “Where were you when the sun went crazy?”
“Terry’s fine, call me Terry.” The gauze was helping. The light was reduced to a comfortable level, and he no longer had to squint his eyes shut. “I was out on the road—I drive truck—on a run back from Bakersfield, and I was just outside of Eugene, Oregon when everything—happened.”
“Long walk.”
“Yeah…it was,” Terry said.
Otis fastened the blood pressure cuff around Terry’s right arm and began squeezing the bulb to inflate it.
“So, what about you? Where’d you come from?” Terry asked. Otis released the pressure from the cuff and scribbled in his notebook.
“Blood pressure looks good…and, I was here. Born and raised in the Puget Sound. I was an EMT before. Now, I’m kind of—doing this orderly-slash-nurse gig.”
“Okay. Yeah, I’m a local boy too. Though I wish now that I lived someplace out in the woods…off-grid, like way off grid.”
Otis chuckled. “Yeah, you and me both. Okay, Doctor Casswell should be in here in just a minute. Nice to meet you, Terry.”
“You too, thanks.”
Otis flicked the lights off as he opened the door to leave. “I’ll leave these off for you until the doc comes in.”
“Great. Thank you.” Terry laid back and rested until she came.
* * *
The door creaked open followed by padded footsteps. “Are you ready for me, Mr. Burrows? You’re not going to like this, but I’ve got to turn on the lights—and remove your blindfold.”
She was right. He didn’t like it. “No problem,” Terry lied. “I’m ready.” The fluorescents buzzed, lighting up the small room and Terry began to unwind the gauze from around his head that covered his eyes.
“Hello, Terry. I’m Dr. Casswell but just call me Alisia.” She tucked her long blond hair, with hints of red, behind her ear and extended her hand.
“Hi,” Terry said, taking her hand. Austin had told him she was cute; Terry couldn’t argue.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” she said mostly to herself as she looked through Otis’s notes. “So, it says here you started having headaches two days ago.… Any visual disturbances?”
“No.”
“And how about auditory?”
“Auditory—hearing things? No, nothing like that. It just hurts. Sharp, sharp pain, sensitivity to light…maybe a little nausea,” Terry said.
Alisia pressed the stethoscope to Terry’s chest, listened to his heartbeat and his lungs, though she didn’t ask him to cough. Coughing with a headache was not a popular request.
“So,” Terry said, “any ideas on what’s causing this? I noticed a few other people out there in the waiting room…they looked like maybe they had the headaches too.”
“Yes, you did, and you’re right. Headaches have become quite a problem lately.” She was looking down at his chart, then at him with beautiful green eyes over black framed glasses. “I’ve got some ideas on what’s going on—I don’t think we’re supposed to be walking around with RFID chips in our heads. For some people, I think it’s causing problems. Like interference with a radio signal, or—your wifi signal.”
Terry laughed. “Wifi?…What’s wifi?”
“Right?” Alisia said. “Anyhow, I think it’s causing the headaches in the people who are sensitive to it.”
“So, what do we do?”
“Well, we can flash the chip and insert a new one that processes the signal a little differently—see if it helps.”
“Flash the chip? What does that mean exactly?” Terry asked.
“It’s just a little handheld wand that I hold over your injection site for a moment that…fries the chip. It’s like a little EMP, actually.”
Terry didn’t like the sound of that. “Is that even safe? I mean, if I’m already in the sensitive category….”
Alisia paused for a moment, considering how to address the question. “Is anything safe anymore? Was it ever? What I mean is, it’s relatively low risk. Maybe it’s a question of choosing the lesser of two evils. And, I’ve got to be honest here—we’ve just started doing this procedure. But, so far, all have responded well. Their headaches have disappeared.”
Terry nodded his head slowly. “Okay…sign me up.”
Alisia placed her hand on Terry’s shoulder, and he felt a tingle run through his body. “Don’t worry,” she said, “this is going to help you.”
* * *
The chip flasher, or whatever you wanted to call it, was small. It was no bigger than a battery powered toothbrush. It made a slight buzz and Terry imagined he could feel something, like gentle ultrasonic massage followed by a break. Like if you snapped a small glass straw in half. The headache stopped almost instantaneously, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He wore the relief on his face, a slight smile crept to the surface.
“Don’t get too comfortable, cowboy,” Otis said. “We still have to replace it.”
“Why, though? Couldn’t I argue a medical exemption?” Terry asked.
“That’s orders. It’s part of the New Patriot Charter. Besides…this one shouldn’t cause you any problems.”
Yeah, unless I decide to wander off, and it blows my head off my shoulders. So, there’s that…
“Oh, yeah…New Patriot Charter…my favorite,” Terry said.
Otis offered something like nervous laughter. “Okay, now, hold still and try to relax. Just think of something pleasant and you will be on your way out of here before you know it.” The short stubby needle pierced his forehead, bumped on bone, then retracted slightly. The chip was inserted with the push of a plunger and Terry felt its little tentacle legs extend and lock in place. He also felt a sinking sense of dread drop down and lock itself in the pit of his stomach.
“Now, you might be a little sore for a while, but hopefully, the headaches are a thing of the past. Take care, Terry.”
Terry left the clinic and already his mind was spinning on how the get rid of the new chip. Where was old Thomas Collins when you needed him?
* * *
Terry woke and got ready for work. It was high time he and Vince began to make a plan rather than just griping about the powers that be. There had to be a way, there had to be. Terry steeled his resolve; he would not live as a slave under the “New Patriots.” No way in hell. Dying trying sounded like a better approach than accepting tyranny.
It was late September now and chilly. The higher-ups promised power soon, and the crew at the transfer station worked around the clock, but still they had no heat at home.
Terry wondered how he would even survive if he were able to break free of the New Patriot camp. Life would be a lot harder on his own. Shelter, heat, food, clean water, sanitation—he’d pretty much taken it all for granted his whole life. Of course he had, everyone had. It had always been there in steady supply and without end. He wondered if it was crazy to even think of leaving. He flipped and he flopped a couple of more times, then he was out the door.
The headaches seemed to be gone and he was grateful. He had taken feeling good for granted, too. He stopped and thought, was there anything…anything at all, that he had not taken for granted? No, he decided, there was not. Well, that shit is changing now. Terry would be grateful for everything from this point forward. Today, he would even be
grateful for his shitty job. With gratitude in mind, he walked to work.
An eighties model Chevrolet, one-ton pickup with a twelve-foot flatbed and lumber sides was the bio-sanitation work truck. It hadn’t been affected by the solar flares. It still had the name of an old concrete finisher’s business on the doors, Able Concrete Inc.
You could stack a lot of bodies (just like cordwood) in a twelve-foot bed. When the truck was full, it sort of resembled some images Terry had seen of Nazi Germany during WWII. It was eerie.
The truck sat there idling waiting for its handlers to begin their macabre duty. Bodies were, at least, becoming scarcer. They’d made some progress in clearing out the city, but then what? Who knows?
Vince tilted his head back and dumped the coffee in. “So…how ya’ feeling? Better?”
“Yes, much. It’s just too bad they had to go and put another one in.”
Vince smirked. “Yeah. So, what did they say then? How do you know this new one isn’t just going to cause problems too.”
Terry wasn’t sure but Alisia had said the replacement chip ran on a different frequency…that hopefully it wouldn’t cause any issues. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
“Yeah,” Vince said, “I guess you will.”
It was Austin’s turn to drive today and Terry was somewhat pleased by that. It meant, one: that Vince could help him move bodies—Vince was a good deal stronger than Austin. And two: it meant he might have a chance to talk to Vince…about conspiracy stuff. About Anti-Patriot stuff.
“So, your head’s feeling better?” Austin asked as Terry got into the truck.
“Yes, I think I’m done with that, thank God.”
“What’d I tell you about the doctor?” Austin said. “Cute, right?”
Terry smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s cute.”
They pulled up to the house the other crew had marked with an ‘X.’ Xs meant casualty inside. Vince and Terry were in their Tyvek suits and rubber boots while Austin was enjoying street clothes. “Have fun, you two,” Austin said. A large smile graced his face.
Solaris Mortem: The New Patriots Page 8