by JA Konrath
“Daddy! What did you do to Mommy?”
She took the bullet in the chest, and when she fell it was slow motion, almost beautiful, like a ballet dancer.
He went into Bobby's room. His son was frightened, hysterical.
“Don't be afraid. Daddy's here.”
He picked him up, held him close. When Bobby began to calm down, he put the gun under the boy's chin and fired.
“Just one more.”
He turned the gun around so his thumb was on the trigger and the barrel was pointed at his own chest.
“Forgive me, Lord.”
Then he pulled.
Manny opened his eyes and screamed. It took him a second to realize where he was. He saw the scalpel in one bloody hand, the bottle of pills in the other.
N-Som dream.
He shivered and pulled his knees up to his chest. Bad batch. One of the worst. He wondered how many of the pills in the bottle came from the same source. Manny shook his whole body like a wet dog, trying to erase the memory from his mind.
But he couldn't, of course.
Didn't matter. It was over, and he was fully refreshed. The fatigue that had been setting in before he took the N-Som was gone. His fear was replaced with a feeling of strength and well-being.
Manny stood up. He was in Dr. May's garage. There was a car parked in Dr. May's spot, where one hadn't been earlier.
The doctor was in.
Manny was infused with a sense of purpose. He hoped he wasn't too late.
He put the scalpel and the pills in the shopping bag, on top of the Tupperware container, and eased the entry door open. It led into a hallway, beneath Bill's condo.
Manny walked fast, not wanting to be seen. The washer had faded the stains on his clothes, but the bandage on his hand was soaked with blood and would prompt questions.
The elevator took him to Dr. May's floor. He knocked on the door. Almost a minute passed. Manny knocked again, harder. His tongue tasted like pennies, and he realized he was biting it.
“Manny?”
Bill was in a bathrobe. His hair was wet and smelled of shampoo.
“Dr. May—quick! Inside where it's safe.”
He stepped past the doctor and looked around the room to make sure it was empty.
“Is anyone else here?”
“I'm alone, Manny. Are you all right? What happened at the hospital?”
Manny walked to the sofa, thought about sitting down, decided against it, and paced back to Bill.
“They took me.”
The lie came out weak. He wasn't sure why he was still covering for David, after all the horrible things he'd done. Fear? Devotion? Guilt?
“What happened to your hand?”
Manny stared at his fist, the gauze almost completely red.
“They cut my finger off. Can you sew it back on?”
Manny reached into the bag and removed the Tupperware container. His little finger was carefully sealed in plastic wrap and surrounded by ice.
Bill reached for the phone. “We have to get you to the hospital.”
“No! He... they, they'll find me there. I have to stay here, to protect you.”
“Manny, you need microsurgery to reattach a finger. I don't have that kind of equipment here.”
Manny held Bill by the arm, imploring.
“You don't understand. It's not safe. The people who took me... they said that you were next.”
The doctor seemed to think it over.
“Fine. Let me put on some clothes, and we'll go someplace safe.”
Bill went into another room. Manny chewed his fingernails, both eyes locked on the front door. He knew David was close by. He could practically smell him.
When they were kids, Manny and David had been very close. Even when they were fighting. Even when David did bad things. And more bad things were coming, Manny was sure of it. He could feel them drawing closer.
“Are you ready?”
He jumped at the doctor's voice. Bill put a hand on his shoulder.
“It's okay. It must have been horrible, but you're safe now. Got the finger?”
Manny clutched the bag to his chest.
“Good. Let's go.”
Bill led him down the stairs and back into the garage. It was a hellish walk for Manny, expecting David to pop out behind every corner. He felt a tad safer once they were in the car and driving.
“You've lost a lot of blood. Are you light headed?'
“A little.”
The car stopped at a light. Manny checked to make sure his door was locked.
“When was the last time you took N-Som?”
“A little while ago.”
Bill nodded. “Do you think maybe you should put the experiment on hold for a little while, get some sleep?”
“NO!”
The doctor flinched at the outburst. Manny tried to tamp down his emotion.
“I mean... I can't stop now, there's too much at stake here. This was Dr. Nikos's dream. I'm okay. I really am. I'm just scared. As you said, I've been through a lot.”
A car honked behind them. Manny jerked around. Just an SUV, wanting Bill to go because the light turned green. Bill complied.
“So... what's it like? Being on N-Som?”
“Like?”
“How does it feel?”
Manny was used to questions. He was asked them every day by the team's shrink, Dr. Fletcher. The familiarity made him relax a bit.
“It feels normal. You just don't get tired. Dr. Nikos calls it ZFS— Zero Fatigue Syndrome.”
“Physically or mentally tired?”
“Neither. I can exercise for a very long time. I can also concentrate for extended periods. I never get sleepy.”
“How about when the drug wears off?”
“As long as I take it every 24 hours, the effect never stops. If I miss a dose, I start feeling tired and I know it's time to take it again.”
Like earlier. Manny couldn't remember when he'd last taken the drug; the visit to the hospital had interrupted his daily dose. But the fatigue had been an indicator it was time.
“Are there side effects? Does it make you jumpy? Irritable?” He looked at Manny. “Paranoid?”
“N-Som isn't a stimulant, Dr. May. I'm acting paranoid because people are really after us.”
They drove in silence. It got to Manny, and after a minute he had to talk.
“Look, Doctor, this is an amazing drug. Not only does it replace sleep, it improves your health. I don't get sick anymore. Dr. Nikos and Theena have injected me with different diseases, and none have any affect. I can gain muscle mass at an amazing rate—in one week my biceps grew two inches. And healing... watch this.”
Manny found the scalpel in his bag and took it out.
“What are you doing?”
He brought the blade up to his cheek and make a shallow cut from his ear to his lip.
“Manny...!”
“Calm down, Doc. I have a pretty high threshold for pain. Now look.”
He lowered the visor and adjusted the vanity mirror so he could watch too.
There was bleeding, but not much. After a few seconds he wiped his cheek with his sleeve to show that it had stopped all together.
“See?” Manny put his fingers on either side of the cut and spread them open. The wound had closed.
“It's healed?”
“Not completely. My blood clots at the same rate that yours does. But both sides have knitted together already.”
“How is that possible?”
“Sleep promotes healing. While asleep, the glands manufacture chemicals.”
“The pituitary gland. It makes human growth hormone. It's responsible for building muscle, repairing damage, and a slew of other things. But an abundance of HGH is dangerous, Manny. It produces a condition known as acromegaly. The bones and organs enlarge, causing deformity and ultimately death.”
“Not in my case. N-Som fools the brain into thinking it has slept, and the brain responds by increased
hormone production. But my increased metabolism compensates for it. In technical terms, N-Som overrides the superachiasmatic nucleus of the hypothalamus and the midbrain recticular formation, resulting in...”
“I know,” Bill interrupted. “I read the chemical review. N-Som is a synthetic exitatory neurotransmitter. But I didn't know it affected anything other than the Circadian Clock.”
Manny grinned, his pleasure genuine.
“Pretty amazing stuff, huh? So you understand why this experiment is so important. Once this drug is approved, not only will the productivity of the human race increase, the individual quality of life will too.”
When Bill pulled into the parking lot, Manny saw that they were at the hospital. His smile melted.
“What is this?”
“Unless you can grow your finger back, you need surgery.”
“I told you...”
“Manny, I'll be with you the whole time. We'll be safe.”
But Manny knew better. If he went in here, there would be forms to fill out, insurance information, DruTech would be called...
David would find them.
“I can't...”
“Manny, please be reasonable.”
Manny looked down at his hands. He could live with nine fingers. But eight? Six? Two?
David had threatened to cut them all off if he tried to interfere. That, and worse.
“My finger doesn't matter, Doc. The Project matters. You, Theena, everyone involved is in danger. He wants to kill all of you.”
“Who, Manny? Who wants to kill us?”
Manny nervously glanced in the rearview mirror. He was so shocked that he yelled.
David.
“You have to get away, Doc. Go!”
Manny pushed out of the car and ran away as fast as he could.
Chapter 12
When Bill arrived at DruTech, Theena was waiting at the front door. Her lab coat was over another short skirt, and her hair was in a loose ponytail. She hugged him, and Bill felt the tension slip away for the short time she was in his arms.
“What happened?”
Theena was appraising the mark on Bill's cheek, where Franco had slapped him.
He gave her the whole story as they made their way to the research level. When the elevator stopped, he'd just gotten to the part with Manny.
“He's okay?”
There was excitement in her voice, perhaps a bit more than Bill found comfortable.
“He says some people took him from the hospital and cut off his finger, but he got away from them. I took him back there so they could reattach it, but he ran off.”
“That poor man. He must be terrified. And you too. Bill, I don't know how you managed it. You're very brave.”
Theena kissed him on the cheek.
Bill tried to shrug, but it came out more like a squeak. She took his hand and they left the elevator.
“The others are here—everyone except for Jim Townsend. I left several messages, but haven't heard from him.”
“Is that normal?”
“For Jim, no. I keep wondering if he had some kind of accident.”
Theena ushered Bill into a conference room. It was a moderate size, the walls adorned with motivational posters with sayings like “All answers began as problems.” The lighting was softer than the harsh neon of the hallways, and the air smelled faintly of tobacco. A large oval table was surrounded by a dozen chairs, only three of which were taken.
“This is Dr. Bill May, from CDER. I'm sure you all remember him from the other day. Bill, this is Dr. Mason O'Neil, our MD.”
Bill shook his hand. Mason was about ten years older than him, short and stout. He had furry gray sideburns that seemed to swallow his ears, an obvious attempt to make up for the lack of hair on his head.
“Next to him is our chemist, Dr. Julia Myrnowski.”
Julia was young, chubby, with short blonde hair. She smiled shyly at Bill and offered a moist, limp hand.
“And this is Dr. Robert Fletcher, our psychiatrist.”
“Call me Red.”
Bill couldn't imagine why—the doctor's hair was pure white. Red seemed to read Bill's mind.
“Nothing to do with my hair. I was a bookworm when I was younger. Nickname stuck.”
“Nice to meet all of you.” Bill glanced at Theena, unsure if he was supposed to tell the day's events. She pushed on without acknowledging him.
“I'd like everyone to state a brief overview of their work here, to give Bill an idea of how we're running this project. Can you start, Mason?”
“Of course.” Mason had a school teacher voice, the friendly kind. “I'm basically Manny's doctor. I oversee all of the testing. Tissue work ups, serum samples, vitals, lab tests, that sort of thing.”
“And how is his health?”
“Remarkable. Every possible stat has improved since began using N-Som. Blood pressure, cholesterol, body fat, endurance, you name it. You're an MD yourself, correct? I'd be thrilled to go over his charts with you.”
Bill had seen many of them already. Mason did thorough work.
Theena smiled, comfortable playing group leader. “Julia? Can you tell Bill about your job?”
“Well, I work in the lab a lot. Sometimes with Mason doing testing, but my specialty is NMRs and mass spec.”
“Julia is the one that mapped the atomic make-up of the N-Som molecule.”
“Three molecules, actually.” Julia blushed. “It's a beautiful drug, on an atomic level. I've built several models.”
“I'd like to see them.”
“Sure.”
Julia blushed. She was so shy Bill felt an urge to pat her head.
Red coughed into his hand and cleared his throat.
“And I assess Manny's mental state, along with providing needed therapy.”
“Does he need therapy?”
“We all need therapy, Bill. Perhaps Manny needs a bit more than others.”
Bill had gone over some of Manny's physical reports, but hadn't been privy to any of his psych evaluations other than a brief bio.
“I've read a little about his past. He grew up in a foster home.”
“Yes, with his brother, David. Their mother was a drug user, neglectful. The state took over custody.”
“Can you give me your personal assessment of him?”
Red smiled, apparently delighted by the question.
“Complicated man. He has a grounded sense of right and wrong, yet many times in the past he chose the wrong. Burglaries, car theft. We got him through the CIRP, you know.”
Bill hadn't known that. The Correctional Institution Reform Project offered prisoners reduced sentences by allowing them opportunities to volunteer in scientific programs.
“What was he in for?”
“Assault. He started a fight in a restaurant, hit another man with a beer mug. When the police arrived, he fought with them as well.”
“So he's temperamental.”
“When I first got him, yes. I'd like to say that my guiding hand has made him a calmer person, but I don't think I'm the cause in this instance.”
“N-Som?”
“I think so. Besides his many physical improvements, Manny has become calmer, more at ease with himself, and even a nicer person.”
“Is he ever paranoid? Delusional?”
Something passed behind Red's eyes.
“Manny has some unresolved issues involving his childhood, and has resulting ego problems. I'm sure you know how hard self acceptance can be, especially if you've made some big mistakes.”
Bill was taken aback. Did Red know? Was this talk of self acceptance and big mistakes a reflection on Bill's past?
“I'm not sure I understand.”
“I'm sure you do. I read about you in the paper last year, Dr. May. You and your wife. But obviously, with therapy, a person recovers. You did seek professional help, right?”
Bill felt it build inside him. He tried to repress the bottled emotion.
“The topic is
Manny, Red.”
“Surely you can talk about it after all this time.”
The memories came flooding back, and Bill couldn't stop the switch from being flipped. With them came pain, guilt, and self-hatred.
“Whether I can or I can't isn't your goddamn business.” Red stared at him without expression.
“I apologize, Dr. May. If you need an ear, I'm here. It's almost impossible to get over things like that without help.”
Bill tried to swallow, couldn't. All eyes were on him, watching him while he cracked. He stood up to leave.
“If you'll excuse me.” Bill fought to keep his voice even. “The last thing I want to do is tell a group of complete strangers about how I murdered my wife.”
Chapter 13
Theena watched Bill storm out of the conference room, his face ablaze with pain. Against the advice of Red, she followed, somewhat surprised by the degree of her own concern.
Bill was leaning against the wall, his thumb and index finger pressing his eyes closed. Theena touched his shoulder and discovered he was trembling.
“Bill? What happened in there?”
When he took his hand away from his face, his eyes were red. “I'm not sure I can talk about it.”
“Have you ever talked about it?”
Bill said nothing. Theena waited, watching him wrestle with some
inner demon. When he finally spoke it was flat and without emotion. “My wife Kristen had an inoperable brain tumor. It didn't respond
to conventional therapy. I knew there was an experimental drug that
looked promising, but it was still in pre clinical development—it
hadn't been tested on humans.”
His mouth twisted in a sour smile.
“I pushed the application through the Investigational New Drug
process, even though the sponsor wasn't prepared for clinical testing.
The FDA can do that for emergency cases; allow a treatment IND even
if the drug hasn't been approved.
Theena could guess where this was going. Her stomach clenched
with pity.
“The tumor was slow growing, but I didn't want to waste any
time. I rushed her into treatment. I can remember promising her it was
going to be okay.”
