Barry was back in his wheelchair. “I’m going in!”
Before Barry could head for the warehouse, Joey barred his way by grabbing both sides of the wheelchair.
“Barry, why are you going in? If they catch you—”
“Hell with them! What don’t you understand? I need to talk to the doctor! He needs to listen to me!”
“You’re not making any sense, Barry! You need to understand! Get a grip!”
Barry grabbed Joey’s wrist and squeezed. His grip was strong and Joey wasn’t expecting that. He yelped as he jerked back.
“Get out of my way, now!” Barry took advantage of Joey’s lapse and wheeled forward, running over Joey’s foot in the process.
“Damn it, Barry!”
Barry furiously wheeled himself around the side of the building and out of sight.
“Oh my gosh, Joey! Honey!” Jenny was beside herself, not knowing how to help. Joey was holding his wrist while hopping around on one foot, expletives tumbling out of his mouth.
“Shouldn’t we stop him?” Jenny was torn between going after Barry to talk some sense into him and staying with her boyfriend.
Joey grimaced and sat on a discarded, oversized Coleman ice chest. “Give me a minute,” he said. He bent his leg and took off his shoe so he could rub the pain out of his foot.
***
Barry wheeled himself around to the back of the warehouse. He had a vague recollection of the doctor’s thugs dumping him off here, after drugging him. Afterwards, a grinning fool wheeled him in front of a burn barrel, which was, of course, his luck.
He was glad he’d gotten away from Joey and Jenny and followed his intuition. He heard some voices ahead and slowed down, cocking his head to listen. Two men in white scrubs stood outside a door chatting and taking sips from Styrofoam cups. They were pacing and shaking their legs and arms, as if they were shaking out cramps.
One man shook his head as if puzzled. “One crazy doctor, eh?” he said. His words came out slow and tinted with a Southern drawl.
The other man agreed. He had a thick French accent. “Yes, crazy. But we travel from all over the world to be able to work beside him, yes? To learn from him. Someday, we can all be crazy and be like him.” The men shared a laugh.
“Cheers!” They tapped cups and both took sips of their beverage.
Barry’s intuition was right on the money. The doctor was operating right now. He should have been the one on his operating table! No one deserved it more than him.
He began to tremble. He felt overheated beneath the shirt and heavy coat he wore. That morning, getting ready for this day, deep down he knew he didn’t have a chance with the doctor. He’d tried. He’d felt like giving up, and that disgusted him. He was a fighter, and always a fighter.
But as the days passed by, and the months, he knew he was dying. Little by little, his life was corroding away, and no one cared. He’d always thought his life was very much like an hourglass. Grains of sand trickled down through the narrow opening, first slow, because there was too much sand, but then faster and faster until there were only a few grains left.
Yes, my life is like the hourglass, and it’s almost done.
With real life, there was no second chance to turn the hourglass over.
The doctor could have been famous for operating on a pathetic cripple such as himself, but no! The doctor chose to continue with his own plan. For that, he’d pay. Not only with a loss of fame and fortune, but with his life.
Barry felt under his heavy coat, the one he chose to wear to conceal what was underneath. A few times today, he thought he’d have to postpone his plans with all the interruptions and close calls. But now, he touched the smooth cold cylinder-shaped objects and the slick feel of duct tape, its edges leaving a gummy residue on his fingertips.
The homemade bombs were not hard to make; the instructions were available online. He’d always been a fighter, but after thinking about his dilemma this morning, he’d realized his fight was over.
He wasn’t handsome, or popular, or exceptionally smart. He was… himself. He wasn’t rich either. He wouldn’t be able to pay for this life-changing surgery. No matter how generous his trust was, there was no way his trustee would pay out hundreds of thousands of dollars on a whim. He had to accept his fate in life, but if he didn’t deserve to live, why should Dr. Farkis be able to save anyone else?
His window of opportunity to get closer to the doctor started narrowing when the men headed towards the door, propped open with a brick. Barry noticed there wasn’t a door handle on the outside, so it was now or never. He shook his head to focus as he sped forward.
Time for Plan B.
“Excuse me!” he called. The doctors turned as Barry wheeled himself up to them. He feigned a pathetic, crippled man expression so they wouldn’t feel apprehensive about his approach. Of course, the effort was easy, since he felt like a pathetic, crippled man more and more each day. The two men watched him with concern.
“Hey, I’m not a homeless bum. No worries!” Barry said, chuckling to ease their concern.
They both returned his chuckle, relieved. They didn’t have time to deal with the homeless they’d noticed around the area.
“Dr. Farkis is expecting me.” Barry grabbed the lanyard around his neck and presented his hospital ID. “I’m to relieve one of the nurses.”
The doctors must not have noticed his fumbling fingers or his sweating brow. They had no problem allowing him to go through the door ahead of them.
Once they were inside with the door closed behind them, Barry said, “Go ahead, guys.” He smiled. “I’m a little slower than you. I’ll catch up.”
“See you on the other side,” one of the men said. They both waved before rushing off.
Barry waved to them and grinned as they hurried off down the hallway. Since he figured this’ll be his last grin ever, in this world anyway, he stretched out his dry lips as far as he could. He felt them crack and saw spots of blood after blotting them with the cuff of his coat sleeve. He felt instant shame, ridicule, and fright after the doctors were out of sight.
He wiped the rictus grin off his face by slapping himself on the cheek, his head swinging to the left from the force. He’d have a mark within a few minutes but he needed to focus. The sting of the slap sharpened his senses.
He took a deep breath and nodded, as if answering a question or coming to a decision. He closed his eyes and all he could see was himself, made whole, walking out of this warehouse into the sunshine with a spring in his step.
The false euphoria didn’t last long. His mind soon darkened and storm clouds gathered. He false-started his wheelchair several times, his sweaty palms too slick to push it forward. He brought his hands up to his face and clenched them several times. He wiped the palms of his hands on his pant legs over and over again.
He felt around the bulky apparatus on the inside of his coat and pulled it from its Velcro fastener. He took off his belt and secured the bomb pouch to his chest, tightening and buckling it.
He put his coat back on and pulled out his fingerless black leather gloves. He put them on, stretching and clenching his fingers. After closing his eyes and breathing in deeply one more time, he patted his coat pocket. The hardness of the revolver gave him the resolve to continue his mission. He bent forward and pushed.
Time to find the infamous Doctor Stefan Farkis.
Chapter 29
Severed Head Causes Havoc - Oakland
The team had been operating for almost twenty-two hours and were well in the swing of things. They were quiet except for Dr. Farkis, who stayed busy orchestrating the delicate and somber surgery. Every now and then the team made eye contact with each other to stay grounded. Being around Farkis for too long wore them out because of all the energy he sapped from them.
Dr. Farkis almost dropped a scalpel when they heard a sudden loud shout from the hallway.
“Damn it! Nikko,” Dr. Farkis said as he sighed in frustration, “go see what’s happenin
g.” The doctor was disappointed. “Supposed to watch the door... it’s their only job. I’m going to kill them!”
There were loud mumblings and a clatter. An instant later, Nikko was pushed into the room, followed by a very angry senator.
“Stefan, you better have an excellent explanation for this sinister, covert, spy-crazy... What the hell?”
Terry Evans skidded to a halt inside the doorway when he came face-to-face with twenty-eight people wearing lab coats, face masks, and goggles. His eyes bulged with horror and his face paled as he noticed the table draped in a blood-splattered white sheet. A head in a huge jar was on a small table beside it. The female’s hair flowed in the liquid, her eyes large. The eyelids slowly blinked—open, close, open, close—with the motion of the liquid. He gasped, stumbling against the Detective with a hand over his heart.
“Oh … I’m having a heart attack!” he managed to croak out.
“Anderson, go see if the Senator is going to live,” Farkis barked to the closest junior doctor. “Try to keep him alive. He’s important to the cause.”
The assigned doctor sighed and muttered to the doctor standing next to him. “You better not take over my spot. It’s my rotation this time!” he hissed, his competitive nature showing.
“This has gone far enough, Stefan. You’re crazy!”
“You know each other?” Mobydick inquired as he ran into the room, breathing hard. Senator Evans, being older but in better shape, had beaten him in.
The doctor chortled as he clamped a vein. “We’ve known each other for what, thirty-five years.”
Mobydick frowned. “So…?”
“We’re foster brothers,” the senator said. “Were foster brothers. Obviously, he’s the evil one—”
“Now, wait a minute, Terry. Who’s the evil one?” Farkis said. “You’re the senator.”
“When we were young and Stefan started doing experiments in our basement,” Terry said, loud enough for everyone in the room, “I knew I didn’t want to be associated with him any longer than I had to.” He glared at the doctor as if he was mentally throwing daggers. “When I told his parents…”
“You’re lucky you had a home, senator,” Farkis said, his voice tense. He gestured to the nearest doctor. “Calhoun, take over!”
Dr. Calhoun was grateful Dr. Farkis chose her to take his place at the surgery table. She allowed herself a small smile. She knew this was her time to shine, despite the alarming escalating problem at hand. Hopefully they’d take the argument outside so she could proceed and see her name in medical journals. And she dammed will do her best to make this successful.
“Nurse Stacy,” she said with authority, her voice demanding attention. “Grippers!”
Dr. Farkis ripped off his goggles and threw them in the corner of the room. He proceeded to untie his scrubs as he stomped up to Terry. “My parents didn’t have to take you in, you know.”
“Why are you here? Brotherly love, my ass!” he spat. “What’s your angle? Aren’t politicians always searching for an angle?”
They now stood toe to toe, staring at each other. Terry backed up a little. “For the love of God, Stefan, stop this madness, now!” He hesitated before he continued, eager to get everything off his chest.
“When I saw your name mentioned in a local blog and followed the link to a recent medical publication, brazenly calling you a nut job about your theories, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I put two and two together, remembering your asinine fascination with cutting off rats’ heads in our basement, and finding out you’re using this warehouse—”
“Enough!” Stefan roared. “You come in here and threaten me? I’ll tell you what, if this gets out, you know as well as I do you’ll go down too. Money laundering, fraud, racketeering, blackmail, accessory to murder—”
“Murder?” Terry shook his head, dumbfounded at this accusation. “What are you talking about, murder?”
Mobydick stepped between the two men. “Now, now, let’s not get too hasty in calling each other names.”
“Go ahead, Moby,” Stefan prompted. “Tell ‘em.”
Terry turned towards Mobydick. His heavily-armed bodyguards surrounded him and they were intimidating. On cue, they bared their teeth like trained Dobermans, and pulled out their guns.
“Mobydick, you’ve been getting voter registrations from those people, right? What is he talking about?” The senator’s voice was slow, articulating each word as if he were addressing a first-grader.
“You’re making my doctors nervous! Get out!” Farkis’ face was shiny and red.
Mobydick shoved the senator out of the room and Farkis followed, along with the bodyguards.
“Tell him, Moby,” Stefan dared him. “Tell him how you brought the homeless to me early in these experiments. Tell him how I’d already completed a dozen or so surgeries—”
The gangster turned to the doctor, his eyes ablaze. “Now I do believe you’re crazy, doctor. He’s right, I only encouraged these people to vote.” The mobster shrugged, his eyes darting around, not making eye contact. “Nothing wrong with that.” He warned the senator about dragging him down, and no way was he going to prison.
Farkis rushed at Mobydick, but his guards were quick to stand in front of him.
“You stupid mobster! I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!”
“Who are you calling stupid, doctor? I would be careful if I were you.” Mobydick’s eyes glowed with pure hatred. “We did what you asked of us. We protected you. We allowed you to use our warehouses.”
“Tell me the truth, Stefan.” Terry took out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. “What have you done?”
“What, brother, are you blind?” Stefan retorted. “I’m sure you can see the great things I’ve done, can’t you? Trust me, my research will revolutionize the medical world.”
Terry sneered back at him. “How do you know I won’t turn you in?”
“Because if you do, I’ll make a phone call,” Farkis shot back. “How does twenty-five to life sound?”
“You’re so full of it, you know that? You had the world in your hands when your parents took me in. You lied to them and stole from them, yet they always gave you love. You always blamed me when they found dead animals under the house in your cruel little graveyard. Rats and then Missy, the neighbor’s missing cat . . .”
“Shut up!” Dr. Farkis screamed, his face turning almost purple with anger.
But Terry continued, his pent-up emotions overflowing.
“I was the one who was punished. But you know what, doctor? Your mother knew who committed those crimes.” Terry was breathing hard, his eyes glassy with sadness. “And the sad part is, I know you’re the one who caused the fire.”
“I warned you to never speak about that!”
“Your parents died because of you, you monster!”
Stefan lunged toward Terry, wrapping his hands around his neck. “I’m going to kill you! You’re the one who should’ve been killed in that fire!”
Terry retaliated by kicking Stefan in the shins. They fell to the ground, throwing punches at each other. Neither of them had been in a physical fight in years, and after a few minutes they slowed down, panting with exhaustion. Mobydick and his bodyguards watched, some of them smirking.
A gunshot rang out. Most felt the reverberation through their bodies as the bullet ricocheted around the room. Terry and Stefan froze, startled. Mobydick and his body guards instinctively crouched down and pointed their guns in the direction of the sound. Most of the doctors and nurses in the room ducked too, covering their ears in pain.
All was quiet for a few seconds during the recovery from the sudden gun blast. Terry pushed Stefan off him and they both scrambled to their feet.
Chapter 30
Barry Can’t Have a New Body So He Makes a Bomb - Oakland
After Barry fired the gun, his arm went limp and his fingers loosened, dropping the revolver to the ground. He covered his ears. The world was silent for
a few moments, as he couldn’t hear a thing. He didn’t think about how shooting a Colt .45 in a warehouse would impair his hearing, but the obvious outcome made sense now.
Everyone turned toward him in shock. When his ears cleared a little, he heard faint, tinny piano music somewhere beyond the room. At first, he thought his ears were ringing.
Mobydick and his bodyguards recovered and stood up, aiming their guns at Barry.
“Barry?” Dr. Farkis’s mouth dropped open.
Barry enjoyed the myriad of emotions flickering over the doctor’s face. If he were an actor, Farkis could have earned an Oscar for this performance.
“Yes, doctor, it is I. Pathetic, crippled, freak boy Barry.”
One of Mobydick’s bodyguards stepped forward, still pointing his gun at Barry.
“I wouldn’t come any closer, Mr. Bodyguard,” Barry commanded in an authoritative voice. He acted casual as he pulled opened his coat. He heard a collective gasp from his audience when they saw the bombs strapped around his chest.
“Now, son—” Terry began.
“Don’t call me son. I am a man,” Barry said.
“Okay, okay,” said the senator. He tried to use his calm and reassuring politician voice. “Let’s take this nice and easy. What do you want, son, er—”
Barry stared at Stefan. “Everyone can leave except for Dr. Farkis.”
“What?” Stefan’s eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape. His frantic gaze stopped at the senator. “Don’t leave me here with this…this psycho, Terry!” he begged.
Terry allowed a quick sarcastic grin. “So, you want my help now? After all these years? Hmm, let me think…” He tapped his chin as he stared at Stefan.
Running footsteps came from the back hallway and Jenny and Joey burst into the room.
“Barry, thank God you’re okay. We broke down the door the rest of the way and—” Jenny said. She gasped when she noticed the apparatus strapped around his chest and they both skidded to a stop before him.
Joey swallowed, his face paling. “Barry! What’s going on?”
Heads Will Roll Page 14
