Fear Factors

by Peter Sacco

  Lambert was never the same following the accident. He went into severe depression and the prevalence of his drinking binges kept increasing. At thirty-six, Lambert was sure to drown himself out of the prestigious career he worked so hard to build. It was only when he was almost at rock bottom did he finally get help. He left the hospital for a one year sabbatical to study modern laser surgery in Britain, or so everyone was told. Lambert was in a British hospital detoxing himself for what appeared to be a lifetime. The detox did him wonders. When he returned, he was the doctor everyone had respected before; more diligent, committed and more headstrong.

  Lambert had also grown a little less compassionate and a little more intellectual. He had learned not to feel. He would have to carry the guilt of Constance’s death around with him the rest of his life; the sentence for his stupidity. The only way to soften the blow was to never feel again. He had learned this remarkable trick in Britain and it had stuck with him. That was, until the night of the stag party. Lambert’s good friend, Joshua, an Atlanta attorney, was getting married. To be quite honest, Lambert was a little hurt at not being asked to be the best man, let alone an usher in the wedding party. The two had known each other for over a decade and had pretty much spent every Sunday morning on the golf course.

  Joshua’s stag had been a typical stag. There was drinking, good food and gambling. Lambert had arrived at the stag party nearly two hours late. He mingled amongst his professional peers and swapped war stories. Same old story, same old scene. The thought of marriage had entered Lambert’s mind at least twice within the first hour at the stag. Thoughts of Constance had entered into his mind at least a dozen times. And then they were really screaming in his mind following a chat with a long lost buddy. Todd Hursch, Inspector Hursch spotted Lambert and made his way over to him. Hursch had a fair bit of the spirits in his blood. Lambert was less than enthused seeing Hursch. He didn’t give a rat’s ass for the guy. He tried to keep the small talk to a minimum and ditch Hursch along the way. Just as he was about to go over to Joshua, Hursch’s lips let loose the shot heard around the world, or at least words that shattered Lambert’s eardrums. “If you’d have stayed on the wagon, you would have probably had a ball chained to your ankle like your pal Josh.”

  Lambert froze in his tracks. “Come again? “ asked an astonished Lambert.

  “Just said it’s a shame that your woman had to die in that terrible accident.”

  Hursch had been the sergeant at the scene of the accident that night. He had a good idea what had happened but was hushed up by those higher up who were friends of the Lambert family. From that point on, neither Hursch nor Lambert held the other in the highest regard. At this moment, all Lambert wanted to do was smash Hursch across his big mouth as hard as he could. As he was about to carry the idea out and make it a reality, Joshua tugged him gently away. “Not gonna cause any shit in my last few moments of being a bachelor, are you?”

  Lambert forced himself to grin. “I hate that son of a bitch,” sneered Lambert.

  “I know you do, but he bought a ticket, what can I say?” sighed Joshua.

  “That’s the problem with these things nowadays. Anyone can come.”

  “Open invitation. Don’t pay any attention to him, Lam. He’ll pass out soon enough without your help.”

  Lambert was able to let go of the urge to strike Hursch. A new urge was pumping through his adrenaline. Thoughts of Constance were consuming his sanity. He was feeling again. No matter which mantras he tried, none seemed to repress his feelings. He was feeling again. The monkey was on his back again. The only way to get rid of the monkey was to get off the wagon for a rest. Within moments, Lambert was once again with his one true love, Jack Daniels. The time period between the first drink and waking up in his own bed at eight-thirty a.m. ceased to exist. Luckily, his alarm was always set or he would never have awakened. He felt like total shit. The apocalypse had taken place between his ears last night. He was fallout trying to collect his bearings. He had to get up. He had brain surgery to perform on Hester Tanner today.

  If the start of the day was going to foreshadow what the rest of the day was going to be like, Lambert was best to bring his pal Jack Daniels along for the ride. The two had done some mean reminiscing the night prior. What the hell, why let old times end? Could they not still be buddies and bond the way they had in the past? Not! Dr. Lambert was no longer on the bottle. He was on the wagon. He would toss himself the life jacket he needed and take the reins. He was feeling once again in his life and that was what was causing him to fall. He would not feel. That was all there was to it! He would be analytical, cold and calculating. The only way to save face was not to feel.

  Verna Green was seated in the waiting room of the hospital Lambert and his associates used. How many associates there were was unknown. Lambert had paid his weekly fee to keep his extra practice going. He had heard through the grapevine there had been nine physicians using the place. He had known four of them by name, however, the others chose to keep their anonymity. Who could blame them? After all they were breaking the law by performing illegal operations. The large fees kept the higher-ups silent.

  Green had come in for an abortion. She was two months pregnant, an avid crack and coke head and also heavily into the bottle. She grew up in poverty and always lived in the black slums of Atlanta. She managed to live off social assistance whenever she was not indulging in the oldest profession. This had been her fourth abortion in the last two years. Green had taken the term “birth control” to new heights.

  Lambert was twenty-five minutes late in arriving at the clinic. Given the night prior, it was miraculous that he even made it. He had polished down sixteen ounces of black coffee on his drive. It was no wonder he had to piss so bad he could taste it. After relieving himself, Lambert splashed cold water on his face and recited his surgeon’s prayer to himself. “I promise to do my best to save and preserve the life I am entrusted with, because I am getting mega bucks to do so.”

  Lambert’s team was prepped and raring to go. The fetus they were extracting from Green’s womb would be used for the Parkinson’s patient coming in almost immediately following the abortion. It would be performed as quickly as possible since they were running behind. “Not too much work for a Saturday,” he thought to himself.

  The abortion took longer than normal. Several times, Lambert had to fight off the urge to vomit, and or, take a nap. He couldn’t recall ever feeling so fried. Green’s body did not help the operation either. At ninety-nine pounds, there wasn’t much room in her small pelvic area. All and all, the process was a success. The fetus was extracted and taken to the other room where Hester Tanner would receive its tissue. This fetus was unlike many of the others that Lambert had aborted. It was completely intact. It was a fetal alcohol fetus which would have been minus its limbs. The fetus, if allowed to develop, would also have been a dwarf. The fetus was not typical of what Lambert was used to working with. Firstly, it was fetal alcohol. Second, it was dwarf, very dwarf. And thirdly, there was something different about it when placed under a microscope. Its development was very primordial. It appeared more like a clump of tissue rather than a fetus. It was no larger than the nail of his thumb. There was less than he had expected to have for the Tanner surgery. He asked around if anyone knew if there was any fetal tissue being held at the clinic. There was none. In its entirety, the fetus would be about the right size. But he couldn’t put an entire fetus into the substantia nigra of the brain. Oh, sure it could work. The locus coeruleus, the blue area of the brain, would also be affected and new cell growth would be generated. If he used most of the fetus, removing waste material he would have enough to work with. It would be tricky trying to remove waste, but he would do the best he could. Hester Tanner was waiting. The operation commenced as scheduled. Lambert was feeling like shit and the sooner he got on with the operation, the sooner he could go home and crash. In the end, the money would more than
compensate for the headache that was pounding at the front of his cranium.

  ***

  As time continued to pass, Hester grew stronger each day. Her recovery had been remarkable. Four months had passed since Hester’s operation. Hester had actually been able to resume her mastery of cooking at the club on a part-time basis. Employees had mixed emotions. They were both in awe at how remarkably she had recovered and how foolish the wife of one of the richest men in the state of Georgia could be for wanting to go back to work. Needless to say, Hester had been the happiest she could remember being in years. Her body seemed to be growing stronger with the dawning of each morning. She was actually able to grip wet objects without having them slide through her hands. The last week of her life had been awesome, until the dizzy spells began.

  Hester had been carrying a skillet with piping hot grease when her head started to pound violently and her skull felt as if it had been caught up in a whirlwind. The skillet fell from her hands and grease exploded everywhere. Three employees were sent to the hospital with second degree burns. Hester visited the hospital following her untimely fall against a steel sink.

  This was the first in a long line of incidents. Hester had been to the hospital six times within a week. Each time, the headaches were growing worse and her dizzy spells were becoming fainting spells. Her doctor, Peter Harris, believed it was a probable side-effect from the surgery. Scar tissue was probably causing the migraines and the blackouts. He believed they would disappear in time. Harris was amazed with the fetal tissue transplant. Though he was against it from the start, he was a little less skeptical of the outcome. Even though he had thought Lambert to be an arrogant asshole, he had always admired his work from the time they were both interns at the General. Lambert had been one half year behind Harris, but tossed his sails out and blew right past Harris as far as success went. However large an asshole Lambert was, Harris admired how he had transferred his patient’s poor prognosis to a normal functioning human being.

  Harris wrote a repeat for what Lambert had been prescribing for the pain. She had been off the pills for over two weeks, and that was about the time the problems began. Harris believed she stopped medication prematurely and needed to continue. Harris reached Lambert’s new residence in Australia, but he never returned any of his calls. Harris speculated Lambert had once more returned to his drinking.

  Hester once more proceeded with her drug therapy. Almost instantly the headaches stopped as did the dizziness. The drugs helped to reduce swelling and numb infected areas of the brain. Hester was very happy to bid good riddance to the pain. Before she had time to enjoy peace, a new sensation was beginning in her cranium. It was so itchy. It felt as if insects were crawling beneath her skull. This lasted a couple of days and she finally had to see Harris again. Harris declared the itching sensation as being nothing more than the infections healing. As uncomfortable as it felt, it signified that Hester was getting well and would be able to stop taking her medication soon. Hester was delighted by the news, as was Martin. Martin loved his wife so much, he would do anything for her. The last couple of weeks, however, she was driving him to the edge. All she seemed to do was whine and complain. During her pre-surgery state she was not as much trouble. Thank God these problems would soon end. If she kept it up any longer, Martin would need to take her medication for the headaches she was giving him.

  The discomfort in Hester’s skull was getting worse. Both day and night the itching, would not go away. The sensations were becoming more and more horrific as days passed. The insects in her brain were multiplying at an enormous rate. There were nights when it felt as if they were going to bore their way through the bone. The only way Hester could maintain some level of sanity was to increase the dosage of drugs. It had to be only a matter of time before it all went away.

  ***

  It was a beautiful, sunny Sunday morning at the Tanner estate. Martin had slept for the first time in a long time. Hester had begun sleeping in the spare bedroom a couple of nights before. For Martin, it was the break from his wife he truly needed. He really thought he was going to wind up choking her or having a nervous breakdown. This morning had been just like the Sundays of old. He was downstairs in the kitchen alone enjoying the morning paper and sipping a cup of coffee. Martin only read one paper and that was his own. Martin was just about to take a sip of coffee when he heard a blood-curdling scream come from upstairs. Hot coffee splashed all over the paper and his lap. It was Hester. She must have fallen again. Martin bolted out of the kitchen and up the spiral staircase, temples on fire with pounding blood.

  He ran into the master bedroom but his wife was not anywhere to be found. He checked the bathroom. She was not there. He raced through the bedrooms sweat dripping off his chin. He could not do this much longer as his panting was becoming gasping. In between breaths, he heard sobbing sounds coming from the washroom down the hall.

  “Hester, “he said gasping for air, “Hester?”

  There was no answer. The sobbing grew louder. “Hester?” Martin’s voice cracked.

  Nothing. He walked into the large bathroom and heard the sobbing sounds coming from around the corner. Concerned, cautious, he moved slowly into the dark room, the warm-cold sensation of spilled coffee against the skin adding to the goose bumps forming. The sobs grew louder as Martin drew closer. As Martin turned the corner, he faced the bath tub. Hester lay curled in the tub, face against the wall, weeping her heart out. As she turned to face Martin, her head left a small patch of blood on the wall as she leaned forward. Martin became further alarmed with the sight of blood. Hester continued weeping as she wiped the back of her head with her hand. Hester held her bloodied hand out to Martin. Martin just stared.

  “I killed it,” sobbed Hester.

  “What?” asked a shocked Martin.

  “I made the crawling go away.”

  Hester acted out what she had done. As far as what Martin could interpret from the movements, Hester hit her head repeatedly against the wall causing the blood. Finally, it truly sunk in for Martin and he gingerly carried Hester out of the tub and brought her into the master bedroom. He laid her down, made her as comfortable as he could, then fetched some crushed ice he placed in a towel. He rolled Hester onto her belly and placed the ice on the back of her scalp. Martin noticed the smudged blood on the pillow sham. The bleeding was minimal and probably even stopped. Martin used his fingers to prune the hair away from the wound. He could feel a bump starting to grow. Hester lay still on the bed. Her sobbing had stopped. She was mumbling into the pillow. Martin positioned her head sideways while keeping the ice on the bump.

  “I stopped it Martin,” Hester said in a much calmer voice.

  “Stopped what?”

  “I stopped the crawling. I made it go away. Are you happy? “

  Martin studied his wife’s crooked mouth saying nothing.

  “Can I sleep with you tonight Martin? I made it go away.”

  Martin felt guilt well up in his guts. He thought about the cruel feelings that he had been having towards her the last few weeks. She had been feeling rejected by him. She was doing what she thought he wanted her to do. She was trying to make the pain go away for him. Martin felt like shit. Hester tried to lift her head up to face Martin. Martin, feeling ashamed, tried aimlessly to look away. He forced his gaze upon her red, tearing eyes. She gazed at him before she forced the words from her mouth.

  “I saw it move when I looked in the mirror.”

  “What? “ whispered Martin.

  “I saw my right ear move by itself. It was trying to get out.”

  Martin stared at his wife. The stress had really gotten to her. He was going to take her to see Harris on Monday.

  “I killed it Martin. All gone,” smiled Hester.

  Hester slept most of the day and was feeling very good at dinner. She did not complain at all about her head even though she had a bump
the size of a gooseberry. This was probably nothing compared to what she had done in the last few months. Hester said she was feeling better than she had in days. She slept right through the night with Martin, who was up several times during the night watching her sleep peacefully. In the morning, they woke up together at six-thirty, which was quite late for Martin. Hester smiled at him as he looked up at her. Martin glanced over at the clock on the wall. He was going to be late for work for the first time in a decade. He was the boss. He could be at work at whatever time he chose. He had a competent staff, he hoped. They would run things. He remembered that he had to call Harris. He would take the morning off to be with Hester. Martin kissed her on the cheek and rolled out of bed.

  “I’ll call Dr. Harris this morning,” breathed Martin.

  “That won’t be necessary,” smiled Hester.

  It was so good to see Hester smile. She looked radiant as she had when she slept during the night.

  “Are you going to call him?”

  “I’m quite all right Martin. The pain is gone. The itching is gone. Everything is gone.”

  Martin shook his head and was about to demand she see Harris when she kissed him on the lips for the first time in years so passionately. Wow! thought Martin to himself.

  “I’m’ going to work today.” smiled Hester.

  “You are? “ asked a hesitant Martin.

  “Yes I am and you’re not going to stop me,” she said, getting up.

  “I’m not? You just wait and see,” he said, holding her arm.

  Before Martin could start an argument, Hester kissed him again.