The Cure

by Freddie Villacci Jr

  Peering through the scope, his heart raced when he saw Gracie sitting at the kitchen table, tied, with her mouth duct-taped. The Farmer was nowhere in sight.

  After an hour, Hawk’s patience began to wear thin. He’d yet to see the Farmer enter the only lit room in the house. He knew he was using Gracie as bait, he just didn’t know how. To Hawk’s left was a large tree. He had eyed it a couple of times now. If he climbed about ten feet, he’d be able to see the corner of the room in which he suspected the Farmer might be hiding. One problem, climbing that tree meant exposure, wherever the Farmer was.

  He stared into the darkness, waiting for any indication of the Farmer’s presence—a glare, a light from a cell phone, anything. Concealing the light from his phone under some heavy grass, he called Gracie’s phone as he peered into the dark window on the second floor—Straight to voicemail, no light on the second floor. Shoot, Hawk thought.

  Finally, he gave in to the need to see that corner of the kitchen. On the other side of the tree trunk, facing the house, Hawk ascended.

  You’re gonna get your dumb ass shot, he thought.

  About eight feet in the air, Hawk sat in between a large Y of two massive branches. He situated his rifle and peered into that corner. Hawk smiled.

  “There you are, you hillbilly bastard.”

  The Farmer sat in the corner of the room with a MP5 resting beside him. He had on a green John Deere hat, but Hawk wasn’t going for a headshot. He triangulated his chest and aimed for the SOB’s heart instead.

  Hawk slowed his breath as he planted the crosshairs on the Farmer’s chest, then took the shot. The bullet tore through the Farmer’s chest, a direct hit. Blood streamed out of the man’s body.

  Hawk snaked down to the ground and quickly slung his rifle across his back. Sprinting quickly forward, he entered the front door of the house, his nine-millimeter drawn. He swept the front room—all clear—then entered the kitchen.

  Gracie saw him and screamed frantically through her gag.

  He saw the Farmer slouched over. His hands were resting on his lap with his sweater over them.

  Was he seeing this right?

  The Farmer’s hands were cuffed and tied down to the wood chair.

  Gracie erupted in a spasm of muffled howls.

  A violent puff of air, and there was a dart stuck into Hawk’s chest.

  Darkness from the pantry closet reached out to him, and everything went black.

  50

  Quinn and Mack stood at the massive steps of the First National Bank of Chicago. The stone columns supported the front of the building like some type of heavenly gateway as the building elevated higher than most others nearby.

  Mack breathed in the cool October morning air, then spoke into his invisible earpiece, “Tom, walking into the bank, wait for our signal.”

  “Ten-four,” Tom replied.

  “Let’s do this,” Quinn said.

  They shared a glance of determination, then the two men walked into the bank.

  Mack approached the woman at the desk. “Hi, who can help us take out a safe deposit box?”

  “Across the hall there, just sign in.”

  “Thank you,” said Mack, then walked across the lobby.

  Quinn followed and whispered out of the side of his mouth, “You sure your guy can take out those cameras?”

  “This is a piece of cake for him,” Mack said as he spied the nameplate on the man’s desk. “Henry Kingston.”

  The man looked up from his computer screen at Mack and Quinn. “How may I help you?”

  “We’d like to take out a safe deposit box today.”

  Quinn mustered up an awkward smile.

  “Ah, sure thing.” Henry motioned for them to sit down then reach into his desk and pulled two signature cards. “I’d be glad to help you with that.”

  “Great,” Mack said. “Can I make a special request?”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “Numbers are very important to us—can we pick our number?” Mack asked.

  “Usually it’s the next box up for rent, but I should be able to pull up a list of some boxes available.”

  “You’re amazing.” Mack looked to Quinn.

  Quinn smiled and nodded.

  After some paperwork, they followed Henry into the vault. The vault was massive, with thousands of tiny steel doors tagged with a black number plate outlined in gold trim and three keyholes the same color as the trim around the number plates. Mack knew Anna’s box was 1026, and he also knew that the box they were renting was 1073, which was in the stack just to the right of Anna’s. Now all he had to do was get into her box.

  “Here’s your new box.” Henry pointed to number 1073.

  “How about those Cubbies?” Mack asked.

  “They might win it again,” Henry said as he pulled out the bank master key and inserted it into the first keyhole of three, before pulling out two additional keys. “These are your keys,” he said and inserted them as well. He then turned the keys and opened the box.

  “Vault cameras will go dark in ten seconds,” Tom said into their earpieces.

  Henry pulled a metal box from inside the box halfway. “This is where you will keep any of your valuables.” He glanced at both of them quizzically, then commented, “It doesn’t look like you have anything today?”

  “Cameras are dark for 60 seconds,” Tom said.

  Henry started to slide the box back in, but Mack stopped him. “Wait,” he said as he pulled a folded piece of paper out of his front pocket. “Our vows.”

  Henry looked at Mack for a moment, then he looked at Quinn. “Right.”

  Mack reached for the box from Henry, then said in surprise, “Your nose, it’s bleeding.”

  “What are you talking about?” Henry said, touching his nose with the back of his hand.

  Out of Henry’s line of sight, Quinn pulled out a handkerchief from a Ziploc bag, already covered in fake blood and doused in chloroform.

  “Let me help you,” Quinn said as he quickly covered Henry’s nose, “I always carry one of these around,” then he immediately pulled it away from him so he could see the handkerchief.”

  “Jesus, that’s a lot of blood,” Henry said, sounding woozy.

  “Relax, I’m a nurse,” said Quinn. “Put your head back.” He placed the handkerchief back over Henry’s nose and mouth. “We’ll stop the bleeding in no time.”

  “I don’t know,” said Henry. “I’m feeling really light-headed.”

  “It is a lot of blood,” Quinn said as he guided Henry, so his back was to the vault.

  Mack pulled the bank master key from the other deposit box and two keys from his pocket and inserted them into box 1026. He opened the door, pulled the box out, and reinserted the box from his vault. He then locked the box and pulled the keys out.

  “There, I think it stopped,” Quinn said.

  “I think I need to go sit down, I feel… like I’m drunk.”

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Mack handed Henry his bank key.

  “Thanks.”

  “Take your time, we’ll be in the privacy room.”

  “Of course.” Henry suddenly dropped down and sat, “I think I’ll just wait for you guys here.”

  Inside the privacy room, Mack placed the box on the table. He looked to Quinn for a brief moment before opening it.

  Inside the box were some papers in plain view and an envelope addressed to Gracie.

  Mack opened the letter. He and Quinn huddled and read over it together.

  First, I want to apologize for going behind your back, but after the second denial by the FDA, Steve’s constant paranoia and conspiracy theories, along with my mother running out of time while we sat there with the cure, got the best of me.

  If you do not know already: I’ve been treating my mother. Again, I am so sorry! But the cure works. It’s amazing and we did it! Secondly, something totally crazy might happen and Steve’
s doomsday scenario might become true that he kept scaring the crap out of me with “Skynet is trying to terminate our formulas.” He thought, in that case it would be prudent to have copies of the formulas hidden off the grid. The only clue he would give me was, “My favorite book at my favorite place to read.” I’m assuming you know.

  He also wanted me to tell you not to worry, all formulas will be posted in the event all else fails.

  Love you always and hope you never read this letter.

  Anna

  “His favorite book, favorite place. Too bad he’s gone.” Mack shook his head as he reached deeper into the box and pulled out two pill bottles.

  "Is that what I think it is?” said Quinn.

  “Touchdown,” Mack said and high-fived Quinn.

  “I can’t believe I doubted you. Good work, Mack.”

  Mack opened one pill bottle, then quickly the second. His smile left his face.

  “What, no pills?” Quinn asked.

  “There are pills.”

  “You had me worried there for a second.”

  Mack glared at Quinn. “Just enough to save one.”

  “You sure?”

  “Ten red and ten blue. Why the hell would she only keep one dose?” Mack wondered.

  “What do we do now?”

  “Save your niece.” Mack said.

  “I can’t take them.” Quinn became emotional.

  “There’s no way Caroline would forgive me, I know it—here, take them,” Mack said as he handed the pills to Quinn.

  Quinn reluctantly accepted. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You saved my life at Anna’s apartment; my daughter would be fatherless without you. It’s the least I can do.”

  “I’ll never forget this.”

  The men embraced one another.

  51

  Parelli stared at the unconscious Bic, lost in thought. Over his shoulder he heard a nurse admonishing someone.

  “Sir, per special instruction, we can’t have any other visit—oh…”

  The sudden break in her voice made Parelli look up.

  “I’m not allowed up here?” The man was smiling genially.

  “I’m so sorry, Dr. Goodwin, sir, please—”

  “It’s fine,” said the president of Lodestone Memorial Hospital. “May I have a word with Mr. Parelli?”

  “Of course,” said the nurse, ushering him in with a gesture.

  Parelli chuckled softly at the command this guy had over the masses. Tall and well-dressed, salt and pepper hair—not one out of place, and a killer crooked smile. He could swear the nurse literally had a twinkle in her eye.

  Parelli stood from his bedside chair.

  “Mr. Parelli,” Goodwin said.

  “They’re not fixing him,” he said curtly.

  Goodwin’s face went stone. “I’m doing fine. Yes, the wife and kids are fine too. And so’s the dog.”

  “Don’t gimme that smug attitude. We talked about this. You need to send in someone better, smarter, and it needs to happen now!”

  “I assure you I am doing everything in my power to help here.”

  “You need to do more.”

  Goodwin whispered in a firm voice as he jabbed his index finger at Bic. “I’ve run a quarter of a million dollars in tests on a guy who doesn’t exist. I’d say I’m trying pretty hard.”

  “Then what the hell’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Parelli threw up his hands.

  “Now look,” said Goodwin, “you know as well as I do that diagnosis is largely a process of elimination. So far, we can’t find anything, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing. He’s unresponsive, that’s for sure, but there is no damage to his cerebral cortex or his RAS. Both are functioning fine. No drugs in his system, no metabolic abnormalities.”

  Parelli stroked his chin. “How ‘bout you give him a jolt and wake his ass up?”

  “A jolt?”

  “Yeah, you know… a jolt.”

  “I’m not trained in jolting.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Listen,” said Parelli, “when your girlfriend OD’d on pills—”

  Goodwin’s face went taut as he held up his hands. “For Christ’s sake, keep your filthy voice down.”

  Parelli raised his voice. “Pills that you gave her, sonny Jim—”

  “Enough!” Goodwin rasped.

  Parelli stepped in closer. “I fixed it for you. No one but me. So now you listen closely, you worm, this man’s niece is gonna die. They’re gonna do some epic nasty things to her, and possibly take out other innocents, if we don’t wake this guy up.”

  Goodwin’s attention suddenly was drawn to the rising heart rate on the monitor. “Something’s happening.”

  Goodwin squinted at the monitor, then grabbed Bic’s wrist. “His heartbeat is rising.” He looked at his watch. “It’s rising dangerously fast.”

  Bic’s hand came to life and grabbed Goodwin’s wrist in a catlike reflex as the huge form sat up in the bed. He turned his head slowly. The eyes were milky white. He looked like a zombie coming back to life on the slab.

  “Where is she?” Bic growled, staring through Goodwin.

  Parelli savored the look of terror on Goodwin’s face for a moment before deciding to intervene. He pulled Goodwin out of Bic’s grasp. “Take it easy, big guy. You’ve been unconscious for a couple of days.”

  Bic noticed the sensors stuck to his head and chest and began peeling them off one by one.

  “They have her,” said Parelli, and handed Bic the note. “Hawk left this for you.”

  “This is incredible,” Goodwin said breathlessly as Bic read the note from his friend.

  Bic looked up. “You heard from him?”

  “Hawk? Not since last night.”

  “How do you feel?” said Goodwin.

  Bic stared at him for a moment, then back at Parelli. “He didn’t leave an address?”

  “I have the address,” said Parelli.

  “Let’s go then,” said Bic, swinging his legs off the bed.

  “Whoa, hang on,” said Parelli. “We still need to figure out what’s wrong with you.”

  Bic took an aggressive step toward Parelli. “I’m fine.”

  Goodwin inched towards the door. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Parelli said to Goodwin, then turned to Bic. “It doesn’t do anyone any good, especially Gracie, if you have another attack.”

  “Give me the address now,” said Bic.

  “It ain’t gonna happen. The last attack you had, you fell from a chopper.”

  “Gentlemen,” said Goodwin, “if I may? Bic, can you tell me in your own words what happened to you?”

  Bic looked from Parelli to the doctor. “Everything is fine, then in an instant I feel like hot molten lava is burning me from my insides out. Sometimes I spit up blood—lots of blood—before I black out. Last couple of times, it seemed to be triggered by a really intense moment.” Bic looked away.

  “Is there something else?” Goodwin asked.

  Bic hesitated, then said, “Before I blackout, I feel the presence of my father. I even… see some things.”

  Parelli turned to Goodwin. “His dad did a number on him, killed his mom right in front of him when he was just a boy.”

  “Where’s the pain originate, Bic?” Goodwin asked.

  “Usually in my side.”

  “We didn’t find anything there,” said Goodwin.

  “Listen,” said Parelli, “we just need your best medical guess. His veins catch fire, he’s burning from the inside. Then he blacks out. So what can he do?”

  “See a psychiatrist?”

  “Are you punkin’ me Doctor?” Parelli snapped. “Where’s a damn scalpel.”

  “Okay, fine. Sounds like panic attacks. If it’s a life or death situation—
”

  “What do you think we’re talking about?”

  “I would use an adrenaline shot.” Goodwin finished.

  “So that’ll work?” Parelli calmed down.

  “Maybe, or maybe it kills him.”

  “Okay, good,” said Parelli. “Get us some adrenaline, then.”

  “You want me to get you some adrenaline now?”

  Parelli spread his arms. “We’re in a hospital, aren’t we?”

  Goodwin paused for a deep breath. “Listen, if I do this, no more favors. We’re even.”

  “Make sure it can take effect instantly,” Parelli added.

  “An EpiPen delivery system into the muscle will take effect in two to three minutes.”

  “That’s not fast enough, doc, it needs to be instant.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Like if he’s driving a car and ready to run off the side of a cliff, or in a gunfight or something like that.”

  “EpiPen into the muscle. That’s as fast as you get. Sorry to disappoint. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Goodwin left quickly.

  Bic went into the tall closet cabinet and retrieved his clothes. “Okay, now that that’s settled, give me the address.”

  “Old friend, wait another couple of minutes until you have the shots, then I’ll give you the address.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Thought you’d be interested in another patient here at the hospital.”

  Bic looked back to Parelli, curious.

  “That FBI agent’s wife.”

  Bic thought for a moment. “Caroline?”

  “Yeah, her cancer got worse. Rumor has it he’s been going all over the country trying to clear Gracie’s name and track down some of those pills in order to save her. She’s on hospice, not gonna make it.”

  Bic sorted through his clothes, then said, “I need a favor.”

  “You just heard me call in my last favor here.”

  “I want you to handle this personally for me.”

  Parelli nodded to Bic’s request as Goodwin entered the room and handed Bic two capsules that looked like Tylenol gel caps