She hated herself for digging in yet again, but it was like he drove her to it. She’s out all day, every day hunting for work while he lounges around and does nothing. As the argument carried on, she felt as though they were running through a script. They’d had it so often, she felt like she could probably recite each side without stumbling.
“I do whatever I want. Isn’t that the point of life?”
“And that’s enough for you?” she snapped. “To live off your inheritance, waste away in dreamscapes, and never accomplish anything?”
“It’s enough for me but apparently I’m not enough for you.” Kristine stilled at Christopher’s outburst. He was going seriously off script. Her throat tightened at the implication.
“I never said that,” she replied with a softened voice.
“You didn’t have to.”
A thick silence grew between them. Kristine hated that she’d essentially come home and picked a fight with him for no real reason. As she struggled to find the right words, her cuff began to vibrate. It was an unknown caller, but that was par for the course with her contacts.
“I have to take this,” she whispered.
Christopher shook his head once and climbed to his feet, pacing the room while Kristine took her call.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end was fast and slippery, the words bleeding together. “Hey, yeah, Krissy-lady. How you been? How you doin’?”
She smiled despite the tension in the room on her end. “I’m good, Angel. Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“Nothin’ going on, nothin’ to report till now. But hey, yeah, I got something you might be interested in, might not. I lay it out and you do with it what you will.”
Kristine spoke slower and most succinctly. “That’s all I ask. What’s going on then?”
“Now, yeah. I haven’t seen this with my own two eyes or nothing, but a friend of mine has and I can vouch for him. Weird, weird shit is happening out there. Shit no one is talking about.”
“Oh yeah?” Kristine thumbed a loose thread on the hem of her sweater. Angel didn’t usually waste her time, but when pickings were thin, a lot of contacts could exaggerate. “What specifically?”
“See, yeah, I can’t be too specific cause I ain’t seen it myself, right? But my buddy says strange things are going on. He’s a janitor out in Kansas City, works at one of the hospitals out there. Drugs or something crazy making people lose their goddamn minds.”
Kristine rolled her eyes and fell back with a huff. “Come on. What am I supposed to do with that? I’m not going half-way across the country on a hunch of a…”
“Hey now! That’s it, right? If you go out there, you’ll see it. They ain’t talkin’ about it, but it’s there. Zombies or something. Corn-fed, crazy strong-ass zombies.”
Kristine groaned and switched ears. “Kansas is light years away from here, Angel. And you said he works as a janitor. How does he know what’s going on in the emergency department? ”
Her source laughed loud enough Christopher heard it and looked over. “You’re kidding, right? You gotta look down to see where the real power is.” His voice got quiet and close. “Where he works, they got so busy he was moving patients up and down different floors. Said a bunch of them come in. Psycho cases, all acting the same. Didn’t move, didn’t blink. Nothing.”
That got Kristine’s attention. “Have you heard about a new drug out there? Not from your buddy, but from anywhere else?”
“Dunno. But you want stories? That’s a story.”
Kristine ended the call only after reassuring Angel she would get him his finder’s fee if the story panned out. Her brain was already churning on what he’d said, completely forgetting that she and Christopher had been in the middle of an argument.
“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by…”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he replied as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head. “I’ll let you have the apartment for a while. I’m sure you have work to do.”
She resented the taint he put on that last comment, but couldn’t bring herself to extend the fight any further. “I’ll be here if you want to talk this through,” she called out as he slammed the door.
Hot tears burned in the corners of her eyes. Her mind drifted to the positive pregnancy test she’d taken and hid in the bathroom cabinet. Right when she needed Christopher to step up and claim some responsibility, he was resisting more than ever.
Wiping her wet cheeks with the palm of her hand, she focused on the one thing she could actually control; work. A half hour later the apartment was lit, her makeup applied, and she was ready to go. Multiple cameras recorded at once from different angles making the editing work later on much easier.
She teased her natural hair into place, took a deep breath, and began. “Three, two, one. Hello there. It’s Kristine McKay and I’ve got a little flashback for you today. Can you believe it’s been thirty years since a spunky little tech company changed the world of dreaming forever?”
Full of peppy, exaggerated expressions, Kristine looked back and forth between the cameras. “That’s right. Next Tuesday marks the thirtieth birthday of the Steele Industries seed we all know and love. Can you believe it?
“Now, because of the super intense scrutiny the technology received before launching to the general public, the device has largely remained unchanged that whole time.
“Something you might not know! Steele Industries went through a lot of trouble getting their product in our heads. First, was a decade of legal wars over different patents. Then came the rigorous medical testing, including a lot of resistance from the medical community when human trials began. Finally, they had internal battles when it came to the direction of the company. Some thought the product should remain a toy for the ultra-rich, a luxury only few could afford.”
Kristine paused to take a sip of water. She dabbed the sweat on her face with a tissue, the heat of the lights building up quickly in the small apartment. She turned to another camera and smiled.
“Three, two, one. Ultimately, the powers that be inside Steele Industries, felt this sort of technology should be available to everyone. In a truly magnanimous move, the company has supplied free seeds to any person in the world for the last three decades.
“So what are the most common dreamscape themes? You might’ve guessed, but in a recent anonymous survey of over a million people, the most frequent dreamscape revolved around sex. Second in the list are sports fantasies.”
Kristine winked at the camera. “Have you ever hit the winning home run in the World Series? Hat trick in a World Cup Final? You and a couple million others.
“The truth is, our dreamscapes are as varied and unique as we are. While some people use them for a break from the daily grind, others use the time to study or learn new skills. Truly, this simple device has altered and improved the human experience. So, join me in wishing those little seeds a very, very happy birthday.”
She held her smile to an internal count of three and looked away. As she stopped all the cameras and played back through one to see if she had to redo any section, she almost couldn’t stand to watch.
I gotta stop doing this pointless crap. I need something with substance, with bite.
San Francisco, CA
May 9th
Penelope deliberately wasted a few minutes in her office before the meeting. She hoped they’d start without her and she’d be able to slip in the back unnoticed. When she turned the corner and spotted Cameron lurking in the hallway, her hopes were dashed.
“Morning,” she said as she drew close.
Dark circles emphasized his sharp gaze, giving him a haunted appearance. His only response was a sharp nod upward before pushing the conference room door open. Every seat but two was taken at the round table, which the pair quickly grabbed.
“Great. Let’s get started,” Dr. Tim Hung began, tapping a stack of papers together.
The Chair of Psychology. They really brought out th
e heavy hitters for this one, Penelope thought with an internal grimace. She casually looked around the room and rattled off the titles of each person there. Chief of staff, Vice Chair of Child Psychology, Vice Dean… The internal tally she racked up left her feeling inferior and intimidated.
“I thought it time for us all to be in a room together to discuss this recent outbreak,” Dr. Hung continued. “If you turn to the third page in the packet, you will find a list of everything we’ve ruled out so far.”
Penelope scanned through the short list, some of the terms tickling her medical school day memories. She glanced at Cameron out of the corner of her eye, noticing his intense posture. He looked ready to jump over the table or flee from the room. She frowned, hiding her worry in the packet of papers.
“As you all know, the prevailing diagnosis at the moment is a particularly virulent strain of clostridium botulinum.”
Cameron was poised for this. “Botulism.” It was more of an accusation than a question, drawing the ire of Dr. Hung. They’d clearly had this conversation before and he appeared perturbed they were going to have it again in front of their colleagues.
“I agree the diagnosis isn’t perfect, however every scan and test we’ve run has come back negative. No lesions, infections, drug interactions. Nothing.”
“There are no similarities or connections between any of the cases, so it makes sense we look to environmental factors.” Dr. Sarah Bishop’s high whisper speak made Cameron clench his fists under the table.
“It makes sense,” Dr. Freddy Ong said, adding nothing to the conversation.
Penelope was surprised by the amount of tension in the room. She resisted the urge to reach out for Cameron and calm him, sensing much of the animosity was flowing from him.
“In any case, we’ve contacted the CDC and they’re getting the antitoxin to the Department of Health by this afternoon. We should also expect a representative to oversee treatment, so please help them with whatever they nee.”
The room dissolved into a half-dozen murmurs at the news. It’s never a great sign when the CDC shows up on your doorstep. Penelope took the opportunity to lean forward and catch Cameron’s eye.
“What’s going on with you?”
With nostrils flaring, he whispered close to Penelope’s ear. “If we’re talking about a simple case of botulism, why are you here? Why are half the people in this room here?”
“We were all part of these cases at some point. I suppose it’s just his way of tying up lose ends,” she suggested.
“Please. You know that isn’t true. We’re in here so they can keep tabs on us, see if we’ll swallow what they’re selling. They’re covering something up.”
Penelope squinted at her old friend, surprised to hear such paranoia coming from a normally placid man. Rejecting his opinion outright wouldn’t help anything, but she wasn’t about to agree either. “If you really believe that, then maybe you shouldn’t keep sticking your neck out,” she offered.
Dr. Hung’s voice rose above the din, calling for order. “For now, I believe the best course of treatment is to keep the patients contained and separate from the general population.”
“Why? Is botulism contagious now?” Cameron spat.
“Because catatonic patients can be disturbing,” Dr. Hung replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Cameron’s eyes darted back and forth between Penelope’s, looking for a hint of deception. With her expertly trained blank expression, there was nothing to read. He slammed his arms across his chest and all but physically removed himself from the rest of the meeting while she tried not to feel as though she’d somehow betrayed his confidence.
“Also, I’d prefer if we kept this news in this room. We all know how fast rumors can spread in a hospital, but I’d like to prevent that as much as we can. Strict confidence, yes?”
The decree was met with murmurs of agreement.
Penelope tried to slip away after the meeting concluded. She realized if she left straight away, she’d be able to surprise Joey before dinner. Of course she was happy to get home early, but she couldn’t ignore the twinge of disappointment she felt in the pit of her stomach. It was a real let down for something so mysterious to be explained away by a relatively common bacteria. And despite every person of authority telling them otherwise, maybe that’s why she let Cameron talk her into looking deeper.
“Wait up,” he shouted, shoes slapping on the floor as he jogged down the hall.
“I’m not here,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “If I leave now, I might be able to see my child awake for once.”
“You have a kid?”
She shot him an incredulous look and kept walking.
Cameron matched her stride. “Okay, okay. So I haven’t kept up with the Christmas cards. And while I sympathize with you making time for family, I need you.”
Penelope almost made a snide comment about how she’d heard that one before. The tightness around his eyes, the hunch to his shoulders… he wasn’t kidding around.
“What do you need?”
“You were the only sane person in that room,” he hissed, finger thrust toward the conference room. “They’re going with the best explanation and hoping that sticks.”
“Isn’t that what we do? We examine, test, and try to find the best explanation. If it’s wrong, we reevaluate.”
Cameron laughed, a deep, chest rumbling chuckle devoid of humor. “And while we wait, who knows how many other people are going to die?” He stopped with a squeak of his shoes, pulling her back with only his intensity.
Penelope halted a few steps ahead. She looked to the door at the end of the hall, feeling like it was a swiftly disappearing exit. “What? What do you want from me? You want me to agree?” She threw her arms up in frustration. Not only was she absolutely going to be late going home, but she could feel him pulling her back in… and she was willing.
He closed the distance in two strides. “CDC? Containment? Give me five minutes. I want to show you something,” he finished with a whisper.
She looked back to the door, her resistance reflexive but not genuine. With her head hanging in defeat, she gestured for him to lead the way. “Five minutes.”
The room was as long as it was wide, perfectly square with four beds. The lights were dimmed to a dusk-like level. While Penelope had been working nearly non-stop researching these cases, she hadn’t stood in a room with four patients at the same time. All four patients were sitting straight up, just as the first had in the emergency room. She felt like they’d walked in during a four-way conversation. Whatever unease she felt was abaited slightly by their restraints and the two armed officers in the hall.
“Right, so what are the symptoms of botulism?” Cameron asked, like a teaching physician during rounds.
Penelope winced as he flicked on the blinding lights, squinting in the sudden brightness. “Rather than lead me down the path, why don’t you just tell me the destination?”
Cameron stood in the center of the room like a ringleader at the circus. “They don’t exhibit any of the classic signs. No drooping eyelids or palsy, no trouble swallowing. Nothing is affecting their autonomic nervous system.”
“Their pupils?” Penelope offered, not wanting to move much further into the room.
“Right! If it weren’t for that, I would’ve written them all off as faking.” He sneered at them as if he still hadn’t completely ruled out that possibility. His initial unease was quickly turning to anger.
She followed his gaze from bed to bed. It did feel like they were about to start speaking at any second. By all measures, except for their catatonia, they were healthy.
“I agree botulism is a long stretch, but there’s nothing to say this specific strain doesn’t behave differently.”
Cameron ran his tongue along the the front of his teeth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright green tennis ball. “Watch.”
In a soft arc, he tossed the ball directly at a teenage boy with
almost translucent pale skin. Penelope shivered when she realized the long scabs along his cheek were fingernail scratches. Without moving his eyes, the boy’s hand shot out and deftly caught the ball. He brought it back to his lap and released his grip, the ball rolling between his knees to his toes.
“Okay…”
Cameron pointed to the boy before plucking the ball from his feet. “He was brought in that first day. He,” he said, gesturing to an older black man with stark white hair, “came in yesterday.” He threw the ball with the exact same power only this time it wasn’t caught. The tennis ball landed softly but squarely on the old man’s cheek. He showed no signs of awareness he’d been struck.
Penelope’s curiosity pulled her to the center of the room. “I admit it’s strange, but maybe it’s only the illness improving over time.”
Cameron shook the ball as he spoke. “Every single one is like this. You can walk into a room, throw a ball, and know in which wave the patient was admitted.” She hated the way he spoke about them in their presence. It genuinely felt as though they were listening, judging.
“You should go to Hung with…”
“I have but you saw him in there,” Cameron hissed. “He’s pushing that diagnosis and that’s it. But we both know it’s wrong. They eat, they piss, they breathe and catch fucking balls. Do you want to know the strangest thing?”
Penelope cocked her head, unable to prod him further. Between four alive-yet-unmoving patients and Cameron’s growing agitation, Penelope was feeling thoroughly creeped out.
He came in close, watching her reaction. “They dream.”
“They don’t sleep,” she countered, taking a step back.
Like a bizarre dance, Cameron followed her. “Which in itself is odd, but I’m telling you, they dream. Open eyes, REM cycle.”
“Again, that could be explained by…”
“At the same time?” he cut in. Penelope could see in his expression he knew he’d delivered the final blow to her resistance.
“How many are there now?”
“Twelve. Four that first day, nothing in between, then eight yesterday.”
Stasis (Book 1.1): Beta Page 4