The Proteus Cure (29 page)

“She gone to Landy’s but ain’t gonna be no one filletin’ my sister open like a fish. I seen that on TV and it ain’t gonna happen.”

“But don’t you want to know what—?”

“What killed her? Don’t need her all cut open to know that. Heard it from the doctor hisself. Her heart.”

“But if we can get biopsies of her skin and hair—”

“What for? She way past carin’ now.”

“But we can find out—”

“Too late. You doctors shoulda already found out. Maybe she still be alive now if you had. You ain’t cuttin’ on my sister. She suffered enough.”

And then a click as the connection was broken.

Sheila had failed little Jamal Green. Broken her promise. Now he’d have to go live with mean Aunt T.

Numb, Sheila missed the first time she tried to replace her receiver on its cradle. The second attempt made it.

She called the ER in the Penner Clinic in Boston. It took a few minutes but she finally located the doctor who had worked on Tanesha. He was a resident and working round the clock so she wasn’t surprised to find him there. After some explaining, he opened up.

“She was a grossly obese, thirty-nine-year-old African American. She had abnormal cardiograms and her blood showed an acute myocardial infarction. She went into cardiac arrest and we couldn’t revive her.”

“But her skin and hair? Didn’t you find the way she looked odd?”

She heard him sigh. “Listen this is the ER. She was having a heart attack and she died. It was clear what caused it. Her appearance was extraneous.”

“But I’ve been working with her on some medical problems—”

“Heart related?”

“No. Cosmetic. But I was hoping to get some tissue samples—”

“Then I’m sorry. Can’t help you. We offered the family an autopsy but they refused. Sorry we can’t aid you in making Ms. Green your guinea pig but—”

She hung up. He didn’t understand. How could he?

What was happening? She hit a wall every way she turned. First Kelly Slade’s broken neck, now this. If Tanesha had died in some sort of accident, she’d be running to the police. But how to prove foul play on someone who appeared to die of natural causes? How to prove anything at all?

Goosebumps stood up on her arms and she rubbed them hard, but they didn’t go away. This sick scared feeling never seemed to go away.

Both her VG723 cases had died. Directly or indirectly people who posed a threat to the VG723 therapy had been eliminated. And she was the last threat left. A chill went up her spine. And how long would she be left, now that everyone involved—

Wait. Hal Silberman! He’d agreed there was a link. Yes! She’d go see him. He’d know what to do.

She started walking toward the lab and remembered the rain. Great. The tunnels again. She wanted to call Paul and tell him about Tanesha but didn’t want to risk being overheard here.

Sheila took a quick look over her shoulder. All clear. She shuffled down the stairs to the tunnels.

“Paul?”

“Sheila, hi.”

“Listen, I need you.”

“What going on? Where are you?” He heard the sound of a radio and windshield wipers.

“I’m driving. Tanesha’s dead.”

“Jesus. How? Don’t tell me it was another car accident.”

“No. She had a heart attack but it seems awfully coincidental.”

“Yeah it does. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I got Liz Keene to cover. I traded her some hours tomorrow. I went to talk to Hal Silberman, the dermatopathologist, remember him?”

“Yeah. What did he say?”

“He hasn’t been to work all week. He has some kind of stomach bug.”

“You think Bill did something?”

“No, I’m sure he’s just sick, but I need to talk to him. I’m going to his house.”

“I’m going with you. Kelly’s dead, Tanesha’s dead. Who do you think is next on the list? No way I’m letting you go there alone.” He heard a horn blare. “What was that?”

“I-I almost hit someone. Okay. Meet me there. I’ll wait for you before I go in. Here’s the address.”

He hated leaving Coogan alone but there wasn’t time to take him anywhere. It was still light. He’d be fine. Paul got the address from Sheila, handed Coog the cordless phone and a can of Coke, and ran out the door into the freezing rain.

As soon as she and Paul got close to Hal’s front door, Sheila knew something was wrong. It was daytime but the sky was dark from the rain. All Hal’s lights were off. She rang the doorbell several times but no one answered.

“Can you get us in?”

“There might be an alarm.”

“I don’t care. We may need the police or an ambulance anyway.”

He leaned to the door and grabbed the handle. She guessed it was to check out what kind of lock he had. He smiled and turned the knob. “Huh. Not locked. Didn’t anticipate that.”

The minute they walked in, foul odors assailed them. Blood, urine, and feces. But not the smell of death, thank God. At least not old death. She followed the stench to a bathroom. Hal lay in a pool of bodily fluids. She touched his face. Burning up.

“Hal, can you hear me?” She tried a few more times. “He’s alive, but barely. Call 9-1-1,” she said to Paul.

Whatever was wrong with him appeared to be natural. No wounds so far as she could see. Not appendicitis with all this bloody diarrhea. Campylobacter? Salmonella? E-Coli? Hard to say.

He must have suffered the last few days. Poor guy. If this was food poisoning, whatever did this to him was already long out of his system. Most likely he’d never know what caused it. If he lived.

She wet a towel and placed it on his forehead. If he died, then they would be at a standstill with their investigation. Anything Hal was going to tell her about KB26 and VG723 would be sealed up forever within him.

Sheila wet another towel and wiped Hal’s face and hands.

Paul gagged in the other room. The smell bothered her too but Hal was a friend. She couldn’t just walk in the other room and leave him. Anyway, her own clothes were covered now too. She probably smelled as bad as he did.

“Sheila?”

Paul stood in the doorway, a paper towel over his nose. “You all right?”

She nodded. “But he’s not. Could be botulism or any of a number of things. The lab will figure it out. I just hope we got here in time. What are you holding?”

“I thought you might want to change your clothes after they take him so I went into his room. I was going to get you a shirt, maybe some sweat pants if I could find them. I know I shouldn’t be going through his things—”

“But you don’t have any clothes. That looks like a file.”

He held it out to her. “It’s a copy of Tanesha’s file. It was on his bed, open. He must have been reading it.”

“I gave him a copy to look through.”

“Look at this though.” She reached for it but he pulled back. “Don’t touch it. Just look.”

If she were him, she’d be leery of her contaminated hands too.

Sheila leaned up as much as she could from her seated-on-the-floor-with-a-dying-man-on-her-lap position.

Written in blue ink were the words,
“Changing the world. One person at a time.”
It was underlined over and over again.

“It’s Tethys Medical Center’s slogan.” Sheila didn’t see the significance. That phrase was printed on every piece of stationary at work, on her pay stub, on the marble and brass plaque at the main gate.

“Think about it, Sheila. It’s what they’re doing. Changing people. Not just curing. Changing. The world. One person at a time.”

Sirens and then the doorbell interrupted them. Then squeaky wet boots on the tile floor of the bathroom. Paramedics lifted Hal off Sheila.

She shifted into doctor mode, assisting the paramedics. But she couldn’t stop seeing the words in her mind, underlined hard in what must be Hal’s writing. He was trying to tell her something. But goddammit she didn’t understand. She needed him to wake up and explain. None of the other VG723 survivors had complained about transformations, so what did it mean? If the others looked the same on the outside, then how were they being changed?

Paul called Sheila the next morning to invite her over for dinner and a movie. Coog would be over at a friend’s house watching a
Lord of the Rings
marathon, he said. By the dusky sound of his voice, Sheila knew they wouldn’t be watching any movie. They’d be lucky if they got to eat dinner.

A sex date.

God, she needed something like that. She felt so jumpy and uneasy. She needed a break, a blast of physical and emotional release, someone to cling to. Every trip to the store was white knuckled, every time the phone rang, she jumped.

Sheila smiled as she stood at the nurses’ station, just thinking about making love again made her feel so alive.

It had been ages. After Dek there had been that one guy, that one time. From that support group for widowed people. Horrible. He wasn’t even cute. He went at it too fast. One minute dinner, the next she was in this stranger’s bed, having sex and telling herself it was important to move on with her life. Right after he filled his condom, she ran out of his apartment crying. What a mess. She shuddered thinking about it.

She was on the brink of having an orgasm just thinking about touching Paul. Maybe it was her age or the span between encounters. Maybe it was just that Paul was such a man’s man. She was zoning out, thinking about what to wear, how she’d stop at the mall, Victoria’s Secret—

“Don’t forget you’re on tonight,” said a female voice.

She looked and saw Liz Keene, a fellow doctor.

“Me? Where?”

She smiled. “Here. You’re covering for me tonight, remember?”

Mother of God, she’d forgotten. Liz’s little girl, Sammy, was scheduled for a tonsillectomy in Boston this afternoon and she wanted to be home with her tonight. Sheila couldn’t very well back out now.

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Despite her sinking heart she forced a smile. “Glad you reminded me. Good luck to Sammy.”

Gotta get coverage, she thought.

She started calling, but it was too short notice—everyone had plans.

It seemed as if fate were keeping Paul and her apart. She’d have to call and put it off for yet another night.

Wait. Who said it had to be night?

Not quite believing she was doing this, she picked up the phone to call Paul. She’d tell him dinner was off but how about a late lunch—say, about two?

•

Sheila jittered with anticipation. Two o’clock had arrived. She prayed this came off the way she hoped. Paul would think it was an innocent late lunch and nothing more. No one ever expected sweet little Sheila to do anything spontaneous or seductive.

When he arrived in her office she met him at the door. As he kissed her cheek she reached behind him and shut it. Then locked it.

“What’s this all about?” he said.

She knew from the look in his eyes that he had a pretty good idea.

“I’m hungry,” she said casually. “You?”

She could see his breath catch as he answered her. “Yes. Very.”

He leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. Perfect—so soft, just enough. Not chaste … and he didn’t ram his tongue down her throat. Just enough to tease her. Make her want it. She kissed him harder, a little more tongue.

She started feeling dizzy. Why? She’d never gotten dizzy before. Certainly not from a kiss.

He must have sensed it because she felt those big, strong arms tighten around her. Irish Spring and fuzzy flannel covering a broad hairy chest. Heathcliff on the moor. He kissed her cheek and her lips, his stubble chafing her face. The rough skin made her want him more.

He looked at her. “I don’t see a bed in here.”

Sheila felt short of breath. How could she be so excited from a kiss? This was nuts.

He whispered in her ear. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. Her head started to clear—until he pulled away her collar and nibbled her neck.

With her arm she knocked all the files off her desk. She heard the pencil cup fall and saw the pens scatter on the floor.

She gestured toward the desk. “Will this do?”

Paul lifted her with seemingly no effort and lay her down, started kissing her again, unbuttoning her blouse. She tried to help but he grabbed her hand and held it firm over her head, pinning her to the desk. With his other hand he took off her blouse.

This is what she had needed for years, she realized. To be ravaged. Everything in her life was so damn regimented. She was in charge of everything she did, everything that happened. But not now. She was held down, her skin scraped because of Paul’s noon shadow. He had thrown her blouse on the floor and started to undo her slacks. And her hand was held firm.

She couldn’t get away if she wanted. And she didn’t. The proverbial wild horses couldn’t drag her away. She leaned up to kiss him again, his lips teasing her, the tiniest taste of tongue, just enough to make her yearn for more.

All his motions so smooth and rough at the same time. Sheila started getting dizzy again, started shaking. Never had she been so excited. She was ready to climax and she was still partially dressed.

Then he was on top of her. It happened quickly. His pants long gone, her panties off … and in one quick motion her bra came unlatched. He smiled at her trembling body, arching up toward his. He sucked on her nipples and she swung between feeling like a frightened schoolgirl and a red-light-district pro.

Paul looked down at her. “Don’t forget to breathe. You have to breathe.”

She took a few quick breaths, “Please, please,” but she didn’t have to say anything else. Paul held her arms over her head and pushed his way in slowly. Too slowly as far as Sheila was concerned.

She looked at him. No words. For once, not a single word in her head. Just feeling. Pulsating, aching to be filled, wet … feeling stretched and satisfied and ravaged and … he thrust in deeper and she had to stifle a scream. She remembered she was in her office.

“Are you okay?” he whispered. “Did that hurt?”