Buck Fever

by Robert A Rupp

  “Oh, it’s a leap-of-faith statement. I get it,” Porter said, jotting Dingman’s comments into his notebook.

  “Shall we join the crowd? We have just enough time to fire a draft back to Pillbock for the afternoon edition.” Dingman glanced at his watch while straightening his tie and jacket.

  “Shit, I forgot about Katie’s aunt. I don’t think she should hear about this from the evening news. She and Katie became best friends after her mother died. They only have each other; both sides of the family are deceased.”

  “You can call her immediately after the briefing. Now let us get our story, eh?”

  ~ ~ ~

  “Mr. Hermanski, how are you and Mr. Lacarter? I’m Louis Dingman with the Times,” Dingman said to the men sitting in front of him. “Where is Mr. Montagno? I would think he should be here as well.

  “He’s a patient, so is his wife, Sissy, and my wife, Mandi. They ate the deer meat. Dillon Lacarter and I passed the blood test,” Hermanski said, shaking hands. “Where’s that cute sidekick of yours?”

  “We passed the blood test, but Miss Kottle didn’t. She’s in there too,” Porter said.

  “We can talk after the briefing,” Dingman said, nudging Porter. Hermanski nodded and faced front.

  “I wonder if the guys from Port Huron were called in,” Dingman said.

  “There’s one of them—John Greppleton?” Porter waved as John Greppleton turned, responding to his name several rows in front.

  “Lopez...a patient,” Greppleton said, deflecting his voice with his right hand. Porter acknowledged with a wave.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “Ladies and gentlemen and representatives from the media, I will brief you regarding the current disease-control situation we are dealing with. Please hold your questions until—” Dr. Grace said.

  “Has Lickshill’s body been recovered? We’ve heard it’s mysteriously disappeared,” asked a TV news reporter sitting in the front row.

  “Who is Lickshill?” an unidentified man asked.

  “What about Father Fellorday? Have they found his killer?” another asked.

  A heavy sigh floated up from the meeting participants.

  “People please. I said I would brief you, then you can ask questions. I am not authorized to respond to police matters, so I cannot respond in either case. Please let me continue.”

  “What do they know about Lickshill that we don’t? And he’s missing? How do they know that?” Porter whispered, scribbling more notes.

  “Intriguing. I love the way those TV guys expose a few anonymous facts to see how everyone reacts,” Dingman whispered back.

  “As I was going to say,” Dr. Grace said, “we have effectively located and quarantined all known individuals who came into direct physical contact with the affected deer and also have located and isolated a small deer population plus a number of apparently infected deer carcasses.”

  “Not all of it,” Hermanski said, raising his hand. “I’ve got mine in the freezer and so does Mr. Lacarter here, and Mr. Montagno who was brought in earlier.”

  “Sorry for the intrusion, but you’ll find the meat is now missing from your freezers, along with any related artifacts from your hunting trip, thanks to the new biohazard-protection law passed recently.”

  “What, how and by whom?” Hermanski said, his jaw gapped open.

  “That’s not right. You can’t take it without our permission.” Lacarter said.

  Agitated heads bobbed up and down as TV cameras turned to the audience.

  “Please calm down. I can assure you this was accomplished with the utmost consideration for your privacy. If you have further concerns, please contact the Medical Center Chief Administrator. Time is precious; we need to move on.

  “Whoa, that would make a great back story,” Porter whispered to Dingman.

  “That law has been discussed and bantered about for months. It will just get in the way of our story,” Dingman said. He reached into his coat pocket, removed a vibrating text-messaging cellphone and started reading saved messages and email. “Take good notes; I’m going to send Pillbock an update. He will not let up.”

  “Shall we continue? We have determined a population of ten deer ingested wheat harvested and stored in a small barn near West Branch, Michigan located about here.” The doctor held up his right hand resembling the shape of Michigan and pointed to the base of his middle finger. “The wheat contracted the Claviceps Purpurea fungus, also known as Ergot. The damp fall promoted growth, and the deer devoured the rusty-colored wheat in recent weeks. Thus, they became inflicted with Ergot poisoning. The barn was also infested with mice: the deer mouse to be specific, usually found in southern states. It appears the owner of the farm had visited Georgia this past summer and may have inadvertently transported the rodents to this area. These mice carried a strain of Hantavirus, a distant relative of Hemorrhagic Fever. The poisoned deer became infected with the virus, and the combination in the blood stream of the virus and Ergot produced an infection that acts like an anti-depressant and releases serotonin into the brain. The serotonin suppresses fear and the animals become aggressive. Sort of like a bad drunk. When humans contact the animal’s blood or meat they can contract the infection from the virus along with Ergot poisoning. The combination appears to activate some minimally explored areas of the human brain dealing with perception and anticipation, not unlike the effects of LSD. Actually, Ergot and LSD are neighbor substances, and Albert Hoffman discovered LSD while investigating Ergot many years ago. The intensity of human reaction also appears to be elevated by the use of certain cold medicines. The form of Hantavirus involved is not typically life threatening, and your family and friends should fully recover within a week with no side effects, other than a bad hangover. I will now take a few questions. You in the back.” The doctor pointed to Porter.

  “If the disease runs its course without side effects and the deer and the grain are contained, then why did the Disease Control Center move so quickly to quarantine all of the infected parties?”

  Dr. Grace stared for a moment then answered.

  “Some of the infected individuals were showing signs of bizarre behavior that could lead to self-mutilation or harm to others. Also, there is always a slight chance these viruses could mutate and lead to other problems.”

  “Like a pandemic? But, people would not die, though. Maybe just be out of their minds for a while and be a threat to society. Right?” Dingman said. He knew he only had a few precious minutes to get answers ahead of the TV reporters.

  “That would be mere speculation. Sorry, but I must conclude the briefing and get back to doctoring and patient care.”

  “Dr. Grace, what if—”

  “What about Father Fellorday’s killer? Isn’t he a threat? What if he’s out there roaming the streets of Detroit right now looking for more prey—being all doped up on this Ergot you’re talking about?” a slim black women inquired, raising her voice above others.

  “I can only say state and local police are doing all they can to locate this person.”

  “Who asked the question?” Porter said.

  “She’s a new city-council member trying to get her constituents riled up—my guess,” Dingman replied.

  “Ladies and gentleman, if you are a friend or family of the patients, you may return to the waiting room for further instructions. The media is invited to wait in the media room out that door and turn left.” Dr. Grace pointed to one of four exit doors and walked from the podium as several TV reporters imposed more questions.

  “Can we visit the patients? Do we have to wear special suits?” Jack Hermanski asked.

  “No need for special garments or decontamination when visiting patients. The patient areas are uniquely isolated. Each area contains ten rooms off a central hallway contained from outside intervention. U-shaped hallways surround the patient rooms and give outside access to each room through an observation booth. The booth is contained behind a see-through partition and communication is through audio mi
crophones and speakers. You will be completely isolated from the patients and not be exposed to anything except clean filtered air. Only one of the ten-room patient corridors is being used at this time, so the infected population is small.”

  “What now?” Porter asked, as the room cleared.

  “Pillbock just sent me a message to meet him in his office in ten minutes. He talked to Bob Sanguini in West Branch and has the poop on Lickshill’s disappearance. While I am gone, go to the waiting area and see if you can glean something. Also call Kottle’s aunt and fill her in,” Dingman said.

  Porter nodded and the two departed through separate doorways.

  Chapter 39

  George Montagno leaned to survey the stalks of grass before him. He chewed several; they tasted similar to the grain kernels in the barn he grazed on yesterday. He struggled to translate his surroundings into lucid objects. An unrecognizable barrage of iconic experiences emerged related to each item he saw and tasted. He did not have a reference for the dark grass. What was it? Why was it different? Did it make others sick? His curiosity and focus on the stalks overwhelmed his senses. The observed world seemed grey, only shades of grey, and no color.

  Shh. He became still. His ears perked. Danger, he thought. Stay still. Listen.

  Straight forward, he stared over the stalks of grass to the edge of the woods a far distance away. A large upright animal stood looking away. A stream of water extended from the middle of its body. The smell repulsed him. The animal appeared vague but familiar—why?

  A flash of memory matched the animal to another he had seen some time ago. The other animal carried a long object. This animal had a similar object propped by its side. The icon of a rifle crossed his mind. I have a reference for that object, but not sure what it is.

  A memory surfaced: the object made a loud noise. He remembered his mate falling to the ground, the danger surfacing when he nudged her, and how quickly he ran further into the woods to avoid a similar fate.

  Animal must die. Animal must die. The emotional thought engulfed his mind and body. What did it mean? His muscles suddenly tightened, quivered, then exploded into action.

  The standing animal tried to react.

  Montagno lunged with precision to grab the animal’s right foreleg before it could render the long object forward. He missed the foreleg and chomped onto the appendage protruding from the center of the animal’s body. He tore it off between his teeth and flung his head sideways releasing the object into branches of a nearby pine tree. With continuing momentum forward, Montagno raised his head slightly impaling the animal. He carried the animal several feet as its legs flailed. It made a loud screeching noise. He slammed the animal into a tree and it slid from his antlers to the ground.

  Its dead; I’ve killed it. Montagno struggled to understand the emotional turmoil churning within his brain. Words entered his mind: Hew Man. He had seen these words across the back of a similar animal who was swinging a strange object against a tree. He drew his right front paw across the dead grass and dirt and crudely scrawled the words next to the dead animal.

  A sense of satisfying revenge rushed through his mind. He raised his front legs, pranced, snorted loudly to let others know the danger had passed, then leaped into the woods.

  ~ ~ ~

  The feeling of bounding through trees faded as another world overtook his thoughts. His eyes opened as a nurse adjusted a new needle into his left arm. He yelled, but no sound resulted, just a gurgle of air and mucus.

  “Dr. Grace, he’s coming around,” the nurse said, wincing into Montagno’s wide-open blood-red eyes, lightly dabbing the fluids off a bandage covering a tube into his neck.

  “Whoa,” the doctor said, surveying Montagno’s forehead. An inch-wide red rash slanted upwards from each eyebrow to the hairline.

  “Makes him look like the devil, and with those red eyes...ooh,” the nurse said. “He made a loud snorting sound before opening his eyes. No other sounds or actions prior, though, other than the usual roaming eyeballs while apparently dreaming.”

  “Aha. Are those reporters from the Times still in the waiting room? I want them to see this.”

  “Don’t we have to respect his privacy?”

  “No time for rules, they can help me.”

  “Whatever you say,” the nurse said, and walked out of the room.

  Chapter 40

  An elderly woman entered the waiting room looking frantic. “Where is Katie Kottle? When can I see my little girl? How is she?” She lifted her hunched-back body and clutched onto Porter’s left arm as he greeted her. She pushed him away briefly and asked the question again to a nurse sitting behind a glass protection wall. She spoke into a small microphone. Porter stood by her side, consoling her.

  “Are you her mother?”

  “I’m Ida Kottle, her aunt and adoptive mother. Her real mother passed away when she was twelve years old.”

  “Okay, please complete the privacy form, and have a seat. She’s resting now. The doctor needs to brief you before you can go in. Should only be a couple of minutes,” the nurse said, pointing to a stack of papers and disposable pencils outside the glass.

  “Miss Kottle, I’m sure she’s in good hands. Let’s sit over there, and I’ll fill you in on the events of the past few days. Maybe you can shed light on some puzzling dreams she’s been having lately.” Porter grasped the woman’s arm and directed her to a bench in the rear of the waiting room away from others.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Oh, my Lord, she’s finally come to grips with it,” Ida Kottle said, after Porter explained Katie’s recent obsession with an imaginary twin sister named Rachel.

  “Rachel has some meaning in her life?”

  “Rachel is...ah, was...her real twin sister. Did Katie ever tell you about the man in the car with the Barbie dolls?” Ida Kottle asked, holding a tissue to her nose.

  Porter nodded. “She’s told me the story many times. It has certainly affected her psyche. I can only imagine the terror she felt after almost being abducted, especially after she got older and understood the potential consequences.

  “What you don’t know...she was with...her twin sister...and...” Ida Kottle struggled to continue. Tears appeared, rolled down her cheeks, streaking heavy makeup. “That day, Rachel was abducted, and Katie managed to escape the man’s grip by punching him in the face. Rachel was never found. It killed her mother. Katie never accepted what happened and denied ever having a twin sister.

  “Aw, God,” Porter muttered.

  “Katie gave the police an excellent description of the man. It made the front page of the larger Michigan newspapers, and TV news carried it as well, but neither Rachel nor the man was seen again. I’ve always felt she was better off not knowing about her sister.”

  “What about Rachel’s clothes and play things? Didn’t Katie wonder whom they belonged to?”

  “Her mother hid all pictures and evidence of Rachel as a way of coping herself. The clothes fit Katie perfectly. Therefore, it was easy for Katie to block Rachel from her memory. I’ve wondered when those memories would surface again., poor dear.”

  Ida Kottle dabbed her eyes as she read the privacy document. She slowly penciled her name and date at the bottom, searched her purse for her driver’s license, and handed both to Porter

  Porter took the document and license to the glass window and inserted them into a scanning device. The nurse received an exact copy on the other side, reviewed it and waved. The original document rolled out into a waiting paper shredder and decontamination pail, the license passed through a separate slot filled with ultraviolet light back to Porter.

  Dingman stood next to Ida Kottle and introduced himself as Porter returned.

  “When can I see my darling Katie?” Ida Kottle asked Dingman, who looked to Porter for help.

  “Soon, they said, real soon.”

  She wiped her eyes and sat bent forward on the metal bench.

  Porter stood up and leaned toward Dingman. “I’ll fill you in later.
So what did Pillbock have to say?”

  “He got a call from Bob Sanguini in West Branch. Apparently, Lickshill is missing. His family came into the funeral home yesterday after we left, wanting to schedule a memorial service. The director found the casket empty. A complete search of the premises revealed nothing. The sheriff was called in. They suspect Sulkin removed the body yesterday afternoon. He was overheard making threatening statements to an employee that the government was after him and he needed to hide his research.”

  “Consistent with his squirrelly behavior on the helicopter this morning.”

  “Pillbock wanted a step-by-step accounting of what we have done so far to pursue the story. He showed genuine concern for Katie’s health and welfare, though. Anything she needs, just call him. That, my good man, is what makes him shine above every other boss I have had in this business—a caring attitude—look and learn. He is probably on the phone right now haranguing Dr. Grace about her care.”

  “Gentlemen,” a nurse said, approaching the two reporters, “Dr. Grace has requested your presence. Please follow me.”

  “See,” Dingman said.

  “We’ll be back in a couple of minutes, Miss Kottle,” Porter said.

  She weakly nodded as the two men turned away to follow the nurse.

  Chapter 41

  The head nurse escorted Dingman and Porter into the glassed observation booth attached to Montagno’s room. Dr. Grace greeted them on the other side. A nurse stood near a bed sheltered behind a translucent curtain. Orange-yellow light from the afternoon sun glared off the brushed stainless-steel walls casting a halo around the nurse’s face and mysterious shadows on the curtain.

  “Whoa,” Dingman said, “I feel a religious experience coming on.”

  Porter let out a nervous giggle.

  “Not far from the truth,” Dr. Grace said, his voice projecting through a small ceiling speaker. “Tell me what you see when I pull back the curtain. I want you to observe Mr. Montagno’s face. Don’t think about what you see, just give me your first impressions.”