Sigma One

by Hutchison, William

  "We did it! We did it! Far out!" he exclaimed opening his eyes and then trying to get out of bed. He had to see his video. He had to see his success for himself. He had to know more.

  Debbie restrained him.

  He pushed back weakly, still feeling the excitement of his accomplishment, but too weak to overcome the force of Debbie's hand which she had placed firmly in the middle of his chest.

  "Debbie. Don't keep me here. I've got to see the video. I've got to see it for myself. Do you know what this means? Do you?" He was frantic and didn't wait for an answer. "It means thousands of crippled kids, like Daniel will be able to finally have an outlet for their creativity. Just because they can't use their arms or hands doesn't mean they'll have to remain locked in their own thoughts. At least, not if I can teach them how I linked. It's a miracle. I thought I could do it. But I wasn't sure. Debbie, you've got to help me get out of here. There's so much more I've got to do."

  Burt then slumped back into his hospital bed and grabbed the TV remote control cord that hung by his bedside. He could see disbelief in her eyes. He had to prove his point. He shut the TV off abruptly with the remote control and handed the unit to her.

  "Here hold this! I can tell you don't believe me. And watch the TV screen!" He said as he pointed to the monitor hung on the wall directly in line with his bed.

  Debbie took the control and turned toward the screen.

  "Snap the monitor on and off again," Burt ordered.

  She did, not understanding why.

  "It's off, right?" he asked looking at her.

  Puzzled, she answered, "yes. It's off. So?"

  "So watch this." Burt said closing his eyes.

  Debbie looked first at him and then at the TV screen. She could hear him beginning to breathe very deeply as she watched the blank screen. After about a minute, the TV snapped on. It startled her. She looked down at her hand to see if she had inadvertently flipped the control button. She hadn't touched it. She was dumbfounded and amazed. Her amazement grew as she continued to watch. The 'IV began to quickly flip through the channels and then as quickly as it came on, it went blank again. Debbie didn't know what to think and put the remote control unit on the bed, her eyes still focused on the screen. As soon as she moved her hand away from the control, script letters like the one's she had seen on Burt's video earlier began to form. "D-E -B -B -I -E" was the first word. She smiled as the message continued.”I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-I-L-O-V-Y-O-U. The monitor filled as the words 'I love you' were repeated over and over again.

  Debbie stood up, not knowing what to think. She had never suspected, he felt so strongly for her. She turned to him just as the monitor went blank again and the words that meant so much to her dissolved into blackness.

  Burt opened his eyes. "Did you see that?"

  Debbie went to him and put her hands around his neck again and held him tight against her breast.

  "I saw it." she said as he buried his head in the hollow of her neck.

  She continued holding him in silence for the next few moments, bathing in the warmth of her feelings, wanting the serenity of the moment to last forever, afraid to move fearing the slightest movement or word on her part would ruin the dream. She wanted to remember this moment for the rest of her life.

  Suddenly, without warning, the back of Burt's neck began to get clammy and he began to breathe rapidly and shallowly. Something was wrong. He pushed away quickly.

  "Debbie---Debbie---I don't---I don't feel too good," he panted reaching back for her. "You'd better get me a doc."

  He then threw up. The green bile covered his chest and made a puddle on the side of the bed before slowly sliding off the edge of the bed to the floor.

  Debbie was paralyzed with fear, and the sight of the vomit caused her to involuntarily gag. The act of gagging electrified her into action and she leapt from the room.

  "Help me! Help!" She screamed down the empty hall, her words echoing off the sterile walls and floors.

  The night nurse on duty immediately dropped what she was doing and came running out of the nurses' station toward her.

  "What's wrong?" the nurse asked trying to calm Debbie who was now hyperventilating.

  "Burt Burt--she pointed, unable to speak coherently "in there!"

  The nurse brushed past her and went to Burt's bedside. Debbie looked at the EKG simultaneously with the nurse. Both could see it was a straight line.

  Debbie fainted.

  "Ms. Andrews. Ms. Andrews? Are you feeling better now?" A different nurse than the one she got to help Burt asked her as she leaned over her bed. Debbie opened her eyes only to see she was in a hospital gown and in a hospital bed. She was confused.

  "You passed out, Ms. Andrews. After you summoned the nurse on duty for Mr. Grayson, you passed out."

  Suddenly what she was doing there hit Debbie hard. She jerked up to a sitting position in bed. "What happened to Burt? Is he okay?"

  The nurse spoke calmly and soothingly to her. "He's a lucky boy to have someone like you. You may have saved his life for a second time today."

  "What do you mean?" Debbie asked, "a second time?"

  "I mean he's doing just fine now."

  "He is?"

  "Yes." The nurse responded.

  "What happened to him?" Debbie asked, fearing she already knew.

  "He went into fibrillation again and almost arrested. But because you called so quickly we were able to get a team to him in time to save him."

  "How is he now?"

  "He's resting comfortably."

  "Why would someone his age have two heart attacks in one day? Something's wrong and I don't understand." Debbie asked not really expecting an answer.

  "We were going to ask you if you had any clue as to why Mr. Grayson is having such a time. We haven't been able to come to any conclusions on our end.

  Then the nurse took Debbie's hand and asked, "Do you feel up to talking to the doctor responsible for his case? He has some questions he wants you to answer regarding your friend's condition."

  Debbie nodded in agreement and the nurse exited, returning shortly with Dr. Gene Splevin, the staff heart specialist.

  Dr. Splevin was thirty-nine years old and had a friendly, round face. His blonde, wispy hair, what little there was of it, was neatly combed from the sides over the top to cover the shiny bald spot that started on the crown of his head and extended all the way to his smooth high forehead. He had on a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses which had slipped down to the bridge of his pudgy nose. He was smiling broadly when he came in and approached the bedside.

  "Hello, Ms. Andrews. Are you feeling better now?" Splevin moved toward her bed and reached for her hand to comfort her."I'm okay I guess." Debbie answered. "The nurse said I fainted."

  "You did. But you'll be fine. We only want to keep you here for a few hours for observation. You bumped your head when you fell and we feel it would be better if you stayed the night."

  Debbie reached up and felt the knot on the side of her head. It was throbbing mightily and was tender to the touch.

  "You'll be fine," Splevin reiterated seeing the concern in her eyes as she felt the goose egg.

  "What about Burt?"

  "He'll be all right too, we think. Do you feel up to answering some questions?" Splevin asked as he moved closer to the bed.

  "Okay." Debbie answered. "What do you want to know?"

  Dr. Splevin pulled up a chair and sat down next to her bed and then instructed the nurse he wouldn't need her anymore, whereupon she left. He then pulled out a small notepad from his pocket and flipped it open, adjusting his glasses afterwards.

  "Okay, Ms. Andrews, I need to get some more information regarding Mr. Grayson to help in our diagnosis. I want you to be honest with me. Do you understand?" His tone of voice was kind and non-threatening. He continued after Debbie nodded.

  "How long have you known Mr. Grayson?"

  "About three years, " she answered. He noted her response in his pad.

  "During that
time did he ever use any medication you're aware of?"

  "NO."

  "No prescription drugs or over-the-counter drugs on a regular basis?"

  "No. He's hardly ever been sick since I've known him," she replied not knowing for sure where his questions were leading, but fearing the worst.

  "Did he ever have any seizures like the ones he's had today?"

  "No!”

  "Any allergies?"

  "No."

  "High blood pressure?"

  "No"

  "Anxiety attacks or violent mood swings?"

  "No."

  "Is he allergic to any medication you're aware of?"

  "No, I don't think so."

  "Any history in his family of diabetes or thyroid illnesses?"

  "I'm not sure, but I don't think any of his immediate family has any of those problems? Why are you asking me these questions, doctor?"

  Splevin put down his pad and looked over his glasses at her.

  "It's just routine, Ms. Andrews. If we're going to treat Mr. Grayson, we have to have this information. We'll verify it with him when he comes around. Now may we continue?"

  “Uh, huh"

  "Does Mr. Grayson use drugs? Does he use cocaine?" Splevin asked point blank.

  Debbie paused. She had told the paramedic all this before.

  "No! Categorically no! Burt isn't that type of person!"

  "Ever? He never used drugs in your presence?"

  "No. Never!"

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. I'd stake my life on it. I thought I heard someone tell me he didn't have any trace of drugs in his blood."

  "That was before," he answered.

  "Before what?"

  "Before we got the final lab results back."

  Debbie's face grew pale. "What did the final results say? Did they show something different?"

  "Not really. Only traces of dopamine."

  "What's that?"

  "It's a residual chemical often found in people who have a cocaine habit. It's a chemical the brain produces normally in small amounts. It alters one's moods. Long distance runners and other athletes have it in their blood streams in larger amounts than the general public." He then paused. "Mr. Grayson wasn't a runner, was he?"

  "No," she answered.

  "I didn't think so, judging from his physical condition when I examined him.

  Debbie sat up in bed. "So what does this mean? Does it mean he used drugs---this chemical in his bloodstream?"

  "We're not sure yet." Splevin then closed his notebook and got up and looked back at her as he approached the door. "That's all I need right now, Ms. Andrews. Thank you." He then immediately turned and left before Debbie could think of anything else to ask.

  Debbie lay in bed six more hours before she was allowed to get up and get dressed to leave. She didn't sleep at all during that time nor did she watch TV. No one came in to see her except the duty nurse who wouldn't answer any of the questions she had about Burt. It was as if she were being held prisoner, although she knew it was probably for her own good because her head still ached slightly.

  During the time she was incarcerated, she kept playing back in her mind the tragic events of the day; the video, Burt's attack at the cafeteria, the way he controlled the TV, his second attack. None of it made any sense at all. It was as if life was out of control and what was occurring was one big horrible mistake. Finally at 9 p.m., the duty nurse came in and released her. It took Debbie only five minutes to dress. When she was through, she turned to the nurse who was busy stripping the bed linen preparing for the next patient.

  "How is Burt doing now?" she asked.

  "You'll have to ask Dr. Splevin for a diagnosis, Ms. Andrews. I don't know. I did overhear one of the other nurses say he's sitting up in bed and appears to be doing fine again. If you hurry you can go in and see him before visiting hours are over."

  Debbie didn't take time to brush her hair, instead she ran down the hall toward his room, nearly bowling over three nurses who were standing in her way as she rounded the final corner leading to his corridor. When she sprinted into the room, Dr. Splevin was standing over Burt talking to him.

  "That's quite an amazing story young man." Debbie overheard Dr. Splevin say. "You mean to tell me you actually can control computers or microchips with your mind? Amazing! Unbelievable! But truly amazing. If I hadn't seen what you did with that 'IV I wouldn't have believed it myself."

  Burt then noticed Debbie standing at the foot of his bed and reached out for her. The doctor moved aside and sensing the two wanted to be alone, made a hasty retreat still mumbling to himself about the unbelievability of what he had just been told by Burt.

  When the doctor was out of earshot, Burt began to speak. "Debbie, I'm sorry I frightened you. I don't know what's happening to me. But one thing I do know is that I'm sorry that I scared you today. I'm scared myself, but I shouldn't have frightened you. God knows, if I had any control I wouldn't have."

  Debbie drew near and stroked his brow. "You don't have to apologize, Burt. All you have to do is get better."

  Although he appeared normal when Debbie walked in--discussing his project with the doctor--he was frightened to death inside. When the doctor had told him how close to death he had been, Burt experienced a flood of emotions. He was grateful he hadn't died. He was angry. He was frightened. He didn't believe it or want to accept it. It couldn't be happening to him. He felt there must have been some mistake. Little by little as the doctor explained the seriousness of his heart attacks, the truth began to sink in and Burt had become extremely agitated and sullen. He didn't know what the future would bring and he began to reevaluate his life and to think about all the things he should have paid attention to before he ended up where he was. He began to reevaluate the importance of his school project and his relationship with Debbie. He began to consider alternative ways of spending his time as the realization that he had arbitrarily led an unbalanced existence as a result of his dedication to work at the expense of harming someone who, by her heroic actions, must genuinely (-Are for his well-being. When the doctor informed him that no permanent damage had been done by either attack and that his chances for survival were good, the news made him feel slightly better, but not euphoric as one might suspect. Inside he was still tormented with fear wondering whether or not he could change like he so desperately wanted to; wondering if he would, indeed, as he planned, spend more time with Debbie and forget his work and enjoy life. The thought of change was what frightened him most, but he resolved he'd try.

  "Debbie?" Burt asked reaching again for her.

  "Yes." She moved closer.

  "You believe me when I say I don't remember what happened don't you?"

  She thought for a moment and then answered. "Yes, I believe you."

  "I honestly can't remember anything that happened after I left the dormitory. It's all a fog. I don't remember the cafeteria or what happened after you came to see me earlier in the hospital. It scares me not to remember."

  "I know it does," She answered. “It scares me too.” She could sense he was getting tired and spoke softly, almost in a whisper. His eyes were getting heavy.

  "Don't think about it now. It'll all come back soon enough. You need your rest now. "

  The secanol the doctor had given him was starting to take effect. Burt closed his eyes. As he lay there slowly falling asleep, Debbie sat quietly and held his hand. When it appeared he was in a deep sleep, she got up and left.

  CHAPTER 14

  After three days in the hospital and having received a clean bill of health from Dr. Splevin, Burt was released. On his first day out, he and Debbie planned to take the short fifteen minute drive North to Morrow Bay to visit her mother and step-father and just relax and enjoy each other with nothing else special in mind planned. He wanted to make good on the promise he had made earlier to himself in the hospital, that is, to spend more time with Debbie and less time working, and he was the one who made the suggestion the two of them get away fr
om it all for the long weekend. When Debbie heard his suggestion, she eagerly accepted and thought three wonderful relaxing days together was just what they needed.

  But before they could leave, Burt had to see Hank Bailey, a local reporter he had promised to give an interview to. Bailey was an ambulance chaser who used his police band radio to get what few scoops there were to be gotten in that part of California. He had gotten Burt's name over the air on the day of Burt's first attack and wanted the details surrounding his medical problems thinking it would make a good human interest piece and had convinced Burt of that, too, or so he thought. Burt on the contrary, saw the interview as an opportunity to get a little notoriety for his successful experiment. So instead of driving north as they planned, they stayed in San Louis Obispo and spent time with Bailey.