38
Tuesday, June 6, 2006 – 8:48 p.m.
Aspen Memorial Hospital
Ken emerged from the stairwell onto the second floor. Walking a few feet, he entered the lab where Chandini, Dalmar and the police already were. Slick wasn’t there yet.
“I didn’t hear the page.”
“We haven’t paged anyone yet,” Dalmar said. “The police just arrived.”
Ken introduced himself to the two detectives. Detective Johnson was heavyset, bald and had a full mustache. Sitting in a chair, his thighs and butt hung over the edges and his torso completely hid the chair and everything behind it. Ken was concerned that the chair might not be able to hold his weight. Detective Johnson seemed oblivious to the potential disaster.
“So what’s with the doll doc?”
Looking down, Ken realized he was still carrying Maisie’s doll. “Oh. It’s one of my patient’s, a little girl. She spilled something on it and I told her I’d clean it up. I just haven’t gotten that far yet.”
Johnson looked at him warily. “So, you say there’s another witness to your abduction?” Johnson said turning toward Chandini.
“Yes, Slick. We can have him paged.”
“That would be great. While we’re waiting for him, I and my partner detective Ramsey can ask the rest of you a few questions.”
Dalmar paged Slick over the intercom. Detective Ramsey preferred to stand. He was thin, tall and wiry. His full head of hair more than made up for what Johnson had lost over the years. Holding a note pad in one hand and a pencil in the other, Ramsey appeared that he was going to be the secretary during this questioning period. Standing to Johnson’s right, the two of them together looked an awful lot like Laurel and Hardy. Unlike Johnson, Ramsey stayed quiet, occasionally nodding his head or making one or two word remarks. Johnson continued the discussion.
“So you find yourself tied up in the supply room, you don’t see who grabbed you and tied you up and eventually Dr. Slaterbaugh and this fellow Slick find you?”
“Yes, and Dalmar was with them too,” Chandini replied quietly.
“Is that how it was Dalmar?” Johnson asked, almost accusatively.
“Yes sir. That’s what happened. If it hadn’t been for the good doctor’s ears, she might still be locked up.”
Ramsey eyed Dalmar and jotted down a few notes. Turning toward Ken, Johnson asked, “So any ideas who might be behind this, any suspects? No one else has voiced any opinions.”
Ken hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he should mention Spike or not. Although everything seemed to point to him, he didn’t feel that he had enough proof and he didn’t want to involve an innocent man. Still, the police would check it out and if he was innocent than no harm would be done.
Ken looked at Laurel and Hardy. “There is one other fellow. His name’s Spike.”
“Spike?” Ramsey asked.
“Yes. Spike.”
“What kind of place are you running here? All these strange names almost make it sound like some kind of circus or something,” Johnson said.
“The names may be strange, but the people are great!” Ken looked around the room after making his comment. Dalmar and Chandini smiled a smile of thank you to him.
“So, what’s the deal with this Spike?”
Ken proceeded to explain some of the things that had pointed to Spike’s possible involvement throughout the day. After a few minutes of explanation, Ramsey spoke.
“Do you have a picture of this Spike?”
“I’m sure we do.”
“Good. Please have it sent to my office.” Ramsey handed Ken a business card.
Johnson looked at Ken. “So is this Slick guy coming?”
“I have no idea. He said he’d meet us here when he was paged. Maybe he got tied up somewhere or something, I don’t know.”
“Well, we can’t wait all day.” Handing Ken another business card with Johnson’s name and number, he asked Ken to send Slick to his office as soon as possible. After another few minutes, the two detectives decided they’d gotten what they needed for the time being.
“Thanks for your cooperation people,” Johnson said. Ramsey folded up his notepad and put it away. Standing next to the door with his hands crossed in front of him, he waited while Johnson maneuvered his heavy frame out of the chair. The chair creaked as if sighing at the sudden ability to breathe again. Wobbling slightly, Johnson finally got his balance and headed for the door.
“Have a good afternoon detectives,” Dalmar called out.
“I hope you find him,” Chandini said. “It would make me feel better.”
Without turning around, Johnson said, “We’ll do what we can. And have that Slick guy contact me. I need to talk to him.”
“I’ll let him know,” Ken said.
The door shut behind the detectives and Ken turned toward Dalmar and Chandini still sitting on the couch.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m better now,” Chandini said. “Having Dalmar to talk to helped a lot.”
“That’s good.”
“So where’s Slick?” Dalmar boomed. “I thought he was going to meet us.” “I don’t know where he went. I’ll have to check around. Maybe he was tied up talking to someone or something. Anyway, I’m going to go back to my office for a bit. I’ll check back with you later.”
“Okay. See you later.”
Stopping, Ken turned around to face Chandini and Dalmar and said, “By the way. Can you test the fluid on this doll?” Ken held out the doll to show Dalmar. Giving it a slight squeeze, Ken showed Dalmar and Chandini where the hole was. A little dot of fluid appeared at the site.
“What is it?” Dalmar asked.
“I’m not sure, but I have an idea.”
“So, what am I testing for?”
“Tryptamines I bet,” Chandini chimed in.
“Exactly,” Ken said.
“Tryptamines?” Dalmar questioned raising his eyebrows. “I don’t do that test often.”
“I can stay for a bit and give you a hand if you want,” Chandini said to Dalmar. “I already ran some tryptamine tests earlier. I still have the equipment and tools set up.”
“Are you sure? You’re off work. Don’t you want to go home?”
“I’m a little nervous about leaving. I’d rather be with people I know for awhile.”
“Sounds fine to me.”
“Thank you both,” Ken said. “I’ll check back in awhile.”
Turning around, Ken left the room and went back to the stairwell to go upstairs to his office. Exiting the stairwell on the fifth floor, Ken passed the four attendants who had just wrestled Hank’s huge body off the bed and onto the gurney. Sweating, the four of them were just turning to get on the elevator. Ken nodded at them and they acknowledged his greeting in kind. Ken shook his head in disbelief at having lost two patients in the same day. Although he knew the cause and the probable culprit, it still didn’t make losing them any easier. About the only comfort he did have was knowing that the police were working on it. Passing by Hank’s former room, Ken saw a forensics team working on the crime scene. Yellow Do Not Cross-Police Line tape was strapped across the doorway. The same had been done to Benita’s room, although most of the evidence there was already gone. Since, at first, her death had no telltale signs of foul play, it had simply been cleaned up like normal. However, once Ken’s suspicions had been aired and after the subsequent death of Hank, the situation was taken more seriously. Now the police would check carefully for anything that would help apprehend the suspect.
Ken reached room 511 and quietly opened the door. Upon entering, he found Karen sitting quietly next to Maisie’s bed reading. Looking up, she smiled and laid the book aside.
Speaking in hushed voices, Ken and Karen chatted briefly about Maisie’s condition.
“Any changes?” Ken asked.
“Not yet. She’s still sleeping soundly. The monitors have all been normal and she appears to just be catching up on some well needed rest.”
“I’m so glad she’s not in pain. Has she shown any signs of having any nightmares or anything disturbing while she’s been asleep?”
“Not that I can tell. She just looks like my old Maisie, sleeping peacefully and very contented.”
Ken stood staring at Maisie for a minute. He didn’t know if he should say anything to Karen or not about his suspicions. Would it do any good? Did she need to know? Would she want to know? Ken realized that he might have to say something when the results of Maisie’s doll came back, but for now, he decided against saying anything.
Karen stood with her arms crossed across her chest staring at Maisie. Ken stood next to her, his hands in his coat pockets. Together, they watched the gentle rising and falling of Maisie’s chest. That, thought Ken, was always the sign of comfort. No labored breathing, no difficulties sleeping, no tossing and turning due to pain.
“I need to get a couple of things done. Did the nurses talk to you about a bed?”
Karen turned her eyes from Maisie and laid them on Ken. The low squelching of a police radio floated through the partially open door as two officers walked by.
“Yes. They’ll bring a roll away in around 9:00 p.m. I’ll set it up over by the window. Thanks so much for letting me stay. I would have been a nervous wreck if I’d had to stay at home alone.”
“You’re welcome. I’m just glad things are going so much smoother now. Tomorrow, I’m thinking Maisie will be able to go home. I’ll check on her in the morning.”
“Thanks doctor. I appreciate all your help.”
“As I mentioned earlier, I will be staying the night, so if anything happens, let me know. The nurses can get a hold of me anytime.”
Karen’s eyes watered up a bit. “Thank you again. You’ve been a great help.”
Ken didn’t say anything. He just smiled at Karen and then looked back at Maisie.
“I’ll see you later. Get some sleep.”
Karen nodded an affirmation of Ken’s comment. She watched as he left the room and then sat back down in her chair. The weight of the day’s events was beginning to lift from her substituted by the weight of sleep. If the nurses didn’t get the bed in here soon, she was going to be sound asleep in the chair.
Ken walked out the door and into the hallway. Standing a few doors down, Ken could see the back of Gretchen. Walking quickly and quietly, Ken made a beeline for his office. He was in no mood to deal with the negative dried grape right now. Reaching the door, he deftly inserted the key, quietly turned the handle and entered. Turning around, he kept the handle in the open position until the door was shut and then slowly let go of it allowing the mechanism to engage. No click was heard. Ken had made it.
Ken crossed the room and grabbed a bottle of water out of his small frig. Setting it down on his desk, Ken dropped into his chair. He was exhausted. Reaching out, Ken grabbed the bottle, opened it, and took a long swig. Then, leaning forward in his chair, Ken prepared to do some paperwork before laying down to rest. As he was about to do so, he noticed an envelope taped to his desk. On the front in neatly typed letters were the words: Attention: Doctor Ken Slaterbaugh. Open immediately. Ken was perplexed. It wasn’t often that he received mail taped to his desk. Picking up the envelope, Ken heard the tape release from the desktop. Reaching into his drawer, he removed an envelope opener and slit the edge. Ken removed the letter inside. It was two pages long.
Written in large font, double-spaced lettering, the letter said:
Dear Doctor Slaterbaugh:
After having worked in this facility for over five years, I feel the need for a change. As of this writing, effective immediately, I am resigning from my position as the Supply Room Technician. I appreciate all that you have done for me over the past five years. Your support, your concern and your trust in me has always impressed and strengthened me. Without that reassurance, I don’t think I’d be where I am today.
Because of your kind demeanor and your caring attitude, I have always felt comfortable talking with you and being around you. I wasn’t treated as a subordinate or as some peon, whose life was less than that of the doctor. You always treated me as an equal. Unlike some doctors, your attitude was never one of piousness or haughtiness. You never gave the impression that you were God. Often, while trying to talk with or explain something to your colleagues, I would get the condescending attitude. That did not bode well for my self-worth or me. Again, I thank you.
Don’t worry about me. I’ve now moved on to bigger and better things. I’m taking life by the horns, re-directing my life and preparing to live it out in happiness. Although I was happy here, I feel my future will be even more so. I apologize for not talking with you in person. However, due to circumstances beyond my control, I had to leave immediately. Be assured that you won’t be forgotten. Thank you so much doc.
As I go, I pray that you find the individual responsible for the deaths of those innocent patients. That someone would have the mentality, the audacity to mistreat any of God’s creations is beyond comprehension. How anyone could be so evil, so heinous, so animalistic is difficult to understand. I can assure you though, that they will be found. I can feel it in my bones.
Hopefully, someday, we’ll meet again, in another time and place. Keep up the good work. Continue to be you, loving, grandfatherly, kind and sympathetic. I’ll miss your smiling face and your relaxed disposition. And please, pass my expressions of gratitude and friendship on to the rest of the staff.
I must go now.
Yours truly, and always a friend;
Slick Goddard.
Ken sat back in his chair. His eyes were watery and he absent-mindedly wiped them with the back of his hand. Though still in shock from the unexpected resignation, Ken nevertheless was appreciative of Slick’s commendation. He couldn’t help wondering though, why, so suddenly he’d decided to leave. Besides, he was supposed to talk to the police about Chandini’s situation. That wasn’t going to look good to the police when they found out that Slick was gone and it would definitely make him a suspect. Looking at the letter again, Ken scanned it for a return address or phone number. There was none. Picking up his electronic Rolodex, Ken punched in Slick’s number. Dialing the phone, Ken attempted to get a hold of Slick before he left. All he got was a recorder. Once the police found out, they would certainly go by Slick’s house and check it out. There was nothing Ken could do about that.
Ken laid the envelope down on his desk and leaned back in his chair. Stroking his mustache and taking a swig of water, Ken pondered the day’s strange turn of events. His mind couldn’t grasp everything that had happened, although he knew exactly what had happened. Staring off into space, Ken spent several minutes running various scenarios through his mind. Finally, he leaned forward in his chair. Looking over the contents of his desk, Ken noticed the weathered and worn box that was sitting off to the side. Ken had forgotten all about it once he’d received the call from his colleague in Chicago and then had immediately been inundated by the other needs of the afternoon. Curious, he picked it up and opened it.
Inside the box, wrapped in yellowed, brittle newspaper, Ken found a personal digital video recorder also known as a pDVR. It was the newest model available. In fact, if Ken remembered right, this model had only been out for a few weeks. Yet, the recorder looked ancient and worn as if it had been stored for years. How was that possible, Ken wondered? Curious, Ken pulled the brittle newspaper out of the box. The edges of the paper crumbled in Ken’s hands. Pulling gently, Ken laid it out on his desk. Torn areas appeared where the newspaper had been creased. Ken had to use extreme caution unfolding the crumpled paper. Once it was fully open, Ken carefully turned it over. He looked at the date. Two different dates appeared on two different pages. One was dated June 6, 2006. The other was dated Sunday, September 24, 2006.
“That’s impossible!” Ken exclaimed aloud.
Scanning the headlines, Ken recognized the articles as those of the day. Baffled, Ken could not figure out how today’s paper got into a box with a brand new video recorder and yet they both looked so ancient. Scanning Sunday’s paper, Ken found information that he’d not heard of. In fact, the main headline read Explosion Rocks Colorado Military Base-Hundreds Dead. Scanning the article, Ken read that a malfunction at a military base in the Colorado Mountains caused the premature detonation of a new concentrated nuclear weapon. The weapon, designed to destroy a specific, small target utilizing nuclear firepower had exploded killing several hundred military and civilian personnel. An array of underground tunnels and bunkers had turned into a labyrinth of horror as the flames and explosion raced through the confined spaces. Very few people had survived.
Shocked, bewildered and utterly confused, Ken stood staring for several minutes. Examining the condition of the newspapers, it appeared as if they’d been in this box for decades. Ken was bothered by the article he’d just read and tried to clear his mind. Looking back into the box, Ken found the charger and electrical cord as well as a battery for the pDVR. Inserting the battery on the back of the unit, Ken attempted to turn it on. As Ken suspected, the battery was dead. Removing the battery and inserting the electrical connector, Ken plugged it into the wall. Trying again, the recorder came to life. Thank God for electronic stability, Ken thought. Ken opened the video display screen. It flickered a couple of times and then came to full illumination. Ken turned the camera in his hands to familiarize himself with its features. In small writing on the side, the outstanding feature of this model was displayed. It said: Fully Digital. No Tape Needed. Utilizing Hard Drive and Memory Chip Technology. Ken was impressed. Finding the play button, he pushed it. A small menu came up. It read: Play from: Beginning, Last recording session, Previously recorded event. The menu was written as a list wherein the cursor could be scrolled down the screen and the particular menu item requested. Ken pressed Beginning and waited. Within a second, an image flashed on screen.
Ken stood staring in shock. On screen were Spike and another woman standing in some lab. Ken didn’t recognize the lab as any of the ones on the hospital premises. In fact, he didn’t recognize anything about the picture. After scanning the lab with the camera, and making a few comments about Slick working here, the camera was focused on Spike’s face. His spiky hair, earrings and black makeup gave him the appearance of someone dead as he looked into the lens. He began to speak.
Doctor Slaterbaugh. You should be receiving this recording on June 5, 2006. If for some reason you don’t, then by the time you receive this I’ll be dead, yet alive.
Ken pressed the pause button. He was perplexed. Today was the sixth. Looking again at the package, he noted that the date it arrived at the hospital was the fifth. However, by the time the mail had been sorted and finally delivered, it was the sixth when Ken had finally received it. A sick feeling began to creep into Ken’s stomach. Going back to the pDVR, he pressed the pause button again.
As hard as it may be to believe this, I was taken back in time to the year 1792 by Slick. Unknown to anyone else, he has been working on some new drug which will cause anyone to whom it is given to hallucinate to the point of death. Your patients’, Benita, Hank and Maisie are at risk. I am too. Today, June 6, Slick will inject his drug into Hank and later Maisie. He already gave a small dose to Benita last week. He is testing this drug to be used against terrorists or enemies of the United States. If not stopped, his drug will kill Benita tomorrow morning. Hank will also be injected and end up in a coma. I don’t know if he’ll die or not. Later, a little girl named Maisie will arrive and she too will be injected, but not to the point of death. Later, however, they may die according to what Slick has told me.
Be aware that tomorrow you will send me down to the morgue to retrieve the cannula used on Benita to have it tested for tryptamines, hallucinogenic compounds found in Psilocybin mushrooms. This is the component of Slick’s drug that is doing all the damage. When combined with his other ingredients, his new cocktail will be lethal. By not sending me to the morgue, you will be sparing me from being taken back in time. Although you may show me this video, I too will have no knowledge of its contents since I will not have gone back in time yet.
If, for some reason, you did not get this on the fifth, then hopefully you will on the sixth before I’m taken away. Should you get it later, then, as you already know, I’m gone. Slick will have blamed the deaths on me using the reasoning that I’m gone so obviously I must have run away after having done these dastardly deeds. In reality, Slick is the terrorist.
I know you may think this to be a hoax, especially if I’m still there when you receive this package. To help you understand that this is real, I am going to spend the next several hours recording as much as I can from this time to help you believe me. The woman you saw a few moments ago is Ailsa. She lives in a castle here in Penzance England. The lab is under her castle and is where Slick, known to Ailsa as Mack, has been working for the last several months. He has been traveling through time to collect his ingredients in a time machine he designed and which he calls his Bubble Chamber. If you want to stop this horror, stop Slick!
The video screen then blinked and a series of shots from all around Ailsa’s home came into view. Interspersed with dialogue and various other ancient scenes, the video contained frame after frame of unbelievable 1792 footage. The work environment, the home, culture, food, people, transportation, money, medicine, hospitals, and more were all filmed. Most of the pictures were filmed from an angle wherein Spike would not be noticed. Ken surmised that if this was genuine, he was filming in this fashion to avoid bringing any future technology into that time and possibly damaging the space-time continuum. Still in shock, Ken stood mesmerized by the video. It wasn’t until after midnight that Ken finally came to the end of the video. Setting it down on his desk, Ken didn’t know what he should do. It appeared that Spike was right. Nevertheless, he was gone, presumably to the past. Slick was gone, evidently to avoid capture. Two of Ken’s three patients were dead, as Spike had predicted. Ken sat down and placed his head in his hands. He was so tired but at the same time so fired up that he couldn’t stop thinking. About all he could do was let the police look for Slick. He didn’t think it wise to tell them about the video for fear they’d think he was nuts. If Spike were in the past, they’d never find him. In addition, if Slick was gone somewhere in time, he’d never be found either. With that in mind, Ken decided to do nothing.
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