by JJ Liniger
“We do both. Father Brown was given radioactive therapy. Bless his heart. Poor man was so tired he spent the next two days in bed. He had one day feeling better and then it was time for another treatment.” She sighed and picked lint from her blanket.
“Did it help?”
“It might've if we had targeted only the infected cells, but we couldn’t.”
I grimaced. “It was after he died that you learned about Samuel’s connection. Right?”
Mother gasped her eyes wide. “Who told you?”
“Alex and Tiffany. I needed answers.”
“I’m glad they did. I hated keeping you in the dark, but Matthew insisted. And after…” Her breath caught and tears trailed down her cheeks. “. . . he hurt himself, I couldn’t go against his wishes.”
“I understand.” I took another drink and rested against the mattress. “Did the chemo do anything?”
She shook her head. “Well, it might prolong their lives. Tiffany’s father lasted the longest, but he was miserable.” She sighed. “Bless him.”
I nodded. “Chemo’s hard on the body. I’d like to see where they do the testing. Who are the doctors?” I thought of Dr. Worrell and wasn’t completely confident in her knowledge or abilities. “Do they know what they’re doing?”
“Most are young, directly out of med school, except for Dr. Worrell and Dr. Easton.” Mother paused. Her eyes narrowed in thought.
Someone knocked on the door and I sighed.
“Come in,” Mom said.
A nurse entered with a tray of food, followed by Monica. My eyes widened in surprise with her wearing scrubs. Probably the only clothing available other than a hospital gown.
“Where’s Samuel?” I asked.
“Alone,” Monica answered.
“Why?”
“To keep us safe. HE must be confined,” the nurse answered, bring the delicious smelling food closer.
“Eat.” Monica’s long, messy hair had been chopped past her shoulders, which allowed her naturally curly hair to bounce freely. With clean skin, I saw the natural glow that made people so comfortable with her.
“You clean up well,” I said and pulled the food tray closer, removing the sandwich and fruit from their clear plastic wrapper.
“You lost a lot of blood,” Mom said. “Monica and HIM agreed to donate for you.”
“Really? You didn’t bite a doc or anything?” I chuckled.
“Only one.” Monica crossed her arms over her chest. “Scary.”
“Trevor, be nice.” Mother patted my bedrail.
“Sorry, I was kidding. I didn’t think she would.” I shrugged and ate.
“At first she was nervous and scratched one of us,” said the nurse. “We almost dismissed the procedure, but at that time, they were worried about you and she wanted to help.”
Monica smiled at the nurse, appearing pleased she explained the process to me and helped give words to her feelings. It seemed encouraging to see her transformation in such a short time.
“Thanks, Monica.”
Her cheeks flushed.
“After the transfusion, the remaining blood was sent to the research team,” Mom added.
“Who?” I asked and continued eating my lunch.
“They are the doctors working on a cure. Alex and I have worked with them for years, performing tests. We aren’t sure what else can be done,” said Mother.
Maybe, later today I could see the investigation. I wasn’t an expert, but neither was somebody who recently finished medical school. Perhaps, I’d get lucky and see what the others couldn’t.
The room became quiet and Monica paced along my other side.
“How are you?” I asked.
“All strange to me.” Her hands twitched. The razor-sharp nails were gone, replaced with clean, rounded tips. “Like new world. Never thought I’d be accepted again.”
“I’m glad you are.” I placed my hand over hers. “Is that why you stayed away, ‘cause the people wouldn’t accept you?”
“Yes, and for Drago.”
“Why’d you bring him to Becton?”
“My baby, couldn’t leave him.” She sighed, her hand petting my bed, like she would if her alligator stood by her.
“You realize how ironic that is, since you tried to kill our son. Twice.”
“I know.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the window.
Did she still want to hurt him? She seemed normal. What would it take for the crazy to come back?
“Are you planning to stay in town?” I asked her.
“I’d like to. But again, Dra-Dra.” She frowned.
“True. Most people don’t want an alligator in the neighborhood. No one’s around my house. If you want to live there, I’ll get the power turned back on. But, West Texas isn’t the best place for your pet.”
“I’m not sure where to go. Maybe a zoo will take Drago.” Her face fell and I could tell she would miss her scaly friend.
Talking about where Monica would live made me wonder about myself. Should I return to New York City or stay in Becton?
After promising Samuel I wouldn’t leave until it was over, I didn’t know what to do, but staying forever wasn’t an option. Monica stared out the large window mumbling to herself while I finished my lunch. Was being accepted by Becton important to her or people in general?
“I don’t understand how it happened, but I’m glad you're still mostly you.” I smiled at her as she turned from the window to look at me. “What had happened to us? I would’ve taken you back.”
She recoiled from me, her fingers barring what used to be claws. It was a habit, but I had no idea what had caused her reaction. Her eyes squinted into a glare. Instead of anger, I saw hurt.
“What did I say?” I asked.
“You not understand.”
“Then explain it.”
She shook her head and pushed against the door before finding the knob and ran out. As it closed, I heard a crash down the hallway.
“Dang, Trev.” Alex chuckled as he entered the room “What did ya do?”
I sighed. “I have no idea.”
“Women. They’re hard to figure out.” Alex held a clipboard at his side.
“Very true. Has being married helped?” I asked.
“Nope.” Alex smiled.
“What’s that for?” I nodded towards his hand.
“I need to talk to ya.” He leaned closer to Mother, maybe out of habit staying close to her or maybe to make sure she slept peacefully. Her chest rose and fell with ease but her snores were a constant reminder that she still struggled to breathe. “First off, I’m glad you and HIM are safe. When those Down Under escaped, we searched frantically for ya’ll.”
I nodded, unsure if I should tell him I heard him while hiding with Samuel.
Alex continued. “The glass is already bein’ replaced with new walls. In another day or two those we’ve found will be back in their home.”
“Does Samuel have to stay with them?”
“Yes, HE has to be contained. And Trev…” his voice trailed off as he looked at the paintings hanging on the white walls. “Carole will be joinin’ them. She’s sick.”
I already knew and Mother confirmed it, but hearing it from Alex made it real. My shoulders slumped against the mattress and my vision blurred with tears.
No! There has to be something I can do. Anything!
“I’m sorry Trev, but I need to go over the expenses involved with treatment.”
I nodded again.
Alex sighed and turned the clipboard to me. The figures were laid out across the page:
- PROCEDURES $7,000 for chemotherapy and radiation, $11,000 for blood work and purification.
- MEDICATIONS $6,000 and Vitamins and Herbs $600
- HOUSING $3500
“These are monthly estimates,” Alex said. “I won’t have the official figures until Dr. Easton writes the prescriptions for the exact amount of medication and determines how often to alternate c
hemo and radiation.”
“Monthly?” My eyes widened as I stared at the paper and then at my friend.
“Remember, you wanted to finance the football program to help it continue at the high school. I’d think your mother’s health would be worth more than some sport.”
“Of course it is! I’ll do whatever I have to.” My pulse quickened. I had a lucrative income, but what did the people here do? How could they afford their treatment? I’d get some money transferred and then return to work soon.
“If you think you’ll need it, I’ll have a loan application brought here,” Alex said.
“Thanks.”
“I can also drop off some of her things from Town Hall. It’ll help reduce some of the initial housin’ costs. Ya know, I’ll just take care of that for ya the first month. It’s the least I can do for all Carole has done for us.” Alex patted Mother’s leg and smiled affectionately.
“That’d help a lot.”
The search for a cure already sat as my top priority, but now my funds would go to Mother’s treatment making it difficult to focus on anything else.
I signed Alex’s papers and then watched TV for several hours. My mind raced with attempts to find another solution that would free Samuel from isolation. Pain returned to my injured foot, but either the nurse button on my bed didn’t work or I was being ignored. Hours later, Mother finally awakened.
“Hey, Trevy.” She smiled, but no color came to her pale cheeks. It made her appear sad rather than happy.
I forced myself to grin back, not wanting her to worry. “Are you well enough to take me to the research team? I want to see what they’ve tried.”
“Sure, I’m fine.”
How many times had she said the same lie?
I shifted on the bed and winced as my ankle rubbed against the sheets. Mother called for pain meds and help for me to use the restroom.
Minutes later, an older nurse came with a new pitcher of ice water and two pills for me to swallow. Her mouth remained clamped shut and her body leaned away like she didn’t want to be here. I felt her anxiety as she inspected me from afar.
“Carole, do you need anything?”
“No, Debby.” Mother asked about her grandchildren. The nurse’s demeanor changed, and they had a pleasant conversation.
I sighed, tired of people treating me like a leper, but maybe I deserved it due to being friends with a crazy gator woman. I felt sure they knew Monica came with me. I took the pills and drank the cold water.
“How soon will I feel the effects?” I asked.
“The pain should subside quickly. Some feel lethargic and others have more energy. It affects everyone a little differently,” Debby answered.
From under her cart, she pulled out one crutch and adjusted it for my height. She did the same to the other crutch and leaned them against the side of my bed.
“If you need assistance with the restroom, I can bring in Robert.”
Modesty among nurses seemed rare. She probably didn’t want anything to do with me. I shifted to the edge of the bed, hoping I wouldn’t need help. With the crutches under my arms, I stood, wearing a gown which tied on either side like a bathrobe and came down to above my knees. I shifted the end of the crutch forward and hopped, testing my ability to move.
The pain in my foot had lessened to a dull ache and the short distance to the restroom would be manageable. Neither my mother, or Debby spoke as they watched me move from one side of the room to the next. The nurse frowned, and I believed she would’ve been hostile to me if Mother hadn’t been with me.
After using the restroom and washing my face and hands, I returned to find the wheelchair and my mother standing behind it.
“Mom, go ahead and use the chair.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you had heart surgery not long ago. I want you comfortable and I’ll use the crutches.”
With a sigh, she plopped into the hard seat and shifted to roll herself. I wobbled to the door and opened it for her as Mother slowly rolled through.
“Where to?” I asked.
“I’ll show you.”
CHAPTER 21
LAB WORK
Mother rolled down three long halls and through two swinging doors as I hopped along beside her.
“How often do you come here?” I asked.
“I used to come daily. But the last several months, the team seemed out of ideas. Alex hoped bringing in Dr Sutton would give us fresh thoughts. She’s brilliantly book smart, but young.”
“I doubt I can think of anything new, but I need to try.”
We stopped outside a solid wooden door. It appeared the same as a patient room except for the mounted keypad above the handle with numbers one through five. She mumbled the numbers to herself as she quickly pressed 5,3,2,3,5,1 as I watched.
She turned the handle, and it didn’t open.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
Punching in the same six numbers, again it remained locked.
“Who can change the code?” I asked.
“Only me or Alex.”
“Why would he change it?”
Her head shook silently as her eyes looked up at the ceiling tiles. Could it be her infection? Maybe, Alex didn’t want anyone else to know that information.
Suddenly, the door banged open into the wheelchair.
“Oh! Excuse me, Mrs. Porter,” said a beautiful doctor close to my age with long auburn hair in a ponytail which hung down her back. Her white jacket had a blue tag which read: Dr. Sutton.
“Karen, nice to see you again. Have you met my son, Trevor?”
“No.” She smiled.
Karen and I shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. She either faked kindness well or missed the memo to hate me. Why wouldn’t Alex and Mother tell her?
I felt the same twisted confusion as when I first returned to Becton. Why so many dang secrets?
Karen kept the door open, allowing Mother to roll her chair inside and me to hobble with her. Afterwards, the doctor let it close behind her.
“Did you tell her about the code?” I asked.
“No, I’ll ask Alex. We change it each month. It was probably time and he’ll tell me what it is later.”
“Ok, great.” I felt doubtful, but didn’t need to share my opinion and upset Mother.
The fluorescent bulbs which lined the ceiling provided bright light, making it easy to see. We entered the first closet-sized room. Tall dry erase boards aligned the walls with the names of those infected and the medical treatments used. It reminded me of crime shows with pictures of the victim and those associated with them branched out in multiple directions. It felt overwhelming to see the evidence of so many cursed people.
Part of me felt guilty and the larger part felt frustrated because I was tired of feeling like this, especially when I shouldn’t have been held responsible.
“Mom, how do I read all this to understand what has been tried?”
“I’ll show you.”
The 5x9 rooms had dates listed chronologically, based on diagnosis. The wheels on the base of the boards allowed it to move easily, to reveal dozens of other boards stacked behind it.
I stared in disbelief. What a terrible way to keep information safe and secure! Had they not considered using a computer database to keep track of records? At least the handwriting appeared easy to read.
“Dr. Worrel prefers this method. Matthew hoped once we found the problem we could erase the evidence. Alex liked it that this couldn’t get hacked or into the wrong hands.”
“And what if this craziness happens again? Mom, this is ridiculous!”
“Trevor, we have to keep our research and problem a secret or the government will come in and take over.”
“Why is that a bad thing? We need help.”
“They don’t want to help us. Remember the sample we gave them? They said not to worry. They were wrong!” Her hands planted on the arms of the wheelchair and her chest heaved
. It wasn’t long ago she had surgery on her heart and I wasn’t sure how much stress she could handle.
“Right, I understand,” I agreed, to avoid arguing. “Take me to the most recent area.”
She rolled past several small rooms where I assumed boards were stored. I felt claustrophobic being surrounded by narrow hallways. Dates outside each room climbed closer to the present. Finally, we approached a lab with plexiglass walls. I recognized Dr. Worrell, but not the other man inside. A conveyor belt continued, filling small vials and sucking the tubes inside.
The machines reminded me of CSI where fibers, DNA, and chemicals were examined to find out if it matched.
“Is the testing done here?” I asked.
“Almost all of it. Alex sends The Boy’s blood to Curner Meltum, a pharmaceutical company. They synthesize the blood, which is making copies of it, and send it back. We’ve been trying to use it as an antidote. It helps, but it isn’t strong enough…”
I stopped listening and focused on Curner Meltum. I had worked with them for the past three years in advertisements. Attending an extensive two week seminar, I learned the technical and common names for the drugs they manufactured. If someone needed a pill for any ailment, they were the go-to pharmaceuticals. For liquids, there were few options, and they never dealt with blood. Somebody had lied to Alex. My friend sent Samuel’s blood away, but who knew what Curner Meltum sent back.
“What’s wrong, Trevor?” Mother placed her hand on mine.
“Huh? What?”
“I asked if you wanted to go inside. You were staring into space.”
“Sorry, I was thinking. I’d like to come in.”
She handed me a hair net and placed the same over her head. I opened the door, and she rolled inside. The air felt cold and had the same antiseptic smell in my father’s room. A typical hospital odor, but intensified in the small space.
A rhythmic sounding swoosh rang as the machines did their jobs.
“Carole, you're lookin’ good,” said Dr. Worrell.
“I’m feeling much better and excited to be released with Trevy.”
I smiled at the doc, curious if she knew about Mother’s infection. Based on us being able to move freely, I’m guessing Alex hadn’t told anyone other than the Takers.