Double Dose, page 7
“Timothy Blaine?” Daley said, feeling a rush of excitement. “That’s our guy!”
(“I’m ready for your ‘Thank-you’ anytime you’re ready to express it.”)
“Hush, I want to hear this.”
After a brief, somewhat awkward pause during which the live reporter stared mutely from the screen, the picture scrambled for an instant and then a woman reporter was standing by the hospital entrance speaking to a woman Daley recognized and Mrs. Blaine. Her eyes were wet and red and she’d obviously been crying. The sky was still light so this had to be sometime yesterday.
REPORTER: —so as we understand it, your husband was struck down by the horrors on Saturday afternoon, is that correct?
MRS. BLAINE (nodding): Yes. We were visiting Nespodee Springs when all of a sudden Tim collapsed in the middle of the street and started screaming. (dabs at her eyes with a tissue) It was awful!
REPORTER: He was rushed here, correct?
MRS. BLAINE: Yes. Nespodee Springs doesn’t have its own first aid squad so we had to wait for an ambulance from El Centro, but we finally got him here.
REPORTER: Where the doctors confirmed that he had the horrors, correct?
MRS. BLAINE (sobs and dabs at eyes): Yes! I thought I’d lost him! No one has ever come back from the horrors.
REPORTER: But we understand your husband did.
MRS. BLAINE: Yes! It’s a miracle!
REPORTER: Tell us about it.
MRS. BLAINE: Well, I came here as soon as visiting hours started, just like I’ve done since he was admitted. You know, just to be with him and hold his hand and talk to him. I don’t know if he could hear me but I just wanted him to know I was there for him and he wasn’t alone. (sobs)
REPORTER: Take your time, Mrs. Blaine.
MRS. BLAINE: Well, after a couple of hours I needed a bathroom break and went down for a cup of coffee. When I got back…(sobs)
REPORTER: When you got back…?
MRS. BLAINE: When I got back he was sitting up in bed looking lost. When he saw me he said, “Where am I? How’d I get here?” It’s a miracle! A miracle!
REPORTER: Do you have any idea what brought him out of it?
MRS. BLAINE: None at all. And neither does Tim. He vaguely remembers having what he calls “the worst nightmares ever” and being frightened out of his mind, but he didn’t realize he’d had the horrors until I told him.
REPORTER: Did he receive any different treatment?
MRS. BLAINE (shrugs): The doctors say they were giving him the same sedation as everybody else.
REPORTER: Did you give him anything? An old family remedy or the like?
MRS. BLAINE: Absolutely not. Anyway, he wasn’t swallowing anything. Everything went through his IV.
REPORTER: Do his doctors have any explanation for it?
MRS. BLAINE: They’re baffled because, like I said, he had the same treatment as the others. They won’t say it’s a miracle, but that’s what it is. Oh, look, I’ve got to get back to him. He wants to go home and he can’t leave yet.
REPORTER: Yes, of course. Thank you so much, Mrs. Blaine. (turns to camera) And there you have it. Timothy Blaine is the first confirmed case of the horrors to recover. We’ve tried to get opinions from the medical staff but so far they’re not commenting.
As the image returned to the original reporter, Daley hit the MUTE button.
“It worked! Whatever you did, he’s back to normal.”
A white lab coat suddenly replaced Pard’s flannel shirt and he was back to Dr. Pard from yesterday, with the addition of a pair of tortoise-shell eyeglasses.
(“But can I do it again? My hypothesis needs more experimental data before I can call it a theory. I must return to the field.”)
“Let’s wait and see what the real doctors say.”
(“Agreed, but eventually I do want to go back and investigate some other patients.”)
Daley wasn’t crazy about that.
“Well…”
(“I’m sensing some hesitance. Perhaps maybe even a little anxiety?”)
“Maybe more than a little. I don’t want to get caught sneaking around the hospital. I especially don’t want to be presented to the world as the cure for the horrors.”
(“But I thought this was what Healerina was all about—starting on the road to becoming a recognized healer.”)
“Yeah, well, sometimes the thing you want most in life can look totally wonderful in the abstract but change to something totally terrifying when it becomes a real possibility that you’re going to be forced to deal with on a day-to-day basis.”
(“I seem to remember it was just a few weeks ago when you said, ‘I see us on network TV with worldwide syndication.’ Remember?”)
“That was before I had a small mob outside my door that made me a prisoner in my own apartment.” She held up her golden-skinned left hand. “I lost a hand because of that mob. I’d have been maimed for life if you hadn’t been able to grow me a new one. All because of just two healings in that little medical arts building. Think of the mob outside Healerina if I’m revealed as the only person who can conquer the horrors.”
She shuddered at the thought.
(“We had this discussion yesterday. We don’t need to rehash it now. I’ll just sum up my position by quoting Winston Churchill: Where there is great power there is great responsibility.”)
“I thought that was from Spider-Man.”
His expression turned annoyed. (“Must you? Must you?”)
“No, seriously. I really did. But anyway, I get it. I get it. You need to find out if you can do it again.”
(“Reproducibility is key to establishing a theory.”)
“Please don’t get all sciencey on me. It’s too early in the morning and I haven’t had my coffee yet. We’ll go back, but not today, okay? We need to let things settle down over there before we stir them up again.”
(“I agree.”)
“But I’m going to need a new look. I don’t think the lady with the big hat and sunglasses should show up again.”
(“You have another look in mind?”)
“I do. I just need to find a place to sell it to me.”
19
Rhys ambled into Elis’s office and dropped into a chair. Elis swiveled his own chair to face him. His son looked wound up, distracted. Something was on his mind. Elis had a pretty good idea what.
He’d lied to Rhys about being at Kendrick’s place Sunday night. A transparent lie, considering the accurate description from Kendrick’s neighbor. But he had no plausible excuse. What could he say? I was wondering why he hadn’t killed your girlfriend like I hired him to do?
So things had devolved into a situation of, I lied; you know that I lied; I know that you know that I lied, and let’s just leave it at that.
“What’s up?” Elis said.
“Kendrick didn’t show up again today. I think we’re going to need another foreman.”
Elis knew that was a waste of time. When the Visitors returned at the equinox—just ten days away now—everything would change and the clan would no longer need the solar array running at peak efficiency. But maybe searching for a replacement would distract Rhys.
“Do you have any prospects in mind?”
Rhys shook his head. “Not particularly. Benny Mendoza’s gone missing for two days as well.”
“And who, might I ask, is Benny Mendoza?”
“Just a solar laborer I did some checking. He and Kendrick used to hang out at the Thirsty Cactus. Benny’s car is still at his place. I’m wondering if the two of them drove off in Kendrick’s truck Saturday night and something happened to them.”
When Kendrick had agreed to make the Duad disappear, he’d said he needed to get someone else involved.
…I might need a little help…This gal won’t go quiet. Might involve some getting rough…
Elis hadn’t wanted to know the details, but now he wondered if that someone else had been this Benny Mendoza. If so, that cast doubt on Elis’s theory that Kendrick had run off with the money, which had already been doubtful, considering the uncashed paycheck he’d left behind.
But if he did take Benny along to dispose of the Duad, that meant two men had gone after her and now both were missing.
Who was this woman?
He forced a smile. “You seem to like playing detective. When do you don the deerstalker hat?”
“The what?”
“Sherlock Holmes wore one.”
“Not funny, Dad. This is all a major annoyance. By the way, what did the star-scan analysis say today?”
“To keep divesting.”
“Are we on schedule?”
“Absolutely. We will be completely liquid by the end of the week.”
“That’s a lot of cash.”
“Yes. A lot. We’ll start buying gold and silver next Monday.”
Rhys blinked as if unsure he’d heard correctly. “You mean mining stocks?”
“No. Gold and silver—hard assets.”
A baffled look. “Why?”
The honest answer was I don’t know.
The Void Scrolls, the source of all Elis’s knowledge about the Visitors, explained that when gravitational and celestial forces were in the proper alignment, a path could be opened through the Void to allow the Visitors to return. Those who opened the path—in this case, the Pendry clan—would be rewarded. Those forces would be properly aligned in ten days. All this was made perfectly clear in the Scrolls. What was not clear was how much of an effect the Visitors would have on life as humanity presently knew it.
Elis believed the effect would be profound. And now the stars were telling him to flee equities. That told Elis that the Visitors would actually come through this time. Their arrival would panic the markets, causing a catastrophic meltdown. Normally, cash was the place to be during a meltdown.
But…
But what if the societal effect was so catastrophic that governments collapsed? Currencies were the products of governments. Without a government to back it, a currency stops being a medium of exchange and is reduced to slips of paper adorned with the images of dead politicians, handy in the outhouse but of little value anywhere else.
Ah, but gold has always been a medium of exchange. Silver too. So, just to be safe, just to make sure the Pendry clan occupied the catbird seat, Elis was going to move the cash into those two precious metals.
But how could he tell Rhys that? How could he say, even though he didn’t know for sure, even though he had no proof, that he feared currency might become worthless? The poor boy would think his father had gone totally mad. So that engendered another lie.
“Why? Because the stars tell me to, and they’ve yet to steer me wrong.”
Rhys stared at him a moment, then shrugged. “I can’t argue with that.”
No, he couldn’t. The fund’s track record was impeccable.
“Is there anything else?”
“Garth says someone is still trying to crack our firewall. Says they’re very determined, but it’s holding up.”
“Can’t he find out who it is?”
“He’s trying but they’re going through anonymizers.”
“Why us? We’re hiding nothing of value on the server.”
“Could be a hedge fund or the like looking to steal the secrets of your success.”
“Won’t do them much good. That’s all in the Scrolls, which are heavily encrypted. And no one outside the clan knows we even have the Scrolls.”
Rhys looked like he wanted to say something else—was dying to say something else—but was holding back.
“That’s all?” Elis said.
He rose. “That’s it.”
“No new message at the end of the scan analysis?”
He shook his head. “Still ‘The Duad must cease.’” He waved and headed for the door. “Later.”
The Duad must cease…
The words had an imperative cast, but really…cease what? Living? Elis had sent Kendrick to accomplish just that, yet she persisted. Maybe it meant cease nosing around. The message had appeared after she’d seen the film—or at least Elis assumed she’d seen it. All evidence pointed to Cadoc betraying the entire clan by bringing her into the Lodge and showing it to her. But where was the threat there? Even if she believed the film’s scenario had a possibility of becoming reality, she’d yet to speak of it to anyone. Hadn’t gone running to the media—hadn’t even told Rhys about it, from what Elis could gather. She acted as if she’d never seen it.
What was her game? Did she know the Visitors would be returning with the equinox? If so, she didn’t learn it from Rhys. Elis had been feeding him and everyone else—including the Elders—disinformation about the date, telling them the proper alignments would coincide with the solstice. He would spring it on them at the last moment.
“Oh, did you hear?” Rhys said, ducking his head back through the door. “One of the horrors victims has come out of it. First one ever—right down there in El Centro.”
“Glad to hear it,” Elis said. “Does that mean they have a cure?”
“Nah. They’re as clueless as ever.” And then he was gone again.
The horrors…Elis couldn’t help but think the mysterious malady was somehow connected to the impending return of the Visitors. But how? Were the Visitors, for some arcane purpose, reaching across the Void and through the Veil to beam these horrors into their minds? Or were the victims somehow sensitive to what was coming?
Elis much preferred the former explanation to the latter.
20
Karma jumped at the rap on his pickup’s passenger window. He levered up from where he’d been lying on the front seat and looked around. The skinny Willie Nelson wannabe from yesterday stood outside the door.
What was this fucking weasel-faced rat bastard thinking, sneaking up on him like that? This’d be the first and last time he’d ever do that because Karma Kendrick was gonna tear him a brand new—
Wait-wait-wait. That was the old Karma. He was going to bury the old Karma and become someone else, someone the goddess might allow back in her presence. And that meant shedding the old name…scraping it off like an old snakeskin. He was “Jeffrey” now.
“Rise ‘n’ shine, big guy,” the old coot said. “Hey, didn’t you have a beard yesterday?”
“What’s it to ya?”
“Don’t make no nevermind to me.” He held up a travel mug. “Made a pot of coffee. Want some?”
Well, that put a different face on it, now, didn’t it. See? Already the new him was getting rewards.
He slid out from behind the wheel and came around the front of the truck.
“You oughta be more careful comin’ up on people like that.”
“Well,” the coot said as he handed him the cup, “with the sun up and all, I figured you’d be awake. That’s high octane, by the way.”
“Can’t make it too strong for me.” He took a sip. Damn, that was real strong. “You the Slab City coffee man or something?”
“Just being neighborly. You picked a slab right next to mine.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the small camper trailer behind him. It sported a couple of solar panels on its roof; a hibachi and some aluminum porch chairs sat out front. “We’re neighbors.”
After leaving the Niland Inn yesterday, Jeffrey had driven around Slab City until he found this empty slab and parked on it. He’d been wiped out so he’d stretched out on the front seat and conked out. Wasn’t the first time he’d spent a night in his truck, and it sure as hell didn’t look like it would be the last. The old Karma would have loved to have snuck back to his double-wide, but wouldn’t have dared. The goddess would be watching…he just knew she’d be watching. Jeffrey, on the other hand, knew he belonged out here.
“I’m solar powered,” the coot was saying. “Got more than I need, so if you ever want to charge your phone or anything, feel free to come over and plug in.”
Jeffrey was trying to figure this guy’s angle. What did he get out of it? Maybe he was just one of those do-gooders. A peace, love, and share-the-world geek. Whatever, his coffee was good.
“Don’t get too used to me.”
“Why? Figuring on movin’ on?”
“Ain’t decided yet.”
“Ain’t a bad place,” he said, looking around. “Allows me to stretch my Social Security check like nowheres else. And there’s something to be said for livin’ in the desert…a kind of spiritual cleansing takes place once you get away from the noise of other people. All the prophets of old used to go to the desert to find clarity and purification.”
…spiritual cleansing…purification…
Just what he’d come for.
The coot stuck out his hand. “I’m Jimmy Fries, by the way. You?”
He almost said Karma.
“Jeffrey…I go by Jeffrey.”
Cleansing…Jeffrey thought as they shook hands. The purification begins.
21
The press conference at ECRMC was delayed and didn’t get rolling until nine twenty. All the local stations broke into their regular programming to carry it, with Fox News and CNN on board as well. Daley settled herself front and center before her TV screen when the medical center’s chief of medicine, Dr. Milton, read a statement, then started taking questions.
All the blather boiled down to We’re as baffled as you are. Dr. Milton categorized Timothy Blaine’s recovery as “spontaneous remission.” When asked to elaborate on that, Daley found his explanation intriguing:
“As we immerse ourselves in the mechanisms of disease and the interventions we can use to combat it, we tend to forget that the human body has a tremendous capacity to heal itself.”
“Well, if that doesn’t sound like a plug for Healerina, I don’t know what does.”
(“But we both well know that Timothy Blaine did not heal himself.”)
“Of course, but that’s the exact line I’ve been peddling downstairs. You’re providing the actual cure while I’m deflecting credit by giving them palm stones and pushing them to think their body is healing itself.”
