Poisoned

by JJ Liniger

  Three months later: Tender Hearts Boutique closed shop today. That makes the fifth business to leave Twin Oaks in less than three weeks. I offered reduced rent and tax-free weekends, knowing the money would come from me but nothing seems to help. Two others are likely to follow suit. I don’t know what to do.

  It was hard reading the desperation in my father’s words. I had experience with coming back to a decaying community, but I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to watch it crumble. My father had a mind for success and for him to be confused left me hurting for him. I wished he knew what the problem was, but it made me feel slightly better to no longer be the only person in the dark.

  Mother coughed violently in her sleep. With each noise, I inched my way closer to the phone, continuing to worry about her. I set the book to the side and checked her pills to see how often she could take the medication. She would need to wait several hours.

  How often she used them? Did our walk today send her over the edge? Alex knew she’d get sick, meaning it had happened before. Their fight today was gut wrenching. Based on their reaction to each other, I had a feeling it wasn’t a normal occurrence.

  Returning to the book, I continued to flip through the pages and noticed on the top right corner he wrote what looked like random symptoms.

  Agitation

  Lack of Focus

  Chronic Cough

  Bruises Easily

  Loss of Appropriate Emotion

  Blood Thins

  Many of them described Mom. I scanned the entries looking for clues to what or who they referenced, but couldn’t find anything. A type of sickness was plaguing the people, and the numbers kept increasing. I flipped to the back of the journal, finding the page empty, I ripped it out and wrote down what I knew.

  Nicholas was taken because a report stated he was infected though he claimed he wasn’t. Probably the same poison referenced in the backpack I’d found at Alex’s. Looking at the list of symptoms Dad wrote, I believed Nicholas was in denial about his health. Mom said it had been six months, so whatever it was, it might be improving. Tiffany believed it was somehow my fault. Do I trust her opinion? She’s biased, but wasn’t the only person angry at me. In some way, I was connected to this. I kept the paper close by and continued to read.

  Four months later: Families with kids around the same age as HIM are fleeing. I’ve never seen people leave so quickly. There’s no point in trying to sell their property because no one would come to Becton. After a few weeks, either Alex or I will go and board up the windows to prevent further damage. Additional tests of the water and soil in the area are being performed. I don’t think we can handle more bad news but I fear the worst.

  “Who is HIM?” I mumbled as I wrote the question on my paper. Maybe Mom was right when she said the soil and water was poisoned. I don’t see how I could’ve affected it when I wasn’t here. Reading the journal gave me more questions than answers, but right now it was my only source.

  One week later: She was found damming up the ravine for the second time. I need to stop her, but I can’t handle it alone and no one wants to come. They are too scared, not that I blame them. After my first visit I had nightmares. If I catch her, then what? What do I do with her? I can’t cage her. What had Trevor seen—

  What? No! Why did he stop writing? I guessed he was interrupted. Why didn’t he come back and finish the entry? I didn’t understand what I had in common with a woman damming up the ravine. Tiffany got under my skin, but she isn’t the type to get dirty and messing up a rushing ravine wouldn’t be easy. Thinking back to when I first arrived, it was as dry as a bone. Maybe she had finally succeeded.

  Flipping through the next couple of pages, I looked for my name to see if he might finish whatever he was going to say. I smiled at the entry.

  Two months later: Today is Trevor’s birthday. I gave him a phone call, and he is doing great. It is so hard to keep all this anguish from him. Carole disagrees with my decision to not tell him. There’s nothing he can do, so it’s better that he stay where he is. I wanted to tell him I purchased Game Zone last week. It was Trevor’s favorite place and I couldn’t handle seeing it close its doors. Luckily, Mr. Cole agreed to stay and make the pizzas. If he had a family, I wonder if he still would’ve agreed.

  Wow! I can’t believe Dad bought it for me. He was a man of few words, but I never doubted he loved me. With the area going downhill and the loss of business, he had to be financially strapped. I looked around at the machines connected to his body and wondered, how on earth Mom was able to afford to keep him here? I had to find a way to check on their finances.

  I wanted to believe the people of Becton would look out for my parents and help them if they needed it. But after reading the passages, I wasn’t so sure. Over the next year of entries, Dad became isolated. He constantly blamed himself. Was that something he simply did? Or was it because the community blamed him, too? I skimmed several pages looking for indication where Dad had been accused by somebody and I didn’t find anything.

  Halfway through the journal, two years had passed. The closer Dad came to the truth, the more vague he became. I can’t bring myself to write the words, because if I see it on the page, I’ll know it is true. I shook my head and ran my fingers through my short, black hair. What could be so terrible that my dad wouldn’t want to acknowledge it? Maybe I didn’t want to know.

  Three months later: It has me. I’ve been trying to hide it from Carole because I don’t want her to report me. It has destroyed other relationships and I couldn’t handle it if I was the cause of our deterioration. My only hope is to remove myself from the situation. Goodbye to the wonderful people of my beloved Becton. Right now it is full of thorns and I had hoped to find a rose buried beneath, but there’s too much pain.

  To the love of my life, Carole, you are my reason for getting up each morning. I want you to know you're an amazing person. I know you have days when you feel like you aren’t, but you're the most precious gift God has ever given to me and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Don’t ever question your beauty or your worth. Being exactly who you are is good enough for the people who love you. I love you more than the stars in the sky. Please, forgive me.

  To Trevor, I hope you never find out about the complete failure I’ve become. If you happen to return and find yourself reading this, I’m telling you to run and never look back. Look into my heart and see what I am saying, for my heart breaks with the truth. Go! Neither of you should mourn for me. Farewell to all.

  My voice echoed, making me realized I had read his painful words out loud. Against the smooth page rested splatters of blood. What had he done? Did he attempt suicide and fail? My heart ached as I stared at the page.

  “What happened to you? The man who raised me wasn’t a coward!” I glared at the helpless shell of a man whom I had admired and respected all my life. Three years later he was no longer that person, but it wasn’t the slow decay which had changed him. It was something else festering throughout Becton.

  I stared at his last entry. So many possibilities for Dad, but he felt hopeless. It was the same for me. After all the people who have told me to get lost, now my father agreed with them. But, I’m not like my father and I won’t leave until I’ve fixed what he couldn’t.

  My mother’s labored breathing brought my attention back to her. She moaned with each breath she took. Had she heard me reading? I laid the book back in the drawer and walked to her. If Alex’s harsh words had sent her to the ground, what would my father’s last sentiments do?

  She cradled her left arm to her chest and wrinkles scrunched over what should’ve been a calm face. Rest was suppose to help her, but it appeared to be killing her instead.

  “Mom.” I shook her shoulder, and she moaned. I grabbed her wrist, placing my fingers at her pulse. The beats raced beneath my touch. Oh no!

  “Mom!” I had to get her to a hospital.

  CHAPTER 11

  HELP

  Lunging for the phone, I
immediately dialed 9-1-1. It didn’t take long for my pulse to match my mother’s. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. My hands shook.

  “Rescue Center do you need Fire, Ambulance, or Police?”

  “Ambulance.”

  “Stay on the line, someone will be with you in a moment.”

  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other listening to the automated reminder to “Please be patient.”

  Had these idiots never needed assistance before?

  Mother shifted and moaned. “Help me,” she whispered.

  “I’m trying, Mom. Hang on.”

  “9-1-1 Operator, what is your emergency?”

  “My mother’s having a heart attack!”

  “What’s your location?”

  “Town Hall in Becton, Texas.”

  “Oh, dear,” the operator mumbled.

  “What?” I yelled.

  “We don’t service that area.”

  “How the hell do you not provide service!” My hand clenched and I wanted to punch something. “Get an ambulance here! Now!”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  An automated voice returned. My patience had reached its maximum. I slammed the phone against its receiver and cursed. This wasn’t supposed to be difficult!

  “Call...” she gasped for air, “Alex.”

  He was listed on her speed dial. I pressed the numbers and waited as it continued to ring. Of all times for him to not be home, it would be now. After the fifth ring, a young voice answered.

  “Black residence, Hannah speaking.”

  “Hannah, I need to talk to your dad. Quick!”

  “Dad!” she yelled. “The phone’s for you!”

  A mumbled exchange as Alex took the phone. “Hey, sorry for—”

  “Shut up! Mom’s having a heart attack.”

  “Trev?”

  “Yeah, hurry!”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Hanging up, I found mother struggling with a bottle of aspirin. Great thinking! I took them from her, opened the container, I dumped a couple pills into her palm. She tossed them into her mouth.

  “Need water?”

  She shook her head.

  “Let’s get you out of here.” I shifted, placing my arms around her for support.

  Suddenly, an alarm rang from my father’s bed.

  Mother gasped and lunged toward him, but I held her against me. “No, mom! You need help.”

  “So does he!” she pleaded.

  “We can’t help him. He’s gone.”

  “No!” She cried.

  I’d heard stories of people who died within minutes of each other. I refused to allow Mother to give up so easily.

  Sweat poured from her body and she pushed against me to get to my father’s side. I held her back. Her weak muscles tired easily and her arms shook. Violent tears streamed down her face as she gasped for air.

  “I need him! I can’t—” Her left hand balled against her chest.

  Was the pain she felt more physical or emotional? The combination could bring anyone past their breaking point. I’d do anything for her. It took me only a few minutes to know Dad wasn’t there, but for Mom, he was her rock.

  Mother had grieved the loss of those around her, but she apparently hadn’t dealt with the reality that Dad wasn’t coming back. I heard the rhythmic echo of boots against tile seconds before the door bolted open.

  “My God, Trev,” Alex mumbled at the chaotic scene before him.

  “I know. Call his doctor and I’ll carry her to your truck.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right behind ya,” he promised.

  “It’s going to be okay, Mom.”

  I cradled her frail body against mine. She looked over my shoulder, I assumed at Dad, until he was no longer in sight and then sobbed against my chest.

  The sun had slipped below the horizon and I stepped out into a dark hallway, carrying her to the parking lot. As I approached the monstrous truck, the passenger door opened and alligator boots stepped out.

  “I’ll get the back door for you,” Tiffany said.

  I wasn’t sure if she came along for my mother or if she and Alex were already together when he came this direction. Not saying a word, I sat my mother in the middle of the back seat bench and jumped inside next to her. The engine idled quietly, ready to go at any moment.

  “Where’s Al?” Tiffany asked.

  “An alarm of Dad’s went off. Mom didn’t want to leave until his doctor was called.”

  Tiffany sighed.

  “I know,” I continued. “Alex said he’d be right out.”

  “All right.” She stood in the open door and leaned past me to rub Mom’s arm. The gesture seemed sweet and caring, which I didn’t associate with Tiffany, but it reminded me she was also a mother. Over the years she must’ve developed a tender side. She smelled of cinnamon, making me think she might’ve been baking. It was a welcome smell compared to the disinfectant constantly surrounding my father.

  Mom wheezed deeply from her chest, and she leaned into my side, her eyes closed. Tiff stared at the Town Hall door. When she climbed to the front passenger side, I assumed Alex was on his way.

  He jumped in the driver seat and floored it out of the parking lot, forgoing seatbelts for the sake of getting there faster. The tires bumped along the uneven asphalt. He swerved to miss the larger potholes. I held Mom against me to cushion her body. The ride was uncomfortably silent.

  Thankfully, Dr. Worrell would be heading to Dad. Was there another competent doctor left in Becton to help Mother? It was doubtful and confirmation of my fears would only compound the nerves swimming inside my stomach.

  Outside my window, broken and abandoned buildings reminded me of the neglect Becton experienced. It didn’t seem like a good place for a hospital. At the time I left Becton there were several clinics and doctor's offices, but no central hospital. After seeing the depleted population, I assumed, like so many other things, they would’ve closed their doors.

  It surprised me that we approached a modern two-story building. The odd shape appeared to be the results of addition after addition giving it an irregular octagon look. Thick, unevenly spaced columns showed where each new section started. The hospital doubled the size of the Twin Oaks Mall. It gave me hope that someone would help her, but also filled me questions.

  What was it doing here? How had it escaped the devastation the rest of Becton suffered?

  There were no frilly entrances with beautiful flowers and arrangements to make those arriving feeling welcomed, but I guess that wasn’t important. Alex drove under the large ‘Emergency’ sign, and Tiffany and I opened our doors together. I quickly scooped Mom into my arms. She felt heavier, like holding dead weight, and seemed alarmingly lethargic.

  “Follow me,” Tiffany said.

  I nodded and walked right behind her, stepping on her heel. She released a sigh. Any other time she would’ve yelled and shoved me off her. A mumbled apology from me was all it took for her eyes to quit rolling.

  Walking into a brightly lit building, I was surprised how those around me responded. A nurse in pink scrubs ran a wheelchair to the door. Men, I didn’t know tipped their hat at my mother and women placed their hands over their heart. I had a cherished woman in my arms. Placing her in the wheelchair, I kissed her forehead.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  Her frail hand cupped my cheek, and her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t have the strength to talk.

  “Go!” I yelled to the nurse. “Take care of her.”

  Her chair was immediately rolled between two swinging doors. I didn’t want to lose my mother, but I’d done all I could do. My hand wiped away a tear that escaped down my face.

  A soft hand took mine. Tiffany was the last person I’d want to see me cry. However, her gesture comforted me.

  “Do you think she’ll be okay?” I whispered, my voice lumped in my throat.

  “She’s a fighter. So, hopefully.”

  Nodding my head, it fel
t heavy. Tiffany directed me to a chair, and we sat down. My eyes and ears functioned, but nothing reached my brain to dignify a response. It seemed like I was having an out-of-body experience. For the first time since arriving, I agreed with those who said I shouldn’t have come back.

  Alex came and put his arm across his wife’s shoulders, his hand resting on me. Her eyes looked worried.

  “I spoke to the staff, and she’s already with a doctor,” Alex said. “They’re runnin’ tests and will prep her for surgery, if needed.”

  “Do they have what they need here or will she be transferred?” I asked.

  “They should have it all,” Alex answered.

  “Why?” I turned to look at him. “When the town is falling apart, why have such a well staffed medical facility?”

  Tiffany and Alex shared a look that married couples can give and those who are single find annoying. It said so much to the two of them, but not to me. She shook her head and Alex frowned.

  “I’m tired of secrets.” I glared. “If you don't tell me, I’ll find somebody who will.”

  “No one is going to talk to you,” Tiffany countered.

  “They might. Benjamin Franklin is a pretty influential guy. He can have an influence on a person’s willingness to communicate.” I took my wallet from my pocket and pulled out a one hundred dollar bill. “It could go to you, or to someone else. Which do you prefer?”

  Her glare met mine, and we stared at each other, neither of us budging. With an angry sigh I stood, followed by her immediately snatching the bill from my hand.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  CHAPTER 12

  DOWN UNDER

  We walked along the hallway. Fluorescent bulbs flickered above our heads. I didn’t know what to expect I had no idea where we were going, but I had someone willing to give me answers. Alex followed us.

  The walls held beautiful pictures boasting breathtaking scenery and peaceful waterfalls. I imagined the images would allow those who looked at them to feel relaxed. One painting showed the rays of the sun streaming through rolling clouds like God looking down on those from above. I closed my eyes for a moment, saying a silent prayer for my parents and for the doctors to have wisdom to save their fragile lives.