by Sam Carter
“Wait. Did you call on me?”
“I did, Cole. So, what were the main causes of the Civil War?”
Cole stared at her and said nothing.
“Well . . . what do you think, Cole? We would all love to hear your thoughts.”
“Did you really just call me sixteen hundred?” He started to stand up, a little fear and anger coming through his voice. Harlan grabbed his arm, attempting to push Cole back into his seat.
“Why did you call me that? Why did you call me sixteen hundred?” His voice was getting close to shouting, something Cole hardly ever did. Especially to a teacher.
“Cole,” Harlan said, once again trying to calm his friend down. “Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? No big deal? Are you in on it, too?”
“I’m sorry this is upsetting you, Cole,” Ms. Bridges said. “It’s just what the teachers have been calling you lately.”
“All the teachers? Are you freaking serious? Is that all I am to you idiots? A number? A perfect score? Something that will make you all look better?”
“No, not at . . .”
“It is,” Cole said as he sat down, but now he sounded more like a wounded puppy than an attack dog whose perimeter had been breached just seconds before. “Whatever. If that’s all you want, if that’s all I am to you, that’s what you’ll get.”
And then, like nothing had happened at all, Cole moved on. “Slavery was the reason. Lots of people have theories of what caused it, but, to me, they are wrong. It was completely about slavery.”
For the next month Cole ate, drank, and slept the SATs. He would study all night, maybe sleep for two hours, go to school because he had to, and then head home to study the rest of the night. He never came to hang out anymore. He just studied.
When the day for the SAT finally came, the usual test-day calm Cole didn’t show up. Cole was there but was replaced by a nervous and jittery version of himself that Harlan had never seen before.
About halfway through the verbal section, Cole leaped out of his chair, threw his fully sharpened number two pencils against the way, started swearing like a nurse (sailors have nothing on nurses), and stormed out of the classroom, went home without stopping and holed himself up in his room without looking back.
He stayed there for two weeks and would not let a soul enter. When he finally came out, he picked up life where it left off, before he was even thinking about the SATs, and went back to being Cole. It was like nothing had ever happened.
This incredible intelligence, this once-in-a-lifetime gift, was like the most amazing superpower and the world’s most devastating kryptonite all at the same time.
Harlan snapped out of the memory of this childhood and gave his oldest and best friend a hug, “It was vanilla anyway. Who in the world wants vanilla pudding in the first place? You saved me from eating that disgusting crap,” I should have known it was you. I could smell something rancid from a mile away.”
“Same insults from when we were kids. Nice. Dude spends half his life in medical school and still spews his vicious comebacks like a prepubescent boy.” It was true. Harlan turned into a little kid the moment they were around each other. It was like they were seven years old, vying for that swing once again. He loved that. It was such a needed escape from the real world.
“Well, get off my front step. You’re lowering the property value the longer your sorry butt sits here.” Yup, prepubescent boys and Harlan wouldn’t have it any other way. “Need a place to stay, again? Plenty of room in this empty house for you.” Although it had been a month or two since Cole had crashed at Harlan’s place, it was still a normal occurrence, and a welcome one, too. It meant he was not alone, at least for one night.
“I was hoping we could both use your bed tonight. It’s been a while since I’ve spooned with anyone. Probably even longer for you.”
“That would be perfect. NOT. Wow, I just said not. Someone save me. How about you just sleep on the futon and keep your hands off me?” Harlan and Cole both chuckled. This was a necessary and enjoyable distraction. The perfect night for Cole to show up. “So, what brings you here this time? Apartment burn down? Rent money run out? Rat infestation? Come on, why am I so lucky to be graced with your presence?”
“I missed your face. Let’s just leave it at that and move on. Sound like a plan?” Harlan sensed a bit of defensiveness in Cole’s voice, which truthfully was quite rare, and decided to drop it. No reason to push this one further, because he knew it would eventually come out.
“Good plan. You are welcome here anytime and for however long you need. Make yourself at home but leave some food for me,” Harlan said as he grabbed some of Cole’s stuff and put it in one of the downstairs bedrooms. “Speaking of food, I am going to my parents for breakfast tomorrow around 8:00. You’re more than welcome to join us. They would love to see you.”
“That could be a good time. I could use some of your mom’s cooking. If I am up and your dad’s not cooking, I’m there.” This meant there was absolutely no way that Cole would make it in the morning. It was already after midnight, and Cole needed his beauty sleep.
“Perfect, buddy.” As Harlan was about to go upstairs and get himself ready for bed, he realized that Cole’s car was not out front. He was about to ask how he’d gotten there but remembered how adamant Cole was that they not talk about it further, so he let it go. “You need anything else before I turn in? It’s been a long day and I could use some shut-eye.”
“Nope. Just hoping all is well in your world. Saw that Masterson didn’t play today and I know how much that stuff really matters to you. You surviving?”
“I’m actually handling it much better. Fourteen-year-old me is freaking out and breaking stuff all over the house. Forty-one-year-old me is, um, calm-ish. I will survive.” He was telling the truth here. He would survive, though he was quite concerned about it. Especially considering what Samson had said in his tweets. “I did have a strange Twitter conversation with John Samson about tonight though.”
“Twitter conversation? I am not sure how that whole thing works, but please spare me the nerdy details.” Cole always mocked Harlan’s use of social media. It was well-deserved; it was kind of a dorky obsession. “That being said, what did he say?”
Harlan filled Cole in on how Samson said Masterson was a bad seed with a dark side, and that there would be an article about it in the morning with more details. Cole seemed extremely interested in this development, and Harlan could tell that he was using his massive intellect to figure out a solution to this revelation before the article was released.
“What do you think?” Cole asked Harlan. “Does this have legs to it, or is it just some fluff piece to drive hits to their website?”
“No way it’s a fluff piece. Samson is above that. There has to be something to it or he would never report it.”
“True. I guess we will have to wait with bated breath to find out what the story has to say. I can hardly contain myself.” Cole was a bit sarcastic with this remark as he exaggerated his interest in Masterson, but Harlan could tell he wanted to know. “Anything else going on in your world? I am guessing something else is weighing you down.”
“Seriously, what makes you come to that conclusion? You reading my diary again?”
“Of course. I love all the juicy details about your late-night sleepovers and the girls you are going to ask to the prom. Come on now. You’re going over quite early to your parents tomorrow, and I am guessing there is something you need to talk to them about. You can’t hide this stuff from your bestest friend.” The guy could read him like a book.
“All right, you got me. Stacy Montgomery is what is going on.” Health privacy be damned, Cole knew all about Stacy. He knew how Harlan had saved her life yet felt he should have done more. No matter how many times Cole tried to explain to Harlan that he was a hero in all this, it fell on deaf ears.
“It’s not just her, but she is, ya know, Stacy. She is the one that w
eighs most heavily on my mind. Today she came in for a visit and something had changed. When I was looking at her, all of the sudden, she started to scream out in incredible pain. And it only got worse, as though it were taking over her body.”
Harlan explained the situation to Cole even though he hated reliving the details, and Cole understood that, so he just listened without uttering a word. “I couldn’t help her at all. And then she stopped crying out and was calm again. It continued happening throughout the day. Twelve patients, seven of them mine. Twelve, Cole!”
There was a long pause, and Cole decided it was time he chimed in. “Have any clue what is going on? Can’t be some crazy coincidence.”
Harlan explained how all the patients had had appointments over the last few days with blood draws. They were all now admitted for the night, and tests were being run—every test that Harlan could think of that would give them an answer fast.
“Sounds like you’ve covered every angle. You still seem bothered though, bro.”
“If I weren’t, wouldn’t you be surprised?” asked Harlan, always overthinking every situation. “Something just doesn’t seem right about all this, like there is something more going on. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“You will. You’re the great and amazing Dr. Allred. Stop worrying and rest your pretty little head for the night. There is nothing you can do about it now anyway, except worry yourself to death.”
“Sleep, schmeep. What fun is merely sleeping it off? I would rather sit up and stew it over. It’s good for my heart and my mind, too. Helps you live longer, right? At least that is what four out of every five doctors say in a recent survey of all the industry’s leaders.”
“That must be why you and I are both pillars of health. Glad to know we were ahead of the curve on that one.” If there really were such a survey or study, then they undoubtedly would be the healthiest people on the planet.
“How about we both get some sleep anyway,” Cole stated. “You never know when a new study will come out proclaiming the exact opposite.”
“True. We doctors always change our minds, don’t we? It’s part of the fun.” Was there fun in being a doctor anymore? He always loved finding a way to help his patients. That was fun. And he was completely uncertain that with this case, this haunting case, he was going to have any fun at all.
Chapter 15
That night, despite all the stress and worry, Harlan was able to get some sleep. And he only knew it because he was jolted out of bed by the sound of his phone ringing. As he fumbled to pick it up, he noticed that the clock next to his bed said 5:23. Who in the world was calling him at this early hour? This better be good. No, it better be the most important phone call ever.
Afraid that he wouldn’t get to the call in time, he didn’t look at the caller ID and groggily answered, “This better be good news.”
“Good to talk to you too, Harlan.” It was Clara. This must be important. “Sorry for calling so early, but we need you to come in earlier than you were planning.”
Shoot, Harlan thought, he was looking forward to breakfast with his parents. Luckily, they would understand that when duty calls, the doctor must answer.
“I can do that. Is everything all right? Did something more happen during the night?” Maybe he should have just skipped the game and stayed with his patients.
“Everything is, how do I put this, manageable. It’s a lot like yesterday, but when the kids are in pain it’s much worse than we’ve ever seen. We can give them the best support possible, but you need to come in. They need you.”
Harlan was not sure how he felt about the word manageable. This was not what a doctor or a patient would want to hear at all. Clara was doing her best to not send Harlan into a frenzy, but that didn’t stop him from being extremely distressed.
“I’ll do my best to be there by 8:00, but it will probably be more like 8:30 with traffic. Hope that will be soon enough.” Harlan was already taking off his clothes and heading to the shower, hoping that this head start would give him a few extra minutes, and he could get to the hospital earlier.
“Ok. Don’t drive too fast to get here. You won’t be any good to us if you are brought to another hospital on a stretcher.” She was always so loving and tactful when it came to Harlan, but great advice still. Don’t die, Harlan, just don’t die. He would do everything in his power to take good ol’ Clara’s instructions.
Take them he did. Every time he started to speed up worrying he would be late, he would hear Clara telling him to take his foot off the peddle and take his time.
As he rolled into his spot, he thought about how just yesterday he had parked with all the optimism in the world, believing it would be the perfect day. Now, as he got out of his car and made his way inside, he was filled with doubt. He was amazed by how much could change in only twenty-four short hours.
Before entering the hospital, Harlan stopped to make sure he had on his best game face and realized he had not called his parents to let them know he would not be able to make it. He pulled out his phone. It was 7:50. He had made it in plenty of time and had a few minutes to make the call.
This time his mom, Rachael, answered the phone. It was always good to hear her calming voice. Harlan seemed to feel that way about a lot of people.
“Hello, honey. Are you getting close?” His mom sounded eager, like she had been looking forward to this for weeks. Even though they just set this up last night, she probably had been. Time to break his mother’s heart. Again.
“Sadly, I’ve been called into the hospital. Emergency, you know how it goes.” She knew better than anyone in the world. How many nights had she had to put dinner aside because Alan had a much later night than expected? How many times had she had to cancel her plans because something unanticipated had happened that needed Dr. Allred’s attention? Too many to count. She understood all too well.
“Yes, I know how it goes. I was afraid that would happen. Everything ok at the hospital? Anything you can talk about?”
“Everything is, um, complicated. That is the best way to put it. Complicated. I don’t have time to talk right now, but I want, no, I need to talk to you both about everything. Let’s plan a meal soon. Would that work?” Harlan knew that she would say that would be fine, but she also wouldn’t be holding her breath thinking it would be any time soon.
“Great. Call us when you have a break and we will save a space at the table for you.”
“I’m really sorry, Mom. I was looking forward to this. I am truly sorry.” Harlan was hoping that she genuinely knew how bad he felt. This was not how he wanted to start his day, and it was not at all how he wanted to start his mom’s day.
“It’s ok, Harlan. Come soon, and don’t be a stranger,” she said as they said goodbye.
Harlan felt his heart fall slightly out of his chest. His mom, like his dad, was a huge supporter of all things Harlan. Because of that, when Harlan messed up his life or did something else to let her down, it crushed her. She expected better from him. She was worthy of better from him. He would make it up to her because she deserved it. And he would make sure to do it as soon as possible.
Harlan made his way into the hospital and realized that in the rush, he hadn’t had time to read Samson’s article about Masterson. He wanted to simply open it up on his phone, but he knew he needed to be at his best, his very best, to deal with whatever revelations the article held. He could not afford to think about anything else whatsoever.
He took the elevator up to the fourth floor where Stacy and the rest of his patients had stayed the night. He tried to prepare himself for what would be behind those doors. He felt he had adequately done so as the doors opened, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.
As he walked down the hall, the feeling was that of pure gloom and despondency, and when he opened the door to room 418, he was taken aback with complete dread and panic for what was waiting for him inside.
Chapter 16
The moment Harlan walked into Stacy’s ro
om, he knew he had made a mistake. He should have done what he always did before entering a patient’s room—get information about what was going on. But he had been in a hurry and had lost sight of what was best for that moment.
If he had, then he would have been prepared for what was awaiting him. Instead, like he had done so often in his life, he didn’t think before he acted, and now he was in the middle of something that he had no idea how to handle.
Crowded around Stacy’s bed were Clara and two additional nurses who looked like all they were trying to do was comfort her, unsure if they could do anything more. On the couch sat Phil, tears streaming down his face and onto his lap. The room was filled with despair, and Harlan had yet to see the worst of it.
He slowly made his way over to Stacy’s bed and made eye contact with Clara, trying to read her thoughts in hope that she had some sort of master plan that could be beamed to Harlan’s brain, and they could find a solution right then and there. Instead, the look in Clara’s eyes was that of a lost puppy; not only a lost puppy, but one that wasn’t sure if it would ever be found.
“When I called you this morning, it wasn’t this bad,” Clara said as Harlan finally saw what was happening to Stacy. “She, and the rest of the patients, were in so much pain but we could control it with medication. Now, well, now it’s like nothing I have ever seen.”
And neither had Harlan. As if there were a line drawn down the middle of Stacy’s body, the entire right side of her, from her toes all the way to the top of her head, looked like it had been pumped full of air. She was swollen, and her skin was scarlet red. Harlan was astounded and felt like he would pass out any moment from shock. Everything that he was seeing screamed the worst, most excruciating pain imaginable.
Everything except for the look on Stacy’s face. It no longer showed worry or concern like it had the day before. Now, as Stacy looked up at Harlan and caught his gaze, the only look was that of comfort and hope. As if she knew, without any doubt, that this was just a passing moment and soon she would be outside playing with her friends again. Who was this amazing girl? And could she transfer some of that confidence to Harlan? He could use an ounce of that right now.
