by Bill Russo
"I want to learn what you know about Sam White."
"Why do you think I know anything about him?"
"You are in trouble Doc. It looks like you had Sam jailed here. Bars on the windows. Sam's clothes are over there in his suitcase. Your only chance is to come clean with me. What happened to Sam White, that turned him as verdant as grass?"
O'Kelly drew up stiffly and tossed his pistol on the cot.
"I wasn't going to shoot you. I would not kill you, or any other man. Even to save everything that I have worked for."
"Look Doc. I will help you. I will do anything that I can for you,"
the Chief assured him. "If it is necessary to suppress............ "
"No more of that. No more hiding. Please sit down. I'll tell you all
about it."
"Everything would have been okay, Chief. I expected to get Sam back here and fix the problem without anyone knowing who the Green Man really was.
I was trying to help Sam and also to help the people of the world. I really was Chief."
"I was carrying the gun because I thought I would find him
here. I hoped that I would, but I was not sure in what condition I would find him, or how violent he still might be. That's why I entered quietly and discovered you. I had my gun in case Sam was still out of control. He went crazy. Not that I can blame him."
"Tell me about it, I'll do all I can to help you."
"It would take hours for me explain the scientific features of the
case. I will tell you the facts, however, and later give you all of the
details."
"Okay Doc. Let's have it."
"It is by no means a new thing Chief, for human beings to make
alterations in their personal appearance. Changes which they regard as improvements upon nature, or which fashion arbitrarily dictates. It began in the Garden of Eden and has been continued in every country and by every race up to the present day. Beauty is really a matter of taste and custom. Small feet is a requisite in China. The Fiji Islanders dye their hair various bright colors. Stained teeth and nails, painted bodies and - You know all that as well as I."
"Certainly, go on."
"It's common enough right here at home, Women paint, pencil their eyebrows and stain their lips. Specialists study the problem of removing wrinkles and the telltale traces of old age. One's complexion is often one's chief concern. Look at me. I have an Irish name and genes, and yet I am very dark and swarthy. That is one reason, perhaps, why I have made a special study of the skin and sought ways and means to modify the pigment causing a person's color and complexion."
"The color of the skin has always held .an important place
among physical criteria of the human race," the Doctor continued. "Physiology explains color as a consequence of climate and even diet.
This pigment, or coloring matter under the epidermis, or rather under the
second skin, is not exclusive to the African race, but is common to all human beings. It is simply more abundant in certain people."
"I understand," said Bates.
"Here's the point. I have been trying for a long time to find some way to reach and modify this coloring pigment so as to permanently alter a person's
complexion. I thought I had succeeded, both by means of an ingredient taken
internally, and by the injection of a chemical composition into the skin. I
have invented a machine with which the injection may be accomplished, somewhat as tattoo work is done."
"When I developed my ultra sonic machine for the dissolution of blood clots, there was universal acceptance and acclaim. But in matters of skin coloring, there is much more emotion, not to mention prejudices. But having faith in this process, I was very anxious to get a willing subject for the
experiment. I realized that my reputation would be placed in jeopardy, but I
felt so sure I was right that I decided to risk it. It so happened, however, that
the subject came to me voluntarily."
"How did that occur?"
"It appeared that Sam White heard me discussing the possibility of altering
one's color with a friend one day. Well, he came to me a little later and wanted to know if I could reduce his color, as he put it. I asked him why and he said that in the African American community there are some prejudices against darker complected people. Sam's skin is literally almost black and some African Americans with lighter skins look down on people with more pigment. You see Chief, there's prejudice in all people. You know Sam and Liz Black are in love and Sam wants to get married. Sam wanted to be lighter, because when Eliza is angry at him she sometimes teases him about his color and Sam was worried that deep down she resented his being so black."
"Poor Sam," said the Chief. "I have always found that love is blind to everything - including color."
"Sam was carrying a lifetime of hurts inside. He wasn't trying to become a 'white guy'. He simply wanted to be a few shades lighter. Is this so sinful? We don't hold it against people when they spend eight hours on West Dennis Beach trying to get a couple shades darker! Why should the reverse be wrong?"
"Calm down Doc," the Chief said. "I got no problem with your motives. I just want to get Sam back to normal!"
"Right Chief. Thanks. Well, I told Sam I thought it could be done. I also was perfectly frank with him. I told him he would be taking a chance, that it was only an experiment - but he begged me for the operation."
"Well, to make a long story short, I consented to attempt it,"
said the physician. "I bound Sam to absolute secrecy." He paused, then shrugged his broad shoulders remorsefully. "Well, I performed the operation. To my horror, I found that the process not only had turned him green, but that the ingredients injected into his blood had also affected his brain.
Sam went violently insane for a time. I drugged him heavily to prevent his escape and kept him in the laboratory for two weeks, hoping his abnormal condition would in time be dispelled. It had begun to do so, I think, when he escaped. That was just before he terrified the Venner girls one evening. I
was after him when I joined you at that time."
"Since then I have been trying to get him back here. I will be ruined professionally and criminally liable unless he can be found and cured. I feel reasonably sure that he is gradually returning to a normal condition. I base that belief upon the latest descriptions of those who have seen him and say that his color is becoming darker and taking on a mottled appearance. If he could be found and brought here where I could give him proper treatment, I feel sure I can restore him to his normal condition. "
"Stop! Quiet! Don't make a sound."
"What do you hear?" Doctor O'Barry whispered.
"Wait. Not a sound. Don't move."
The Chief arose and tiptoed toward the open front door. His trained ears detected a sound like stealthy footsteps in back of the building.
The physician waited, with ears strained and eyes aglow, his nerves quivering
with suspense under a sudden unexpected hope that Chief Rick Bates had inspired. Then he heard voices from in back of the building, shouting
sternly :
"Hold on Sam! Don't run away. I am here to help you. And the Doc is going to fix you up. I promise Sam."
A moment later Chief Bates came back inside, accompanied by Sam White.
It later appeared that the Doctor was right Sam White had begun to
throw off his abnormal condition, and he had just begun to realize his own
identity and that something was wrong with him, and he was returning to the
physician for aid and advice.
Sam White received a generous amount of both. He came out of the experiment in fine shape and back to his original color - which he found a lot more satisfying than Green! He and Liz were married and had an elegant wedding in the Carroll mansion.
The details of the case were never made p
ublic, much to Doctor O'Barry's relief.
Liz and Sam had a happy marriage and produced four children, all of whom excelled in college and became well to do, established professionals
The End.
The preceding story is a derivitave work written by John Charles Weeks for Chief Rick Bates and based on a theme by Scott Campbell.
The Next Story
"Okay Mr. Weeks. That's the end of my story for this week," said old Chief Bates with a wry smile.
"Yes Chief. And now, tell me a case that I can rewrite and make truly interesting. If I get to write it the way I want to; we will probably end up with a best seller."
"Ah my Watson. I have no doubt. And when I get back, we will have at it."
"What do you mean 'get back'?"
"It is late October, Mr. Weeks. I leave tomorrow for Key West. Don't fret. I will be back in May and then you will get your story. Have a nice winter!"
Weeks wonders, 'What to do?'
The following morning the Chief was at Boston's South Station to take the Acela Express to New York City where he would hook up with his beloved 'Silver Meteor' train to Miami. Then for five months, he'd be sitting on a bar stool at Sloppy Joe's in Key West.
That was it. He left that quickly, leaving me on Cape Cod twiddling my thumbs while he was 'snowbirding'.
I didn't know what to do. I could wait until his return in the Spring.
Or, I could pop in on the old guy in Florida and drag the stories from him over glasses of Slippery Nipples at Sloppy Joe's.
TO BE CONTINUED, maybe.
THE END (for now)
Bill Russo, retired on Cape Cod, was educated in Boston at the Huntington School and at Grahm College in Kenmore Square. He was editor of several newspapers in Massachusetts as well as a former disc jockey, news writer/presenter, and broadcaster for various outlets in New England.
His sighting of a swamp creature just before the turn of the century, led to appearances in the Bridgewater Triangle Documentary Film, America's Bermuda Triangle, and on Destination America's Monsters and Mysteries series.
In addition to his radio and newspaper work, he held management positions in logistics and warehousing as well as a stint as an ironworker and President of Boston Local 501 of the Shopmen's Ironworkers Union.
Contact Bill at [email protected] All e-mails are personally answered
Bill's Blog is called Adventures in Type and Space: https://billrrrrr.blogspot.com/
He also shares news and videos on his Youtube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/user/billrrrrr