All the Rave

by Bob DeMoss

  Jodi’s tears rolled down her face, mixing with her perspiration. “I can’t hold on, Jesus,” she said. “Help me!” It was then that she noticed a small circus of red-and-blue lights whirling in the distance. Police! Jodi thought.

  She felt a rush of joy at the sight.

  They were the length of a couple of football fields away.

  The Russians must have seen them, too, she guessed when the Suburban suddenly dropped back inline behind her. She was going to let them have a piece of her mind once they were surrounded by the police. “And I’ll have Bruce do the bodywork on my car,” she said aloud with a tear-stained smile.

  Her smile quickly faded. They’re gonna slam me again!

  The instant she finished her thought, the Suburban plowed into the back left end of her car. They pushed her off the road toward an embankment of tall trees.

  Jodi leaped on the brakes with both feet. She had been doing fifty on the road. The brakes shuddered and quaked as the antilock feature kicked in. Rock fragments, pebbles, and pieces of trash flew in every direction.

  Three seconds later, she felt the rear end of the car lift in the air as the jaws from the Suburban worked against her braking effort. Instinctively, Jodi released the brakes, pounced on the gas, and turned away from the tree line.

  The maneuver almost worked.

  She braced herself as her right front bumper clipped an oak tree. The impact didn’t stop her forward motion. She wasn’t prepared for the simultaneous blast from the Altima’s passive restraint system. The light brown air bag detonated on impact and, with a blast, cushioned her face from hitting the dash.

  It deflated almost as fast as it had deployed. Only now, the air bag draped over the steering wheel, making her driving all but impossible. She was driving on nothing more than pure adrenaline.

  She managed to get half of the car back onto the road. With a yank of the wheel, she swerved the other end into place. As she did, her right front tire hit a pothole. With a thunk, Jodi felt the rim of the wheel bash against the jagged edge of the gaping cavity.

  Jodi felt the car lean to the right, hobbled by a flat tire. She wasn’t about to let that prevent her from reaching the oasis of help, now fifty yards ahead. She had to straighten her rearview mirror before she could see what was going on behind her. She looked and, to her amazement, all she could make out was the back door of the Suburban disappearing in the opposite direction.

  Thankful she was out of danger and, with the parking lot in view, Jodi stepped on the brakes.

  Her heart almost burst when nothing happened.

  She mashed the brake pedal repeatedly. Still nothing.

  Jodi looked up. She was heading directly for the side of the flower shop building.

  “Dear Jesus!”

  She reached for the parking brake between the seats and pulled up with all her might. The rear brakes locked, sending the car into a half-spin. It slid forty feet until the right side of the car slammed into the wall of the flower shop.

  On impact, Jodi banged her head against the window on her left.

  She blacked out.

  27

  Saturday 2:54 PM

  Jodi’s eyes opened with a series of repeated blinks. She was alive, that much registered. But she couldn’t find answers fast enough for the deluge of questions flooding her mind. What had happened? Why was her air bag draped across the steering wheel and into her lap? Why did everything hurt so much?

  Slowly, everything came back into focus.

  Reverend Bud. The Russians. The car chase. The crash.

  Jodi tried to wiggle her toes. They worked. Score one for the good guys. She attempted to move her hands and found them to be numb, yet functioning. When she struggled to sit upright, her body yelled at her. Her muscles felt as stiff as they had after the first day of soccer camp.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting behind the wheel, but she figured it couldn’t have been too long. Several police officers were just steps away from reaching her door.

  The cavalry had arrived.

  She inhaled a full breath of air. “Ouch!” A sharp pain in her right side warned her to go easy.

  “Are you all right, miss?” The first policeman to reach the car carefully opened her door.

  Jodi offered a weak smile. “So far, so good, I think.”

  A taller, older man, in his mid-forties she guessed, came alongside the first cop. “You must be Jodi Adams.” His eyes had a soft warmth to them, although his face appeared to be rough like weathered rawhide. “I’m Lieutenant Jim Johnson, Phil Meyer’s friend.”

  “Is he here?” Jodi asked, her eyes scanning the parking lot.

  “He’s on the way,” Lieutenant Johnson said. “Listen, I know you want to get out of there. But I’d suggest you sit tight. The paramedics will make sure everything checks out before you move. How do you feel?”

  “Like a crash-test dummy.” She smiled. What she wanted most was a hot soak in the tub for about three weeks. “My right side hurts some when I breathe.”

  “Understood. Jodi, you are one remarkable girl,” Lieutenant Johnson said. “You have no idea how many lives you’ve saved today with your tip.” His sport coat hung open as he stood beside the car. His left arm rested on the roof to shade her from the sun. She observed the end of his gun in his shoulder holster.

  “How’s that?” Jodi said.

  “You’ve helped us bust Blackstone’s operation,” Lieutenant Johnson said. “I’m a detective on the force and we’ve been aware of his little enterprise for several months. Just didn’t have enough hard proof to bring him down.”

  Jodi nodded. “I can’t believe a vet, of all people, would mass-produce drugs and sell them to kids.”

  Lieutenant Johnson’s eyebrow shot up at that piece of information. “Drugs? He was manufacturing drugs? We weren’t aware of—”

  “Excuse me, coming through,” said the shorter of two paramedics who nudged their way past Lieutenant Johnson and his side officer. “Name’s Bill. This is my assistant, Tom. Let’s have a look here.” Bill placed a medium-size first-aid kit on the ground, and then squatted by Jodi.

  “I really feel okay,” Jodi said. “My right side is kinda sore. Other than that I’m—”

  “Did you black out at any time, ma’am?” Bill examined her eyes.

  “Yeah, for like a second, I think.”

  “How many fingers am I holding up?” Bill said.

  “Three. Really, I feel fine,” Jodi said.

  “Can you feel this?” He pricked her ankles with a pointy object.

  “Yes.” In the distance, Jodi caught a glimpse of the flurry of activity across the street at the Pet Vet clinic. Police and medics were crawling all over the place.

  “Where did you say it was sore?” Bill asked.

  “Right here.” Jodi pointed to the right side of her rib cage.

  Bill turned to Tom. “I’m thinking maybe a fractured rib,” Bill said. “Probably nothing too serious. But we’ll need to take her to Abington to have a look at that side. She may have a concussion, too.” Tom turned and headed for the ambulance.

  “Hold on. I’ve got to talk to her right now,” Lieutenant Johnson said. “Got to have her identify a body. Then she’s all yours. Just give me five minutes to wrap this up, okay?”

  The medic nodded. “Five minutes it is.” Bill unbuckled her seat belt and then helped her out of the car. Tom returned with a gurney a minute later. Bill and Tom lifted her onto a stretcher, placing her head into a brace. They strapped her in place and then secured the stretcher on the gurney, which, with its wheeled legs, was elevated about four feet above ground.

  Lieutenant Johnson came to her side. “Jodi, you mentioned something about Dr. Blackstone’s involvement with drugs. What more can you tell me?”

  Jodi wasn’t sure where to begin. So much had happened so quickly. “Well . . . Dr. Blackstone would fill syringes with ketamine,” Jodi said. “Actually, the people who worked for him did that part. Anyway, his p
artner, Reverend Bud, would sell the stuff at these rave dance parties that they sponsored.” Jodi paused when the paramedic appeared at her side.

  “Excuse the interruption,” Bill said to Lieutenant Johnson. “I’d like to get an IV in her.”

  Jodi closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as he stuck her arm with the needle. When he was finished, she said, “I only found out about all this because my friend Kat and this guy Todd Rice got some at a party last night. She’s in the hospital and Todd died. I figured Dr. Blackstone’s trying to cover up Todd’s death, so he took the body. Isn’t that what this is all about?”

  “Actually, no,” Lieutenant Johnson said. He hesitated. He appeared to be deep in thought.

  “Well, then, what’s up?” Jodi asked. “I thought you said you’ve been tracking his business or whatever for months.”

  Lieutenant Johnson leaned his head to one side. “I guess since this will hit the papers in a day or so, I’ll fill you in.” He placed his arm on his hip. “Dr. Blackstone devised what I’m sure he considered to be the brilliant scheme of providing the black market with vital organs—human organs.”

  He let that sink in.

  Jodi gasped. “You mean . . . body parts? But why? How?”

  “There’s a world shortage of hearts, livers, kidneys, corneas—even genitals,” Lieutenant Johnson began. “If you needed a liver or a heart, you’d have to place a request with the government-contracted United Network for Organ Sharing agency and then wait. Sometimes for months or years. They’re the only authorized outlet for organs in the U.S.”

  “Gee, I had no idea Dr. Blackstone was into all that,” Jodi said, still stunned at the revelation of his secret activity. “I knew the guy was a creep!”

  Lieutenant Johnson nodded. “People with big bucks are willing to pay anything, especially if their lives depend on it. A single heart brings upward of $60,000, a liver $40,000, a kidney $3,000 to $8,000. The money was too tempting for Blackstone to pass up.”

  “But isn’t that illegal?”

  “Absolutely.” Lieutenant Johnson nodded. “Harvesting human organs is illegal, not to mention unethical. But it’s done in other countries, like China, for example. From what we can tell, Dr. Blackstone saw himself as a pioneer—as a modern-day Robin Hood. He took from the poor and gave to the neediest and highest bidder.”

  “That’s so sick.” Jodi would have shook her head, but the brace held fast. “So, what’s all this got to do with the rave parties?”

  “Simple,” Lieutenant Johnson said. “See, his raves provided the perfect cover. They were hosted in unregulated sites.”

  Jodi’s mind drifted back to what she’d seen the night before. She wondered what would have happened if she and Bruce hadn’t taken Kat out of there. Would Kat have become one of Dr. Blackstone’s “donors”? And what if the Russians had caught her, Jodi wondered. Her stomach gurgled.

  Lieutenant Johnson turned his head and looked across the street. He looked back at Jodi. “By the time the authorities were requested to investigate a missing person at a rave, such as this Todd Rice you alerted us to, the raves would be like the circus, gone. The chance of tracing a victim’s disappearance was nil.”

  “I . . . I can’t believe this!” Jodi felt dizzy. “So, they made money selling tickets to the rave, plus the drugs. But the real cash was in—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. “No wonder when I went back with the police, Todd’s body was already gone. But where did they hide his body?”

  “In a Ryder truck,” Lieutenant Johnson said. “We got a lucky break about a month ago from an auto repair shop employee who serviced the truck. While working on the tailgate, he opened the rear door and noticed the back of the truck was crudely outfitted with a mini surgical suite.”

  Jodi interrupted him. “Hey, I saw a truck just like that outside of Reverend Bud’s place today.”

  “If you give me the address, I’ll get a man right over there,” Lieutenant Johnson said. “See, we figured this Reverend Bud character would place the bodies in back and hook them up to individual ventilators to keep the blood circulating to their organs. We’ve been watching the clinic and noticed this truck coming at all hours of the night, but we didn’t have enough for a search warrant—that is, until now. Your tip provided the probable cause. We’ve got our men crawling all over Blackstone’s place this very minute.”

  Jodi lit up. “Oh, I’ve got something else for you. Two things, actually. In my car. There’s an envelope with pictures I took at the rave and a cellphone that belongs to Reverend Bud. He told me he wanted out of all this. Now I can see why. Anyway, he recorded a conversation with Dr. Blackstone that might help.”

  “Excellent,” Lieutenant Johnson said. “As best we can tell, the truck would arrive at Blackstone’s clinic where the ‘donors’ would be transported to a full surgical suite in the clinic’s basement. He’d remove the vital parts and place them on ice for immediate red-label shipment. Again, thanks to you, you could say we caught him red-handed.”

  “That is so whacked.” Jodi swallowed hard.

  “What we haven’t figured out,” Lieutenant Johnson said, “is how Blackstone distributed the organs abroad.”

  Jodi hesitated, then said, “Okay, I can’t prove this, but I’m now thinking the Russians must have had something to do with it.”

  “Russians?”

  “Reverend Bud said something about a couple of Russians,” Jodi offered. “I think they’re the same guys who tried to run me over a few minutes ago. I also saw their car briefly at Dr. Blackstone’s clinic which is why I think they’re part of this scheme. By the way, any word on if Reverend Bud is okay? I called 911 to send help. He was suicidal when I left him.”

  “I’ll look into that for you, but there’s something I need you to do first.” Lieutenant Johnson’s radio crackled. “Yes?”

  “We’re ready for the identification, sir,” the voice said.

  With the aid of the paramedics, Jodi was transported to the loading dock area of the Pet Vet. As she waited to identify the body, she heard a scuffle coming from within the double door. She recognized the voice. It was a voice she wouldn’t soon forget. A moment later, she saw Dr. Blackstone, handcuffed, walking between two officers who gripped his arms.

  Jodi locked eyes with him. Dr. Blackstone looked like a crazed animal. “Wasn’t it you who said, ‘The game of life has rules’?” Jodi said as he passed. “Well, I’d say it’s game over for you.”

  “You making fun of me, girl?” Dr. Blackstone’s upper lip was curled into a snarl. “This isn’t over, Jodi Adams.” He lunged in her direction and spit on the ground. The officers jerked Dr. Blackstone back toward the direction of the squad car.

  Jodi’s heart pounded the inside of her chest with the intensity of a jackhammer. She could feel the raw evil radiating around him. How could somebody become so possessed by such vicious inhumanity?

  A minute later, Jodi watched as an officer, accompanied by Lieutenant Johnson, wheeled a body in a black body bag out the back door. Lieutenant Johnson unzipped the bag about eighteen inches. He circled around the gurney and elevated Jodi for a clear view. He said, “Jodi, is this the boy you saw? Todd Rice?”

  Jodi braced herself and then looked.

  Her eyes welled up with hot tears.

  “Dear Jesus . . . ,” Jodi said, her voice breaking. “Oh my, gosh . . . I—I can’t believe it.”

  “That’s not Todd Rice?”

  “No, sir.” As much as she had wished otherwise, there wasn’t any mistake about the identity of the body. “That’s Carlos . . . Carlos Martinez . . . He was a friend from school.”

  28

  Monday 11:57 AM

  Two days later, after being examined on Saturday for what turned out to be a broken rib and mild concussion, Jodi returned to the Abington hospital to check on Kat. Jodi stood in the hall just outside Kat’s hospital room. She held an arrangement of flowers in one hand, her pocket New Testament in the other. She hesitated. Jodi stare
d at the placard on the door—Room 210—and took a deep breath.

  Jodi longed for Kat to give her life to Christ and prayed this would be a divine appointment. All day yesterday she had prayed for the right words to say. She had even rehearsed them a hundred times in her head.

  Jodi wanted to find a graceful way to help Kat see that she was designed for heaven. Jodi believed that Kat, rather than embrace the gift of eternal life, had always settled for an illusion: the music, the drugs, the altered state of mind. Even the PLUR goal was artificial when compared to what Jesus offered.

  Jodi whispered a quick prayer and then tapped lightly on the door. In some ways, she felt more nervous now than when she entered a school debate situation, because the outcome of this time with Kat was eternally more important.

  “Come in,” Kat said.

  Jodi opened the door. Kat was sitting upright with a food tray positioned across her lap. The oxygen line was still taped in place under Kat’s nose. Two IV bags now fed the tube running down her arm and into her vein. Her eyes were shadowed by dark circles and her skin was, like her sheets, a pale white.

  “Hey, girlfriend!” Kat said with a wide smile. “You’re just in time for lunch. Let’s see,” Kat said, lifting a round, three-inch stainless-steel cover from the plate in front of her. “We’ve got red and green Jell-O cubes. Want some?” Kat took a bite and made a face.

  Jodi relaxed a little at the warm greeting. She smiled and walked to the end of the bed. “Actually, I think I’ll pass.”

  “Smart woman,” Kat said. She put down the spoon and studied Jodi’s face. “What’s with the shiner? You okay?”

  “Oh, that. Yeah. It’s a long story,” Jodi said. Her side still ached from a fractured rib. Jodi’s doctor had informed her the best way to treat her rib was to leave it alone. “How about you? You’re looking better.”