Carefully pulling at the opening, I released the seal of the envelope and slid my finger inside along the edge. The sound of the paper tearing away almost made me cringe. My hands shook slightly, trembling with anticipation as I pulled the paper free and opened it slowly, revealing what appeared to be an important, formal document from inside. Formatted like a memorandum of understanding, my eyes scanned the page quickly. The farther down the page I got, the weaker my legs became, threatening to give way and send me toppling onto the floor beneath me. I steadied myself on the arm of the couch, lowering myself hastily to the cushion as I continued to digest what I was reading.
I was deep in thought when Riley bounded up and plopped down next to me on the couch. Nearly jumping out of my skin, I turned my gaze toward her. Her face spoke volumes, a look of concern washing quickly over her soft features. Riley reached out toward me, placing her hand on my thigh. Instead of reveling in her touch as I normally did, I shied away, pulling the document out of view as I leaned in the opposite direction.
“Is everything alright, Elaine?” her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, concern obvious in each inflection. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I stared on, unable to come up with the words to express how I was feeling at that moment. I knew there had been something amiss, something sinister about Kellogg Premier but had no real clue how deep that rabbit hole went. The document Mr. Simpson had bestowed upon me spoke of things right out of a suspense movie, things that no one would ever think actually existed.
“If I tell you Riley, you have got to swear on everything that is holy, that you will not tell a soul,” I wanted to divulge her curious mind, wanted to share what I had learned with someone and who better than my trusted other half? I needed her to vocalize her promise and swear out loud that she would tell no one.
“Yeah, sure, whatever you say Laney,” she used my pet name when she needed to get her way, only this time, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. I carefully handed her the paper in my hand, my grip almost tight enough to wrinkle the surface. Slipping it out of my grasp, she turned it toward herself and scanned the document. Just as I had done, her face fell and turned a shade of pale I had never witnessed on her before. Eyes wide, she looked into my eyes once she had finished, fear and trepidation taking over her previously jovial gaze.
“You cannot tell anyone about this,” I started out slowly, my words tumbling across my lips, “I don’t even know that this document is legitimate, Riley, but I don’t want to get caught in the cross-hairs if this is in fact true. Please, keep this to yourself until I can find out more information. For your sake, and mine, mums the word, ok?” I searched her face for a sign of understanding. For several moments we sat in silence, her gaze fixated on the words in front of her.
“Yeah, I think that would be best. I won’t say anything, Elaine. I swear on my mother’s grave.” That meant a lot, coming from her. Riley never spoke of her mother, let alone put something on her memory like that. I knew I could trust that she would not utter a word to anyone until I gave the all clear. I had a lot of digging to do, an excavation that would likely get me into deep trouble if the wrong people found out, but it was something I could no longer avoid. Knowledge is power in most cases, but in this instance, it scared the living shit out of me.
A sense of doom slowly washed over me, enveloping my body in a warm energy that made my skin crawl. Riley read the document several more times, her eyes searching the page for some clue as to its authenticity. The only thing I had noticed was the seal at the top of the document was raised, like it had been embossed and not simply copied and pasted onto the paper. If it was a fake, it was a really good one. Someone examining the page for any hint of forgery would not likely find anything, and that was the scariest part.
“Elaine,” Riley finally addressed me directly, her voice but a whisper, barely audible above the ambient noise of our small apartment, “this is some serious shit. Tell me again where this came from. How did you get it and, above all else, why you?” Her eyes were wide, glistening in the light. As she spoke, she glanced around the room as if someone were listening to every word we spoke. She was a bit paranoid, I always knew that, but her tone and the ghostly look on her face was enough to have me on edge right alongside her.
“All I know is his name,” I started off slowly, working through the events that afternoon in my head. “Gregory Simpson, that was it. He left me a note at my station to meet him at the coffee shop near the building I am assigned. Something told me to let it go, to ignore the request penned in bright, blue ink on the note that somehow appeared on my keyboard.
You know me, I am far too curious for that and followed that trail of breadcrumbs all the way into the witch’s oven. I don’t know if or when I will see Mr. Simpson again, but this is all he gave me. He didn’t even explain it to me, just handed it off and practically ran out the door, looking over his shoulder the entire time as if someone had followed him. I don’t know Riley, perhaps this is all just a big joke. They’re getting back at me for raising such a stink about that patient I became obsessed with. Maybe, they just want to see me squirm for a while before they drop the bomb on me that it was just one big practical joke.” I had done enough talking for the both of us, part of my mind attempting to convince me that it was all a rouse, something to teach me a lesson for snooping around where my nose didn’t belong. Either way, I would be watching my back from that point forward, that was for sure.
“Whatever it is, I just hope that you didn’t step off into the deep end, my love.” Riley gave the document one final glance before handing it back to me. I took it gingerly from her grasp, folded it neatly and placed it safely back into the envelope that Gregory had given it to me in. I moved quickly across the small living area and slid the envelope in between two books on a tall bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. The thin layer of dust across the wooden surface told any onlooker that those books had not seen much action in a while. It also spoke to my poor housekeeping and I made a mental note to do some serious spring cleaning that weekend.
That night, Riley lay in the crook of my arm sleeping. Her breaths were long and even, the weight of her head on my shoulder comforting as I listened to the sounds of the night. My mind replayed the scene in the coffee shop several times on a loop, searching for answers and coming up empty. I would be forced to wait until the next time Mr. Simpson cropped up from the shadows to ask him the million questions that now flew through my psyche. It wasn’t going to be soon, I knew that much, but I hoped he would not leave me hanging too long. I just had to know if it was true. If everything I read on that one piece of paper was in fact a sinister plan on behalf of our own government, then none of us were safe.
-9-
Ragan
Thirty days was a lot longer than it sounded. The self-adhesive leads were starting to irritate my sensitive skin beneath my breast, leaving a patch of angry red blisters each time I removed it to change it for a fresh one. Even though I tried to move it around slightly, my body was quickly beginning to resemble a dot-to-dot puzzle, red splotches spreading across my upper abdominals and around to the side along my ribs.
Each and every time I felt a flutter, I pressed the button. Sometimes it lasted longer than others, the red light on the cardiac monitoring device indicating it was recording and sending the data to someone on the other end. When the time finally came to an end and my appointment to return the device had arrived, I was more than glad to see it go. The jumble of wires across my body elicited more than enough concerned glances from those around me and I was getting tired of the hassle of trying to find something to wear that would accommodate the presence of what appeared to be a pager wired directly to my chest.
The short, stoutly nurse checked everything as I handed it over. She opened the battery case, counted how many batteries I had left, made note of the residue from the electrical tape I had put on it to keep the batteries from popping out and put everything back into the black bag it was
given to me in. I looked on as she scribbled some notes onto a
small pad of paper and shoved everything into a cardboard box.
“Ok, Ms. Jensen,” her voice was high with what I would consider an obnoxious trill at the end of each sentence, “that is all. It takes about two or three weeks to get the report back so try to take it easy until then. No reason to get yourself all worked up over what could potentially be nothing, right?” Her thin lips stretched across a row of perfectly straight teeth in a forced smile. Inside my mind, I laughed at the notion that she resembled a Barbie Doll: plastic and fake as all get out.
“I suppose so,” my own words sounded foreign to me, my voice low and suppressed. I was feeling quite defeated and the news that it was going to take another few weeks to get to the bottom of things did not go over well with my worrisome mind. I pulled my shirt back down as I stood up, sliding off the exam table and working to straighten myself out. I ran my hands down my skirt, doing my best to remove the wrinkles that had formed there as I sat and waited to be seen.
“If you have any questions, here is the best number to call,” the smile was still frozen in place as she handed me a small stack of papers and a business card, pointing to the telephone number that was typed across the front as she spoke. “Remember though, Ms. Jensen, these things take time to evaluate. You will hear back as soon as the report is received. There isn’t much else you can do but wait on the results so again, try to remain calm and don’t think about it too much. You don’t want to get yourself worked up.”
I followed her out of the exam room, the spot where the last lead had been removed still itching intensely. I was ready to run home that minute and take a long, hot shower before slathering my abdomen in a thick layer of soothing hydrocortisone to put an end to the sensation that my skin was crawling. Before I exited the back office, I glanced over my shoulder at the nurses’ station at the two figures that were stationed there. Both hosting identical plastic smiles, much like the one the nurse who had taken my cardiac monitor wore. When they noticed me looking, both women raised the same hand and waved at me in such a robotic fashion it freaked me out and nearly had me tripping over my own feet. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
Instead of going back to work like I should have, I contacted my boss and asked for the rest of the afternoon off. She agreed, telling me more than once to make sure I got some rest and not to worry about them for the remainder of the day. She didn’t have to tell me twice. I happily obliged, pointing my car in the direction of the freeway that would carry me northbound toward my home.
Roger was still at work when I got home. I was grateful since I needed some quiet time to myself, without a million questions that he would no doubt have. Since I didn’t have any answers, it was slightly annoying to be met with so many. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had no answers yet, it would only serve to exacerbate his already keyed up mood he was apparently stuck in lately. It was understandable, he worried about me, needed to make sure I was alright, but that didn’t keep the inquiries
from agitating me further.
The hot water felt good on my skin as it flowed down my body. I watched as it swirled around the drain, almost as if it were waving at me, saying its final goodbye before disappearing below the grate. Taking in several deep breaths, I closed my eyes and allowed the steamy liquid to soothe me further. Steam billowed up and out over the top of the shower. I watched as it escaped, leaning my head far back then to the side before making little circles, easing the tension in my neck.
Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a large, soft towel around my body. The temperature difference was enough to produce a shiver that ran up my spine and crawled across my scalp, leaving goose bumps as it went. I shook it off, quickly towel dried my skin and wrapped my hair up in the towel I twisted at the top of my head to keep it in place. It was wonderful to not have to replace the leads after showering that day and I was doing my best not to think about it, but the nervous corner of my mind kept wandering back to the monitoring report that I was anticipating would come back with not-so-good news.
By the time Roger came through the front door, I was feeling much better. Dinner cooking on the stove was enough to temporarily distract him from even noticing I was no longer wired up. He leaned over, taking in a deep breath as he stirred the sauce that was simmering on the front burner. After helping himself to a sample spoonful, he finally turned his attention back to me.
“So?” the look on his face was one of curiosity, his eyebrows raised up in high arches across his forehead as he waited for me to answer his unanswered questions. “How did it go at the doctor’s? What did they say?”
“Well, Roger,” I didn’t want to disappoint him, but that was inevitable. After thirty days of collecting data, I would still be left to wait at least two more weeks before I would find anything out. “All I did today was turn in the monitor. They told me that it would take two or three weeks to get the report back. I have to wait even longer it seems. Trust me, I am just as disappointed and frustrated as you look.”
“I’m sorry Ragan,” his face softened along with his tone. “I just need to know that you’re going to be alright. I need to know what’s wrong and how I can help you. Not knowing is driving me absolutely crazy, maybe even more than you for that matter.” Judging by the look on his face, he was being absolutely sincere. Worry mixed with undertones of frustration that drew his brows down and in, a slight frown pulling the corners of his mouth down as he reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair away from my eyes.
“I seriously doubt that,” I went with as much of a sarcastic tone as I could muster up. There was no way that he was more worried and frustrated than I was. Not knowing what was going on, getting the run-around at every turn and dealing with the detached mannerisms that everyone at Kellogg Premier seemed to have were becoming too much.
“Sorry, Ragan. I know this is a lot for you to take. I just wish there was something I could do for you to make it all go away.” Roger was not kidding. I looked into his eyes, the darkness softer than I had seen before, told me everything I needed to know.
“Thank you, Roger. That really means a lot to me.” I wrapped my arm around his neck and pulled him into my embrace. He returned the gesture, squeezing me tight before loosening his grip.
Roger wandered off toward our room, shedding the rest of his work clothes as he went, leaving a trail of garments in his wake. Part of me was annoyed by that, he did it every, single day, a mess for me to clean up left behind as he carried on about his business. The other side of my mind knew that he did it intentionally so that I would have to follow behind him and pick up his cast offs and deposit them into the appropriate laundry receptacle., which of course I did.
We enjoyed our meal, avoiding any conversation about my pending medical situation. It was an uncomfortable topic and I completely understood Roger’s need to bury things of such a serious nature as his way of escaping anything difficult to face. He had done that since we met, it was part of his nature, although I would have loved to get some things off my chest.
That night after the lights went out, I struggled to fall asleep. My mind was too busy processing the facts and the possibilities. Several hours passed that way as I stared at the ceiling listening to Roger fast
asleep next to me, soft snores coming in waves. If I had thought about it, I would have addressed my concerns with the increase in sleepless nights with my provider last time I was there, but I was too caught up in the moment to ponder that far ahead. I was fed up with not knowing what was happening and that was my sole focus, period.
Some time later, I finally drifted off to sleep. Nightmares of me standing in the middle of a busy hospital screaming at the top of my lungs as ghostly, scrub-clad figures passed by without a glance cast me farther out into a sea of anxiety I was trying to escape. Not one soul looked at me as they walked by, their eyes trained straight ahead toward whatever their final destination was. It was indicative of exactly how I
felt each time I walked through the doors at Kellogg Premier, a fear that manifested itself even in my dreams that I was desperate to resolve whatever it may be, and quickly.
I woke up several times that night, drenched in a pool of sweat, my limbs trembling as I shifted my position and tried desperately to force those images from my mind. Each time I fell back asleep, I returned to that same scenario, ignored completely by those around me who were supposedly concerned with my well-being, yet their very actions proving otherwise. It was frustrating, to say the least, and left me waking the next day exhausted and completely depleted.
For the next couple of weeks, it was the same story. No word from the doctor’s office and a series of bad dreams that seemed to play on repeat each time
I tried to sleep. Rest, which was what they all seemed to prescribe, was out of the question. I struggled through the days, checking my email several times a day to make sure I didn’t miss any messages from my doctor. Nothing, not even an all’s right with the world, and it was driving me insane. I knew calling would be a waste of time since it would be difficult to get through to them directly, Kellogg Premier doing its best to seemingly thwart explanations of any kind from the patients they serve. I was beside myself with worry and not one person there seemed to care. That was something I could not fathom, and I needed answers, and sooner rather than later.
Operation Subdue Page 6
