Jeremy moved his cracked lips. “Pain,” he whispered.
“Sure. I’ll increase the meds a bit.” Glen injected the contents of a syringe into the IV port. “There, you should feel a little better in a few moments. Might even drift off again for a while. Just relax and let it happen.”
Gradually, Jeremy felt enveloped in a soft warm cloud. The pain felt more distant. He closed his eyes and let himself float off and forget for a while what he would have to face.
CHAPTER 59
Glen adjusted the oxygen infusion level of the nutrient solution for the beginnings of Subject Two. Cell division and overall development were proceeding as anticipated, but with Jeremy in his current state, it just wasn’t fast enough. Nothing could be fast enough. He wondered how much more growth hormone he dared add to the solution.
A beep sounded, and the door to the sequestered lab opened. Tim stepped in and closed the door behind him.
“Glad you’re here. I want to talk to you about the growth hormone concentration in the solution we’re using.”
Tim shifted his feet uneasily. “I didn’t come to discuss that.”
Glen didn’t like his tone at all. “So what did you come to discuss?”
“My resignation.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. How can you resign? Jeremy’s living off IVs while we’re trying to get this ready in time for him.” He motioned toward the glass container that held the new, developing Subject.
Tim looked Glen in the eye. “We’ve gone too far. Way too far. I didn’t think the project was right when Ivan first proposed it. But I didn’t think it would ever come to fruition, so I didn’t object at the time. Then I let myself become involved, and I let you sink me in deeper as we went. I’ll never forgive myself for that, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let myself get involved in another round of this madness.”
“But what about Jeremy? He’s going to need surgery again when the organs are ready for him.”
“I feel terrible for him. I really do. But I don’t know how he lives with himself. He saw the Subject afterward. He saw the price he paid so he could live a normal life. Yes, I assisted the first time, and there hasn’t been a day that goes by that I haven’t regretted it—even though it gave Jeremy a normal life until now. It was wrong. The entire project should never have been undertaken.” Tim stared at the second Subject with a pained expression.
Glen swept his arms wide, palms up, in a gesture of appeal. “How am I supposed to do this myself when the organs are ready? You know it’s already tight and terribly risky with just the two of us in a procedure this complex.”
Tim tore his gaze away from the new Subject and glared at Glen. “You’re not hearing me. That’s no longer my problem. I became a doctor to help people. Sometimes saving someone’s life feels a bit like playing God. But deliberately harming another human being to help another? That’s too far, and I won’t be a part of it any more. That’s it.” He turned toward the door to leave.
Glen trembled as the numerous implications of Tim’s decision hit him. “Who are you going to tell?”
Tim paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of going public with this. I have too much to lose to risk that. I am going to tell Jeremy, though. He deserves to hear it from me firsthand.” He turned and left the room.
Glen sat down heavily on a lab stool. His legs felt weak and his hands shook. At least Tim wasn’t going to publicize the project. But how was he going to handle the prep and eventual surgery by himself? He could think of no other staff member he dared to let in on the secret.
He’d find a way to work it out. He just had to.
Tim poked his head into Jeremy’s office. “Can I have a word with you?”
“Sure. What is it?”
Jeremy sat at his desk, his face pale and drawn. He’d taken to wearing button-down shirts on a daily basis, so the tubing from the needle site in his subclavian artery could be threaded out the nearest gap between buttons. His constant companion, the IV rack, stood at his side behind the desk.
Tim’s heart sank at the sight, not only because of his role in the project, but for what he was about to say and what it likely meant to Jeremy’s eventual fate.
“I’m not quite sure how to start.” Tim shifted in his seat. “Guess I should just get it out. I’ve come to resign.”
Though it would have seemed impossible, Jeremy became even paler. “What? Why?”
“I probably gave you a hint that day some months ago when we ran into each other in the Subject’s room. I’ve never felt comfortable about this project. But after the second procedure, it was just too much.” He paused and gazed off into the distance. “Every day when I saw him, what he’d become, it hammered it home to me. He didn’t understand what had happened to him, and he surely had not consented to that—and wouldn’t have, had he been given the opportunity and ability to speak for himself.”
“Well, I’m living the same way now, and I’m managing.” Jeremy’s face reddened. “How bad can it be for him—especially if he doesn’t understand the implications of his condition?”
Tim took a deep breath to steady himself for what he had to say and how Jeremy might react. “Not an issue any more.”
“What are you saying?”
Tim glanced at Jeremy again, this time seeing him in a new light. Seeing him as someone who, aside from this unanticipated setback, had done nothing but reap the benefits of the project without really having to deal with the downsides, as Tim had.
Suddenly he wanted to rub some of the dirt in his face, even though at the same time he saw how he was suffering so much despite all their efforts—or perhaps because of those efforts. “He’s dead. He’s no longer suffering. I eased his pain with an overdose of sedative. Best I could tell, I think he would have wanted it that way. He just couldn’t express himself verbally.”
“You did what?”
“Don’t act so above it, Jeremy. You’re here today because of what he gave up—involuntarily, I might add. I don’t see why you should be concerned. He’d already given you all he could. He didn’t have another set of intestines, so he was useless to you and Glen at this point.”
“But you…deliberately…?”
“I put the drug in his IV tube. True enough. And I’ll have to live with that. But surely you realize his death warrant was signed as soon as we all decided to remove his intestines and give them to you. He had no life left, not really. At least you have the second Subject in the works to bail you out.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the IV rack. “He would never have had that chance.”
“Tim, don’t think this has been easy for me. All you see is the medical side, and the various procedures that you’ve conducted. You don’t know how I feel about this, what guilt I’ve had about it. Do you think I’m not human? I saw the Subject for myself that day. And now I get to experience firsthand what he was going through—poetic justice there, I suppose. Do you think I really have a choice in this?” He looked imploringly at Tim.
Tim considered Jeremy’s words for a moment before answering. “It’s hard to say. You could have refused the procedure. I don’t honestly know what I would have done in your place. Maybe it’s too easy for me to say you could have just said no. At any rate, there is the matter of disposal of the body. He’s in the freezer now.”
“My God.” Jeremy stared down at his desk. “Who else knows?” he asked softly.
“I told Glen. That’s it. I’m not going to make this public. I just can’t be a part of it any more. I wanted to tell you myself, so you could understand my reasons.” He stood, then turned to leave. “Goodbye, Jeremy.”
After Tim left and shut the door behind him, Jeremy rested his head on his desk and tried to grasp the implications of his resignation. He felt utterly hollow inside, drained and hopeless.
He constantly felt weak and subpar since the most recent surgery and his resulting dependence on the IV for nutrition
. He relied on Glen and Tim to keep SomaGene running while he showed up each day—or tried to—and barely got anything done. Now with Tim gone, Glen would have to pick up the slack on that front—and he would have to perform the eventual surgery unassisted. Jeremy didn’t like that idea at all, but he was running out of choices. If he didn’t want Glen performing the surgery solo, then he was going to have to drag some other staff physician into it. He couldn’t think of anyone he dared trust with knowledge of something like this.
And Amanda. She was already doing the best she could to help him. He knew he was a handful to deal with, his mood alternating between helpless self-pity and angry frustration at his condition. Stuck in the small circle of those who knew of this project, she had no one she could confide in or share her burden with.
It was all such a disaster, and now it felt like a noose tightening on his neck, rather than the way back to a happy and healthy life.
Maybe Tim was right. Maybe he should have refused to participate in such a scheme from the get-go and taken his chances with his Crohn’s. He wouldn’t have had Amanda back—but he wouldn’t be putting her through all this, either.
He glanced up at the IV bottle. Was the price worth those extra months of disease-free living that he’d enjoyed? It had been laid in front of him, and, despite high talk to the contrary, he’d set aside his moral concerns and gone for it. He could have turned it down if he had really wanted to, but he wanted his life to be healthy and normal. He wanted a chance back with Amanda. He’d managed to rationalize and compartmentalize what it had cost the Subject, who had no say at all in the matter.
He put his head back down on his desk. He was too exhausted to think about it anymore.
CHAPTER 60
Tim pulled into his driveway and switched off the ignition. He wasn’t quite ready to deal with Katie, and he didn’t want the sound of the garage door opener to alert her to his arrival just yet. He sat for a moment, preparing himself for what he had to do, what he had to face. It was early afternoon; he rarely came home this time of day. Katie would be surprised to see him. She’d be even more surprised when she heard what he had to say to her.
He glanced at the massive maple tree that dominated his front yard. Scarlet already tinged the edges of some of the leaves. Minnesota autumns were intensely beautiful, and cruelly brief. They left no doubt that an end had arrived. He faced an end of sorts himself, and wondered what would come of it.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly to try to calm himself. It didn’t help much; his stomach still felt jittery and tense. Then he got out of the car and quietly entered his house, feeling a bit like an intruder sneaking in like that.
At this time of day, Katie was probably in the playroom with Johnnie. He headed for that room and stood outside the doorway, silently watching them playing together on the floor for a few moments before announcing his presence. He wanted to capture and savor that peaceful memory before he revealed the information that would forever change their lives.
He cleared his throat. “Hi, Katie.”
She glanced up quickly, startled, and pressed one hand to her chest while she held Johnnie with the other. “I didn’t hear you! How long have you been standing there?”
“Not very long.”
A frown creased her forehead. “What’s the matter? What are you doing here this time of day anyway?”
“I have something I need to tell you. Can you put Johnnie down for his nap now?”
“I’m not sure he’d go down quite yet. I’ll just put him in the playpen. He’ll be OK there.” Scowling, Katie picked up the squirming baby and laid him down gently in his playpen. She gave him his little teddy bear and tucked a blanket around him as she made soothing noises to try to get him in the mood to perhaps nap, or at least not get agitated.
She stood and tucked a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. “What is it?”
“Let’s go sit down.” Tim led her to the living room, where they seated themselves on the couch. One glance at her worried face told him this would be even harder than he had imagined.
“What’s the matter, Tim? You’re scaring me.” Katie’s tense shoulders rose to nearly touch her jaw. She folded her arms so that she held an elbow in each hand.
Tim couldn’t muster the momentum to start while he was looking at her. He leaned over, elbows on knees, chin in hands, and stared at the coffee table as he began. “Remember I told you about the special, secret project I was working on with Glen, and how we were at odds on it?”
“Yeah.” The word came out in a tiny whisper.
“Well, it all has to do with that. I’m going to tell you some things that you absolutely must keep to yourself. You’ll see why soon enough. I need you to promise that first. Do you?” He looked her in the eye.
“I don’t even know what you’re going to say, how can I—?”
“I need you to promise.”
“All right.” Katie’s lips pressed tightly together.
“Thank you.” He took a deep breath, then began, knowing there would be no turning back. “This project involved human cloning.”
“What? Clones?” Katie’s eye widened.
“Please. Let me get through this. It’s more difficult for me than you can possibly know yet.”
“All right.”
Tim chose his words carefully to avoid violating doctor-patient confidentiality as best he could, given that Jeremy had been his patient. “Ivan wanted to develop a transplant protocol for the treatment of Crohn’s disease. We developed a full-grown human from a tissue sample. There was a targeted recipient. We initially transplanted a small portion of intestine. That worked well for a while, and the implications for the clone were not too terrible. He needed additional nutrition, but that was about it. After a while, the Crohn’s did enough further damage to the recipient that he needed another transplant. This time, we took the entire remaining large and small intestine from the clone.” He bowed his head. “I’d always thought the project was going too far, but that took it over the line for me.”
“What happened?”
“The clone made it through the surgery—barely. I had to bring him out of cardiac arrest. But without an intestinal tract, he could never eat again. He had to be kept alive with IV nutrition. Forever.”
“Is that possible?”
Tim sighed. “Yes, it is, technically. There are IV formulas for that purpose, anyway. But typical patients who receive that sort of nutritional support do so temporarily or are elderly or in end-stage disease and have no other choice. In this case, the clone was the equivalent of a young adult.”
“Was? Did he die?”
Tim looked at Katie and took both her hands in his. “He is dead. I hope you understand why I did what I did.”
“What are you saying?” Katie’s hands began to tremble.
“He was suffering so much. He never learned to speak, but he communicated to me in nonverbal ways. I’m sure of what he was trying to tell me. I gave him an overdose of sedative. He went peacefully.” Tim stared into the distance.
Katie began to tremble all over. “Oh my God.”
“I never dreamed I would become involved in something like this. I never should have agreed to participate from the start, but I did, and I got sucked in deeper and deeper. But that was too much. I couldn’t go in there and look in his eyes again and see that suffering day in and day out. Lab animals get better treatment.” Tim spat out the last words, then sat silent, waiting for Katie’s reaction.
“You actually killed him?” Katie began to gnaw on a fingernail, something she hadn’t done since she was a teenager.
The truth of her words struck Tim like a physical blow. Even if he could finesse the overdose as a mercy killing, he knew in his heart that his participation in the full transplant was the first step in killing the Subject. “Yes.” He let the word slide out in a whisper.
“Wha…what do we do now?” Katie appeared on the edge of hysteria.
Tim girded himself to
deliver the rest of his message, come what may. “I resigned today. I promised I would not go public with any of this, so they have nothing to fear from me. Of course, if I were to blow the whistle on them, I would blow it equally on myself.” Tim again looked her in the eye. “And that is why I needed your promise to keep this to yourself. We’re going to have to move somewhere else. I’ll need to find a new job so we can start over. But I’ll have to live with what I’ve done the rest of my life. I’m not looking forward to that. I feel that I betrayed my reason for being a doctor in the first place, and I will need to spend the rest of my life trying to make that up in any way I can.”
Katie suddenly stood and rubbed her upper arms as if she were freezing cold. “I…can’t believe all this. I need to digest it, but I’m not sure I can.” She briefly paced the room as if she didn’t know what else to say or to do with herself. “I’m going to go check on Johnnie.” She ran from the room.
Tim rubbed his eyes and bowed his head. He hoped Katie just needed time to absorb all that he had revealed. He didn’t want to destroy their family on top of everything else he’d done.
But if he lost them, it was his own damned fault. He’d allowed himself to get involved in something dangerous and destructive, and he’d pay the price forever. He began to sob.
CHAPTER 61
“Well, here we are again.” Jeremy slumped in his chair as Amanda hung up her coat in his office.
“Yeah.” She tried to smile, but he noticed how thin an attempt it was.
More than a year had passed while they’d waited for Subject Two to be ready. More than a year with Jeremy hooked to the IV of life. The situation tested the mettle of their relationship, as well as his physical and emotional endurance. Glen had not escaped the stress; he had run himself ragged trying to ready the latest clone as quickly as he dared and preparing himself—logistically and psychologically—to perform the eventual transplant unassisted.
The Janus Legacy Page 18
