by DK Land
Jefferson grinned like a child, as he stood next to Shauni and gazed at the miracle in front of them. “Isn’t it wonderful, Shauni? While you were celebrating down at the ‘Minnow Bucket’ last night, I sat here and watched the whole thing unfold. I wanted to give you a call to let you know that it was happening, but I thought that your friends would think that you were completely off your pogo stick if you got all excited about a few rats being born.”
“Oh, Jeffer!” she replied. “I really wish that you would have called anyway. I’m sure that I would have been able to get away earlier, if I’d known. Besides, if I’d left the bar a little earlier, I don’t think that I would have such a roaring headache this morning.”
He smiled back at her. “Well, you didn’t really miss all that much. It was a very normal birth, and the babies were so tiny, that you couldn’t really tell if they were any different until they were a few hours old.”
She turned and looked back at the glass enclosure where a white female rat lay nursing five white babies. “Can I pick one up?” she asked.
“Of course,” he replied with a smile. “Here let me get one for you.”
He reached down into the glass cage and gently lifted a suckling baby and laid it in Shauni’s hand.
“It really is so fascinating,” she whispered, as she tenderly touched the naked little baby. “After all your work isolating that one gene that created a whole line of short-legged rats, like magic, we have babies with legs that are at least fifty percent longer than a normal rat’s legs.”
He said proudly, “Just think what a discovery like this could do for people with birth defects, or people with cerebral palsy. Why, this could save them from a lifetime of torment and disability.” He frowned slightly as he continued. “Now, we have to keep in mind that this is still many years away from actual testing on humans, but I honestly feel that we have made an enormous step forward.”
“Are you sure,” Shauni asked, “that these babies will be able to produce offspring with the exact same features?… You know? Will all of their descendents still have the characteristic long legs?”
“Well,” he replied. “If the gene pool that they all share right now isn’t diluted or contaminated with any outside source. That is, if they aren’t paired with other rats which haven’t had any gene manipulation.”
With her brow furrowed, she said, “I don’t understand.”
Jefferson smiled as he explained, “In some ways, these new babies are now superior to their ancestors. However, they are all treading on unknown territory. Their manipulated genes could actually make them susceptible to unforeseen diseases, or their offspring could develop wildly erotic birth defects, if they are bred with rats that do not have that same manipulated gene. That’s why I mentioned that we have a very long way to go before this could be considered a benefit to mankind.”
As she placed the tiny thumb sized baby rat back in it’s glass nest, she turned and kissed him on the cheek. “Jeffer, you absolutely amaze me.”
He reached over and placed his arm around her shoulders, as he continued watching the babies. “It’s not me, Shauni,” he replied, with a grin. “It’s these little guys. They’re the ones that are amazing.”
She reached over and grabbed the belt loop on his blue jeans, and said with a sly smile, “I don’t suppose I could interest you in a different kind of ‘jean manipulation’?”
As he smiled broadly, they suddenly heard the intercom buzzer at the front door. “Oh, sure!” she teased. “I bet you had it planned that way, didn’t you?”
Shauni walked over to the intercom, and pushed the button. “Hello, who’s there?”
“Shauni? Is that you?”
“Yes, it is. Daddy? Is there something wrong?” she asked, somewhat concerned.
In the all the time that she and Jefferson had been going out, her father had never been out to Jefferson’s house.
“Well, if Jefferson is there, I really need to talk to both of you.”
She glanced over at Jefferson with raised eyebrows. “Hmm! Must be important.” Then she pushed the button again. “Sure Daddy. We’re down in the lab, in the basement. The door is unlocked, if you want to come down. Just walk straight in, and take the stairwell behind the first door to your right.”
“I’ll be right there, Honey,” came the reply.
As Shauni and Jefferson stood quietly by the glass rat enclosure, Harold Wheaton appeared at the top of the stairs. Shauni walked over to the base of the steps, and said, “Hi, Daddy. What are you doing way out here?”
Harold smiled as he came to the bottom of the steps. “Hi, Honey.” He looked over at Jefferson, and with a slight wave of his hand, said, “Mornin’, Jefferson. How ya doin’?”
Jefferson walked over to Harold, and held out his hand. “Good morning, Sheriff Wheaton. I’m doing great…What can we do for you?”
As Harold shook Jefferson’s hand, he noticed the glass enclosure sitting in the center of the room with a heat lamp shining down on it. He walked over cautiously, and peered inside. Smiling incredulously, he commented, “Well, I’ll be darned! Looks like you got yourself a brand new batch of… what the heck are those things anyway?” He turned and looked at Jefferson. “Are those things baby rats?” Before he could receive a reply, he turned back to the glass cage, and said, “What in the world would anyone want with a bunch of baby rats?”
Turning somewhat red, Jefferson replied, “Those babies are the result of a two year long experiment that Shauni and I have been working on, Sir.”
“Hmm,” said Harold. “It took you two years to raise a litter of baby rats?”
“Daddy!” interrupted Shauni. “This is the culmination of a lot of work for Jefferson.” She hesitated, “And myself, too! We’ve been working on trying to create a strain of rats with exceptionally long legs from one original rat with very short legs.”
Harold turned and stared at his daughter with disbelief. “Rats with long legs?… Why in the…”
“Daddy! Why did you come here? Is there some kind of emergency?” she asked.
“Oh!”, he said. “Didn’t Irene call you? I asked her to call you.”
“No,” said Shauni. “We’ve been down here in the lab for quite awhile, and there isn’t a phone down here. Why, Daddy? What’s the matter?”
“I was over at the hospital this morning talking to Gerard Slocum, and he told me about some kind of flu-like sickness they’ve been experiencing since yesterday. He seems to think that it could be some kind of epidemic, or something. He mentioned that it could be a ‘Tin Lizzie’, or some nonsense like that.” He lowered his brows and looked directly at Jefferson. “Does that make any sense to either of you?”
Bewildered, Shauni and Jefferson looked at each other. “Tin Lizzie?” said Shauni. “For heaven’s sake,” she said to Jefferson. “This is Medesha, Minnesota! He’s got to be mistaken!”
Jefferson looked at Harold. “Did Gerard ask that Shauni and I both come to the hospital to help out, Sheriff?”
“Why, yes. That’s exactly what he asked,” he replied, as he scratched his head. “Just as I was leaving, little Sammy Filmore went into a coma. I guess he was the first patient they got in yesterday.” Then he added, “While I was there, they received two more patients. I think Cindy said that they had fourteen with the sickness now.”
“Oh, my God!” exclaimed Shauni. “We’ve got to go now, Jeffer! I’ve got a clean uniform at the hospital. Is there anything you need before we leave?”
“Not at the present time,” replied Jefferson. “If I need any more equipment than what’s in the pathology lab at the hospital, I’ll come back later to pick it up.”
“Say, by the way,” mentioned Harold. “Gerard asked me to get a couple water samples from the creek. Would you mind if I went ahead and did that, Jefferson?”
“Of course not, Sheriff. As a matter of fact, I’m sure that I’ll be the one testing the samples, so I guess I could just as well go get them myself, before we go.”
Harold waved to both of them. “No, you kids are needed as soon as possible at the hospital. You go ahead and get into town. I’ll get the samples, and be there shortly.”
Shauni and Jefferson ran up the basement steps, and out to Jefferson’s Jeep CJ, while Harold Wheaton strolled down the beautiful shaded wood planked walk towards the Cordain boat dock. When he arrived at the dock, he turned and walked the twenty yards further up the beach to where Quail Creek emptied into the lake.
As he was bending over to fill the sample bottles, he couldn’t get his mind off of the rats he saw in Jefferson Cordain’s basement. He thought to himself. “Long legged rats! Now, what in creation would a person want with long legged rats? That Jefferson Cordain is a classic example of somebody having more dollars than sense, that’s for sure. What’s he trying to do, anyhow? Make it easier for the rats to jump aboard the ships in the harbor over at Duluth?”
Just then, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It appeared to be something like a red shirt hooked to an old branch that stuck out of the water a few yards up the creek from where he was standing. A minute later, he radioed Irene.
“Irene, this is Sheriff Wheaton.”
“Go ahead, Sheriff. This is Irene.”
“Irene, is there anybody else in the office with you now?”
“No, Sheriff. I’m all alone, as usual,” came her somewhat lonely reply.
“Okay, Irene. Get a hold of the ambulance service immediately, and tell them to get up to Jefferson Cordain’s home. I will meet them at the front of Cordain’s house.”
“Oh, no! Sheriff, is Jefferson or Shauni hurt?”
“No, Irene. Jefferson and my daughter are on their way into town… Listen to me closely, Irene. I do not, I repeat, I DO NOT want you to be in telephonic communication with any of your friends for at least the rest of the morning. If anyone should come into the office, do not mention anything about this. Tell the EMTs not to use their siren. I don’t want to panic anybody.”
“But, Sheriff! What is the problem?” she pleaded.
“Irene, we have what appears to be a drowned body in Quail Creek!
Then, Sheriff Harold Wheaton clipped the microphone of his PCD to his shirt and proceeded to throw up his breakfast.
Chapter 3
At Mabel’s Coffee Shop, the cowbell had been clanging above the door at steady intervals as the local regulars would come and go. Some would stop by for a quick cup of coffee before heading off to the factory or to their jobs at the various shops and stores that lined Main Street. Others would stop for a full breakfast of eggs, ham, and hash browns before proceeding to the docks at the marina for a leisurely day of trying to catch ‘Wilbur’.
The cowbell rang again, as eleven year old Jack Thomas Zimmerman entered the diner with a bundle of newspapers under his arm. Mabel noticed the young boy, as he walked up to the cash register. She smiled as she placed her hands on her hips. “Say now, Mr. Zimmerman. Aren’t we getting a rather late start today? You were supposed to be here nearly two hours ago with those papers.”
The boy looked up at Mabel, and tried to give her a smile. “I’m sorry, Miss Marten. Really I am.” Then he leaned over the counter and whispered so none of the patrons could hear. “I woke up this morning with really bad stomach pains and a terrible headache. I threw up three times before I left home to pick up my papers.”
Becoming very concerned, Mabel bent over and looked in the boy’s eyes. “J. T.!” she exclaimed. “You should be home in bed! Does your mother know that you’re running around town delivering papers when you’re so sick?”
He shook his head. “Huh uh,” he replied wearily. “She had to work the early shift at the factory today, so she was already gone when I woke up. Don’t worry, Miss Marten. I’ll just finish my route, and then I’ll go home and get some rest.”
She smiled down at him, as she ran her hand through his hair. “J. T., you’re such a dedicated young man.” Then she frowned, as her hand ran across his forehead. “My heavens, J. T.! You are absolutely burning up with fever!” She pointed to the nearest stool, and said, “You sit your little butt down right there, while I call Cindy at the hospital. I’m gonna ask her if there is something we can give you.”
She walked over to a refrigerator and brought a glass of juice back and placed it on the counter. “Here, J. T.” she said. “You drink this apple juice while I call Cindy.”
“Okay,” he replied quietly. “Thank you, Miss Marten.”
When she hung up the telephone, she announced to the boy, “Cindy said that you need to come directly to the hospital, J. T. She said that you might be coming down with some kind of unusual flu, and they need to see you immediately.”
“But, I can’t, Miss Marten!” he pleaded. “I have more than forty papers out in my wagon that I need to deliver yet! If I don’t get them delivered, I’ll have to pay for them!”
“Now don’t you worry about those papers, J. T.” she replied sternly. “Are they all for the downtown merchants?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Well,” she replied. “You take this pencil and write down where they have to go, and I’ll give everybody a call and have them pick up their papers right here, okay?”
She handed the boy a pencil and paper. Then she turned and yelled at a man sitting in a booth near the back of the diner. “Say, Roy? Don’t you have to be to work at the factory in a few minutes?”
“Yeah! Why? You tryin’ to get rid of me, Mabel?” came the reply from the back booth.
“Now, Roy, you know better than that. J. T. isn’t feeling too good, and he needs to be taken to the doctor so they can pump him full of penicillin, or something. Could you drop him off at the hospital on your way, and tell his mother where he’s at when you get to work?”
“Sure, I can,” said Roy, as he walked up to the register with his wallet in his hand. “Are you ready to go, J. T.?”
Mabel waved her hand toward Roy. “The coffee’s on me this morning, Roy. Thanks for doing this.”
“Aw, it’s no problem.” He looked down at the boy. “Let’s get going, young man.”
As they walked out the door, Mabel called out, “You get to feelin’ better real soon, J. T.” Then she turned and said to Tandy, “That poor boy’s forehead felt as hot as a blast furnace.”
* * *
While young J. T. Zimmerman was being dropped off at the front door of the hospital, an ambulance, followed by the sheriff’s squad car, was pulling into the enclosed emergency entrance on the west side of the building. Doctor Daniel Roberts, a short pudgy man in his late fifties, with slicked back thinning gray hair, was standing at the back of the ambulance, waiting for the EMTs to open the doors.
Sheriff Harold Wheaton walked around the corner of the ambulance. “Hi, Dan,” he said solemnly. “It’s the Sadler boy… Willy Sadler… Will and Brenda Sadler’s son. He drowned up at the creek, Doc. I’d say he’s been dead for at least twelve hours. I’m sure that his parents are on their way. I got hold of Deputy Walsh while we were on our way in with the body, and sent him over to the Sadler place to inform them.”
As the gurney was lowered from the ambulance to the ground, Dr. Roberts pulled back the blanket that covered the small boy’s body. Frowning, he said, “Yup, been about twelve hours.” He looked at Harold. “Can’t hardly believe it. This kid was just in to see me, last week, I think it was. He had some warts on his foot that I had to burn off. Now, look at the poor little tike.” He sighed, and said, “This is the part of my job that I hate the most. You learn to expect the unexpected with adults, but when it comes to kids…”
“I know Doc,” replied Harold. “It’s really sad. Things like this shouldn’t happen to kids.” Then he cleared his throat, and continued. “Is there any way you can tell if it was an accident, Doc?”
The doctor gave Harold an accusing look. He told the EMTs to take the body to the small morgue at the back of the hospital, then he asked Harold, “What do you mean, an acciden
t? Why would it be anything BUT an accident?”
Somewhat defensively, Harold replied, “I’m not trying to jump to conclusions, or anything like that, Dan, but with all these kids gettin’ sick with that unknown disease. Well, things are getting kinda weird around here right now. I just want to rule out any foul play, that’s all.”
“Well,” said the doctor, “it could be possible that the boy was coming down with the sickness while he was out there, and he fell into the creek and was too weak to pull himself out.” He looked over at the sheriff. “What the heck was this kid doing out there all by himself, anyway? This happened last night, well after dark!”
Harold waved his hand, “A lot of the kids around here go camping in these woods by themselves. They especially like to go up by the creek, because of all the frogs.”
“Frogs?” asked Dr. Roberts.
Half smiling, Harold replied, “Yeah, they go up there with homemade wire containers and plastic buckets to catch frogs and minnows. Then they bring them down to ‘Ollie’s’ and sell them to him so he can sell them to the fishermen for bait. You know. It gives them a way to get some extra spending money.”
As the two men walked down the corridor from the emergency entrance, Shauni came rushing toward them from the front entrance. She was now dressed in her white uniform and totally involved with the business at hand. “Dr. Roberts!” She paused, “Hi Daddy. Dr. Roberts, we just received eleven year old J. T. Zimmerman as our fifteenth victim. Dr. Slocum is attending him right now, and the Sadlers are here to find out about their son.”
Dr. Roberts said, “Thank you, Shauni. I’ll go meet with the Sadlers. Is Jefferson still in the lab?”
“Yes, he is.” She replied.
“Good. Could you tell him that I’d like to get some tissue samples from the Sadler boy’s body just as soon as possible, after the Sadlers have left the hospital?”