“Sir, let me help you,” Carpenter said, grabbing the doe by the rope-tied head and front legs. “She sure is pretty.”
The man by the truck reached over the side and lifted up the hind legs. Candy-apple-red blood dripped out of the stomach cavity. The two carried the deer through the church front door and down basement stairs.
“Careful, you’re getting blood on the steps,” Father Fellorday said, following the men and wiping up dribbling red liquid. “Put it on there,” he said, pointing to a large wood table resembling a sacrificial alter.
~ ~ ~
Father Fellorday removed his cherished robe, blessed by the Pope ten years earlier, revealing a paint-stained t-shirt and knee-worn jeans. He stepped up to the deer carcass and surveyed the open stomach cavity.
Carpenter removed his coat and cap, carefully concealing a small wad of dollar bills.
“Do you have an offering for us today?” the Father said.
“Ah, no...er...” Carpenter hesitated, stuffing the cap inside a coat sleeve and dropping the coat to the floor by the table.
“My son, when will you learn? Ask for forgiveness. Come now. Ask.”
“Just a smoke now and then, no junk, just a little smoke. Here, give it to God for me.” Carpenter picked up the coat, retrieved and unfolded the cap, revealing ten single dollar bills. His actions were childlike from an adult mind destroyed by drug abuse.
“Thank you. God will be kind to you today,” Father Fellorday, said, hastily grabbing the bills, carefully folding them and pushing them into his right-rear jeans pocket.
Bad Juju, Carpenter thought, I will be punished. The Father had strict rules against smoking and drinking. Lowering his head, he dropped the coat and cap, walked toward a large steel sink and retrieved a carving knife and bone saw.
Chapter 34
Porter halted briefly, then stepped into Kottle’s hospital room. He marveled at the flashing diagnostic monitors as he approached her bedside. Dingman stayed in the hall.
“We might not be a big-city hospital, but we have top-notch equipment here in West Branch,” the doctor said, reassuring his curiosity.
“Jeb, I had this dream. It was so real. Rachel tried to...ah...ah...Rachel...” Katie stuttered, trying to grasp the meaning of her words.
“You okay? Doctor, is she okay?” Porter stepped to her side and clasped her right hand.
“She’s fine. Blood work is okay; we’re just doing a follow-up test on a protein. It’s typically found in blood after trauma, but we’re checking it out again.”
“Whew, her eyes are totally red; the veins are—”
“I’m giving her some drops. Looks like an infection. Might be pinkeye, so I would recommend you don’t touch or share anything for a while.”
“Who exactly is Rachel?” Porter asked.
Kottle continued to mull over the name, searching her mind for clues. “I don’t know. In the dream, she was my twin sister, but I don’t have a sister.”
“Dr. Patterson, there’s a phone call for you from a Dr. Grace out of the Troy Beauford Hospital near Detroit. He says it’s urgent,” a nurse said, peeking into the room.
“Okay, thanks. I’ll be back in a few,” the doctor said and left the room.
“You gave us quite a scare. Did you know you stuck your hand into a cracked mirror? You caught your right forefinger on a nail behind it. You thought Rachel, your twin sister, was biting you. Unbelievable. I thought it was the beer talking, but Louis thinks it might be a reaction to food, maybe the deer burger you ate.”
“Rachel...I...just...Rachel,” Kottle said, struggling to understand.
“How do you feel? You up to going back to Detroit? It’s already four o’clock,” Porter said, glancing at this watch while holding Kottle’s left hand. Kottle looked at the watch, then glared at Porter.
“Mother, come quick, the man with the watch has Rachel. He’s taking her. Mother!” Kottle shouted, then relaxed into sleep.
“Sir, is there a problem?” a nurse said, rushing into the room. Porter leaned forward to hear Kottle sucking air.
“I don’t know. She seemed okay at first, then went off the deep end. Is she sleeping? She’s breathing hard.”
The nurse checked the heart monitor and activated the blood-pressure cuff slipped on Kottle’s arm.
“Perfectly normal, I’ll get the doctor.”
Porter sat on the edge of a small wooden chair next to the bed, nervously watching for movement.
Dingman entered the room, grinning.
“Guess who just got admitted?”
“Shh, she’s sleeping,” Porter said, looking up.
“Oh, sorry, I just saw Sulkin wheeled in on a gurney. His face was blotchy and bright red, much worse than when we saw him this afternoon. He was ranting and raving about some person trying to steal his work. Something about discovering the basis for reanimating life after death.”
“That’s our story: The untold story of Frankenstein?”
“Interesting premise, eh? I am calling Pillbock. Back in a few,” Dingman said.
~ ~ ~
“We need to head back to Detroit. The police found a parish priest murdered in the basement of an old church near one of the casinos. And, get this, he was cut up and his head stuffed inside a garbage bag along with butchered deer remains. Imagine that, eh?” Dingman said.
“H-o-l-y shit,” Porter said, digesting the news. “What about Katie? We can’t leave her here.”
“No worry. We are going to join her and Sulkin on a Med-Evac helicopter tomorrow morning. The National Disease Control Center has made a request to round up all patients showing signs of infection from eating deer meat and move them to the Michigan Disease Control Center in Detroit.”
“Are we at risk of catching something from Katie?” Porter said, moving away from her bed.
“Not likely. The doctor said it is passed through contact with bodily fluids in combination with ingesting tainted deer meat containing Ergotamine.”
“That’s the substance Sulkin described.”
“There is more. Apparently this infection tends to isolate itself into the frontal lobe of the brain triggering hallucinations caused by an increased Serotonin level and leads to enhanced extracorporeal recognition.”
“Enhanced extracorporeal recognition?” Jeb asked. He stepped closer to Katie, patted her resting hand with the finger bandage, and backed away again.
“It is also described as a heightened sense of metaphysical awareness. Way beyond my knowledge, but I am willing to look and learn,” Dingman said, straightening his tie, and jacket sleeves. “Let us get a place to stay the night, and bug out on the helicopter in the morning. Pillbock is going to send a couple of flunkies here to pick up my car.”
Chapter 35
Dr. Grace hung up his office phone, sat quietly for a minute, then walked determinedly toward the waiting room. Jack Hermanski sat by Sissy Montagno, holding her right hand as Dillon Lacarter paced in a circle, deep in thought.
“I have the results of your wife’s blood test,” Dr. Grace said, getting Hermanski’s attention.
“What about George? Is he going to be okay?” Sissy Montagno asked.
“Please come to my office. I’ll give you a complete briefing.”
Lacarter stepped forward to join the group.
“Are you immediate family?”
“No, I’m a close friend.”
“Sorry, I can only discuss this with immediate family,” the doctor said. He looked closer at Lacarter’s eyes. “Hmm, slightly bloodshot. Did you have anything to do with the deer meat Mandi Hermanski ate?”
“Yes, I helped carry it out of the woods, and later, into Jack’s house. Jack, George and I cut it up. Why?”
“I’ll need you to take a special blood test. See the nurse. She’ll set you up.”
“What about me? I handled the deer too, and Mandi, of course,” Hermanski said.
“Your eyes look okay, but see the nurse after we talk.”
L
acarter hesitantly walked toward the nurses’ station while Hermanski and Sissy Montagno followed Dr. Grace into his office.
~ ~ ~
“Well, folks, I wouldn’t normally talk to two unrelated family members at the same time, but since the results and symptoms are the same for your spouses, this seems to make sense.”
“He’s not okay...is he,” Sissy Montagno said, braced for the worst. Hermanski continued holding her hand.
“Your husband should survive this, but we need to get both of your spouses to the Michigan Disease Control Center in Detroit as quickly as possible. The blood tests have confirmed they both were exposed to a rare Hantavirus combined with Ergotamine poisoning, which affected an area of the brain normally inactive. Thus, the hallucinations and abnormal behavior.”
“I ate the deer meat too and had strange dreams at night, but haven’t had them since,” Sissy stated.
“You too? We need to get you over there as well. Hmm, your one eye is slightly inflamed.” The doctor showed a sudden intense interest.
“Will Mandi get over this? Will there be any permanent damage?” Hermanski asked, now agitated. Sissy Montagno flinched.
“Keep calm. We need this virus to run its course. We also want to avoid public panic. There is little chance of spreading this, but we need to be safe.”
“Could...could she...die?”
“We are doing everything possible. You’ll have to trust us,” the doctor said.
“What about the two hunters from Port Huron. They originally killed the deer. Both were exposed, especially Lopez.”
“They’ve been contacted and will join us in Detroit.”
Chapter 36
Lopez sat quietly on his favorite green couch next to the TV. His wife supplied him with blankets, a pillow, and a can of peanuts.
It’s good to be home, he thought, surveying four walls of aging flowered wallpaper. He bought the small house in Port Huron by the water, thinking he would fix it up, sell it for an exorbitant price and move to Ann Arbor to be closer to the University of Michigan. He had one month left of his two-year sabbatical, but he felt unaccomplished and uninspired—until recently. The deer-hunting incident changed his perspective. He felt smarter now while browsing through an aging scientific journal written by Albert Einstein.
He shouted, “I finally get it!” Why didn’t I see this before?”
Lucinda Lopez entered the living room, speaking in broken English.
“What is ‘get it’?” she asked. “You feel okay?”
“Can you see who’s there?” Harry Lopez said, reacting to a loud tapping on the front door.
“We are here to take you downtown for observation. Please sign here,” the ambulance driver said, handing Harry an official-looking paper and a pen.
“Huh? What? I feel fine.”
“Sorry, it’s a formality. The Michigan Disease Control Center will pay all your expenses. They need to do some more tests as a follow up to your hospital stay.”
“Can she go with us?” Lopez said, pointing to his wife.
“Yes, I have another warrant for her—Lucinda is it?”
Lucinda nodded.
“This is the first time I’ve ever heard of anyone being arrested to go to a hospital.”
“You’re not being arrested, sir,” a Michigan State Police trooper, accompanying the ambulance driver said. “It’s just a legal formality so we can transfer you to the Michigan Disease Control Center in Detroit for observation and medication. You do want to get well, right, sir?”
“I thought I was well, but if it will keep me from losing my amazing brain farts, I’m all for it.”
Harry Lopez followed his wife into their bedroom to pack a suitcase, as the two exchanged words in Spanish. Lucinda’s concern and temper were flaring. It would be a long day.
~ ~ ~
“I’m not the only one involved; I had a hunting partner, and there are others who actually cut up the deer,” Lopez explained to the trooper as they prepared to leave the house.
“They’ve all been contacted and will join you at the Control Center. You won’t be alone.”
Lucinda cranked out several Spanish expletives without thinking. The thought of spending more time with John Greppleton irritated her. He monopolized Harry’s time, distracting him from household chores.
“Ma’am? I grew up in a mixed neighborhood. Careful what you say,” the trooper responded.
Harry repeated the trooper’s statements. Lucinda raised her hands to cover embarrassment. “Excuse please.”
“Can I take this with me?” Harry said, holding up the old journal. “It’s got the secrets of the universe in it. I can use it to protect us at the hospital. We could lose gravity at any moment.” He pushed his thick glasses up against his temple, squinted and smiled.
“Sure, if it will save the world,” the trooper said. Dr. Grace had warned him Lopez might hallucinate and act generally disruptive or childlike.
~ ~ ~
The ambulance bounced repeatedly as the driver quickly maneuvered through rush-hour traffic. The trooper watched Harry, sitting next to his wife in a jump seat.
“Here we go. We’re losing gravity. Hold on,” Harry said, grabbing a metal floor-to-ceiling pole by the seat.
Lucinda added a few Spanish words.
“I’m not loco,” Harry responded. “We are losing gravity. I can feel it. See, right here. It’s all explained.” He opened and read from the journal, “An object traveling at a speed relative to another object traveling at...”
Lucinda rolled her eyes. The trooper winked and smiled.
Chapter 37
Mort Sulkin, strapped to a gurney with its wheels clamped to the steel frame, giggled from the vibration of the helicopter as it descended to the top of the Michigan Disease Control Center building near the Detroit River. The sleek, all-glass building reflected green light from the deep-tinted windows of the Detroit Times building next to it. Both were new and part of the Detroit Downtown Improvement Authority’s plan to revitalize the city and attract government and private business away from other large cities such as Lansing and Grand Rapids. City workers worried the Disease Control Center would expose residents to potential lethal diseases such as Bird Flu through contact with its occupants. The Center took special precautions to screen and detoxify all personnel, visitors and patients leaving the building. All patient caregivers wore a special paper badge, which when scanned, would reveal exposure to microspores and viral fragments.
Porter sat next to Dingman, both strapped into small jump seats toward the front of the craft, facing Sulkin’s gurney. Kottle lay strapped in another locked-down gurney nearby.
“Nine-thirty exactly,” Porter said, yawning and tapping his watch.
“I know what you’re up to. You want my secrets don’t you? Well, you can’t have them, and they won’t get them either,” Sulkin said, holding up his right arm and extending a middle finger.”
“He is a bit of a melon head, eh?” Dingman whispered.
“I hear you,” Porter replied. “I’ve never seen a similar rash before, have you?” His eyes focused on Sulkin’s red face.
Dingman shook his head. “I would say more like a chemical burn.”
“My name is Rachel; can you come out and play with me? My name is Rachel,” Kottle repeated, staring forward, sounding like a character in a toy commercial. She coughed into her right hand clearing obvious phlegm from her throat.
“Shit, she’s getting worse. I’m getting worried now,” Porter said.
“Suggest you do not touch her,” Dingman said, observing her wiping the hand on her blouse.
“Ooh, not attractive.” Porter looked away, grimacing. “What do you think they’ll do about the deer herd up north? Whatever this is could spread quickly.”
“I suspect the DNR has already set up roadblocks to look for tainted carcasses while trying not to disrupt hunter tourism. This could cost the economy millions.”
“One thing for sure, it’s going
to be a Pulitzer-sized story.”
“Only if we can get to the bottom of this before the TV stations do. They will be all over this as soon as we land. Their vans are always parked and waiting by the curb out front of the building. When they see a helicopter, they go nuts—could be the next pandemic of this century. Remember when those two Mad Cow patients arrived from Windsor last year? Holy cats, they had us believing a world-wide plague was imminent.”
“Channel One took so much shit for exaggerated reporting, I think they’ve learned their lesson. At least the Times took a softer, more scientific approach to the story.”
“We shall see,” Dingman said. Porter nodded.
Chapter 38
“Everyone, may I have your attention; thank you for waiting. We should be ready in a few minutes. It is important we secure our patients for observation before proceeding. I request the news media to consider friends and family of the control group when asking questions. Dr. Grace will brief you first, and then you may ask questions. If Dr. Grace thinks the question needs a personal response after the meeting, or no response, he will so indicate,” a male nurse said, standing behind a brushed-steel podium stacked with several sets of microphones. Two TV reporters stood behind portable-camera operators directing their shots.
“Have you ever seen a stainless-steel meeting room before? Look at the overhead sprinklers next to the sealed lights and the circular drain caps on the floor. This place can be flushed down within seconds,” Dingman said. He stood near the rear of the 50-by-50-foot room alongside Porter observing as people marched in and sat on stainless-steel bench seats.
“Intriguing engraved sign on the podium: ‘Please suspend your beliefs to explore the impossible.’ Do you think it means I should suspend my belief that the impossible can be explored, or my belief that exploring the impossible is possible?” Porter asked, as he wrote the statement in his notebook.
“It is a circular statement. You have to have beliefs to explore the impossible, but you may have to suspend those beliefs to accept the results.”
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