No Inner Limit

by David Kersey

CHAPTER SIX – Connecting dots

  “Don’t be flitting out of here Van, we’ve got some serious talking to do.”

  “Good. And I’ve got some serious questions, like what is this really all about, and why in the hell am I here?”

  “Sit down, man, you make me nervous.” He did as instructed.

  “First, Jack and I more or less own this place. We have a ninety-nine year lease with the National Park Service. All three hundred acres, and we give Joshua a thousand bucks a month to run it. It isn’t much, but he makes do. Someday Jack and I will retire down here, maybe ten years from now. We’ve got a spot located up on top that’s five hundred feet above the river. Tremendous southwestern views and a great place for a mountain cabin. I hope to show it to you tomorrow.

  Second, I overheard Joshua tell you I have cancer. Look, I have had it and still do, but the tumors are shrinking, and it’s all because of Joshua’s invention. So you see, I have a vested interest in what is happening here. There’s additional reasons too.

  Third, Joshua goes by the last name of Meadors. Jack won’t quite give in on my plea to adopt him legally. I suppose he thinks there might be a mess with the estate situation in case the cancer beats me. But we had to make him somebody on paper, or else he couldn’t get a job, or a phone, or a driver’s license, or whatever. So Meadors is a bogus name for now. He really didn’t have a last name before we had fake papers made for him. He didn’t finish his story, but if he did he would mention that we were able to get him accepted at the Purdue College of Agriculture under a little known entitlement to Native Americans. He graduated with honors majoring in Crop Sciences.

  Fourth, although he is extremely intelligent he has always bucked the idea of making millions of dollars from this. His heart yearns for the little guy, the homeless, the crippled, the castaways, of which he and his former Apache family are but a small sample. Deep inside he is bitter about how society turns a blind eye to those who hurt and desperately need a helping hand. Remember him telling about the visions, the mosaic of strangers’ faces, mouthing unheard words to him? He now believes he was and is destined to not only hear them but also do something about their plights. He is distressed that one-sixth of all Americans are living below the poverty level. His heart aches for the children who have little to nothing to eat, and he is horrified by the spike in violence among America’s youths.

  Fifth, he is careful. He realizes that if he can successfully pull this off, there will be, not could be, will be serious consequences, perhaps even life threatening. For that reason he is keeping a tight lid on his discoveries. To the best of our knowledge not one of the locals know that the potion is created right here on this remote mountain. Autry has been the sole delivery system and he is the only one, we hope, that knows what happens here. Jamison, pharmaceutical espionage is rampant and serious business. For that matter so is the mighty government capable of playing a dangerous game. It may come about that certain entities would kill for the formula. Not that someone like a Pfizer would want to use it, they’d be more interested in shelving it so that their drug sales wouldn’t take a hit. I don’t think you’ll think we’re crazy for being suspicious when I tell you what else is going on.

  Sixth, as you know my assignment for the Searchers of Truth is robotics and star wars, which program encompasses more than just space warfare. I’ve uncovered that the US military is currently on the cutting edge of introducing a drug that would completely desensitize our soldiers. The result would be soldiers having no remorse in seeing an enemy or a comrade die. He could mistakenly shoot and kill innocent civilians in the cause of war and not have it haunt him the rest of his life. The Pentagon is fully funding the research and development of the drug. It’s called Operation Impervious and it has the ear of Washington big time because billions of dollars could be saved in servicing post-traumatic stress disorders. The detractors are saying that ‘Ok, what happens when the retired soldier kills his wife and kids without remorse, or what happens when the drug gets out on the black market?’ The last thing the military would want to see foul their plans is a supplement that would create a counterproductive threat. They want this super soldier badly. Joshua’s product elicits peace, sanity, and tremendous healing properties. See the friction there?”

  “I still don’t see how I’m in the picture, but I am following you so far and you’ve answered some of my concerns.”

  “Just wait, I’m getting there. Seventh, the chaperone accompanying Namanda is Tracy Lockard Dobblelaere, a SOT member assigned to global health issues. Tracy teaches French and English at the University of Delhi, India. She will tell us tomorrow that the new strain of bird flu has claimed the lives of hundreds of Chinese, but the Red Army government doesn’t seem to be concerned. To them, what are hundreds in relationship to its one billion inhabitants? But it’s spreading fast. India is infected. She will tell us more tomorrow, but if we don’t get a handle on this potential pandemic quickly we’re all in trouble. And now for how you fit in.

  Number eight, that’s you bud. I don’t believe for a second that the report laying on Joshua’s lounging table is accurate. There is so much misinformation out there about the Japanese reactor damage that it is critical for us to know for sure whether the limpet is usable or not. I read the damn report. It’s obvious to me the crack heads that filled it out didn’t do any lab work at all, they simply called somebody in California and had a report faxed to them. How do we know it’s true? Nobody really seems to know. Van, it’s the blood of the Keyhole Limpet that is capable of closing the receptors on a cancer cell. You close down enough of those gateways, the growth accelerator can be retarded sufficiently to allow the immune system to win the battle. We’ve seen it at work in me and others we haven’t told you about. We think it would also be effective in fighting flu viruses, but we need the damn snail in our pocket. Do you know, or can you find out the truth? It’s extremely important.”

  “Ok, Adele, thank you for all that, but I have an extremely urgent issue. Where is the bathroom?”

  “Ladies first.”

  Van stepped outside to relieve himself and was in the middle of that production when he noticed the black bear twenty feet in front of him. He slowly back tracked while still letting it flow; but when the bear took a step toward him, he squeezed the plumbing off and quickly sought the safety of the door.

  “Hey, numb nuts, your fly is open. I’m married, you know.”

  “Oh, uh, I’m sorry, I was distracted. Now let me ask a few questions; but is there something to eat in here?”

  “Let’s take a look. But go wash your hands first.”

  “What did you find?” He asked with clean hands.

  “Look at this, would you?” Adele held the fridge door open while Van peeked inside. Row upon row of Ball jars, each numerically coded with grease pen. He grabbed one and read the labelling. T41, E13, P57. “What in the world?”

  “I’d say T stands for trial, E for entry maybe. I don’t know, we’ll have to ask him, but I’d bet it has to do with how he has made many trials using different combinations and weights of the raw materials. There’s a whole head of lettuce here. You want half? And he’s got some ranch dressing here in the door, but it’s marked with pen. Let’s see, it says SPIKED. I suppose that means he’s mixed in the product with it. So, a salad with dressing, that ok?”

  “Let’s go for it. Is there salt?”

  “Here, up in the cabinet. A salt shaker and it’s labeled too. SALT, then underneath was written P-mix. Must be some pepper mixed in.”

  Van dabbed some of the salt on his wetted finger and then tasted it. “Uh, Adele, I think I know what the P stands for.”

  “What?”

  “I’m guessing its Peyote. Want some?”

  Adele placed two separate plates on the counter, each with half of the lettuce head covered in the racy ranch dressing. “This one is mine, let me have that shaker.” To put it mildly she was generous with the salt. Van was dainty, just one shake. They sat crossed
legged on the floor, facing each other and used the coffee table, which was actually a knotty pine trunk, to eat the not so glamorous snack.

  “What’s bizarre to me is that you’ve mentioned, let’s see, Japan, China, India, pandemic, super soldiers, big pharmaceuticals, and then you don’t flinch an eye when suggesting that global issues somehow have a nucleus in this tiny secluded forest. Doesn’t that strike you as being rather bathed in grandiose thinking?”

  “Do you remember who Eddie Rickenbacker was?”

  “Of course, I’ve read one of his books. He was a WW1 flying ace who later owned and operated the Indianapolis Motor Speedway and headed up Eastern Airlines. Quite the hero, he was.”

  “Do you know about the time he and some crewmen had to ditch their B17 in the Pacific?”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Something went awry with the archaic navigation system, so they were way off course to refuel the plane. They had to ditch in the ocean when it ran out of gas. Eddie and the men set themselves adrift in a survival raft. After two weeks of the men being missing the search for them nearly was abandoned, but Eddie’s wife prevailed and persuaded them to search for one more week. The drifters ran out of food in three days after ditching. They were starving and one of them died of starvation and was buried at sea. Of course, the men had little else to do but pray. Then one blistering day a sea gull landed on top of Rickenbacker’s head. Somehow he was able to catch it. The survivors ate a little bit of the bird but used the bulk of it as bait. And the fish they caught kept them alive until finally they were spotted by a rescue plane after they had spent twenty-four days at sea.”

  “Ok? And?”

  “Van, this tiny secluded forest, as you call it, is the sea gull. Can’t you see it? The answer to prayer, a miracle, a tiny little life form in the midst of the world’s largest tempestuous ocean. And the tiny thing gave life to otherwise surely dead men. Is it grandiose thinking to think that great things start from small beginnings? I don’t think so. I am a believer, and so is Joshua, and we’d like you to come on board with us. Where’s my bottle of Jim Beam?”

  “You see, I hear you say Joshua wants to stay small, help the little guy, do his little thing, but then you blow it up to a Merck-like mega operation. And my coming aboard? What does that mean?”

  Adele started to laugh, holding her curled up fists over her mouth, as if to muffle a girlish giggle. “Excuse me, I just thought that was funny. And why are you being so damned serious? I don’t want you to become a board, I said we’d like you to come on board, silly you, but you do kind of look like a board. Actually, if you remember Mr. Peabody and his buddy Sherman, you remind me of Mr. Peabody.”

  She placed her hand over her mouth, looked down toward her legs in the form of a pretzel, her shoulders bouncing in suppressed laughter, then…….”Bwahahahaha,” in an explosion of youthful mirth. The peyote had gripped her funny bone which of course became a contagion in the room, with two full grown, well-educated academics acting like giddy pre-teenagers. When the raucousness partially subsided, Adele made an attempt to return to the real world, asking, “Van, I bet you wore bell bottoms at one time, didn’t you?”

  “Ha, I had bells and a psychedelic shirt with balloon sleeves, suede boots, and hair to my shoulder. All of us kids in my sixth grade class wore the latest imitations of the Mod Squad, remember that? Damn we thought we were hip.”

  Adele giggled, “I remember Linc and Pete, what was Peggy Lipton’s character name?”

  “Julie, I think. My mom and dad watched that show like it was a religion. They were hippie, flower power love children. We even had a VW mini bus for a while. Then came Star Wars and the shift to sci-fi buried the old polyester way and ushered in the new electronic world. Wow, things change don’t they?”

  “So you’re in your mid-fifties, huh? Same as me and I watched Mod Squad too, along with a ton of others, like I Spy. I still love Bill Cosby. And yes, things change, most of the time little insignificant moves from one idea to another, but sometimes there is a defining change, one that carves out a path. Do you ever think about how things could have been different had you not taken a certain pathway?”

  “Of course. But, in retrospect, I’m satisfied with how it’s turned out for me. I have never married, but was very close at one time. Had that happened, who knows what different road I would have travelled? How about you, are you happy with how things worked out for you?”

  “That I am. But I have cabin fever, you know, the midlife craving for something new. I am so into this, Jamison, and so is Jack. We’ve got a fairly large investment of time and money at risk here, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, what Joshua has going on here is the most exciting thing I’ve ever been involved with. I’d rather follow my own dreams instead of sweating under someone who is following theirs. And forget the Merck-like thing you mentioned, Van. I didn’t mean to convey that our ambitions were that large. We just want to make a difference and go slowly about it.”

  “I know you’re enthused and I’m excited for you. Forgive me for not catching the vision, at least not yet.”

  “Maybe tomorrow you will get a clearer idea. And now I really am sleepy, Mr. Peabody, but thanks for the laugh. We both needed it I’m sure. If there is one thing I can professionally advise you, Dr. Vance, take some time off from your too serious outlook. Take time to laugh and enjoy the little things.”

  Adele clumsily uncurled and rose to her feet. Van jumped at the chance to fly onto the couch behind her. She was right, he was too serious. After years of hearing the despair of hundreds of subjects he had forgotten how to laugh. He knew laughter was a salve for the soul, had counselled his subjects as such, yet found no mirth in himself. And that was a tragedy. Perhaps if he had cancer in his body he would see things differently like Adele’s obvious perception of living life to the fullest.

  + + + + +

  Jackie Bingham rested her elbows on the desk, both hands cupping her forehead as she read the release from the World Health Organization. Worldwide: 288. China: 197. India: 28. Japan: 2. Europe: 8. Asia: 4. Indonesia: 4. Africa: incomplete. Australia/New Zealand: 0. Scandinavia: 0. Canada: 8. USA: 9. Central America: 1. South America: 8. All the deaths attributable to the H7N9 Avian Flu Virus, most all of them from ARDS (acute respiratory distress syndrome). Clearly the epimediology would indicate the source would be found in China, but where, how, and what to do about it? Her concerns as the assistant director of infectious diseases at the Center for Disease Control were the nine deaths in the United States. She would respond in two ways: implement a standardized report that would require clinicians suspecting the virus to report to their state health departments for verifiable confirmation, and second, obtain the passenger list of flight 272 Air China that landed in Houston, Texas. The latter would be a mess to handle considering the field work to chase down the passengers, but she would take no chances. It had to be done.