Disturb (13 page)

Or maybe the lack of sleep was just making him paranoid.

“I have some N-Som.”

“Hmm?”

“You could take a pill. Then you don’t have to sleep.”

“No thanks, Theena.”

Theena came over to him, serious.

“Bill, I’ve been working with this drug for almost a decade. It’s safer than taking Vitamin C.”

Bill didn’t answer. Any courage he might have harbored concerning unproven drugs died with his wife.

“Look.” Theena dug into her purse and took out a pill bottle. “You’ve read up on the chemistry, right? There’s nothing toxic in here, Bill. They’re neurotransmitters. The body manufactures these naturally. It’s an acetylcholinesterase inhibitor, which activates the aminergic drive.”

“I know what it’s supposed to do. But is that all it does?”

“Manny’s been awake for over a thousand hours. He’s fine.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“This is how sure I am.”

Theena popped the top off the bottle and placed a pill in her mouth, swallowing it dry.

“It takes about four minutes to be absorbed into the bloodstream—the drug has an amino acid chelate so it immediately passes through the ion channel. Then it produces a reaction similar to narcolepsy. But it isn’t really sleep because the brain stays in alpha.”

Theena sat down on the sofa and stretched out her legs.

“The effect lasts anywhere from ten to twenty minutes, and then you snap immediately out of it and you’re completely awake and aware.”

“No residual effect?”

“None. The brain counteracts the drug with an increased production of norepinepherine. You wake up refreshed.”

Bill was intrigued.

“If it inhibits sleep, why do you have a narcoleptic episode for twenty minutes? Shouldn’t it simply keep you awake?”

“N-Som doesn’t inhibit sleep. It replaces it. The same neurotransmitters that are responsible for waking are responsible for sleeping. N-Som affects the sleep center first, causing a state we call hyper-relaxation. The brain automatically releases its own neurotransmitters to counter the effect. The result is twenty-three hours of ZFS.”

“Zero Fatigue Syndrome. Manny mentioned it.”

Theena laid back on the sofa and closed her eyes.

“I may toss and turn a little. It’s possible to rouse a person in hyper-relaxation, but not easy—it’s like trying to wake up someone in deep sleep.”

“Will you dream?”

Theena nodded. “Extremely realistic dreams. You’ll almost swear they’re really happening. Even though they only last a few minutes, several hours can seem to go by in your head.”

“Well, then. Sweet dreams.”

Theena nodded. After a minute, her breathing began to slow down.

Bill sat down next to her and took her pulse. Her heart beat twenty times in fifteen seconds. That was average. He waited and tried again. It had slowed to sixteen. A minute later it went down to thirteen, and stabilized.

He opened an eyelid, and the eyeball was moving back and forth. REM. She was focusing on some unseen object. He reached for the table lamp and moved it closer, but the pupil didn’t dilate.

“Theena? Can you hear me?”

Bill gave her a light shake and a tap on the cheek. She didn’t respond. Her skin was noticeably cooler to the touch.

If Bill hadn’t read any of the N-Som reports, he might have thought she was going into shock rather than reacting to the drug in a predicted manner.

He waited by her side for the next ten minutes, holding her hand. It brought back images of Kristen, sitting next to her hospital bed as she slept. The memory hurt, but not as much as it used to.

Perhaps he was beginning to heal after all.

Theena’s hand slowly became warmer, and her breathing quickened. She opened her eyes a moment later, her face cracking in a smile.

“I was surrounded by loved ones, warm and happy. It was beautiful.”

Bill couldn’t deny she looked one hundred percent better. The dark bags and redness were gone from her eyes. Her face was brighter. She seemed like a new person.

“Want to try it?”

“I’m still not sure.”

Tina touched his lips with her fingertip. The moodiness was completely gone, and she was back to playful and flirtatious.

“I bet you were one of those kids in college who never tried pot.”

“Wrong. I had a roommate who grew the stuff in our dorm closet. He had a pair of four foot female plants, called them Laverne and Shirley.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“I already told you.”

“Bill, if you can’t trust your own judgment, why do you stay with the FDA?”

Damn good question.

Bill sighed, relenting.

“Fine. I’ll try it.”

“One thing. I just had a pleasant dream. But some of the dreams in hyper-relaxation aren’t pleasant. I’d say the ratio is something like ten to one. It has something to do with the refining process, we’re not entirely sure yet.”

“So I might have a nightmare?”

Theena nodded.

“Nightmares and I are old buddies. I can handle nightmares.”

Theena handed over the pill. It was oval and the color of caramel, covered with tiny brown flecks. Like a miniature robin’s egg.

Bill swallowed it without water.

“Would you like the sofa, or the bedroom?”

“The sofa is fine.”

He traded places with Theena, reclining as she had. There was a tickle in his throat. He hoped this wasn’t a mistake. He hoped nothing would go wrong.

Bill closed his eyes, and felt the beginning stirrings of panic.

“It’s okay.” Theena put her hands on his. “Nothing to be nervous about. You’ll have a quick dream, and be back to full capacity in fifteen minutes. You trust me, right?”

I want to,
Bill thought.
But I don’t know if I can.

Then everything went black.

C
arlos and Franco circled Theena’s apartment building twice before finding a parking spot.

“I’m outta change. Pay the meter.”

Franco giggled. “We come here to waste some people, you’re worried about a traffic fine.”

Carlos sighed, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“You ever hear of the Son of Sam?”

“I saw the movie. Mass murderer guy.”

“Where is he now?”

“In jail.”

“You know why he’s in jail? The cops traced his parking tickets to the scenes of his crimes.”

Franco paid the meter.

Carlos checked the street for bystanders, then popped the trunk. In a gym bag, next to the murder kit, was a baseball cap and matching jacket, both with a Fed Ex logo. Carlos put them on and picked up a medium sized Fed Ex box and an electronic clipboard. The gizmo was key to the disguise. Only the real deal would have an expensive gadget like this, with an LCD screen that recorded your signature.

“I’ll call when I’m in, be ready.”

Franco was picking his teeth with his thumbnail. If he’d heard Carlos, he didn’t acknowledge it.

Carlos walked to Theena’s building, package under his arm, putting himself in the role. The key to any deception was believing it yourself. He was an employee for an overnight delivery service. This was his tenth delivery of the day, and he only had three more before quitting time. Before he pressed Theena’s buzzer, he took the time to fill out the blank receipt taped to the package.

Then it was show time.

“Yes?”

“Federal Express delivery, for Dr. Theena Boone.”

“Who is it from?”

“Albert Rothchilde, American Products.”

Carlos took a step away from the door. If she were able to see him from her window, she’d see a Fed Ex guy.

Sure enough, she buzzed him in.

Carlos took the elevator to the fifth floor. He turned on the electronic clipboard, and the screen glowed faintly. His gun was in his belt, under the jacket. Carlos rehearsed his lines before approaching her door.

Knock knock. “Fed Ex.”

He tried to look bored while she gave him the once over through the peephole. When the door opened, it was only a few inches. The safety chain was on.

“Dr. Theena Boone?”

She nodded. Carlos showed her the box. The Fed Ex box was too big to fit through the crack in the door. If she wanted her package, she’d have to open up.

“I need your signature, here.”

He held out the clipboard, making no attempt to slip it through the door.

“Just a second.”

The door closed, and he heard the chain come off.

Carlos had his gun in hand when the door reopened. He shoved it under her chin hard enough to make her teeth click.

“In the apartment, move.”

She stepped back, her face awash in surprise. Carlos took a quick look around. The doc was on the couch, snoring.

Carlos pulled Theena close, one arm around her neck. He reached back into the hallway for the dropped box, and closed the door behind him. Then he fished out his cell phone and hit the speed dial.

“I’m in.”

W
hen he opened his eyes, Franco and Carlos were standing over him.

“Good morning, Doc.”

A large hand grabbed him by the shirt.

“This is what happens when you don’t play along.”

Fear coursed through him, so hot and deep it was just as palpable as the blood in his veins. He was off balance, and summarily dragged away in a half stumble, half crawl.

A gun was pressed to his head. It felt huge. He watched, unable to move, barely capable of drawing a breath, while Carlos pulled on a ski mask.

There was a camcorder resting on a nearby box.

They were going to videotape his death.

He looked around the room for a weapon. There was nothing suitable.
Do something,
he screamed in his mind.
Don’t die without a fight.

He made a fist and swung, a big loping blow aimed at Franco’s chin. The large man twisted, catching the punch on his shoulder. He giggled, high pitched and horrible, and then hit back.

The hitting went on. And on.

“Quit it. We have to do this on tape.”

Franco gave him one more kick.

“Aren’t you excited, Doc? Gonna star in a movie.”

The world had become pinpoints of pain. Rather than cringe, he embraced the sensation. It might very well be the last thing he ever felt.

Carlos handed Franco the camcorder.

“If it means anything, Doc, I kind of liked you. You were an okay guy.”

Franco pointed the lens.

“Action!”

The red light on the camera began to blink.

“Come over here.”

Carlos led him into the corner of the room. He couldn’t get his brain around what was happening. The magnitude was so tremendous he refused to accept it.

“Kneel down.”

He tried to think of something, a reason, a point. Not just for his death, but for his life. Something, anything, to take with him into the void.

“N-Som will get FDA approval.”

A speck of hope. Was this all just another scare tactic, to make him approve that damn drug?

“Yes. I promise it will.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

He didn’t even feel the shot. The wind left his lungs, as if he’d fallen on his back. He tried to breathe, but his brain couldn’t get his lungs to work. Everything got fuzzy, soft. His life leaked out the large hole in his chest.

I hope there’s something else.

But he knew there wasn’t.

That was his last thought, and he died.