Poisoned

by JJ Liniger

  “So, it is Alex poisoning them.”

  “Can't be. He’s been working with us searchin’ for a cure.”

  I shook my head. “I’m feeling better. Can I get off this thing?”

  Her lips remained pursed together in thought as she shut down the machine. Once the gears stopped rotating, I grimaced as my arm felt pressure from cycling in Samuel’s blood. She slid the needle out of my arm and blood flowed from the vein toward my wrist.

  I sucked in a quick breath as she pressed a cotton ball on the wound to stop the flow.

  “Keep holdin’ it.” She removed her fingers, and I added pressure until she placed a piece of medical tape over it. Though she didn’t speak, her face remained somber. She put thought into who might be spreading the poison.

  “Where do you think I got the numbers on that paper?” I asked.

  “Was gonna ask ya that.”

  “I found a bank account where he’s been storing money. There’s a flash drive in my pocket with the information. Alex takes finances from the families for treatment and works with Dr. Easton to fake blood synthesization. Instead of helping these people, he’s hurting them and getting rich in the process. It can’t be Samuel. It can’t be a curse because of a high school pregnancy. All of that would’ve stopped years ago. Alex has who he needs in place, the Takers, Dr. Easton, you and Mother believing in him, creating the perfect cover.”

  “What about Tiffany’s father?” Dr. Worrell’s head nodded, despite not wanting to agree. “Are ya sayin’ Alex killed his father-in-law?”

  “Yes. What was going on about the time Coach King became infected?”

  She thought for a moment. “It was the first time in a while that we had two Taken. Mr. Beasley was the high school science teacher, he took over for Alex when he became principal.”

  “Alex was the science teacher?”

  “Yep, best chemistry teacher the school ever had.”

  That’s how he’d knew about the drug interactions as well as the supplements that interact negatively with them. I needed to explain Alex’s involvement to Dr. Worrell. Or help her figure it out on her own. I’d have a much better ally if she formed her own conclusion rather than take my word for it.

  “Has Alex been helpful in searching for a cure?”

  “Brought in Dr. Easton, but I liked it better before he came.”

  “Why’s that?” I sat up on the bed, ready to stand, but chose to remain seated. It was late and my body felt tired.

  “I like to do it myself, and now I can’t do as much. Like this testin’ we’re doin’ now. Alex wanted Dr. Easton to do it.”

  “You trust him?”

  She paced from one white wall to the opposite. I needed to wait and allow her to form her own conclusions.

  “Nope,” she answered.

  “Alex or Dr. Easton?”

  In her eyes there was determination and willpower that had brought her through years and years of struggles. She was smarter than I initially gave her credit for.

  “Dr. Easton. Don’t like ‘im.”

  “They’re both guilty,” I said.

  “Nope. Can’t prove it.”

  “These figures do. All we need is to find these drugs. Where’re they shipped?”

  “Right here, to the hospital. They mix the synthetic blood with HIS.” She sighed and rubbed her hands down her arms. “But if they’ll stop doing that and give ‘em The Boy’s then this mess will be over. I’ve tried to tell Dr. Easton. I don’t think it’ll take much of HIS blood.”

  “Dr. Worrell, take it one step further. Stop treatment altogether. It’s the fake blood carrying the drugs that make them sick.”

  We looked at the machine that had been attached to my arm. Could it be that simple?

  “The meds that are sent here, where are they stored?”

  “There be two main areas, we can check ‘em both.”

  I looked for my crutches, but didn’t see them. “Bring my crutches. I’ll follow you.”

  Quickly, we traveled to the hospital’s storage areas. Large floor-to-ceiling shelves held many boxes with clear labels identifying the content.

  “This looks like equipment the nurses or any staff can access. Alex wouldn’t store it here. It needs to be a place only a few can access.”

  “Down Under,” Dr. Worrell suggested.

  “Perfect.” I opened the supply door to hobble through when a nurse on the other side gasped. I didn’t recognize her face, but saw the same Loney Toon scrubs I noticed when Tiffany helped me escape.

  “Oh!” She looked at me and then at Dr. Worrell. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Mr. Porter was with you. I checked on Mrs. Porter and found the bed empty.”

  “Don’t worry, Maggie. I got ‘im.” The doctor smiled and patted the young nurse on the shoulder.

  “Do you need anything?” the nurse asked.

  “Nope, we be fine.”

  I kept the door open. While Maggie gathered her supplies, Dr. Worrell walked through and nodded for me to follow her. I swung along beside her at a brisk pace. Once again, she pressed the code for us to enter the research lab.

  “I thought we were going Down Under?” I whispered.

  “We are. There’s an elevator in here used to transfer the patients for treatment.”

  I followed her past the small rooms with the boards, to the place where they cycled the blood. I noticed the white metal doors earlier, but didn’t ask where they led.

  Dr. Worrell placed her thumb on a clear strip. A beam of light scanned it, reminding me of when Alex first took me Down Under. His print gave him access. The doors slid open, and we entered. A single bulb cast a yellow glow on us. The elevator rumbled, and the gears groaned as we plummeted down.

  “Did that machine finish testing the blood from Curner Meltrum?” I asked.

  “Yes, it did. I added the information to HIS board. I thought about startin’ a new one for you.”

  “Hopefully, this’ll be over and I won’t need one.”

  “I agree.”

  With a swoosh, the doors opened and a dozen Takers scattered in all direction. I hopped out, watching their movements. They worked in pairs, with a patient between them. Some fought the Taker’s restraints and others’ unconscious forms were carried.

  Were these the ones who escaped through the broken glass? Or someone new being brought in? How many people in town were drugged in preparation to be Alex’s next victims?

  Jacob came around the corner toward us. I remembered him holding my arms in the bar and wondered what he did for a living. The white coat, tie, and slacks he wore matched the uniform of the other Takers. If he noticed me he gave no indication as he marched past with another man by his side.

  I expected the area to be vacant like the hospital and looked at Dr. Worrell to see if the activity surprised her as well. She maintained the same thoughtful expression and brisk movements. I found it interesting she either knew the answer or didn’t bother asking questions.

  We hurried along the corridor to the stainless steel room where Samuel told me most of his daily testing took place. In the corner rested a tall, thin refrigerator with a glass front. Something similar remained at Clayton’s Corner where I had bought a soda when I first arrived. Through the glass I saw the same label over multiple clear plastic containers with calibrated scales that grew larger. Leaning toward the refrigerator, I read Curare.

  “What’s this?” I asked Dr. Worrell.

  “The smaller doses are given to The Boy to help ‘im relax if he needs it. The larger amount be used to restrain patients.”

  “Would it knock them out? Like the ones carried in tonight?”

  “Yep. It’s similar to what’s used on people durin’ surgery to keep ‘em asleep.”

  “So, the Takers have easy access. Is there a place only you or Alex can go?”

  She thought for a moment, her head shaking. “If I were to hide somethin’ down here it’d be over there.” Immediately, she turned to the door. Her feet echoed dow
n the hall.

  Glancing at the refrigerator, I felt something instinctual making me want to stay. I opened the door and cool air rushed to my face. An urge to take the drug consumed me.

  I remembered the Taker pulling the syringe from his coat pocket and placing the tip to Nicholas’s neck. Did he empty it completely? Probably. I took the barrel and felt the plunger that would squeeze the contents out. In the cold drawer below, I found needles with plastic protective shields.

  Maybe I was being paranoid. But, after having my life threatened multiple times I felt certain the list of people who’d save or help me would be a select few. I wanted to trust Dr. Worrell. Clearly, she wanted to save Becton. However, I saw nothing to indicate loyalty to me.

  After inspecting the end of the needle and syringe, I clicked the two pieces together. Then I grabbed a second and did the same. With the pair in my pocket, I hobbled out the door.

  Dr. Worrell wasn’t in sight. She didn’t say specifically where she thought the medication might be. I had been down here twice before. The first time I became surrounded by bright white. The patients had no emotional response and didn’t speak to each other. They reminded me of mice scurrying from one place to the next.

  The other time, I entered through the blackout area. A single red bulb provided the only light. I had passed dozens of closet-sized rooms and heard the moans of those trapped inside. The combination made the hairs on my body stand at attention. I wanted to leave. Anyone else would have the same reaction which made it the perfect area to store things.

  I had hidden in this room with Samuel after they ran through the glass. I could retrace my steps from that night and get back to the blackout area. I needed it to work.

  My tired and wounded body wobbled down the narrow hall. Takers marched around me, only speaking to each other.

  What kind of training does it take for them to focus only on their task? And, to remove people from their families?

  They probably felt like it was for the greater good, but still had to be gut wrenching. At least Jacob wasn’t ordered to Take his friend Nicholas from Game Zone, so maybe they tried to keep it less personal. In the dwindling town of Becton to think they didn’t know each other would be foolish. Nothing about the job they had was easy.

  The hallway grew darker as I approached the blackout area. One voice echoed after another. The moans of those suffering. I grimaced. Hopefully, this ordeal would soon be over. Those infected by Alex and Dr. Easton could be saved as long as their bodies weren’t too destroyed.

  “Carole…” I heard followed by a whisper.

  I hobbled closer. The rubber tip of the crutches squeaked against the linoleum. What did my mother have to do with those in pain? Were they wanting her to protect them?

  “I’m tryin’ to help her,” said a woman, probably Dr. Worrell, but I wasn’t certain.

  “So am I,” replied a man.

  Footsteps marched behind me, threatening to run me down if I didn’t move. Two Takers carried a woman who moaned and cradled her curly brown hair with both hands. They approached the darkness, and I followed behind. The voices of those recaptured and loaded inside the tiny blackout rooms echoed around me. They cursed and screamed, sending chills down my spine.

  “Mrs. Clayton came back on her own, requesting treatment for her migraines,” said the Taker.

  “The rooms are filling fast. Check number twelve.”

  “Thank you,” said the patient, leaving the arms of the men and stepped closer to the other two in the room. “Thank you, Mr. Black, for all you’ve done.”

  Alex was down here. I felt like hiding, but also wanted to confront him and have this over. Would the people left in Becton believe Alex was behind everything? It seemed unlikely.

  “The wall’s almost fully repaired and then we’ll focus on getting you better.” Alex patted the woman on the shoulder and nodded to the Takers. The single red bulb wasn’t enough to illuminate their faces. The two men stepped to the woman, and she exited with them without a fight.

  Tiffany told me the patients had never tried to break free before because they believed their only hope was in the treatments provided. I shook my head and felt the heat of anger boil under the surface. Alex had a perfect con going. It had to be stopped.

  The sole of my crutch announced my presence. I looked into darkness seeing only shapes and guessed they saw the same. With my injury, it wouldn’t take a genius to guess who hopped down the hall.

  “What the hell!” Alex yelled. “What are you doing here?”

  I wanted to shout out the evidence and make Alex beg for forgiveness before throwing his butt in jail. He was a dangerous man, and I needed to be careful. I wished I knew what Dr Worrell and Alex had said to each other so I’d know how to answer.

  “I had questions.”

  Alex stepped closer. “You escaped the hospital.” I thought of Tiffany and wondered how much he knew. It seemed best to assume he had assumptions rather than proof.

  “I didn’t escape. I’ve been right here.”

  “I think it’s safe to say you had help.” He looked at Dr. Worrell.

  “It’s not Dr. Worrell’s fault!” I used the crutches to wobble to them. “I made her take me.”

  “Oh, really?” He looked down at my injured foot.

  Maybe it wasn’t the best lie, or maybe it was. I discovered most of the problem with the blood and pharmaceutical company while in the research lab. Little evidence pointed directly at Alex, so as long as he believed I thought it was somebody else then maybe it would keep him from harming us.

  “Mom let me in the lab. While there, I figured it out about the fake blood that hundreds of people have purchased. Only a doctor could pull something like this off!” I glared at Dr. Worrell, hoping she’d understand I didn’t mean it.

  “I had nothin’ to do with this!” Dr. Worrell slapped her hand against her leg.

  I didn’t know her well enough to tell if she was playing along or genuinely frustrated by my accusation. The red light that illuminated the area created shadows on their faces.

  “Come on, Alex,” I said. “It has to be her. It’s the only option that makes sense.”

  He stepped closer.

  My heart hammered inside my chest and I hoped my face didn’t betray my nerves. Lying had never been one of my specialties. I held my breath to keep myself from panting.

  “I didn’t believe Dr. Worrell was innocent, and made her bring me here, or I’d go public with the altered blood.” I wobbled closer. “The community would turn on her the same way they had on me.”

  “Good thinking,” Alex acknowledged.

  “What’re ya talkin’ about boy.” She huffed and paced along the dark room. “I did all that blood testin’.”

  I shook my head. She wasn’t playing along and seemed to believe I thought she had been doing wrong.

  She continued. “I found them vitamins and drugs in that back area like I thought it might be.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed. “What drugs?”

  Dr. Worrell listed the supplies listed in the bank information. She had found the evidence needed. I watched Alex. His chest rose, and he blinked rapidly. What would he do as his secrets unraveled?

  “Damn it,” Alex mumbled. “This is getting out of hand.” He marched from the dark room into the light.

  “You! Get back here!” Dr. Worrell shouted as she followed him.

  I wanted to talk to her. Tell her I was on her side and maybe get her to play along, but she didn’t give me the opportunity. Alex’s plan wasn’t the only one crumbling.

  Solid white coats carried patients to their new home. Those who didn’t have victims with them marched with purpose.

  “Listen to me right now, young man!” Dr. Worrell yelled at Alex. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she clenched her hands by her side. I imagined her pulse racing as fast as my own.

  Alex’s eyes narrowed and his teeth ground together. I imagined the angry words he held back.

  “Jacob! So
nnie!” Alex said. The two Takers abandoned their task and turned to their leader. “I need you to Take Mr. Porter and Dr. Worrell, immediately!”

  CHAPTER 25

  FACT VS. FICTION

  “Take them where, sir?” Jacob asked.

  “Into confinement,” answered Alex. “They’re infected.”

  “What?” I yelled. “Hell no, we’re not.”

  “That’s ridiculous! Neither of us be sick,” Dr. Worrell insisted. Her fists remained clenched at her sides as she paced from one side of the narrow hallway to the other, only taking two or three steps before changing directions.

  “That’s what everyone says,” Jacob replied.

  “Alex, this isn’t the answer.” I wobbled closer to him, my breathing labored and my arms ached from balancing on the crutches. “You know we aren’t infected.”

  “It’s very difficult.” Alex cleared his throat and touched his face to illustrate his emotions. “When you turn in those closest to you.” Clearly acting wasn’t one of his strengths, but it didn’t appear to matter to either Taker. As their leader, they’d follow his order without question.

  “This be nothin’ but a lie!” Dr. Worrell challenged. Her finger shook in Alex’s face as she loudly vented her years of frustration. Through her anger, she cried.

  Was she pretending? I glanced at her red face and heaving chest and guessed her tears were genuine. How could Alex do this to her?

  The Takers looked at each other. Sonnie felt over the white pockets of his jacket and slightly shook his head to Jacob, who did the same.

  “Excuse me, sir.” Jacob said to Alex. “Neither of us has the restraints and need a moment.”

  “Hurry!” Alex yelled.

  The two men ran in perfect step down the hall. Tiny shards reflected against the hard floor from where the glass had once stood. In place of the clear barrier, someone nailed board and covered them with drywall and spackle. A day more and the repairs would’ve been complete.

  “You owe me an explanation.” Dr Worrell planted her hands on her hips, glaring at Alex.