Silent Epidemic (Book 1 - Carol Freeman Series)

by Jill Province

  “Clair, this is Carol Freeman from the mental health center.  I wanted to check in and see how you are doing." 

  “Oh, that’s very sweet of you," Clair said, a little more coherently.  “I went to that doctor they told me to go to and I can’t believe how great I feel.”  Carol closed her eyes and sat in the nearest chair waiting to hear the rest.

  “These vitamins are great,” Clair continued.  “I know you are only supposed to take one a day but I was in really bad shape.”  

  Oh no, Carol thought. 

  “How many did you take?" she asked hesitantly.

  “Just two today."  

  “Today," Carol repeated.  “How many did you take on other days?”  

  “Well, yesterday I took three and I’ve certainly been catching up on all my lost sleep." 

  “I bet you have," Carol said, sadly.  “Go splash some cold water on your face, and come back to the phone.  I need to fill you in on a few things.”  Carol could hear the phone being put down and waited for her to return. 

  When she returned, Carol filled her in on everything she knew about the vitamins the doctor was handing out.  Clair listened to the explanation.  “I guess I should have known that a vitamin couldn’t make me feel this much better, or this sleepy," Clair interjected. 

  “You’re lucky you haven’t had to be rushed to the emergency room from an overdose," Carol instructed adamantly. 

  “Carol, I don’t think I can go off this medication.  I have thought about it and the withdrawal was too much for me to handle." 

  “I definitely understand," Carol assured her, “but you have to promise to stop taking more than one per day.”  Clair promised and thanked Carol for being so concerned about her.  Before Carol could question her any further Clair was gone.

  In Carol’s line of work she had received promises from the pros and had come to know a line of bull pretty well when she heard it.  She really had no idea about Clair’s medication history other than what Clair had reported.  But she was pretty sure that the sweet woman who had come into her office the other day had just crossed over the line into a whole new world of drug use.  Carol felt absolutely helpless.  There was nothing more she could do.  Clair was an adult and as such, she was allowed to make her own choices, bad or good.  At least she had been warned about the possibility of an overdose.  Carol looked up at the ceiling and said, “Please take care of her."

  She was about to change out of her work clothes when the phone rang.

  “Carol, this is Jerry Owens," the caller announced.  “I thought I’d try you once more before leaving the office.”  Carol wasn’t sure how to approach the issue or if she could trust Jerry’s motives, but she had to do something. 

  “Mr. Owens,” Carol began carefully, “there are some very bizarre things going on with the volunteers in your study." 

  “Well, it’s not exactly my study,” Jerry qualified, “but go on." 

  Carol proceeded to fill Jerry in on what had happened to both Brian and Clair as a result of their office visits with Dr. Donovan.  Jerry did not respond immediately, as he came to realize how public this knowledge had become. What should he do now?   At no time in any of his conversations with Sheila had they discussed the possibility that the volunteers would figure out what was going on. 

  “Well, as I said,” Jerry improvised, “I’m not directly involved with the study." 

  “I’m confused, then," Carol stated.  “When you contacted me the first time, you said you were following up on our progress." 

  “That’s true," Jerry stuttered, working hard to keep from sounding like an idiot.  “They give the Marketing Department assignments from other areas during down time."  Jerry was shaking his head at the stupidity of his statement. 

  “But you do work for Dominex Pharmaceuticals," Carol said, stating the obvious.  “And last time we spoke, you said you would get my information to the right person."  Jerry knew where this was going and didn’t have a clue what he was going to say next.  “So, who would that be in this particular case?" Carol inquired adamantly. 

  “I’m not really sure," Jerry said, wanting to unplug the phone from the wall, “but I will try to find out." 

  “Don’t bother," Carol stated.  “They probably already know, don’t you think?"  Carol was on the war path at that moment, which always resulted in enough dripping sarcasm to repaint a small house. 

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful," Jerry offered weakly, trying to gracefully end a conversation that was rapidly going down the tubes. 

  “So am I," Carol said angrily, and hung up.

  “I’m going to kill Sheila," Jerry said, out loud to no one.  “She leaves me here to contain a tidal wave, while she goes off to the happy bakery in Newark, New Jersey."  Jerry continued his tirade for several minutes before sitting down at his desk.  He checked the time, knowing that Sheila would most likely still be in the office.  He hated relying on email.  It required that the recipient be available on the other end to receive it.

  Jerry visualized his 401K being flushed down the toilet.  What could Sheila tell him that he didn’t already know?  This new turn in the Dominex saga had the potential to take the whole company down.  If that happened, Jerry, Sheila, and a whole lot of other hard working people with families were going down right along with it.  The “mission,” as he understood it, was to target the sedative issue and make it public.  At no time had Sheila ever alluded to taking out the whole company.  Dominex represented a whole generation of good products and good employees.  This was one of those ethical issues that could be debated forever. People were going to get hurt in this situation, no matter which side of the argument they took. 

  The volunteer’s new awareness was a time bomb with a very short fuse.  Time was of the essence.  If they didn’t clean up this mess, and quickly, Sheila’s “mission” would never see daylight, and the company would most likely be shut down.  He didn’t have time to wait for an email from her.  They have to know, Jerry concluded.  He was young and single and despite his attachment to his 401K, he would survive the fall.  But there were a lot of people who wouldn’t.  Jerry had known and worked beside these people for a long time, and genuinely cared about their survival.  Then there was the bigger issue.  The whole sedative problem had to be exposed.  And that required the delicate fabric of time.  I have to tell Sam, Jerry decided reluctantly, and went out the door to find him.

   

  Carol was livid.  He knew!  This person’s character was yet to be decided, but he was a terrible liar.  There were so many layers of deceit going on at that company, she couldn’t begin to understand it all.  But she knew that it had to stop. 

  Carol stood by the phone, wondering what she could do, when the familiar rush of panic came in on her.  “It’s happening again," she cried out, and rushed into the bedroom.  Carol quickly lied down on the bed and started the slow breathing exercise that had worked before.  This panic attack was far worse this time.  Carol worked to control the wave that was attempting to overtake her.  After a good thirty minutes of controlled breathing, Carol felt safe to sit up. 

  She went to the bathroom, and wiped the ocean of water off her face and neck.  Looking into the mirror, Carol was reminded of the blatant truth about her own nature, and her recovery.  She no longer had the luxury of being a crusader.  This illness was life sensitive.  Every intense emotion that resulted from her past knee jerk reactions was causing the withdrawal symptoms to take her into a chokehold.  Weak and dizzy, Carol went back to lie down.  Who would save the day?   For the first time she was faced with an answer she had never thought of before.  It was possible that the day might not be saved by anyone.  This was now a test of faith.  Letting go and letting a higher authority deal with all the chaos was a process with which she was completely unfamiliar.

  Chapter 15r />
   

  Sam Reynolds had never been so tired in his life.  Sitting across from him were Jeff and a new addition to the disaster control club.  “I just thought you had to know," Jerry said, trying to fill the silent tension. 

  “You did the right thing," Jeff told him.  “The question is: what are we going to do about it?" 

  Sam was not so much focused on a solution as he was a new realization. If Jerry knew even a part of what was happening with this whole mess, others probably did too. 

  “Jerry," Sam interjected.  “Who else in the company knows about this?"  

  Jerry was not about to involve anyone else in his decision to come forward, and just shrugged. 

  “No one, as far as I know." 

  “So, how did you get involved in this?" Sam continued. 

  “This person contacted me," Jerry improvised.  Improvisation was getting to be the order of the day.  “When Carol Freeman asked to speak to Sheila, they put her through to me.”  Not bad.  To his surprise and embarrassment, he was actually getting better at this.

  “Okay then," Jeff concluded, satisfied with the containment issue.  “Thanks for coming to see us." 

  “No problem," Jerry said, with relief, and stood to go.  He did not want to be involved in any further dealings with these two.  They would figure out how to save Dominex’s proverbial ass, and he would continue to sleep at night.  “Have a nice day," Jerry said ironically, on his way out the door.

  “Very funny," Sam said to the man, after he was out of earshot. 

  “Do you think we can trust this guy?" Jeff asked, after closing the office door. 

  “We don’t really have a choice," Sam answered.  “As long as he is with us, he is motivated to protect us.  Separated from his job… There’s no telling what he might be motivated to do."  

  The two men sat in silence, thinking about the problem.  “Well, one thing is certain,” Jeff said finally.  “We have got to get all that Suprame out of Doctor Donovan’s office before anyone starts snooping around there, but what do we put in its place?" 

  “Good question," Sam concluded.  “That is a very good question." 

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  Josh Freeman came home covered in mud and grime.  His unfortunate choice of self-employment had him digging in the dirt more often than he had ever thought possible.  Making a beeline for the shower, he noticed Carol curled up in the bed.  “Are you okay?" he asked, peeling off his shirt. 

  “I have had better days," Carol responded. 

  “Well, let me get this layer of crud off and I’ll fix you some tea or something." 

  Carol lay quietly in the bed.  She didn’t want tea; she wanted justice.  Old habits die very hard, and even though she knew she had new limitations, she could not help but focus on the injustice of what had happened to her and a lot of others.  Carol waited for Josh to get out of the shower.

  He emerged, a different shade of human being, and Carol sat up in the bed.  “Josh, I need you to call someone."  She told him about Brian, Clair, Dr. Donovan, and Jerry Owens.  Josh sat at the side of the bed, taking in all the new information. 

  “Jesus," was all he could say when Carol finished her story.  “So, who could we possibly call?"

  “I’m not sure," Carol sighed.  “We could start with the state medical board." 

  “You want to report this doctor to the medical board?" he inquired. 

  “I want to report several doctors and one pharmaceutical company," Carol said, “but for right now, I guess I’ll have to settle for the one doing the most damage." 

  Josh pulled out the Metro Atlanta Business phone book.  The city was so large that there were three sets of thick, heavy books covering the commercial listings alone.  “God," Josh swore. “Could they make these blue pages any more confusing?”  Carol did not offer any help.  In her current mental state, she did not think she could have even found the phone book.

  Finally, Josh found a number for the Georgia State Medical Board and dialed it.  He listened through several sets of menu instructions, punching in the corresponding digit to what he wanted.  After jumping through a long series of hoops that had been laid out by the inanimate machine, he hung up the phone and shook his head.  “What?" Carol inquired. 

  “After all that I was instructed to submit my concern in writing,” Josh laughed, humorlessly.  “What would you do if you had to report a doctor on a rampage with a knife?"

  “Probably call the police," Carol answered, feeling extremely worn out.  She was used to bureaucracy.  Her entire field thrived on it but she was in no condition to deal with it today.  Maybe Brian was in better shape to send their complaint in writing.  She would call him later.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  Jerry had given Sheila enough time to get back to her “hut," as she referred to it.  He had decided to call her from home.  That way, there would be no phone record for Dominex to tie them together.  Sheila answered on the first ring.  “I hope you keep a large chocolate stash at the hut," Jerry began.  

  “I’m totally ‘chocolated’ out," Sheila answered.  “What’s up?" 

  Jerry filled her in on his phone call from Carol Freeman, his decision to tell the VP, and the little meeting in Sam’s office.  “So in conclusion," Jerry said, “I am fulfilling my promise to you and I am on my way up there to kill you now." 

  “Jerry, I had no idea that this would get so weird," Sheila said apologetically.  “But, for what it’s worth I think you did the right thing." 

  “I was hoping you would say that," Jerry said, and let out a long stream of air in relief.

  “They have no idea that I am on to them too?"  

  “I don’t think so," Jerry said.  “Thanks to all the fun I have been having here in your absence I seem to have developed the ability to lie.” 

  “Jerry, sometimes that is a necessary skill." 

  “Well, it never seemed necessary before." 

  “Okay, you’re upset.  Can’t say that I blame you."  Jerry reached up and massaged his headache. 

  “The thing I don’t understand," he said finally, “is what good is it to keep a close eye on everything that is going on if we can’t actually do anything about it when we find out?”  Sheila had confided in Jerry, telling him almost everything, but her true mission was something she wasn’t willing to share with anyone. 

  “We just have to wait until the appropriate moment," Sheila said.

  “Doctors handing out sedatives to unsuspecting patients sounds like a good moment to me."  

  “There is a whole lot more to this scenario," Sheila added.  “Dominex is getting ready to put a drug on the market that, when taken longer than a few weeks, is systematically and painfully addictive. They aren’t going to provide any specific prescribing guidelines or warnings.  People will be left on their own to discover what has happened to them after they are so far along in their addiction they can’t function without the drug."

  “Sounds like a well thought out plan to me," Jerry said. 

  “You’re right," Sheila confirmed.  “There is no coincidence that people will become sedative lifers.  Dominex stands to make billions on that very plan.” 

  “Okay," Jerry conceded, “I understand what you’re saying.  But what do we do in the meantime?" 

  “Document everything," Sheila reiterated.  “I promised you that I would not put you in the line of fire, and I won’t.  You did a gallant thing today, protecting the innocent people who rely on that place to feed their families.  And you have been a big help to me." 

  “Okay, stop it already," Jerry said.  “I have been officially smoothed over." 

  “Good," Sheila sighed.  “You know you will have to be a lot more careful now that Sam and Jeff know you are aware of what’s going on." 
>
  “Yeah," Jerry said reluctantly.  “I was just so happy to get out of that office today without getting the third degree, I hadn’t really thought about a future plan.” 

  “Just stay in the shadows," Sheila instructed. 

  “Just call me Bond, James Bond."  

  “And call me asleep," Sheila yawned.  “It’s a school night.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" 

  “Good night, Sheila," Jerry said and hung up.

  Jerry sat by the phone and wondered what to do with all his nervous energy.  It was only seven thirty.  This would be a good time to check out that Pharmlab address, he thought.  Pulling out of his driveway, he thought momentarily about how this little adventure would play out on TV.  They’re probably watching my every move, and I won’t make it back alive.  He had to shake off the eerie sensation that had been instilled in him by Hollywood.

  Jerry continued around the 285 loop until he arrived at the Tucker exit.  Pulling the paper out of his pocket, he checked the address Sheila had given him.  The lab had to be only a few miles down highway 78 to his destination.  He slowed down when he got closer to the general area of the address.  The odd numbers ran consecutively on the left side of the street.  Finally, he found the number he was looking for: 2107 Highway 78 was an abandoned looking house.  Jerry pulled into the driveway and stared at the dark building with its boarded up windows and demolished walls.  There had been some kind of fire that had rendered the thing a lovely shade of black.  The debris in the front yard was piled several feet high, and included a bathtub and a rusted-out hot water heater.  This was too weird for words.  If this house was a lab, he lived at the White House.  What if the FDA went looking for this place?  The cockiness of Dominex went way beyond any reason.  Jerry pulled out a small camera and snapped a few shots of the dilapidated building.  The sun was almost down, but he caught the essence of the situation. Backing out of the driveway, he headed for home.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  Carol awoke from a nap and glanced at the clock.  Eight thirty PM.  Not too late to call Brian.  She sat up cautiously, and was surprised at how drained she felt. The anxiety attack had wiped her out, and the nap had not really made any difference.  She had to get up anyway.  Carol walked passed Josh, who was sitting at his favorite place in front of the computer, and gave him a wave.  “Feeling better?" he asked.  “Sure," Carol lied.  She went to the phone and dialed Brian’s number.