Currents of Sin

by Arleen Alleman

  “Let’s go. We’ve got a job,” he said, glaring at both of them.

  Relieved that she hadn’t answered the girl and that he hadn’t chastised them for talking, she watched as he pushed Mimi down the hallway toward the elevator. A minute later, Chuck came out of the room and escorted her down to the ground level.

  Depositing her near the bar in the center of the casino, he told her to meet him at the elevator in one hour to go back upstairs. She figured her time alone also gave him a welcome opportunity to be rid of her for a while. Slowly, she walked over to the large horseshoe-shaped bar and plopped down on a stool. The pretty female bartender smiled and set a glass of ginger ale in front of her.

  “Thanks, but I don’t have money.”

  “I know, honey. Don’t worry about it.”

  She realized there must be many people who knew about her situation. Yet no one called the authorities or tried to help. This seemed unbelievable until she thought about the fact that the hotel was like an enclosed world of its own. Employees were extremely loyal and would not jeopardize their jobs. Of course she now knew the name of the hotel, but that didn’t help her. Even down here, it was still a prison.

  She sipped the drink and tried to focus her thoughts. Lately, she’d been able to avoid swallowing the daily doses of Percodan or morphine. If she took all the pills Chuck pushed on her, she could not think clearly. She understood that he was becoming more relaxed with her and a little less careful.

  Being an extremely bright girl, she understood that the opiates dulled her nervous system and reduced her anxiety. The added side effect of lowered inhibitions helped her cope with the nightly sexual encounters—rapes, really.

  But she constantly worried about becoming dependent on the drugs, which would render her incapable of ever getting free. Worse, she knew these painkillers often led to heroin addiction. When she was able to avoid swallowing a pill, she had to act her way through the motions of servicing customers without the dulling effect of the medication. At times, it was nearly unbearable.

  Watching the boisterous tourists seated around the blackjack table a few feet away and without Chuck’s constant minding, she began to relax. Her thoughts wandered to the past and to the mother she left behind when she ran away to Vegas. Tears filled her eyes. The day she left home on her sixteenth birthday, she never dreamed her mother would die before she could see her again.

  She swiped at her face and felt the familiar overwhelming anger about her circumstances. Plenty of it was directed inward as well. How stupid she’d been. If only she could have another chance, she would do everything so differently.

  There had to be some way to send a message outside the hotel. She studied the pretty face of the bartender and wondered if this might be a way. She almost attempted a conversation about her circumstances but stopped herself at the last moment. If the woman was inclined to help, she would have done it on her own.

  She knew she had to adjust her attitude before she met Chuck for the trip upstairs. Her whole existence came down to a series of acting jobs that mollified him while masking her true feelings. She didn’t know how long she could keep it up, but she did know that to give up would be to slide into oblivion.

  44

  On the way back to the hospital, I described my conversation with Nate Mirabelle. “Actually, he was very congenial. But I felt like something was off about him. I thought he was covering some nervousness. I don’t think he liked me asking about prostitution, but that shouldn’t have bothered him. It is something security in every hotel has to deal with routinely. I can’t help wondering if the new owner really got rid of all Paul’s influence.”

  “I’ve learned to respect your feelings about people,” Mick said. “But it’s a huge stretch to think the new owner is also corrupt, and Paul still has people doing his bidding from that location.”

  “I know that, and Sid told me she has full confidence in the owner, Fontana. He’s a developer—something like Trump, only with fewer hotels. Mirabelle says he runs the place when Fontana is away. I think that’s an unusual situation. My guess is Fontana might not know everything that goes on at Athens Olympia.”

  Brooks was still camped out at the hospital when we arrived. He’d given up all attempts to return to work and had gone home only to shower and change clothes. A few minutes after we sat down in the intensive care waiting area, he came out to talk to us. He looked really bad. I swore he was thinner and had aged years in just two days.

  “They’re moving her to a different room in intensive care, one where she can have visitors. She’s been awake, sort of drifting in and out. She doesn’t know how severe her injuries are yet.”

  He reached up and grabbed a handful of his thick hair, pulling it backward with a quick movement, which caused him to wince. I placed a hand on his shoulder and looked into his sad eyes.

  “Brooks, Sid is a strong woman. She’s been through ordeals that would destroy a lot of people. She’ll eventually accept her situation and get on with life with your help, and she’ll fight like hell to get back.”

  “But why is God allowing this to happen? He helped me so much in the past to get my life on track and brought me Sid to love. If I just pray harder, he could heal her. Give her a miracle. She can’t be paralyzed!” He was wild-eyed with panic.

  Brooks is exceptionally intelligent, but he is convinced he has a pipeline to the creator of the universe who hears him and can fix anything. He is unable to give himself the credit he alone deserves for changing his life. The reason he succeeded had everything to do with wanting to make amends to Rachael.

  I struggled to find honest words that might help him. “Brooks, you know that nothing can undo the spinal cord injury that has already occurred, except maybe time and expert medical care. Horrendous accidents caused by chance and by people result in death and injury all the time, no matter how good the person is. Life isn’t about reward and punishment.

  “But you know what? The doctors are sometimes wrong in their prognosis. The body—the immune system—can heal itself in surprising and even unexplained ways. That is a miracle of sorts, a medical one. Maybe she’ll do a lot better than they think, especially with your help.

  “So, Brooks, I hope you can help her accept the reality of her situation with all the love I know you have for her. She needs to be positive if she’s going to cope with the changes in her life. She should not worry about esoteric reasons for why things happen or expect a supernatural intervention.”

  He listened to me and nodded his agreement. “I guess you’re right about all the things that happen to good people all the time.”

  I knew it would take time for him to fully accept Sid’s catastrophic injury. She needed his full attention on her dire situation, so I hoped he wouldn’t expend too much energy begging for a spiritual miracle.

  We hadn’t eaten, so we convinced Brooks to come with us to a coffee shop across from the hospital while the doctors transferred Sid to her new room. Reluctantly, he agreed and even ate most of a burger and fries.

  When we returned to the hospital, a nurse said that despite the late hour, we could visit Sid briefly. She quietly informed Brooks that the doctor wanted to talk to the two of them.

  We gathered around the bed, and Brooks picked up her hand. She was wearing a stiff surgical collar and some sort of rigid body stocking. Tubes extended from an IV pole into the back of her hand and from under the covers into plastic bags that hung along the side of the bed.

  She had an inch-long row of stitches on the side of her forehead, and red and purple bruising extended down the side of her face. Her eye was swollen nearly shut. Where the already-pale skin was not bruised, it appeared nearly translucent, making her adorable freckles stand out even more than usual. Crazily, her shiny auburn hair was so expertly cut it didn’t even look out of place. She opened one arresting green eye and looked up at us, trying to form a smile.

&nbs
p; “Hi,” she croaked, then licked her lips. Brooks gave her a sip of water through a straw. She cleared her throat and tried again. “What happened?”

  Just then, a doctor came into the room and shook hands with Brooks. He looked about fifty. He was on the short side and slightly overweight, but he had thick wavy brown hair and a sympathetic expression.

  He moved quickly to her feet and lifted the sheet away, revealing casts on both her lower legs. He ran a metal instrument along her feet and thighs, but it was obvious she felt nothing. He replaced the sheet and checked the monitors.

  “Your vital signs look good, Sidney. I would like to talk about your injury if you feel up to it.”

  I glanced at Brooks to see if he wanted us to leave, but he shook his head. I didn’t blame him for wanting emotional support. He looked from Sid to the doctor and nodded.

  Sid looked at each of us, then fixed her eyes on the doctor as well. Brooks squeezed her hand, and it was clear she felt that just fine.

  “Do you remember me? I’m Dr. Spence.”

  “Yes,” she answered. “I vaguely remember you talking to me, but I’m afraid I don’t remember the conversation. I’m sorry.”

  He bent down a little closer and gently placed his hand on her arm. “There’s no need. You’ve been a little out of it, and that is understandable. I’m a neurologist, and I operated on you this morning. I just reexamined your scans, and now I’m going to explain your situation. You should know that it is very serious and, frankly, more than a little scary. I want you to remain as calm as possible because you need to keep your torso still. Can you do that?”

  “All right.” She glanced at Brooks momentarily, then stared at the doctor with a fierce intensity.

  “Okay then. You had a car accident, and your back is broken down near your waist. I used some hardware to stabilize your spine to reduce further injury while you heal. Right now, I know you can’t feel your legs.”

  She suddenly began to jerk her head but didn’t get far due to the collar. “You’re right, I can’t. How long will that last?”

  “I’m afraid we don’t know exactly, but there’s a good chance some paralysis will be permanent.”

  Brooks choked back a sob, and Sid looked up into his eyes. A tear slipped across her pale bottom lashes. “Oh no, no, that can’t be.”

  “I know it’s a lot to take in, and the fact is you also have fractures in your lower legs that will have to heal before we can start your rehabilitation. No one can say whether you will recover sensation. If you do, it will take time before we know how much. You should count on a lot of hard work dedicated to your recovery for at least a year.”

  He shifted his eyes to Brooks. “As I mentioned to your husband, a lot of spinal cord research is under way, and we’re optimistic about the future for people with this type of injury. New discoveries and technologies come along all the time.”

  Sid raised her arm to cover her eyes. Her head rocked back and forth for a time. Apparently accustomed to the initial reactions of patients, Dr. Spence waited quietly to see if she had questions. Finally, she lowered her arm and looked at me.

  “Darcy, you didn’t get hurt? I remember some of it now. I’m so sorry about the accident. I could have killed both of us.”

  “Oh my god, Sid. It wasn’t your fault at all. I’m fine, and I’m going to do everything possible to help you get through this.” This wasn’t the time to get into our suspicions about the cause of the crash.

  She looked up at Brooks. “Sorry about the car. I guess I didn’t handle it very well, and I’m sorry about this.” She gestured toward the lower half of her body and choked on a sob. “This isn’t what you bargained for.” The tears flowed freely, and she struggled to remain still as instructed.

  The doctor patted her arm. “I think you are going to do very well, Sidney. Please rest and try to remember not to twist your body. The nurses will help you with whatever you need. Just press that button. You have catheters, so you don’t have to worry about going to the bathroom. Oh, and by the way, you should know that it is a very good sign that your breathing does not appear to be impaired. That is not always the case with injuries like yours.”

  Sid turned her eyes to me. “You know all about biology and anatomy. Do you understand this paralysis injury so you can explain it to me?”

  I understood that she wanted to know more about exactly what was happening to her, but it wasn’t my area of expertise by a long shot. I turned to Dr. Spence.

  “Can you possibly explain to Sid what has happened in her body to cause the paralysis?”

  “Is that what you want, a more technical description?” he asked her.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Well, neuroscience is complex, and there’s a lot we still don’t know about how the brain works. We do know that every movement of the body begins with signals in the motor cortex. These are electrochemical impulses sent by the neurons down their axons to other neurons. So millions of neurons send signals out from the cortex.” He touched the top of his head. “These signals travel to other brain regions and eventually to the spinal cord.

  “You have no brain injury, so those neurons work fine. For every tiny movement a person makes, hundreds of pathways of neurons—nerves—coordinate with one another so rapidly as to be instantaneous. Long axons travel from nerves in the brain down the spinal cord to smaller ones we call anterior horn cells. These cells project nerves out to specific muscle groups along the spine, telling the muscle to contract.

  “Feedback loops send messages back up to the cerebellum located at the base of the brain to adjust and fine-tune the movements. You have lost axons at the point where your spinal cord is torn. That has interrupted the signals to the horn cells and muscles. In other words, below the point of injury, your brain cannot tell your body to move. Above the injury, you should have full function.

  “Unfortunately, lost axons in the spine do not regenerate on their own, so there is no cure for paralysis yet. What I want you to focus on is this: Many times, nerve cells are not completely destroyed but are only damaged. And over time, they can recover. That is why I said you might get some movement back, but we can’t predict it. Does that help you?”

  Sid blinked and tried to smile. “Yes, thank you. I think I understand.”

  He smiled and patted her arm again before saying goodbye. The next half hour was incredibly sad and uplifting at the same time. Sid tried to verbally work through what was happening to her, alternating between anger, disbelief, and overwhelming sadness. She obeyed the doctor’s instructions and remained still, except that she held all of our hands in turn and thanked us for being there.

  “This is really bad, I know,” she said. “I can’t feel anything below my waist. It’s so weird to feel so numb. My head hurts, though.” She looked at Brooks. “If I can’t walk or anything, I can’t even imagine how we’ll live. I don’t want to be a burden on you, honey.”

  He gently kissed her lips. “I love you more than life. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together, and nothing will ever change that.”

  Remarkably, she smiled. “Dr. Spence didn’t make it sound completely hopeless. I promise I’ll work hard to get better.”

  As we left them holding hands and weeping softly together, I wondered if I would be able to muster that level of courage in her situation. I knew she would do as well as anyone in her condition could.

  On the way to the El Cortez, we pledged ourselves to helping our friends in any and every way possible for as long as necessary.

  In our room, with Mick beside me, I finally called Don to tell him about the accident and fill him in on everything Tom and I had learned. One of the hardest things I’ve ever done was explaining Pammie’s possible fate at the hands of human traffickers either here or in another country.

  He was distraught, of course, but still expressed heartfelt concern for Sid and Brooks.
“Maybe none of that would have happened if I hadn’t brought our troubles to them.”

  “Don, the police are investigating the car crash. It really looks like something Paul orchestrated, once again. It probably had nothing to do with your situation or Pammie, and we’ll let you guys know as soon as the police learn more about who was responsible. I’m just so sorry about all this. We can’t do anything else for you, but hopefully, the police will find out who’s behind the abductions. Something could come from that.”

  “I have to go now,” he said abruptly. “I have to tell Charlie about all this.” He sighed into the phone. “I’m not sure how he’s going to take it.”

  45

  Tadashi Ping locked the front door of the mission and quickly walked away. About a half block down Maryland Parkway, a late model SUV pulled to the curb next to him. He quickly jumped into the backseat, and the car immediately sped away.

  Up front, two Asian men kept their eyes facing straight ahead. The man in the passenger seat said, “Hey, cousin, how are you? We haven’t talked for a while.”

  “Everything is going well.” That wasn’t strictly the truth, but Ping had learned it was best not to provide any more information than necessary.

  “And you are ready for another transfer?”

  “No problem. I have a half-dozen girls and two boys who are dedicated to my mission. When I instruct them, they will be ready.”

  The driver scoffed. “Your mission? Think they’re going to be taken to a better place, hey? Well, in some ways, that might be true.” Ping’s cousin barked a laugh, obviously amused at the inside joke.

  “You have done well to gain their trust and keep them at the motel. We’re aware that some people try to convince them to leave downtown, but many teens refuse, preferring to remain under your protection. And now the two who have attracted too much attention will go.”