EXOSKELETON - A Novel

by Shane Stadler

  "Ms. Hatley, attach the sensors while I get the other tool cart," Colby instructed, and walked out of the room.

  Hatley turned to Will and looked at him haughtily. She attached a monitor to each of his index fingers, left upper arm, chest, and forehead. She then opened his hospital robe and strapped something near his groin. She hesitated, took a closer look, and giggled. "I see a little uh ... asymmetry ... here," she said. "Maybe we should just castrate you, so you don't rape any more children, huh?"

  The "huh" coincided with a stiff squeeze of his balls, making him yelp like a dog. It also made him try to close his jaw—and it felt as if he nearly dislocated it.

  Hatley then moved closer to his face and smiled. "I'm so glad I get to be a part of today's little exercise. You see, Dr. Colby lets me do a few of the simple procedures as part of my training." She then got so close to his face that he could smell her minty breath. "And when I get to do the routines myself, I won't be as nice as the old man." She then gathered up some saliva and spit directly into Will's mouth, the glob landing in the back of his throat.

  Will gagged hard, but managed to recover after a few seconds. His jaws tensed again and it caused enough pain to make him forget about the spit. Now he tried to ignore the taste of mint.

  He saw Colby push a cart of shiny instruments into the room. He initially felt some relief that he was no longer alone with the woman, but this subsided as he recognized some of the pieces on the cart, including a high-speed drill and a large assortment of bits.

  Hatley moved to Will's left, near an instrument panel that controlled the monitors. Colby rolled a stool to Will's right, selected an instrument, and sat down.

  "Well 523, you have an interesting nerve arrangement in your lower jaw. I think we'll need to explore that thoroughly. But first, just a routine dental exam—so we can plan specific procedures for later this year. Here we go ... "

  Will closed his eyes and prayed in his mind.

  *

  Denise's tiny office was conveniently located just two doors down from Jonathan's, but it gave her enough privacy to work without too many distractions.

  She found the name of the DNA test center in the case files; it was located just a few miles west of the city of West Frankfurt, in southern Illinois. She arranged for a rental car, and made reservations at a hotel just off of highway I-57, in the town of Marion, a larger town further south. She downloaded directions, and designed and printed some business cards under an alias. As she was cutting them out, she heard a knock at her door.

  Jonathan stepped in and leaned against the door frame. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

  "On paper, yes. I'll have to prepare myself mentally, though."

  "You'll be fine. Have you used this alias somewhere before?"

  "A long time ago—to get into bars as an undergrad. I have a matching ID—good thing I don't look too different."

  "Should do the trick. They shouldn't scrutinize you too much if I call ahead."

  Denise nodded. "What do you think the chances are that we find the samples?"

  "No idea," Jonathan answered. "But even the slimmest chance is better than none."

  "I don't understand why we need Thompson's case so badly; can't we just demand information about the Red Box—invoke the Freedom of Information Act, or something?"

  "It doesn't work that way with classified projects."

  "It's classified? But citizens are serving sentences there," Denise argued.

  "They've all volunteered," Jonathan explained, "and they, and the employees, have all signed non-disclosure forms regarding the program under penalty of treason."

  "I'd think someone would leak information, eventually."

  "That may be, but we don't have time to wait—those prisoners don't have time to wait."

  "We've only been through about fifty case files—shouldn't there be hundreds to examine?" Denise asked.

  "We can't even find the names of most of the people in the CP program," Jonathan explained. "The cases are low profile: rape, drugs, or murder II, and the defendants are given the option at the very last minute. They're gone before they can talk to anyone, and even the lawyers are left in the dark. Of course the judges know—but they're forced to sign National Security Nondisclosure agreements, as well."

  "Stinks to high heaven."

  "Undoubtedly," Jonathan said. He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "I better get back to reading the transcript of Ms. Sorrensen's testimony. I'll have some tough questions for her tonight."

  Jonathan walked out, leaving Denise to her preparations and her thoughts. A lot was going to happen in the next few days, but she didn't know what to expect. For the first time in her life, she had a gun in her possession.

  *

  Will tasted the latex gloves on Colby's hands as the man poked and scratched every crevice of every tooth in his jaw with a sharp wire-like instrument. Colby blurted out various numbers and letters; presumably codes for various things—cavity in this molar, filling replacement here, root canal there, and so on. When he'd finished, he grabbed the chart from Hatley and spoke to Will, "We have two new cavities to fill, five filling replacements, one—maybe two—root canals, and wisdom teeth removal—all four. By the end of the year, you'll have had a fine dental makeover."

  Colby put the chart down on the cart and selected the same instrument he used for the "checkup." He nodded to his assistant, and she pushed a button on the instrument panel. Will saw the word "recording' flash on a screen displaying heart rate, blood pressure, and body temperature.

  Colby put the instrument in his mouth, and Will felt him exact extreme pressure on a back-right-bottom molar. The dentist strained, putting his weight into it. Pain built up in the center of the tooth and then, all at once, the sharp, stiff wire broke through a weak part and plunged in deep, through the soft dentin and into the root. Will's vision went a blinding white, a high pitched tone ringing in his ears, before everything went black.

  When he came to, Colby was pressing a larger instrument on the area, and Will tasted a strong mint flavor. The dentist must have repaired the tooth while he was passed out.

  "Your pain threshold is average, at best," Colby explained. "We plugged the hole we made in that tooth with a temporary filling—which should take hold well since that was a healthy, pristine tooth. We'll replace the temp when we do the real work later in the year. Now let's have a look under one of your fillings. That should give us an idea of what to expect regarding decay, and nerve sensitivity."

  Will's jaw ached deeply, and his throat was already raw from screaming. This time they tied his tongue over to the side of his mouth—like they do with race horses.

  Colby selected the high-speed drill and tested it: the high-pitched whine made Will recoil. Colby reached in with the drill, and Will felt him slowly grind away the filling of an upper—left molar. Hatley held a suction tube near the area to suck up the refuse, but the pieces she missed lodged under his tongue and in the back of his throat. The unsettling smell of burnt tooth and filling came to his olfactory system in the reverse direction—from the back of his throat through his nose, as he breathed out. The taste of it seemed to coat everything. His tooth became progressively more sensitive as Colby worked.

  After a few minutes, Colby swapped the drill for the wire tool. "Filling's gone. Let's see what we have here."

  Will felt him probe the edges of the newly exposed hole, and then dig his way up until he poked deep into one of the roots. The pain shot directly into Will's brain—but it was different than that of the lower tooth. He heard his voice crackle into falsetto as he screamed, and salty sweat trickled into his eyes. When the torment finally ceased, he noticed sweat on Colby's face as well.

  "Seems your threshold is quite a bit higher on the uppers—that works against you though," Colby said. "Now, let's take a look at that special nerve bundle in your lower jaw."

  He turned to Hatley. "I think we'll go through the outside gums for this one."

  Will fe
lt himself begin to slip away again. He felt his eyes roll back, but a stiff slap on his chest brought him back.

  "Hey—you don't want to do that," Colby warned. "We'll have to give you a drug to keep you conscious—and that throws off our assessments. You definitely don't want that." He then grabbed another wire tool, similar to the first, except this one seemed thinner and was ground to a needle-sharp point. He grasped Will's right cheek between his thumb and forefinger, and pulling it aside to have a close look. He sighed, released his cheek, and walked over to the x-ray image on the display.

  The dentist studied the image for a minute, then Will heard him say, "ahhh ... okay," under his breath as he walked back to Will's side.

  "Come here, Ms. Hatley," Colby said.

  She nodded and walked over to his side.

  "Pull this aside like this," he instructed as he demonstrated pulling Will's cheek. "That way I can get in with my left hand. And stay out of the light."

  Will felt Hatley's fingers as she pulled his cheek aside, and then Colby inserted the instrument. He felt the cold steel gently probing his lower gums on the outside, near his right cheek.

  Colby turned to Hatley, "If we plunge in deep, right here ... "—Will felt a sharp poke on his gums between the first and second molars from the back-" ... we'll hit the center of that spider-like bundle. It passes below the main nerve junction. But we need to be careful not to damage it."

  Will felt the cold wire penetrate his lower gum, and he whined pitifully with his mouth propped open like the hood of a car. Colby explained the procedure to Hatley as he worked, but Will couldn't hear all the words over his own sounds. The wire scraped over teeth, roots, and bone indiscriminately. At one point it felt as if the probe was beneath a tooth, and was about to poke through the gum, out the other side.

  After some digging around, Colby finally located the nerve bundle, causing a white-hot pain to shoot through Will's skull. It felt like someone was drilling into the roots of all of his lower teeth simultaneously. His bowels released uncontrollably, and a moment later he smelled a stench rise from his body like he'd never known before. Colby seemed to ignore it, as if it were a common occurrence; Hatley covered her face with her sleeve.

  Colby then pointed at one of the meters with his right hand and turned his head slightly to Hatley. "Here the pain levels are at two. And here ... " He put a little pressure on the instrument.

  Will gasped, his eyes fluttering.

  Colby continued, "up to seven ... a little more pressure ... seven point five ... more pressure ... eight point two ... "

  That was the last thing Will remembered—he passed out for the second time, only to wake up to Colby saying, "Now you give it a try, Ms. Hatley."

  Kelly Hatley eagerly accepted the instrument and awaited the dentist's instruction.

  "Enter the insertion point I made—it's about three quarters of an inch deep and angled towards the back. You should feel a small pebble-like mass. Exert some pressure, but be careful not to damage it; we don't want to paralyze the nerve. No pain in that now, is there?

  "Nope," she responded and started the insertion.

  Will's head felt like it was going to burst. The bitter taste of the blood draining into his throat made him nauseous, and every muscle on his skull ached.

  Hatley dug and twisted until Will felt her getting close to the sweet spot.

  "I think I found it," she said with excitement. She looked to the monitor and then exacted some pressure.

  Will squealed loudly.

  "Whoa ... you're at level eight already," Colby warned. "Slow down or he's liable to pass out again."

  "Sorry, doctor. How's this?—down to seven ... " she said, and looked into Will's eyes.

  He was screaming inside, but now there wasn't much sound coming out. Blocking Colby's view of her face, she grinned at Will. He'd never forget that grin.

  "Okay, that's enough for now," Colby said, instructing her to extract the instrument. "We'll locate the wisdom teeth next. I want you to do it, but first I need to set up the camera to see what you're doing in there. Have a look at the x-rays while I get the camera and monitor set up ... And clean up his mouth."

  Colby walked into the back room, and Will heard the sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing. Hatley connected some tubes to a panel behind his head, sat down on the stool, and looked at him with a smirk. "So ... was it as good for you as it was for me? No, don't answer that." He couldn't, of course. "And it's not over yet. In fact, it hasn't even really begun. The real fun starts tomorrow. After today, you won't see us for a while, but don't worry, we'll be making numerous house calls this year."

  She stuck two nozzles in his mouth—one sprayed water, the other sucked it away. He winced as the cold water hit the newly worked areas, and even the air flow from the suction caused pain.

  "You're lucky I'm not running this show," she said. "Your whole disgusting case makes me think about my little sister—she's sixteen. Makes me happy you're here, and I get to do this."

  She stuffed some gauze in his mouth; it was soft and comforting. It was his first bit of relief, although he knew it would be short-lived.

  Colby rolled in a cart with the camera and monitor. He set up lights and focused the camera on the back of Will's mouth. Hatley finished studying the x-ray images, and then sat down on the stool to Will's right.

  "See if you can locate the top-left wisdom tooth," Colby instructed, looking at the monitor. "Go in with the long explorer."

  Hatley poked the flesh behind Will's last upper-left molar with the sharp wire instrument Colby had suggested.

  "Go back a little further, angle the probe a little towards the front ... yes, right there."

  Hatley then plunged the wire deep into Will's flesh. A dull pain radiated through his head, then through his entire upper body. His stomach was giving way and he couldn't hold it down. Vomit sprayed all over Hatley's hand and lab coat. She squealed and pulled away in disgust, with the instrument still jammed in Will's upper jaw. Blood and bile leaked back down his throat, and he choked violently.

  Colby reached in quickly and removed the instrument, as Will worked to recover from his gagging fit.

  "Ms. Hatley! Never pull away like that, and never leave an instrument in a patient's mouth—he could choke to death," Colby scolded her in an instructive, rather than disciplinary tone.

  "Sorry doctor, I ... "

  "Just go change your gloves and coat while I clean up his mouth. You can try again."

  Five minutes later Will's mouth was clean, and Hatley had returned wearing a clean coat and gloves. She sat down, went to the same spot with the probe, and plunged it in deep. The pain overtook him again, dizziness turned to nausea, and he felt another bout of sickness coming on. His stomach wrenched, but there was nothing left to vomit up.

  "I think you're too deep," Colby said.

  Indeed she was. Will felt the tip of the probe penetrate his jaw bone, and heard the pain meter blare right before he blacked out for a third time. He awoke to Hatley locating the targeted wisdom tooth and pressing on it.

  "I think this one is floating," she said, as she wiggled and pushed the probe.

  Will felt the spongy flexing of the buried tooth as she moved it.

  "Okay, that's it. We're done here," Colby said with a tone of finality. "The lower two are definitely impacted, and the other upper one is even more separated from the jaw bone than the first one."

  "But shouldn't we check the other upper?" Hatley asked, her voice revealing eagerness.

  "No, we're running late. We need to finish the repairs—we'll grind those temporary fillings down and finish the job in a professional manner. We need to get a mold of his full dental structure, and then do a full disinfection treatment."

  The finishing process was the most relaxing fifteen minutes of Will's life. Endorphins flooded his bloodstream, and a few pokes here and there only amplified the effect. Finally, Colby released the jaw-jack, and untied the body straps.

  Will sat
up in a daze. The orderlies were already in the room—he hadn't noticed they'd arrived.

  "Time for your final appointment," Colby said. "However, your orderlies better take you to the shower first." He pointed to a door.

  Colby and Hatley left the room as the orderlies helped Will out of the chair and his soiled garments. They led him to the door, and guided him into a small shower room. "You have fifteen minutes," the smaller one said.

  Will was barely able to nod as the men left him.

  He turned on the shower, and sobbed.

  *

  Will had always done a lot of thinking in the shower. The warm water always had the feel of a safe zone, but not now. Now he only had deep feelings of despair, interrupted by attacks of fear and panic.

  His thoughts shifted to his disgraced and embarrassed family, and to his traitorous ex-fiancée whom he knew would tell her friends, and his, that she had almost married a rapist. He was incensed that she might get away with such a betrayal.

  Three loud knocks on the door startled Will from his thoughts. Shower time was over. He turned off the water and cracked open the door. The large orderly handed him a towel. Will dried off, and put on a clean hospital gown and slippers in front of the two men.

  They walked out of the shower to the dental exam room, which was vacated. Will hesitated a moment before looking at the chair.

  "Look at that fucking mess," the larger orderly said, and pointed to the soiled chair and garments on the floor next to it. His face was distorted in an expression of disgust. "We have to clean that shit up."

  It was too much. Will could hardly contain his anger. "That's just too fucking bad," he snapped. "Maybe you idiots should get different jobs."

  Will felt the men tighten their grips on his arms, but that was all-it wasn't going to escalate. They walked in silence, went up a level, and arrived at a new door: C-Level: Rm. 50 Engineering.