Stillness

by Eldon Farrell

  “You’re not going to believe this but rumor is that Matthew Brown is in Des Moines Memorial right now.”

  Jacob sits forward inciting a cracking in his tired wooden chair. “How solid is that?”

  “Solid enough but I’m working on verifying it of course. Think about it boss, Tyler Perry, Zack Palmer, now Matthew Brown. Seems to me like something’s going on and I swear I can already see the headlines.”

  Pointing to the copy on his desk Jacob says, “This needs to be shored up some before I can run it.”

  “What?!” Flabbergasted George rises from his desk asking, “Are you serious? The people have a right to know what’s going on.”

  Staring his ace reporter down Jacob responds, “This is a newspaper George, not a tabloid. You have no real facts in this piece and until you get them, it doesn’t run.”

  “What are you talking about? I tracked down the boy’s symptoms didn’t I?” Stabbing his finger down on the copy George fumes “You’ve got to run this.”

  “I won’t be responsible for inciting an irrational panic George. Do the legwork if you want this piece to run. End of discussion.”

  “What about Matthew Brown? Something is going on out there Jacob and I don’t understand why you won’t see that!”

  “Could simply be coincidence,” Jacob dismisses the notion.

  “Since when did you start believing in coincidence boss?”

  Jacob’s gaze slips down from George’s irate face for a split second to look at the phone sitting benignly on the corner of his desk.

  Looking back up at him, the question remains unanswered.

  Des Moines, Iowa

  Dr. Kendrick to the ICU. Dr. Kendrick to the ICU.

  A code blue is called in the intensive care unit of Des Moines Memorial as a patient’s vitals crash. In the waiting area Tom and Martha pace nervously worrying that the siren is for Matthew.

  Dr. Kendrick races past them on his way through the frosted doors. He has no time to assuage their fears. As the minutes tick by painfully slow a nurse answers the sound of a distant ringing phone.

  It takes a few moments for Tom to realize that the nurse is telling him that the call is for him. Picking it up he hears the hysterical voice of Mindy Palmer. Her words are startling. Tom drops the receiver and bolts through the frosted doors.

  Despair chasing hope.

  Chapter 16

  Moving quickly around the spartan room, Vladimir Tesla packs up his meager belongings. He’s frightened.

  His heart is beating so hard against his chest that it feels like it will jump right out of him. He can feel the cold grip of fear seeping through him—turning his blood to ice water—chilling him to the marrow.

  There’s no doubt now…they’re after me.

  He’s been panic stricken since this afternoon when he saw him pull up to the manager’s office. Through a narrow slit in the blinds covering his window he watched him enter the office to no doubt interrogate the front desk clerk.

  Thank God I gave the clerk that extra three hundred dollars to keep my presence here a secret. It’s no doubt the only reason I’m still free.

  But I can’t take the chance of him coming back when another clerk is on duty. I have to get out of here. That was too close.

  But where to go?

  He’s spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening hours debating just that question. He dares not return to his apartment now that he knows for sure he’s a wanted man.

  Unfortunately though, his options are limited somewhat by his lack of liquidity. He’s watched enough movies to know that when the bad guys are hunting you the last thing you want to do is use a credit card or withdraw money from your bank account.

  This means that wherever he goes he has to do so on the remaining $540 that he has in cash.

  Finished packing he moves over to the window and looks out at the empty parking lot. The horizon is turning a deep purple color as the sun has set for another day.

  The time to go is now.

  He’s waited anxiously for the last hours of daylight to pass so that he could move with the cover of darkness. It was a calculated risk on his part. While he was waiting for the darkness to come, he might have returned and captured him.

  But, if he went out in daylight he would certainly be conspicuous to anyone who might be looking.

  Grabbing his belongings, certain that he made the right choice, Vladimir dashes out into the unforgiving night setting out for points unknown.

  Somewhere deep inside him though he knows that wherever he goes they’ll find him—there is no place he can run to that will be safe.

  It is the penance he must pay for sins committed and sins yet to be committed.

  Stillness, Iowa

  This night in Stillness the only happening place is The Still.

  Outside it’s a clear, cool fall evening with the stars shining through a thin covering of cloud. In the faltering light The Still almost looks like more than just a dump in the middle of cornfields.

  Inside the place is rocking, as Dick Nixons are thirty minutes into their set. Scott Lee is howling out the words of another punk anthem as his band does their best to match his energy. The room is entranced by his stage presence.

  Seated up front in the middle of the room Jaime Lincoln watches her boyfriend tear up this small town with his up-tempo punk rock.

  As Scott comes to the big finish for another song and the room explodes with cheers, he informs the crowd that the band will be taking a ten-minute break. Jaime smiles at Dominique and Gaetano beside her at the table, and when the ringing in her ears stops she says, “They’re really on tonight.”

  “No doubt about that,” Gaetano comments “The road trip must have helped them hone their skills.”

  “Well since the band is on a break how about we visit the little girl’s room?”

  Jaime nods at Dominique’s suggestion and the two of them leave Gaetano to sip at his beer.

  Making his way over to the table, Scott is greeted by several high fives and congratulations as he wipes sweat away from his brow. Tossing the towel on the table he hangs his tongue out saying, “Whew! The place is rocking tonight!”

  “All you guys man,” Gaetano raises his beer to his friend who gladly joins him in a drink.

  Lowering his drink, Guy appraises his best friend. Today was the day and Guy is dying to know how it went. Taking advantage of the girl’s absence he comes straight to it. “So, how did it go?”

  Downing another gulp of beer Scott asks, “How did what go?”

  “Don’t give me that man; you know what I’m talking about. You were going to go see Sullivan today. So?”

  Pinching his nose briefly, Scott looks down morosely saying “I didn’t go. I-I…I don’t know, you know?”

  Guy shakes his head and looks incongruously at him. “Don’t let it bother you man. You don’t owe him anything.”

  With a shrug of his shoulder Scott answers, “He was our friend growing up.”

  “He was our friend,” Guy points out, “We haven’t heard from him for years. He obviously forgot us and I suggest that you do the same with him.”

  “That’s not fair Guy. It couldn’t have been easy for Sully after his parents…”

  “Look,” Guy puts his hand on Scott’s shoulder saying, “In times of tragedy you turn to the people you love for comfort. You don’t push them away. We obviously weren’t as close as we thought. End of story.”

  Unconvincingly Scott replies “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right,” Guy adds, “Besides he’s not the same person we knew. Sully would never desecrate his parents’ grave.”

  Watching Jaime and Dom return from the bathroom Scott mumbles “You’re right…he wouldn’t.”

  The room seems to shimmer around her—a cascade of deceivingly beautiful colors.

  Agnes Warner is dying.

  It’s come upon her with such swiftness.

  Yesterday she was in good health and to
day she woke up with a fever that has progressively gotten worse. All day she told herself that it was just a bug that must be going around. She told herself that she would be okay right up until the time when she lost the ability to think clearly.

  She’s in the grips of the fever now—wild with delusions. She hasn’t much time remaining.

  Steadying herself, as best she can, she tries to walk to the bathroom between violent coughing fits. As she walks the pain begins to fade. She feels as if she has left her body behind as she tumbles hard to the floor of her bedroom.

  A crack that is heard is no doubt her hip breaking yet she is surprisingly painless. She’s gone beyond pain now as the fever has shut down her body’s vital organs. In a matter of moments Agnes Warner will be no more.

  At the moment of death across town Dick Nixons are playing their last song of the night, a downbeat number about death and the man.

  Agnes Warner will be found in the morning on the floor of her bedroom dead from a mysterious ailment that caused her lungs to fill with so much fluid that she drowned while trying to breath.

  The town will mourn the loss of one of its most beloved citizens and will start to fear for their own lives. Sickness and death in a small town will lead to a single chilling question whispered on the lips of its citizens.

  What is killing people in Stillness?

  Chapter 17

  October 15

  The dawn breaks gray and rainy. Distant thunderheads roll and threaten more rain to come. Stillness is quiet this morning but it won’t last.

  Soon people will stir to life and learn that the night took more victims. The news will spread like wildfire throughout the town engulfing all it touches. It will cast a pall on an already somber occasion.

  Standing in the mid-morning rain dressed in a low-key black suit, Donald Lincoln watches the Palmers grieve. The funeral service was understandably difficult for them. Possessively he places a hand on his son’s shoulder.

  His only son Cody looks tiny in a too big for him black suit that used to be his father’s. It’s unusual for Donald to see him dressed up with his hair neat and tidy. Normally Cody’s mop of brown hair dangles in a mess of curls over his forehead, obscuring his green flecked eyes from the world.

  He’s at that age now; Donald knows that he’ll start to pull further away from the security of his father’s watchful gaze. He is after all, in high school now.

  But still, on this day, Donald can’t bring himself to let go of his son’s small rounded shoulder.

  Across the freshly dug grave from him Marcos Anjou is reciting a passage from the bible—ashes to ashes and dust to dust and all that. The words are merely background noise for Donald whose attention is elsewhere.

  The church was crowded for the service and most of the people who attended the service seem to have migrated out to the cemetery for a final goodbye.

  Many have already expressed their concern to him this morning. They’re scared. He saw it in how they walked past the tiny casket. Most were too afraid to even look straight at it. So afraid were they that the loss would attach itself to their own lives.

  Looking around the rainy cemetery he recognizes the somber expressions of Walt Anjou, Robert and Judy Oliver, Dr. Henry Abbot and Betty Arnold. Even stooped behind the grieving and tortured shapes of Mindy Palmer and her husband, he recognizes Dr. Alex Hoag.

  It’s not often these days that Hoag ventures out for any reason. It serves only to further drive home the severity of the situation.

  As Reverend Anjou finishes up with his last blessing, a wail pierces the air around them. The sharp keening sound comes from somewhere deep inside Mindy Palmer as she collapses against her husband.

  A child’s funeral…shivering from the rain he tells himself, Donald tightens his grip on his son.

  As the crowd begins to part, Cody squirms out of his dad’s grip departing with Angela to the silver Buick—to get out of the driving rain.

  Donald notices Alex Banister and Danny Gordon talking and starts over towards them when he’s stopped in his tracks.

  The look he sees in Mindy Palmer’s eyes is not sorrow as Henry Abbot approaches her. A murderous rage burns away all her tears and as he offers condolences she strikes.

  The sound of her slapping him echoes around the grounds and draws the attention of everyone close. “You promised…you promised…YOU PROMISED!!”

  She rains blows down on a startled Henry until her husband and Marcos intervene and pull her off of him. Her banshee wailing both frightens and saddens Donald who prays he’ll never have to know what it feels like to lose a child.

  Watching Henry slip away, Donald feels sorry for the doctor. It obviously isn’t his fault that Zack is dead, but sometimes a grieving parent needs an outlet for their rage. Sometimes you just need someone to blame.

  Looking back for Alex and Danny, he sees that they’ve gone. Sourly, Donald leaves the gravesite headed for his car. Passing through the wrought iron gate of the cemetery he shivers again.

  This time he knows it’s because this won’t be the last time he sets foot on these grounds…and it scares him.

  Henry Abbot collapses in his chair and buries his face in his palms. Tears rim his eyelids not for the first time in the past few hours and he brusquely wipes them away.

  On his desk sits an unopened bottle of scotch. He bought it early Sunday morning after Zack Palmer died. Had to go all the way into Des Moines to find an all-night liquor store but went anyway.

  It was meant to drown his sorrows but he never even opened it. No matter how much he wanted to.

  All yesterday he sat in his office just looking at it wanting so badly to numb the hurt in his heart over what he couldn’t do. My failure to save a child. I said that he’d be okay.

  Reaching for the bottle he stops himself. He knows that he has to stay alert with everything that’s going on. He was right here when the call came in from the nursing home yesterday that Agnes Warner had died.

  Two dead patients and Henry can almost feel something coming.

  Something bad.

  He went over to the home to make it official and recognized immediately that chances were good that Agnes died from the same cause as Zack. Two people at different ends of the age spectrum dead of the same disease. The possibility has stayed his hand from the bottle.

  And so he sits alone wracked by both guilt and lingering questions. What am I dealing with? What could kill a healthy boy and an aging woman with equal swiftness? And how did they both become infected? That is if it is even the same disease.

  He hears the front door open and close and quickly moves to stash the unopened bottle in his desk. He closes the top drawer just as Betty Arnold appears in his doorway.

  “Betty.”

  “Jeez boss,” Betty steps into the room “You look like hell.”

  “If you don’t mind Betty I’d like to be left alone.”

  “I understand,” Betty says and then takes a seat across from him.

  “Betty.”

  “Look doc just ‘cause I understand doesn’t mean I agree or that I’m going to listen. Look at me,” Betty holds his gaze and continues “I know what you want to do. You want to sit here all alone in your darkened room and beat yourself up for what happened to the Palmer kid.

  “Well I’m not going to let you do that to yourself. You did everything you could’ve done to help him. Sometimes we lose them no matter what we do. That’s medicine they can’t teach you in a textbook. Experience teaches it to you and in time you’ll accept it.

  “Believe me when I tell you that you will accept the fact that even if you had run that one test or admitted the boy to hospital he’d still be dead this morning. In time you will know that’s true.”

  Henry closes his eyes and feels a stray tear running down his cheek. With a deep breath he says, “You don’t know that Betty. I should’ve taken his symptoms more seriously but I didn’t because his mother is such a worrier.”

  “The word,” Betty int
errupts “Is hypochondriac.”

  “Maybe so but I should’ve been more vigilant.”

  “And what?” Betty asks sharply “And Zack would miraculously be alive right now. Do you really believe that doctor? You saw how fast he went—what more could you have done?

  “Just because Mindy Palmer wants to blame you for her son’s death doesn’t mean it’s true. What she did this morning was uncalled for Henry and most people around town know that.”

  “Betty,” Henry starts “I know you’re only trying to cheer me up but I just need to wallow on this for awhile, okay?”

  “No it’s not okay. I got news for you ace; I don’t really care about cheering you up. I care about the fact that people are dying and this town needs your skills now more than ever. You don’t have the luxury of wallowing.”

  Sometimes Betty Arnold can be a real pain. Henry knows most of those times are when she’s right and he doesn’t want to admit it. He hates that.

  “You’re right Betty.”

  “Of course I am.”

  They share a half-hearted smile as Henry wipes the tears from his face. “I have to pull myself together if I’m going to be of any help to anyone.”

  “You will be ace.”

  Henry shakes his head morosely as Betty stands up and pats him on the shoulder. “You’ll help people through this. I know you will.”

  Chapter 18

  Tim Smith trips and stumbles along the Amtrak main line that runs through town. Every other footstep catches on the boards that make up the track. He’s sweating profusely but can’t seem to get warm.

  Tripping again he wipes the sweat from his brow and tightens his grip on the jacket he’s wearing. He knows something is wrong with him. And it’s not just the fever that’s raging in him, but his coordination is shot too.

  He’s been like this since he woke up yesterday morning—getting out of the house past his father this afternoon was quite a challenge. But the last thing he wants is for his dad to find out about this. He’s thought about it and is convinced that whatever is wrong with him it can be traced back to the weed he smoked on Friday.