Life Sentence

by Andrew Neiderman

  The offer to set him up with a new identity, a house and a job as a manager in a bowling alley was very enticing as well. He could have the day-time manager position or the nighttime, so he chose night-time manager. Who the hell wanted to get up early? Not that he really had to do anything. There was an assistant day manager and assistant night manager who did the real work. He would just strut about, sit at the bar, have a new life, a life he never even dared dream he’d have.

  Of course, he would be absolutely prohibited from having the slightest contact with any of his former associates, but he long ago lost interest in them anyway, and they in him.

  So why not do it? What were the alternatives?

  They even permitted him to choose his new name and he decided he liked Brad Lords. It sounded like a movie star’s name. Before he did anything else, he spent private time with an agent from the Witness Protection Program who schooled him on what his background was supposed to be. Although there would be no one out there looking to kill him, no one he had betrayed, he got the real sense that if he failed to follow the plan, their orders, and accidentally or deliberately revealed his true identity, they would have to eliminate him. Since they would have so much control of his new life, he had no doubt they could do whatever they wanted to him and get away with it. Who would know anything now? Who the hell would care? For that reason, he had the sense that they were a worse threat than anyone who he might have betrayed could be.

  ‘If you can’t do this, you’d better opt out now,’ the agent told him. The man looked clean, sharply dressed, and more like a successful businessman, but he had eyes as cold as any killer Louis had ever met.

  So he studied his new biography. He listened to their instructions and then when they thought he was ready, he was woken one night and escorted out of the cell to a waiting limousine. The men in the car with him were impressive, big, hard cut, no nonsense guys who were so confident of their ability to kill him in an instant, they didn’t put any cuffs on him. He sat quietly, now not only interested in what would come, but a little afraid. What the hell had he agreed to do?

  The ride was surprisingly short. He was escorted into a building and taken to what looked like a hospital room where he was told to undress and get into a hospital gown. No one really spoke to him except to give him orders. The nurse was at least kind enough to tell him her name, Miss Pearson. Another nurse came in after her, but she didn’t introduce herself. He learned her name by listening to Miss Pearson call her Mrs Randolph. He thought it was peculiar the way they both addressed themselves as Miss and Mrs. It was as if they hadn’t known each other or worked in this place very long and were certainly not friends at all. Maybe they weren’t. What did any of that matter anyway?

  He spent two weeks in that place even after Dr Oakland decided he was a success. After that he was kept in a housing facility and his reprogramming to become someone else just the way the agent from the Witness Protection Program had described continued. Finally, after numerous lab tests, examinations, X-rays, whatever, someone put the stamp of Good Housekeeping on his file and he was brought here and set up just the way they had promised.

  He had no complaints.

  He was going on eight months now, and he had even struck up a relationship with a waitress at the bowling alley restaurant, Alice Nicholas. She told everyone she was thirty-eight, but he checked her papers and found out she was almost forty-five. He didn’t reveal it, however. After all, he was lying out of his teeth as well, wasn’t he? In fact, except for his love of Italian food, he couldn’t even remember a single thing he had told her that was true.

  Lying had always come easy to him, even when he was an infant. He had a built-in fear and distrust of the truth. You always lied first, he thought, to be sure there were no land mines out there, and then, you gradually slipped in some truth when it was absolutely necessary – and only then.

  Alice was divorced with no children which made it easier. They were quickly becoming an item. She had moved some of her things into his house and spent four to five nights a week with him. Of course, he had dreamed of having younger women, but he was realistic now. He had some money, a good paying job, some respect, a modest home in a development, a decent car and, most of all, the best medical treatment and attention anyone could hope for, regardless of their wealth and position. It came with the territory.

  All he had to do was lead a clean life and permit them to keep up his medical records and evaluations periodically, which was no burden. It occurred, or was supposed to occur, every three months. He had already experienced two evaluations. The only thing that was strange about that was he was made to wear a blindfold when he was taken back to the clinic. Obviously, he was not permitted to know where it was. They even examined him in a room without windows so he couldn’t look out and see the surrounding area. And when it was time to go, he had to put on the blindfold and be lead out like a blind man.

  Small discomforts for what he had now and where he would have been otherwise.

  ‘What the hell are they doing here?’ he muttered aloud as the two paramedics got out of the ambulance, went to the rear, and took out a gurney. They moved quickly toward his front door. He stepped back from his window abruptly and froze when he heard them ring the doorbell.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he shouted to no one in particular and went to the door. ‘What is this?’ he demanded before he had fully opened the door.

  ‘Easy, Mr Lords,’ one of the paramedics said pushing the door so he couldn’t close it and stepping in. ‘We need to transport you ASAP.’

  ‘What? Transport me? Why? Where?’

  ‘It’s an emergency, obviously,’ the other paramedic said pushing the gurney through the doorway. ‘It’s best for your cover if you’re taken out of here like this. Please put out the cigarette and lie on the gurney. You aren’t supposed to be smoking.’

  ‘This is nuts. You’re not here because I’m smoking, are you?’

  They stared at him.

  ‘Look, no one told me about this. How can it be an emergency? What emergency? I’m fine.’

  ‘It just came up. Like he says, it’s an emergency. It’s better if you cooperate. It will go faster. Thank you,’ the first paramedic added assuming Louis would just do what they asked.

  ‘Thank you? What the fuck …’

  He looked from one to the other. He had never seen either of them and neither looked like real paramedics. He was familiar enough with deception and deceptive people to see something threatening in their eyes.

  ‘I don’t like this. Nothing’s been done without some preparation, some warning. No one pulls any surprises. How do I know who you guys are really, huh?’

  He backed up.

  ‘We have simple instructions, Mr Lords. There’s nothing we can do about it. We all follow instructions and that’s that,’ the second paramedic said. ‘You should know that. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.’

  ‘I don’t just go with anyone,’ Louis replied. ‘I got a card with a number on it to call if I ever have a problem. That’s what I’m going to do now,’ he said, ‘so you just sit tight and wait.’

  He turned to go to the wall phone in the kitchen. When he got there, he pulled out his wallet and searched for the card. All it had was a telephone number on it, no names, nothing else. It would be the first time he had ever used it. His fingers were actually trembling and for him that was damn unusual.

  They took my courage too, he thought and wondered just what he had sold beside his soul. He muttered the number to himself and then lifted the receiver.

  The tiny stick he felt at the back of his neck was like an insect bite. He reached back to slap it, but he barely got his arm up before the room spun and he sank into one of the paramedic’s arms.

  Through a mist of consciousness, he felt himself being lowered on to the gurney and then strapped in. He saw nothing, but heard the wheels going over the floor and felt himself being carried along and then lifted up and into the
ambulance. The doors were shut. He tried to speak, was sure he had, but heard himself say nothing aloud.

  Then he drifted into deeper darkness and silence.

  Since there was no siren, none of the neighbors even went to their windows, much less step out to look. It was a blue collar neighborhood anyway and most, if not all, had full-time employment and were still at work. Anyway, what would it mean if anyone witnessed what was happening? What could anyone do? Why would anyone care? Few even knew he was there.

  The ambulance backed up and started away. Only when it turned a corner and headed for the highway, did the siren sound.

  But Louis didn’t hear it. He didn’t comprehend anything again until he heard someone say, ‘There’s a remarkable change on his EKG and his blood pressure, too. Better call Mr Dover right away.’

  He heard some shuffling and mumbling. He was truly like a blind man. He felt sure his eyes were open, but he saw only blackness.

  ‘Help me!’ he was sure he cried. ‘I can’t see.’

  He waited.

  No one even acknowledged his pleas.

  It was worse than being back in a jail cell. He was imprisoned in his own body.

  Simon stood by the specimen’s bed and looked at the blood test. This time the immune suppressor was working like a charm. He handed the report back to Miss Pearson without comment and smiled at his patient, not because he really gave a damn about him, but because his body was performing as Simon hoped it would. Mr Dover wanted to put everything on hold, but Simon’s interpretation of that was merely that the releases would be on hold. His work, of course, had to continue, and this one was looking very, very good.

  He had limited knowledge of personal information about his specimens. He preferred it that way. If he began to think of them as anything other than experimental vehicles, he might hesitate or make mistakes, or worse yet, not work as hard for this one or that, he thought, because of some subconscious moral pressure. Science has no room for any subjectivity. One convict is just like any other. His job was to help convince them he was their best hope for any reprieve, and that was all he would do.

  They might not thank me immediately, but in time, they will, he told himself. The whole civilized world will.

  He checked the man’s skin. It had lost significant elasticity. The age spots were popping up like bubbles in a pond, too. One unexpected result was a cataract. The man’s blood pressure rose, but that was expected. Arteries were hardening; a natural effect of aging. Yesterday, he had complained about a tooth and today, it fell out.

  He told him the dentist would be in to see him and would work on a bridge for him. No problem. Actually, there were no unexpected results. No one had warned the specimen, but that was par for the course as well. After all, if they knew all the nitty-gritty details about what might happen to them, they might back out, even with the promise of freedom.

  He glanced at the activity report, the man’s physical strength and endurance. Everything was degenerating as anticipated. This was perfect. I’m back on track, he thought. This time nothing will stop me.

  For a moment it struck him as ironic that his success was directly related to the man’s loss of physical stamina, poorer hearing and eyesight and slower reflexes. Every other doctor would be doing all he or she could to prevent all this. They lived under the burden of ‘Do no harm’.

  ‘When am I getting out of here?’ his specimen asked him.

  Simon permitted himself to use his name when he spoke to him. ‘Chester, believe me. It won’t be long now. I need to run a few more tests over the next few days to be sure you’re about where you are supposed to be.’ He patted his hand just the way a good GP might to give his patient some comfort.

  ‘I don’t like this. It ain’t what I thought.’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ Simon replied. ‘Maybe,’ Simon said smiling, ‘you’re just like anyone else. You were deceiving yourself. All of you pick and choose what reality you want to face. It’s human nature.’

  ‘All of us? What are you? Aren’t you human?’

  Simon just smiled at him.

  ‘Ah, what the hell? I’ll show you. I’ll show all of you. I’m going to live a cleaner life,’ Chester Elliot declared. ‘Healthier life. No smoking, exercise, the right foods and vitamins. You’ll see. I’ll peal back these years.’

  ‘Maybe you will. Good luck to you, Chester. I certainly wouldn’t stand in your way.’

  Chester Elliot grunted. ‘I gotta piss again,’ he said. ‘Seems I’m pissing every few hours. Why’s that?’

  ‘Your prostate gland is enlarged. Very common for older men. If you want, we can do a TUR before you leave. Probably should,’ he added thinking aloud.

  ‘What the hell’s that?’

  ‘Transurethral resection … we widen the passage so you can urinate easier and not build up so much in your bladder. Very simple plumbing job,’ Simon said. ‘And usually it doesn’t affect sexual activity. I bet you’re already thinking ahead to Viagra,’ he added smiling.

  ‘Yeah, sure. Maybe I’ll have that then.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll make a note of it. Relax for now or go pee.’

  Before he could call for Miss Pearson, she surprised him by coming to the doorway of Chester’s room. ‘Excuse me, Dr Oakland, but I have Dr Hoffman calling you from the ER.’

  ‘Hoffman? He’s not here today,’ Simon said. Miss Pearson just stared at him. She hated to be contradicted or corrected. He didn’t like her because she was too much like he was. ‘He called you from our ER, you said?’

  ‘Yes, Dr Oakland. It’s what he told me. He said he needs to speak with you immediately. He said it was urgent, otherwise I wouldn’t interrupt.’

  Damn right you wouldn’t, Simon thought.

  ‘I gotta pee,’ Chester said. ‘Can I get up and go?’

  ‘What? Oh, yes. Miss Pearson, would you be so kind as to help our patient to the bathroom.’

  Miss Pearson moved instantly to help Chester Elliot out of bed and guided him along with his IV rack toward the bathroom.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Simon muttered as he clipped Chester Elliot’s chart back to his bed and walked out quickly. He went to the telephone by the counter at the end of the short hallway.

  ‘Larry, what are you doing here?’ he asked immediately. ‘You’re off today. I thought you had those tickets to the theater. What …?’

  ‘Mr Dover brought me in.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘To examine Louis Williams.’

  ‘Louis? But I didn’t authorize any examination. He’s not due for a check-up for another month.’

  Larry Hoffman was silent too long.

  ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  ‘I don’t know, Simon. Dover called me on my cellphone. I was on the way into the city and had to turn back. Lillian was fit to be tied, but what could I do? I asked him if you were here. I didn’t see why you couldn’t or shouldn’t handle it, but he ignored my question and told me Williams would be here when I arrived. He told me to have him evaluated immediately and not to confer with you until I had spoken with him first after I had the results. He made that very clear, Simon. Sorry, but you know that if—’

  ‘What results?’ Simon demanded interrupting.

  ‘There’s a remarkable rejuvenation occurring. His pulse, his heartbeat, his skin, eyesight … you name it, there are significant improvements.’

  Now Simon was the silent one for a long few seconds. Improvements, he thought and cringed as if he had said something utterly disgusting.

  ‘And you reported this to Dover?’

  ‘Not five minutes ago.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said to let you know immediately and also to let you know he would be coming to see you first thing tomorrow morning. He estimated around ten.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Why didn’t he ask me to do the evaluation? And why didn’t he call me after he spoke with you?’ Simon asked and almost immediately answered hi
s own question to himself. He didn’t trust I would give him the true results. The man trusts no one. He probably had his own mother followed until she was taken to a rest home and then had her room bugged. As far as having Hoffman call me, Simon thought, that’s Dover’s immature way of showing me he’s angry with me.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know any more than what I’ve told you, Simon. You know I normally keep you up on anything the moment I know it. I—’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know. What are you doing with Louis Williams now? Did he give you any instructions?’

  ‘Yes. We’re keeping him here.’

  ‘Keeping? How long?’

  ‘For the rest of his life, I imagine. So, not long,’ Larry Hoffman said. ‘We’re sending him upstairs.’

  They called that floor ICU when they spoke to each other in front of the nurses, but each thought of it as the Final Stage floor.

  Simon held the phone until he realized Miss Pearson had come out of Chester Elliot’s room and was staring at him. Then he cradled the receiver quickly and hurried out the door to the safety of his office where he could gather his thoughts and plan what to do next.

  ‘Well, here’s a change for a change,’ Mrs Littleton said when Louis Williams was wheeled into the room that had been occupied by Sutter.

  She, Shirley Cole and Freda Rosen had just begun their shift. Laura Randolph, the nurse who worked directly with Dr Oakland and Miss Pearson on the floor below, had escorted Louis Williams and was giving instructions to Shirley at the desk. Mrs Littleton and Freda watched them from Williams’ doorway. The attendant and Mrs Littleton then transferred Louis from the gurney to the bed. Even though he was sedated, the attendant told her to help him strap down Louis.