Silent Epidemic (Book 1 - Carol Freeman Series)

by Jill Province

  “Charles, are you aware of the calls we received this week from some of the study volunteers?" Sam began.  

  Of course he was unaware.  Phone calls went to his minions.  He glared at the two men and gave an impatient hand gesture to tell him more.  

  “So far," Sam continued, “we have received fifteen calls out of the fifty volunteers.  Their complaints of flu symptoms were not unexpected." 

  “And?" Charles said, unimpressed.  “We already knew this from the reports the FDA has received." 

  “Okay," Sam continued.  “We don’t know how many volunteers will have…” Sam searched for the correct word, “…problems." 

  Charles was beginning to understand and asked, “So, what’s this got to do with Sheila?" 

  “We might have to get creative," Jeff interjected.  Charles now used both hands making the same “let’s have it” gesture.  “For some reason, Sheila has made it her mission to keep a sharp eye on this study." 

  “Well, sure," Charles said.  “She feels like it’s her study." 

  “We can’t have that," Sam said, and looked at Charles to be sure he understood the seriousness of his statement.  Charles slowly began to nod.

  “Okay," he said.  “But she won’t like this at all." 

  “Tough," Sam said.  “And just so she is real clear on this, we’ll put it in writing.  I don’t feel like having any more meetings about this."  As far as Sam and Jeff were concerned, they had already clocked too many hours on the “Sheila issue.”

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  “Silent knives…dissect me, and I feel no pain.”

      

  On Saturday morning, Carol awoke in terror.  She felt as though her entire abdomen was on fire.  Carol began to groan and Josh rolled over to see what was wrong.  “I’m in trouble," Carol said.  Josh placed a comforting arm on Carol’s stomach, and she screamed out in pain.  The soreness was unbearable and Carol began to cry.  “What is wrong with me?" she said between sobs. 

  “I don’t know,” Josh said, in a panic.  “Do you want to go to the emergency room?" 

  “I don’t want to move," Carol cried.  “Call the doctor’s office.  There has to be someone on call."  

  Josh was up dialing, while Carol worked to calm herself down. 

  “Just take deep, slow breaths," Josh said, while he waited for someone to answer the phone. When the answer came, he attempted to describe the details of Carol’s problem.  

  “I’ll have the doctor return your call," the woman said.  Josh gave her a phone number and hung up.

  Carol was no longer sobbing when Josh returned with a cold washcloth.  He was placing it on her forehead, when the phone rang.  Josh grabbed the phone on the first ring.  “Dr. Hopton.  Thank you for calling." 

  “Let me talk to him," Carol interjected.  Josh handed the phone to her.  Carol gave him the entire history of the past five days. 

  “You should go back on the medication," Hopton advised.  Carol thought about his statement for a minute before responding. 

  “This is from stopping the medication?" Carol asked in alarm. 

  “Most likely, it is." 

  “If this is what happens when I stop taking that… crap…” Carol did not finish the sentence. She was in shock. 

  “You shouldn’t have stopped your medication without my consent," he stated firmly. 

  “I stayed on it with your consent," Carol said angrily.  “If I’m sick from going off this shit, then I’m addicted to it.  Why would I want to continue an addiction?" 

  “If you insist on going against medical advice, then I would advise you to go to the emergency room," Hopton responded coldly.  “You did not have my consent to stop the medication.  You did that on your own."  Carol couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

  “The issue is not whether I did this with your permission," Carol yelled into the phone.  “The issue is that I am addicted to a medication that you prescribed." 

  “The only thing I can tell you to do is to go to the emergency room," he stated again, with hostility.  

  “Yeah, right," Carol said, and hung up the phone with prejudice.  It didn’t matter.  Hopton had already disengaged – literally. 

  All Josh could do was stare at her.  Based on her side of the conversation, things had not gone well.  All the color had drained from her face as she worked to understand what just transpired.  This friendly faced, smiling doctor had just undergone a major personality change.  

  Finally, Carol looked at Josh. 

  “He shouldn’t have kept me on that shit, and now he’s out of the loop."

  “What does that mean?" Josh said. 

  “It means he is covering his ass."  In the next few moments, Carol came to grips with the horror of her reality.  She had been innocently popping a pill every night, and had never realized that slowly and quietly she had become severely addicted.  Her need for sleep and the maintenance of a workaholic had made her conveniently blind to the obvious.  My god!  What have I done?

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  It was Monday, and week two of the study.  Sheila read the memo for the third time.  Please be advised that your assignment in New Jersey has been confirmed. We have considered your request to reassign this project to your staff and find it to be in the best interest of the company to maintain your personal representation. Your departure has been scheduled for Wednesday of this week.  A complete itinerary will be sent to you via email.  We appreciate your support.  The memo was signed by Charles Roman.

  Sheila crumbled the paper into a ball and threw it across the room.  

  “Lousy shot," a voice interjected. 

  “Hi Jerry," Sheila said flatly. 

  “Hi yourself.  The trash can is behind you." 

  “I wasn’t aiming for the trash can," she said angrily.  “I was aiming for Jeff’s head." 

  “Then you’re a really lousy shot."   

  Sheila could not help but laugh.  Jerry Owens had been working with her since her assignment to the research study.  He had been a reliable staff member and also a friend when she needed one.  Sheila needed one now. 

  “Jerry," she began.  “Shut the door.  I need your help with something."  

  He closed the door tentatively, and sat down to face her.  Jerry had one of those youthful faces that had no age.  His curly brown hair was cut short to keep it manageable.  The man’s six-foot frame was lean and muscular, as a result of all the hours he spent at the gym.  He was one of those health club junkies that got up at five in the morning, pumping iron while everyone else was hitting their snooze alarm.  Also a vegetarian, he had clean living down to a fine art. 

  Sheila filled Jerry in on everything that had transpired, including her suspicion about Pharmlab and her impending travel plans.  “Woah!" was all Jerry could muster.  “This is heavy." 

  “Jerry, no one says heavy anymore. But you‘re right.  This is heavy." 

  “So, what are you going to do about it?"

  “I’m going to New Jersey," Sheila answered.  “The question is what are we going to do?" 

  “Oh no," Jerry said alarmingly.  “I would like to keep my job, thank you very much." 

  “Jerry," Sheila said, attempting to gain some control of the situation. “You are not going to lose your job." 

  “Yeah?" he said excitedly.  “They love it when you go snooping around in their files with a flash light in the middle of the night.  Maybe I’ll get promoted to the James Bond division.  I hear they make good money."

  “Jerry, calm down," Sheila ordered. 

  He took a breath, and said, “I’m calm.  This is calm," although his voice did not promote his claim.

  “Jerry, I won’t put you in the line of fire.  Besides, I have some clout with the CE
O." 

  “Yeah, I see where that clout has gotten you so far.  Do you have any idea how cold it is in New Jersey this time of year?"  

  Sheila ignored the jab. 

  “Jerry, I just need you to keep an eye on things while I’m gone." 

  “We’re back to the James Bond thing again."  

  “Look, here is the list of all the volunteers.  They are all local.  I just want you make contact with them, and keep tabs on their progress.”  

  Jerry scanned the sheets of paper she had handed him. 

  “Five hundred people is a lot of tabs," he said reluctantly. 

  “Just do the best you can," Sheila said, feeling some relief. 

  “Fine," he concluded.  “But if anyone tries to run me off the road in the middle of the night, I’m coming to New Jersey to find you." 

  “Jerry," Sheila said.  “You watch too much television."  

  Jerry just shook his head.  

  “I’m leaving on Wednesday," she concluded.  “I’ll call you when I get settled.  And Jerry, thanks." 

  “For being a sap, you’re very welcome," Jerry said, and went out the door.  

  Sheila retrieved the balled up memo off the floor, and read it again.  Charles Roman was no longer a useful ally.  Together, they had succeeded in temporarily getting her off the scent.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Carol was not due for her ten-day checkup for two more days.  She had made several calls to Dominex that morning but had not gotten a call back yet.  She had also refused to go to the hospital over the weekend, despite Josh’s insistence.  She was shell-shocked.  She had told him that doctors had gotten her into this mess and she had no intention of letting one get near her now. So, she spent the weekend in bed, nursing her unusual flu symptoms.

  It was now 2:00 PM, and she needed some medical attention.  Carol sat up and tried to slow the spinning inside her head.  How can I drive to Dominex, she wondered.  I can’t even negotiate a straight line to the bathroom.  Carol put her hands to her head, but the room would not stop turning.  I have to try, she thought. I can’t lie here for two more days, wondering what is going on.

  Carol slowly got herself dressed.  When she looked in the bathroom mirror, she was horrified.  She looked like as if she had aged twenty years.  Her face was pale, and lined with creases that had not been there before all this started.  Her eyes were sunken, and her pupils were tiny dots.  It was a deathly image that was staring back at her.  This is as good as it gets today, she thought defiantly.  They are going to have to deal with me.

  Carol slowly made her way to the car.  She knew that she was in no condition to drive, but there was no one else to drive her.  She had told Josh to go and check on his crew, and not to worry about her.  He had been home with her all weekend, and he needed to check in. 

  Carol started the car and was amazed at how nervous she was.  She had driven in all sorts of bad conditions before, but this fear… She did not understand it. Carol had made it down to the end of her street before she felt the first wave of panic hit her.  “Oh my god," she cried out, and pulled to the side of the road.  She knew what a panic attack was, but had never experienced one first hand.  Carol threw the seat back to its reclining position and began some slow breathing exercises.  She forced herself to take long breaths through her nose, and then gently blew the air out through her mouth as she rode wave after hot wave of extreme fear.  As the ocean attempted to pull her under, she remained focused on one cloud and her breathing.   Finally, with beads of sweat running down her face, the attack began to dissipate.  She slowly pulled the seat back into its upright position, and looked around momentarily in a daze.  Carol wiped her damp face, and took one last long breath. 

  She now knew for the first time what her patients had experienced.  It was a sudden rush of terror that had come from nowhere, and for no reason.  Had she not known what was happening to her, she would have been completely over taken by it.  She could not imagine what that would have felt like.  The preview was bad enough.  Carol looked around her, and locked her car doors before pulling away from the curb.  She had no idea what she was afraid of, but the prevailing fear was absolute.

  Carol decided to drive to the doctor’s office instead of making the trip downtown.  She wasn’t sure she could make it in her condition and the doctor’s office was only a few miles away.  Carol pulled into the medical building parking lot.  The brightness of the sun had been unusually painful and Carol was forced to put on sunglasses when she got out of the car.  She walked the short distance to the building and inside to the waiting room.  When she got to the receptionist’s window, she was out of breath.  The receptionist looked at Carol and gasped.  “You can come right in," the girl said.

  Carol walked the last few feet into the examining room, and collapsed into a chair.  Her rapid breathing continued as a nurse entered and slipped the blood pressure cuff up her arm.  

  The nurse took Carols blood pressure, and said, “Let’s try the other arm.  This can’t be right."  The nurse repeated the process and looked at Carol with concern.  “It’s one sixty over one ten.  Let me get the doctor,” she said, and shot out of the room.

  Carol didn’t need to know what her BP was to know that she was in trouble.  She had never felt so sick or scared in her life.  Despite her best effort, the tears began to flow.  Carol was wiping them off her face when the nurse returned.  “Dr. Hopton said that high blood pressure is normal after stopping the medication.  He said you should go home and rest."  

  “He said this is normal?" Carol asked incredulously. 

  “I’m sorry," the nurse said, and escaped the room quickly. 

  Not as sorry as I am.  The doctor was not even going to come into the room to see her.  Carol slowly got up and walked out of the building.  The blinding sun reminded her to retrieve her dark glasses.  Breathless and afraid, she made her way back to her car.  Carol didn’t know what she was going to do, but she was sure that whatever it was, she was not going to be able to rely on her doctor.  As long as he had been writing prescriptions, he had been her best friend.  But the doctor was not going to be involved in her drug withdrawal.  She had become too much of a liability, and he had washed his hands of her.  Shaking, Carol put the key into the ignition.  As she drove home, she feared having another attack.  She crept slowly in the right lane, almost hugging the shoulder, while irate drivers went around her.  

  Finally safe inside her four walls, she quietly got back into bed and pulled the covers over her head.  How long is this going to last?  However long that was, she was now on her own.

   

  Chapter 10

      

  Sheila was home, packing her bags for the frosty north.  Her plan was to clean up the marketing problem, if there really was one, and get back to Atlanta.  She had found a vulnerable spot at Dominex.  It was exactly what she needed to get where she was going, and just as she had caught the first scent of blood, she had been derailed.  Jerry was reliable, but no one had the “hunting skills” that She prided herself in having. 

  Sheila zipped up her travel bag, and sat at the edge of the bed.  Looking around the beautifully decorated room, she wondered what she was going to do with the empty apartment.  Sheila had expensive taste.  Her preference for the finer side of life had brought her to Buckhead, Georgia.  The rugged name was in no way descriptive of the posh and elite part of Atlanta.  In the heart of midtown, Buckhead was next door to everything the city had to offer while remaining neatly tucked away in high-life suburbia.  Health food stores and elite restaurants lined the commercial part of town and joggers were more abundant than cars. 

  Sheila’s monthly rent for a one-bedroom apartment would have placed two families in houses, as long as the houses were not in Buckhead. 

  The posh high-rise s
ported a small gym, an indoor and outdoor pool, an exclusive off street parking garage, and a doorman.  Sheila’s apartment was lavishly furnished in white.  There were occasional splashes of color in a few paintings that were hung on the walls and carefully placed pieces of décor.  Sheila loved her apartment and was not at all happy about leaving. 

  She had gotten a neighbor to agree to keep an eye on things while she was gone.  There were no cats to feed or plants to water.  Sheila hated anything messy, so there was really no upkeep.  Security was tight, so the place would be fine while she was gone.  But just the same, her neighbor would go in occasionally just to be sure.

  One last look around, and Sheila was reluctantly ready to go.  In the circular driveway downstairs, the company car was waiting.  The driver had gotten out and was engaged in conversation with the doorman when Sheila emerged from the lobby.  “Ms. Montgomery?" the driver called out.  Sheila nodded. 

  “Here, let me get that," the doorman said in regard to the large suitcase she was pulling on its wheels. 

  “Thanks, Richard," Sheila said, and got into the car.  Everything was securely placed in the trunk, and she was off to Hartsfield Airport.  Her itinerary had outlined a direct flight to Newark, where another driver would be waiting to take her to the hotel.  The company had secured a room with a kitchenette and would be footing the weekly bill.  Sheila read between the lines and realized two things.  They intended to keep her there for a while, and there wasn’t going to be any room service.   One room with a kitchenette in New Jersey. Just shoot me.  She looked out the window as she approached the College Park area.  The sky was filled with bright silver metal birds. 

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

      

  Carol had been up all night.  The horrible symptoms she was experiencing were at their worst during the night hours.  The pain in her muscles was overwhelming, and her head vibrated with an unrelenting, agitated buzz.  When she did doze off, she was tormented by obscenely graphic nightmares.