Stillness

by Eldon Farrell

  “So why smash the rest of them if he’s out cold anyway?”

  Backlit by a lamp, Hyman’s white hair seems to glow as he stares at Clark. “Who says his attacker didn’t wait for him to wake up before smashing the rest of them?”

  Christ. Stepping closer to the body Clark catches a whiff of a rank odor which causes him to quickly turn his head. “What is that?” he asks covering his nose and mouth.

  “Fecal matter and stomach acids—admittedly not very pleasant.”

  “He shit himself too?” Clark asks as if this is the worst indignity yet.

  “Postmortem.” Seeing Clark’s eyes widen Hyman asks, “You’ve not spent much time in the company of the deceased have you Deputy?”

  He explains, “When the body dies muscles in the stomach and bowels release and well…you get the picture. The stomach acids leaked out when the attacker cut into his abdomen to get at his intestines, which as I’m sure you’ve noticed have spilled out around his feet.”

  Pointing at specific lengths of the fleshy loops he adds, “You can see here and here among other spots that the intestine has been slit, which released the acids.”

  “Was he alive for that too?”

  If it’s possible Hyman’s usual grave expression darkens even further. “For some of it,” he admits. “But look here,” he points at a spot in the gaping cavity of Donald’s abdomen just to the left of his fourth lumbar vertebra.

  “The attacker nicked the common iliac artery here which accounts for the massive blood loss we see on the floor. From that point on, the end would’ve come blessedly quick.”

  Motioning towards Donald’s scarred and disfigured face Clark asks, “What about his eyes?”

  Rising up Hyman gives him a somber nod before turning his attention to the vacant eye sockets. “A bit of good news—nicks on the orbital bone and lack of bleeding around the incised flesh put removal of the eyes at postmortem.

  “Preliminary findings indicate that a corkscrew was used to gouge out the eyes.” Holding up his index finger to Clark he adds “But this is where it gets weird.”

  This is where is gets weird? When was it not weird?

  Pointing to the sideboard along the left wall of the room Hyman says, “Notice the Elmo doll holding the bottle of brandy.”

  Welcoming any reason to look away from the gruesome sight of Donald’s remains; Clark focuses in on the red plush Tickle-me-Elmo doll. It’s shiny plastic eyes and wildly happy grin mark the doll as being absurdly incongruous to its present surroundings.

  “That is an odd thing for the mayor to have in here,” Clark admits.

  “His daughter says that it doesn’t belong to the family. The killer apparently left it behind—a prop if you will.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let me show you.” Tilting Donald’s head back slightly he parts his cut and torn lips to show Clark the inside of his mouth.

  “We found one eye placed in his mouth while the other one was found floating in the brandy bottle that Elmo’s holding.”

  That did it.

  Seeing the lifeless eye floating in the dark brandy with its optic nerve trailing in the liquid behind it like the wild hair of Medusa sends Clark running from the room.

  Out in the hall he vomits what’s left of his dinner all over the floor no longer caring what Hyman will think. Bent over and wracked by spasms, his stomach has nothing left to expel.

  Omigod…Omigod…what kind of a monster could do this to someone? His thoughts drift to Alex who as he stands here, is laid up in the hospital with injuries suffered in a fight. Could he have done this?

  Even with knowledge of the torrid affair Alex had with Donald’s wife…even knowing that Donald might’ve been responsible for Victoria’s accident…even knowing that Angela was beaten to death…Clark can’t fathom that Alex could’ve done this.

  It’s not possible…he just doesn’t have it in him.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Hyman calls from within that room of horrors “Whoever did do this, I hope I never come face-to-face with them.”

  Looking at him from his prone position in the hallway, Clark sees him shudder involuntarily as he says this. Knowing that it is now his responsibility to come face-to-face with this killer causes Clark to shudder as well.

  “What’s this all about?”

  Seated on a plush flower print sofa, Lynne offers her hostess an addled expression. Looking at Caleb beside her she sees an equally confused expression on his face.

  He may have been with her in the car when she spoke to Wendy, but she’s not sure how much of the conversation he actually picked up on.

  Looking away from him she replays the conversation in her mind.

  “Wendy, it’s me.”

  “Lynne,” her voice is frantic over the line “Where have you been? Larry is going ballistic here. Josh says he hasn’t been able to find you for days. And it’s not just the Warden; Womack is riding Roger pretty hard. What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been with the FBI.”

  “Well unless you’ve been under arrest; you’re going to have to do better than that. Lynne, Roger is really feeling the heat for you disappearing like that.”

  “Well I’m sorry about that Wendy,” Lynne replies “But I’ve got more important things going on right now. I need your help.”

  “Why do I think this is going to get me in trouble?” Despite herself Lynne smiles, drawing a curious look from Caleb in the driver’s seat. “What do you need?”

  “Do you still have those samples I sent you?”

  “Of course, are you going to tell me where they came from now?”

  Taking a deep breath Lynne says, “I need you to destroy them.” Her words echo over the line as Wendy remains silent on the other end. “Wendy? Are you still there?”

  Finally, Wendy retorts “Are you still there? Lynne I love you and all but I can’t do that. Those samples could save a lot of people.”

  “They won’t save anyone Wendy, but they will condemn one boy to death if you don’t destroy them.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  As the car comes to a stop at their destination Lynne says, “Stay by your phone Wendy, I’m going to call you right back.”

  The creaking of the floor beneath Beatrice Rohm’s rocking chair brings Lynne’s attention back to the present and the task at hand.

  Off to her right she sees Derek restlessly shifting in an austere recliner. Both mother and son are looking imploringly at her for answers.

  She has no notion of where to begin saying what she has to say though, let alone how to say it without it becoming too confusing.

  Derek nervously ventures a question. “Is this about my samples?”

  “It is,” Lynne begins “If it’s all right I’d like to involve a colleague from the CDC in this conversation.”

  “Is…is Derek okay?” Beatrice asks with obvious worry straining her voice.

  “He’s fine,” Lynne nods as she takes out her cell phone and calls Wendy. Putting her on speaker she says, “Wendy you’re on with Caleb Fine of the FBI and a local family whose son is the source of the sample.”

  “Lynne,” Wendy whispers hesitantly before being cut off by Beatrice.

  “Dr. Bosworth what is wrong with my son?”

  Looking at the woman, Lynne’s gaze slides away towards Derek perched nervously on the edge of his seat. With a deep breath she gathers her thoughts and begins.

  “Nothing is wrong with him. The samples I took confirmed what he said; your son has immunity to the current infection.”

  “Then you can use me to help save people.”

  She gives Derek a warm smile before continuing, “I’m afraid we can’t. Let me explain. Immunity to disease can take several forms. The most commonly understood form of course stems from our immune system and its production of antibodies.

  “You gain antibodies by first becoming infected with a disease and then defeating it. In the case of measles for example, those
antibodies last your entire life. That’s why you can only catch it once.

  “Then in the case of influenza virus, which is constantly mutating, any immunity you develop is not likely to be effective for more than one season. Either way, most people recognize this type of developed immunity. It is however not the only kind of immunity.

  “Strange as it may sound, infection by certain types of bacteria can provide a very effective immunity as well. This is why lactobacillus is added to dairy products such as yogurt.

  “The lactobacillus is helpful to us by destroying any potentially toxic bacteria in our stomachs—giving us an immunity of sorts.

  “But immunity can also have a genetic disposition. The particular genetic variation that causes the deformation of red blood cells present in sickle cell anemia, also limits the survival of the malaria parasite.

  “What this means is that people with one copy of the variant gene who make some normal red blood cells and some sickled cells have a much greater chance of surviving infection with malaria.

  “And malaria is not alone in this regard. It can be said that the Tay-Sachs gene might have persisted in the Jewish community for similar reasons. Those who carried the gene displayed a resistance to tuberculosis, which was rampant in Eastern European Jewish ghettos.

  “Cystic Fibrosis most likely survived over the years in the gene line because it provided a protection to cholera in another time and place. People, who carry two copies of a gene designated delta32, are almost completely immune to infection from HIV. The genetic record is rife with examples of such immunity.”

  “Our tests on his blood only revealed immunity Lynne,” Wendy remarks “I think you’d be jumping to conclusions if you’re suggesting that his immunity is genetic.”

  “I was just coming to the reasons for my intuitive leap.”

  Shaking her head Beatrice asks in a tentative voice “Are you saying that Derek got his immunity from…from me? Am I immune as well?”

  “No,” Lynne answers “You’re not immune Beatrice and to answer your next question he didn’t inherit this gene from his father either. It may hurt you to hear this, but there are things about Arthur Wellesley that you need to know.”

  Close at her elbow Caleb whispers a warning “Lynne.”

  Looking at him she replies “They deserve the truth Caleb. We owe them that much.”

  With a slight nod of his head Caleb defers to her opinion, sitting back to listen to her explain.

  “Arthur didn’t work as a geneticist for an agricultural concern. That was just a cover for his actual job working for a project codenamed Chimera under the auspices of the United States Army.

  “Your husband was involved in researching a cure for a biological weapon called Yersinia isidis. The very same thing your son is immune to.”

  A shocked gasp escapes Beatrice before she covers her mouth, yet otherwise she remains silent as Lynne continues.

  “I know that you think Arthur ran away and left you behind before Derek was born but he didn’t.”

  “How can you know that?” Beatrice demands.

  “The FBI currently has in custody the man who ordered his death. Arthur was exposed to a lethal quantity of Y. Isidis because he refused to share what he found with his employers.

  “He had destroyed almost all of what he discovered before they could get their hands on it. What he didn’t destroy he hid in the one place he knew they would never find it.”

  She looks over at Derek and quietly says, “Beatrice, your friend told me that you had an amniocentesis before giving birth to Derek.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You never had an amnio,” Lynne replies looking right in her bright green eyes. “I know this because you’re awake for an amniocentesis. What you had—what Arthur did to you—was a procedure known as In Utero Somatic Gene Transfer.

  “What Arthur discovered wasn’t a cure or a vaccine to Y. Isidis; it was a gene that conferred immunity against the engineered bacterium. A gene he implanted in your unborn fetus. In Derek.”

  “Even if this Wellesley was a geneticist,” Wendy states “It doesn’t mean he could do what you’re suggesting he did. Where’s the proof Lynne?”

  “In cop talk,” Lynne smiles knowingly at Caleb “Arthur had both the motive and opportunity. He wanted to keep his discovery from Chimera and his ruse of an amniocentesis was the perfect opportunity to do so. The scientific proof is merely a process of elimination.

  “Derek is immune to a disease that doesn’t occur in nature. Therefore he couldn’t have survived a prior infection to acquire this immunity. Since it doesn’t occur in nature, it also eliminates the possibility that another bacterium has provided him with immunity.

  “But it’s the presence of a synthetic gene in the genome of Y. Isidis that cinches it. The very same gene was found in Derek’s DNA.”

  “I don’t understand,” Beatrice asks, “What does that mean? How does he have a synthetic gene?”

  “I’ll try to keep this as simple as I can.” Lynne gathers her thoughts before beginning. “What I said earlier about certain genes conferring immunity to certain diseases—Arthur found a gene that protects those who have it against infection from plague bacteria.

  “When he put you under he inserted this gene into your fetus, but it wasn’t the only gene he inserted. Because Y. Isidis is different than regular plague, he needed to go further.

  “The course of infection from Y. Isidis is two-fold. The plague bacteria first attack the lungs causing a severe pneumonia. If the person is treated with antibiotics, or if their immune system defeats the bacteria, a secondary infection takes hold.

  “The Lambda bacteriophage is a virus that has infected the plague bacteria. Its genome was stripped out and replaced with harmless genes.

  “But because the genes are foreign, the immune system starts to attack them. The synthetic gene revs up this response, causing an autoimmune reaction. For the most part, this is what has been killing so many people in this outbreak.

  “But when it comes to Derek, Arthur protected him from both fronts. The gene he gave him prevents the plague bacteria from growing inside him, while the synthetic gene that he shares with Y. Isidis prevents an autoimmune reaction.”

  “How can it do that?”

  Looking at Derek, Lynne says, “You want to field this one Wendy?” She’s testing her to see if she’s followed the logic of what has been revealed.

  “The synthetic gene,” Wendy exclaims “That’s brilliant. Since Derek possesses the gene, his immune system wouldn’t identify the bacteriophage as a foreign organism. It wouldn’t attack it.”

  “So then why can’t you use me to help other people?” Derek asks, “Why can’t you use my gene?”

  “Because Derek,” Lynne answers “What your father did was extremely dangerous. Gene therapy of this magnitude had never been attempted when Arthur put your mother under. Even today, the risks of a full grown adult rejecting the therapy are very high.

  “Either Arthur was incredibly advanced in his knowledge of genetics, or the synthetic gene itself helped to prevent you from rejecting the genes as foreign. At this point it’s impossible to tell which. It would be extremely unethical to attempt to duplicate this type of gene therapy.

  “But that doesn’t mean some people wouldn’t try it if they knew about it.” Looking at Derek and his mother Lynne says, “Your husband, your father, was a great man. The letter you read in the paper was a fabrication; Arthur was already dead.”

  Beatrice begins to cry as years of anger and regret and self-loathing melt away with the understanding of what she’s hearing. Derek rises to comfort her as they listen to the rest of what Lynne has to tell them.

  “You should be proud of what he did. When it counted Arthur did the right thing and it cost him his life. His sacrifice should not be in vain.

  “You need to keep quiet about what I’ve said here today. If certain people find out about Derek his life will be in danger and that’s not wha
t Arthur would’ve wanted.”

  “We won’t tell anyone,” Derek and Beatrice promise.

  “Then that just leaves you Wendy,” Lynne asks “Will you destroy his samples?”

  A sigh is heard over the line. Lynne knows that sigh well, having heard it many times before when Wendy has had to make a difficult decision. “What samples?” she concedes.

  “Thanks Wendy; I owe you big,” Lynne says before disconnecting the call.

  After some tearful gratitude and warm goodbyes are shared, Lynne finds herself standing outside with Caleb beside her.

  Putting an arm around her shoulders he asks, “So how about I take you out sometime? You know, a nice evening together without any death or intrigue.”

  “Well what would we do without that?” she jokes as Caleb walks her towards his car with his arm still around her.

  “Oh I don’t know,” he says as he leans in to kiss her, “I’d think of something.”

  Epilogue

  Two Months Later

  Atlanta, Georgia

  “You can go in now Dr. Bosworth.”

  Looking over at the raven haired receptionist, Lynne gives her a polite nod before rising from her seat. She’s wearing tan slacks with a white cotton blouse under a dark blazer.

  Her auburn hair, normally tied back in a ponytail, hangs loose around her shoulders swaying as she walks towards the inner office.

  Reaching out for the doorknob, she pauses and takes a cleansing breath. Behind this door her fate awaits her in the form of a panel of her peers.

  For the past two months information has been gathered on the Stillness outbreak, and the CDC’s handling of it.

  Or more specifically, her handling of it.

  Now all the reports have been filed and she’s been called to account for her actions—good or bad. Time to face the music. Turning the knob she enters the conference room feeling like the condemned before they face the firing squad.

  Inside she sees only one person seated behind the long table. Taking a double take she asks, “Roger? Where is everyone else?”