Dark Day Dreams, page 15
Then they asked him what he remembered about what happened at his house prior to his nephew breaking the glass and attacking him.
He said, “Jordan was demanding to be let in. He was nice at first but it didn’t take long before his demeanor changed. It sounded like he would have done virtually anything to get inside that house. At first he was just acting concerned, saying he needed to tell me about something that had happened to Cheryl. But when he finally came in through the broken sliding glass door, he was yelling something about needing some memories.”
Angie looked at him quizzically. “Do you have any idea what he might have meant by that?”
************
“Sweet” Keith Chambers worked as a DJ at a dance club called Echo, located in Seattle’s Pioneer Square area. He lived in an apartment up on Queen Anne Hill. Around the same time Peter Arliss was talking to the law enforcement folks, Keith got out of bed and poured himself a large glass of orange juice.
He was feeling foggier than normal this morning. He figured it was because he’d done so much Glitch lately and had probably not stayed hydrated enough. He decided it might be a good idea to start keeping a bottle of Gatorade up by his equipment at work.
He also noticed his memory seemed a bit spotty lately. The previous evening, he was starting to tell a cute girl about the time he and his cousin decided to run away to another city when they were in junior high. But then he couldn’t recall the name of the place where they went or even what his cousin’s name was. And the day before that, he was trying to find his car in a parking garage and suddenly couldn’t remember what he drove.
Keith lay down on the couch and turned his television on with the remote. Suddenly he hurt all over and also felt very sad, almost as if every ounce of optimism had been bled out of him. He was generally a pretty happy-go-lucky guy and this sudden dark storm of depression was nothing like he’d ever felt before.
He wondered what the hell was going on with his mind.
************
Keith decided he might feel better if he went out to breakfast. It had always been his favorite meal.
When he got to the diner he ordered coffee, scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese and toast. The hot liquid seemed to go down okay but after a couple of bites he had to give up on the food. The feeling of doom had grown so strong it was actually starting to make him feel nauseous.
He tried to remember the last time he felt this bad. He had a vague memory of having to go to the hospital one time but all the other details eluded him. What had been wrong with him? How old was he when it happened?
And just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, he began to hear a windy noise. He looked around at the other people in the diner…nobody else seemed to be noticing it.
After a few minutes he paid his check and left the diner. He decided to go see his grandmother down in the Georgetown area. She was the person who ended up raising him and they were very close. She was always having him over for home cooked meals and he helped pay some of her bills when possible.
************
Lane and Angie had asked the head of the SPD if they could continue to assist on the case involving Cheryl Arliss and her nephew. They both had a bad feeling that what happened might not turn out to be a one-time only occurrence.
They met with the medical examiner who did Jordan’s autopsy. She said the only thing out of the ordinary she found was a substantial amount of the party drug Glitch in the young man’s bloodstream.
Lane asked if the M.E. had run into any other cases of violence where Glitch was considered a factor. She replied, “No, not really. But it’s a relatively new substance and it’s possible it needs to build up quite a bit in the person’s metabolism before you see real changes in their brain or nervous system.”
Lane’s phone buzzed. He stepped out into the hallway and took the call. Another mutilated body had been found, an elderly black woman located in Georgetown. Her friend had stopped by to pick her up for church and noticed the front door of the condo was open and there was blood on it.
When they got there, Lane warned Angie it might be a pretty bad scene. But she always got aggravated when he gave any hint he thought he might be tougher than her in any way. She waved him off and said, “Don’t worry about me, tough guy.”
She walked into the old woman’s living room, stood there for a few seconds and then ran into the bathroom to vomit.
The victim’s head was still connected to the body but there were deep knife wounds all over it…three with long, bloody drinking straws sticking out of them.
************
It didn’t take long for law enforcement to locate the person who murdered Adele Chambers. He was staggering through a residential neighborhood just six blocks away from his grandmother’s place, her blood splashed all over his face, jacket, pants and shoes.
He was in so much pain and the wind blowing through his mind kept growing louder. It sounded like a song of darkness, a song of terror, a song suited for a place where you know the night never ends. And in addition to being scared he was also drowning in guilt for what he’d done just minutes earlier. He had loved his grandmother so much, she was warmth and light and goodness and truth and he’d murdered her in the most horrible way.
An SPD cruiser drove up and the two cops immediately jumped out and aimed their guns at him. But before they could tell him to put his hands in the air and get on his knees, he collapsed down to the ground. On the drive back to the police station he was barely coherent, quietly murmuring to himself.
He died in a hospital’s intensive care unit just six hours later. Lane asked the presiding doctor what killed the young man and the gray bearded physician said, “I can’t say for sure. But it almost seemed like I was watching a large downtown building during a power blackout.”
Angie said, “What do you mean?”
He held his hands up and replied, “It was almost as if some force was inside him turning out the lights one by one.”
When they were taking the elevator down to leave the hospital, Lane looked at his partner and said, “I’m going to go out on a very strong limb here and predict the autopsy on this one will also indicate heavy Glitch use. I think we need to talk to the folks at whatever pharmaceutical company cooked up the original version of the drug so we can get more info on whatever the hell it is we’re dealing with.”
************
It turned out the medicine known as Remexatrin had been developed jointly by a couple different firms, Health Twenty-One in Silicon Valley and Medvina Inc. in Seattle. Lane and Angie drove downtown to see the latter company’s legal representative, Myron Rigglesby.
Rigglesby was a handsome, dark haired man in his mid-forties. He took them into his private office and said, “I hate how often good, beneficial medicine seems to end up altered and being sold to teenagers who end up taking it to impress their friends. Doesn’t anybody just get drunk on beer anymore?”
Angie laughed and replied, “Yeah, we share your frustration, Mister Rigglesby. Can you give us some background information on what Remexatrin was actually developed to do?”
“Well, as you know, Alzheimer’s and other age related forms of dementia are a big problem in this country and around the world. And these conditions are becoming more and more prevalent because we’re generally living longer than previous generations. Our brains often wear out before our bodies do.”
“The most common cause of Alzheimer’s disease are proteins that build up and form plaque that kills brain cells. I won’t go into all the chemical interactions but Remexatrin and other similar drugs are supposed to prevent the plaque from forming while at the same time leaving the healthy brain cells alone. And I’m pleased to announce we seem to be achieving really good success so far. Our clinical tests are producing results that show patients respond to it well and begin getting relief in a surprisingly short amount of time.”
Lane said, “I take it the amount of the drug given to patients is carefully monitored?”
“Oh, absolutely. It’s a very small dosage.”
“You have any idea what would happen if somebody took a lot of this stuff?”
Rigglesby rubbed his chin. “It’s hard to say exactly because that’s not a scenario we would ever test on human subjects. But we have noticed that when the drug builds up in our test rats too much, they seem to start having problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“They begin acting distressed and frantic. And then they attack each other.”
Angie said, “Do you have any theories on why that might be?”
“Like I said, we can only guess. But one hypothesis is that once Remexatrain builds up to a certain point in the body, some kind of supercharged chemical process starts. The drug begins not only destroying plaque but also the very brain cells it was sent there to save.”
“Any idea why people who overdose on Glitch would start hacking up the brains of the people they care about most?”
Rigglesby thought for a second and then said, “I don’t have any solid scientific thoughts on the subject but I will throw a little wild speculation into the mix. Do you think it’s possible their damaged minds come to the conclusion it’s the one possible way they can replace their own lost memories with those somebody else has of them?”
************
It turned out the man from Medvina had come up with an amazingly spot on theory.
At a certain point, heavy users of Glitch would all go through the hellish experience of feeling their brain cells and memories burn up and fade away.
This wasn’t the slow, drifting storm of lost connections people with regular bouts of dementia get lost in…this was what could only be called existential pain, an emotional force that chews up your hopes and dreams and personality like a Kansas tornado laying waste to a trailer park community.
The situation also showed what happens when we lose brain cells at such an incredible pace. The body shuts down because there’s nobody in charge. No captain, no ship.
Lane called his contact at the DEA and advised him about what seemed to be happening. And also expressed his concerns that this situation was about to get much, much worse if the federal government and the media didn’t get involved soon.
At first it was hard for the authorities to know for sure when a murder was related to Glitch use. But before too long they began to see a clear and consistent set of details showing up nationwide…previously non-violent people between the ages of fifteen and thirty killing family members and other loved ones.
And the murders were uniformly grotesque. Few guns were used but there seemed to be no shortage of incidents involving knives, axes, hammers and screwdrivers. One report from Los Angeles even said a Samurai sword from a priceless private collection had been used to decapitate an elderly gentleman.
It was obvious the main goal in all these situations wasn’t to kill the person. It was to open up their heads and attempt to take something out. It seemed like a completely insane idea until you’d taken a certain amount of Glitch and then it was the most reasonable thing in the world.
Helen Hightower of Austin killed her boyfriend while he was in the shower. She had panicked because she couldn’t remember the first time they met. Or her last name or her parent’s names or what she did for a living.
Lee Chan killed both his mother and father in Oakland and then sat down and wept in their living room because they were dead and he didn’t feel even the least bit better. He called 911 and then cut his wrists, dying from catastrophic blood loss before the authorities arrived.
Elizabeth Sanchez killed her mother in Miami. Dan Thompson murdered his cousin in Toledo. Jacob Preminger tried to kill his father in Oklahoma City but the older man was somehow able to overpower his son and keep him subdued until the police came. Sadly, Jacob died in a jail cell three hours later.
The list of Glitch related murders went on and on and on.
Lane and Angie were amazed how consistent the behavior of these young people seemed to be. It almost seemed like Glitch was more than a drug…it was an evil entity, lying to all its worshippers and forcing them to hurt the people they loved most in the world.
The folks in the FBI, DEA and other agencies knew that no matter how loudly they warned the
public, it would take some time to break through the cynicism that had built up over the decades. Too many years of Just Say No campaigns and the like had cemented the suspicions most people under the age of sixty felt about any kind of drug warning. And of course, people in their late teens and twenties were the group least likely to take advice from the authorities.
***********
The drug became a big story in the media for a while. The government was trying to prevent an epidemic of drug-induced mayhem and civil libertarians were pushing back, claiming the people in charge were overreacting. Concerts were being cancelled and undercover law enforcement agents were posted at dance clubs, watching for any kind of behavior that might indicate somebody was high on Glitch and ready to hurt somebody.
The people who committed murders while on the drug even got a nickname. The public began referring to them as “pumpkin carvers”.
Things came to a head at the Burning Man festival, held in the Nevada desert. It had always
been a gathering of artists, anarchists and nonconformists. The prevailing attitude there this year was that the government had been far too heavy handed when it came to Glitch…so as an act of protest, attendees brought in large quantities of the little pink pills and handed them out freely to each other.
There were the usual colorful, psychedelic costumes and steam punk inspired floats and vehicles. And there was dancing, pounding music and raging bonfires under a black sky filled with twinkling stars. The people drank, smoked pot and took other drugs that altered their perspective. And they kept swallowing a steady supply of Glitch.
Max Kenyon was one of the first to go over the line. He suddenly stopped dancing and looked up at the night sky, trying to remember where he was and who all these people were. He heard a strange wind blowing and it hurt because it wasn’t the hot air of the desert, it was a noise inside him and he knew it meant his mind was being pulled up and away into the air like so much dry Oklahoma soil during the Dust Bowl years.
Sandy Wickham suddenly fell down on her knees and began weeping. She felt so empty and
lost. She didn’t know anybody and nobody knew her. She wondered if she might just disappear. And then she felt a desperate need to get someone’s memory of seeing her or even just hearing her laugh. She tackled the young woman dancing next to her and began clawing at her face.
Lars Erickson had come all the way from Sweden with his girlfriend, Jonna. They both began hearing that awful, screaming wind. A tear dripped down his cheek and he said, “I’m so sorry.”
Jonna took his face in her hands and replied, “Me too.” Then they attacked each other viciously.
Soon there were literally hundreds of people fighting and doing whatever they could to get at the brains of either people they knew or just whoever they happened to be standing near. Blood flowed everywhere and the symphony of despair and pain became so great it made the electronic dance music seem tame in comparison.
Unaffected people were running everywhere trying to get away from the Glitch fueled killers. Some managed to escape but just as many got pulled down and assaulted by young people who only minutes earlier were unaware of the danger, happily dancing and enjoying the freedom of the
desert.
There were undercover federal agents hidden among the crowd but it soon became apparent there was no way they could begin to control the horror of what was going on around them. They had assumed there would be some Glitch problems at the festival but what they were looking at seemed so much worse than anything they could have anticipated. This was nothing less than a preview of the apocalypse. All they could do was try to save the people who didn’t appear to be wired up on the drug.
And they were targets themselves. They all drew their weapons and began firing at the marauding festival goers. But soon their ammunition was gone and they were just like all the other potential victims, fighting hand to hand with people who were desperate to get inside their heads and grab even a minute’s worth of memory. One agent fell down and felt someone trying to scoop out his eyes, apparently thinking there were memories hidden in there.
The military got called in and soon helicopters were landing all over the area, stirring up great clouds of dust. The soldiers were instructed to
shoot anyone who seemed to be showing any signs of Glitch induced madness.
Of course, it was hard to tell immediately which person fell into that category…by this time the whole area was filled with hysterical people covered in blood.
When the American public turned on the news the next morning, everybody was talking about what had happened at Burning Man. And at least in this country, the debate about the dangers of using Glitch was over.
************
In terms of communication, the world is a much smaller place now than fifty years ago. But not all news travels at the same pace.
Yuri Antipov sat his parents’ Moscow living room and stared at the knife his father had been given when he was serving in the military.
Then he looked at the family photos hanging on the walls of the apartment.
So, so many memories.
The New World
Dante didn’t go into town a lot. But he was getting older now and it just didn’t feel right staying home on Saturday night with his folks. He loved them but lately he’d been feeling restless, hungry for new experiences.
He charged up his cycle and headed into Boulder, hoping to either run into one of his friends or drink enough to make some new ones.
It was a beautiful October day. The leaves were turning various shades of crimson and gold and the sun sat low in the sky. He felt lucky to live here…there were so many places on the planet now where just surviving often seemed like a dicey proposition.
