Absence of Faith (11 page)

"Yeah, I did."

"What?"

"All evil," he said
smiling.

T
he clear,
rising sun cut through the gray dawn with its sharp, angled beams
of orange light. The air smelled fresh and wet and the grass
glistened with dew as Carson walked towards his car in the doctor’s
section of the parking lot. He opened the locked door as if it were
a major effort and flopped into the seat. He sat there stone still
and dozed off for a few minutes. He opened his eyes with a jolt
remembering where he was and that he had drive home. As he rubbed
the sleepiness from his eyes he saw a man opening a large, white
garbage disposal unit near the side of the hospital. The man,
dressed in a white smock, looked around as if he wanted to make
sure no one was watching. He approached a car nearby and slowly
opened the trunk. Then he pulled out a large black garbage bag. The
man struggled to lift the bag high enough to get it into the
dumpster. He went back to the car and pulled out another garbage
bag. He struggled again with this bag going through the same
awkward movements. He closed the trunk, looked around again, and
drove away very slowly with his lights off.

Probably a lab technician
cleaning up after the last shift,
Carson thought.
But what
could be that heavy from the lab? Besides, lab technicians were
usually young. This lab technician was middle-aged and appeared to
be a doctor, and he drove a black Chevy. Doctors usually don't own
Chevys
, Carson thought,
but their wives might.
Carson
dragged himself out of the car and walked to the dumpster. He
opened the lid and was hit with a blast of a putrid, rotting odor.
He backed away holding his nose. Stenciled on the side of the
dumpster were the words, "Medical Waste." He went back for a second
look, and spotted a chromed padlock with its shaft cut. The
dumpster was nearly filled and alive with hundreds of flies. He
went back to his car, opened the trunk and grabbed a screwdriver
and a flashlight. He also put on a pair of surgical gloves he kept
in the glove compartment. He punctured a hole in the black bag
holding his breath so as not to smell the evil black odor. As he
ripped the plastic open he saw a head - the head of a dog. He
jumped back. His stomach rumbled and suddenly there was a pressure
in his throat. He bent over and vomited. When his stomach had
settled down a bit, he went back to the dumpster and directed his
flashlight on the black bag. The dog’s fur was soaked in blood and
its eyes had been gouged out. A long cut was made under its neck.
Carson found a second dog in the other bag. He hurried back to his
car and called Stokes.

"Hello, Dr. Stokes. I'm sorry to
wake you..."

"Nonsense. Mary and I are up at
this hour every morning. Shouldn't you be sleeping by
now?"

"Does the hospital use dogs in any
of its testing or research?"

"Not that I know of. There is
absolutely no reason. Why do you ask?"

"I saw an orderly or somebody put
two dogs in the medical waste dumpster this morning when I left,"
Carson said.

"Are you sure? The dumpsters are
locked."

"The lock was cut. I found the
lock."

"Okay. I'll look into it right
away," Stokes said. "Get home and get some sleep."

"It just seemed out of the
ordinary."

"Did you get a look at him?" Stokes
asked.

"No, but he had a hard time lifting
the dogs into the dumpster. I got the impression he was a doctor,
not an orderly," Carson said. "He drove a black Chevy."

"Why do you say that?"

"He was older than most orderlies
and he struggled with the dogs."

Very peculiar. Anything
else?"

"Yeah, there was a pentagram
branded into the dogs’ heads. It was right between the
eyes."

C
arson's
workweek ended at 6 p.m. on Saturday. As he drove home, he wondered
if Dr. Hansen had anything to do with him getting off early - it
was the first Saturday night he didn't work in twelve weeks. When
Carson arrived home, Linda was lying on their bed in the upstairs
bedroom.

"What's the matter?" Carson
asked.

"I must be coming down with
something. I got this awful headache and I feel a bit dizzy," she
replied.

"Carson placed his hand on her
forehead and then around her neck.

"You don't have a fever. Do you
want to stay home tonight?"

"No. This is important to you. I'll
go. Just give me a few more minutes to rest."

"Sure."

Several minutes later, Linda put on
her makeup, brushed her hair and the couple left for Dr. Hansen's
house.

* * *

"Make a right, here. That's Marina
Drive," Linda said, trying to decipher her husband's handwriting on
a tiny piece of paper she held in front of her.

The street was long and winding
with the homes set back away from the road. High bushes and rows of
trees hid some of the homes. The Atlantic Ocean washed up behind
the homes. Carson pulled into Hansen's driveway - a cobble-stoned
right of way lined on each side with mature cherry trees. The
driveway was circular, winding past a large front porch with four
white pillars. A hazy sun cast a diffused light on the
multi-gabled, turn-of-the-century home giving it a warm, friendly
glow.

"Nice house," Carson
said.

"I love it," Linda added. "This is
what we need for our family."

"Your wish is my command," Carson
replied. "In about ten years."

"Some wish," Linda said.

Carson rang the doorbell, and a
woman dressed in a black caterer's outfit with a white apron opened
the door, and directed them to the back of the house. They walked
through the house, and then through a sunroom that opened to a
just-cut green lawn, which gently sloped downward to a sandy beach
and the ocean. A light, comfortable breeze ruffled the sides of a
large white tent, which housed several buffet tables covered with
heated trays of delicacies. Clusters of people sat on white wicker
lawn chairs and talked and ate from decorated plates. Some held
paper napkins, which matched the floral designs on the
plates.

"Carson!" Dr. Hansen piped up from
a group of people nearby.

"Hello," Carson replied.

"This must be, Linda. My pleasure,"
Dr. Hansen said extending his hand.

"Nice to meet you," she
replied.

"Carson, let me introduce
you."

Dr. Hansen introduced Carson and
Linda to several investors. They were mostly middle-aged,
gray-haired established doctors from the hospital. When they were
finished, Carson and Linda found two empty wicker chairs among a
group of doctors close to their age.

"Hi, I'm Carson Hyll and this is my
wife, Linda," Carson said to a couple next to them.

"Glad to meet you. I'm Gary Burnick
and this is my fiancée, Julie Watson," Gary said.

"Nice to meet you," Carson replied.
"What hospital are you with?"

"Bayside. Pediatrics," Gary
said.

"I'm an investigative reporter with
The Sentinel," Julie chimed in.

"Must be interesting," Linda
added.

"Sometimes, not much happens around
here though," she explained. "I'm still looking for my big break -
you know the story of the century, but I doubt it will ever happen
here. I'd like to see a 747 crash on the turnpike and be one of the
first reporters there."

"Oh, well, let’s hope that doesn’t
happen," Linda said turning to Carson.

"I know it would be horrible. I
hoping to work in New York someday for The Daily News or the
Times," Julie added.

"Lots of luck with that," Linda
said not realizing the sarcasm that flowed with her
words.

Julie turned and stared out at the
calm sea.

"You work with Dr. Hansen," Gary
asked Carson.

"No. We just work in the same
hospital. I'm a neurologist," Carson replied. "How do you know Dr.
Hansen?"

"He's my uncle," Gary
said.

"He's a nice guy," Carson
said.

Julie turned towards
Linda.

"So when's the big day?"

"June," Julie said.

"Congratulations, again," Carson
said.

"You’re getting married?" said a
dark-haired woman sitting across from Julie.

The woman moved her chair closer
and the trio began to talk of Julie's wedding plans. Carson found
he had to concentrate to hear Gary.

"Do you think you'll want to work
at Riverdale?" Gary asked Carson.

"I don't know. I like Ocean
Village. The hospital is small and everyone knows everyone. The
hospital needs more neurologists and we live only a few minutes
away," Carson explained. "I can walk to work if I want."

"But, they're not very progressive
and they have no research facilities. If you want to advance in
your career quickly, I would move on if I were you," Gary said. "I
can help you get into Riverdale."

"Yeah, you're right about that, but
I just started there and I’m not ready to move yet. Thanks for the
offer," Carson said. He took a sip from his long tapered glass
filled with dark beer.

"Have you ever had any cases
involving people with near-death experiences?" Carson directed at
Gary.

"Strange you should ask. We haven’t
had one in years; now they are becoming quite frequent. We had one
last week."

"Did any ever come back with their
skin burned?"

"What are you talking
about?"

"Just what I said. Did any come
back with burned skin?" Carson said.

"Not that I know of. Did you have
case like that?"

"Two," Carson replied.

"Two! What were the symptoms?" Gary
said.

"No vitals, a near death
experience, hysteria, and the burned skin. The burn is like
first-degree sunburn and heals in about seven days without
scarring. The blood tests clean, the symptoms disappear and there
are no after effects or reoccurrences that we know of," Carson
explained.

"You know, we had a case like that
about a month ago," said a sandy blonde man sitting across from
Carson. "Same symptoms - a near death experience..."

"Near death experiences...I
interviewed a woman once who had one," Julie cut in. "It made the
national wires."

"What about your case?" Linda said
to the sandy blonde man.

"Ours was similar - burned skin,
mental depression and no trace of toxins. Now that I think of it,
the patient was from Ocean Village. By the way, I'm Stephen
Ventrilli," the sandy haired man said.

"Nice to meet you. When did this
happen?" Carson asked.

"About two months ago."

"You think I can have a look at the
records. We have a similar case right now - an older woman who
blacked out while driving. Maybe, it's related..."

"Sure, call me on Monday and ask me
about the Hellfire Syndrome," Stephen said. "Let me give you my
card." He pulled out his wallet and searched. "Honey, do you have
one of my cards? I’ve run out."

A tall slender woman with
shoulder-length black hair and wearing a water blue, satiny dress
opened a small, black purse and pulled out a business
card.

"Oh, this is my wife, Ginny,"
Stephen said to the small crowd. He looked at Ginny's blue eyes and
smiled. "I knew you would come through. You always do."

"You're welcome," she said handing
him the card.

"Hellfire Syndrome?" Carson
asked.

"That's what we call it because the
patient woke up screaming his head off about going to hell and
burning. HFS for short. It was probably a mental reaction to the
burnt skin. We're still puzzled about what caused the burns. The
patient fell down his basement stairs - thought he was already at
the bottom of the stairs when he took the plunge. Luckily, he was
carrying a basket of clothes and it somehow got around his head and
cushioned his skull as he tumbled down, otherwise, I think he would
have ended up in the morgue. A neighbor found him. We think he
might have spilled something on his skin when he hit the basement
floor, but the paramedics said there was nothing."

"You said you had two cases?" Gary
said.

"Yeah, I did. The other case was
me," Carson said.

"YOU!" Gary said.

"You?" Stephen said.

"Tell us about it!" Julie
added.

Carson told the story. His face
brightened when he told how Linda rescued him from the sinking
car.

"I just did what I had to do to,"
Linda added. "I really didn't think about it. I just knew I had to
get us out of the car and fast."

"What do you really think?" Julie
asked Carson. "Did you really go to hell and back?"

"At first I thought so. It was so
real, but now I think it was a nightmare. Something triggered the
experience in my head. The burnt skin...well, I'm as puzzled as
Stephen," Carson explained.