Taji's Syndrome (40 page)

“What fun,” Ace said untruthfully. “Rather you than me. What’s up?”

“I’m just checking in. And it’s time for another full set of blood work for me.” He looked around at the apparatus. “How’s it going?”

“We’re trying some new blood studies. Quiggly came up with a new way to track TS in the blood. So you’re going to be one of the first other than the staff and the kids.” He indicated a covered table where a large number of labeled glass containers were lined up. “Care to have a look?”

“Why not?” Jeff asked. He took off his jacket and hung it in the small closet at the front of the room. “It’s got warm.”

“It’s June; what did you expect?” He grinned. “I love it when it gets hot. I love the way it feels: The air is so soft and . . . cuddly.”

“Cuddly?” Jeff repeated, not certain he had heard correctly.

“Yeah. You know what I mean. Jessie and I, we make a picnic and go out into the country and let the heat soak into our bones.” His smile faded. “Not this summer, though.”

“I’m sorry.” Jeff hesitated before he asked the next question. “How . . . how is Jessie?”

“Holding her own,” said Ace slowly. “I keep hoping we’re going to find something that will help while there’s time.” He drew up one of the tall drafting stools that clustered around the tables. “I never thought it would be faster with her than me, and that’s God’s own truth.”

Jeff could think of nothing to say. “I’ve run out of ways to tell everyone how sorry I am. I say the words and they don’t seem to mean anything. But I
am
sorry. I really am.”

“I know that, Jeff. If you weren’t sorry, you wouldn’t be here.” He turned and busied himself collecting his equipment. “You want to roll up your sleeve for me?”

“Not really, but I’ll do it anyway,” said Jeff, trying to lighten the tone of their conversation.

“But you’ll do it anyway, right?” Ace said, speaking with Jeff, readying his equipment. “It won’t take more than a minute.”

“Fine,” said Jeff. He did as requested and rolled up his sleeve, staring at the ceiling while Ace drew blood quickly and efficiently. “How’re things doing around here?”

“Mezza-mezza,” said Ace as he prepared slides and test tubes. “It’s those twins. They’re so damned religious. They show up everywhere and pray. Trouble is, I think they’re bright. That makes it hard to get through to them, because of the way they’re trained. They’ve been given answers and they know how to argue. They’d be a credit to the Jesuits.” He put labels on everything he had prepared. “They depress the other kids—let’s face it, learning that you are the cause of people having TS would be hard to take if you were the best-adjusted adult on the planet. To be a teenager and have to come to terms with carrying TS, well, fuck it all to hell, Doc, they’re having trouble with it.”

“And the Barenssens make it worse?” Jeff asked while he rolled down his sleeve.

“Sure. All that guilt, guilt, guilt, and begging God to forgive them and show them how to be free of their guilt, guilt, guilt.” He struck his chest lightly with his fist. “Funny thing is, in some ways they’re doing better than the other kids. They’ve been through the hellfire-and-brimstone Fundamentalism that set them up for catastrophe. Strange boys, both of them. Axel and Adam. They say that they’re responsible for their mother’s death, and that had nothing to do with TS. They say they’re the reason for their aunt’s death. She died of TS, and they show that as proof positive.” He set his specimens in their proper places. “This new test will show results in an hour or so, if we’re on to anything.”

“What are you looking for?”

Occasionally Ace took on the manner of a first-class lecturer, speaking as if to a large class of intelligent students instead of to a single colleague. “We’re trying to identify the specific rate of breakdown, the course of non-absorption that would account—”

“I get the picture,” said Jeff.

“Assuming we can isolate that factor, then we might be able to find a way to slow it down or stop it. That’s not a cure, exactly, but it is an effective treatment.” Ace indicated the covered specimens. “You’d be amazed how fast we can duplicate the TS damage here. We can duplicate complete blood chemistries and isolate all factors. We can do in a couple of hours what takes months to do in the body.”

“It’s that new equipment from Lucas Medical, is it?” Jeff asked.

“They’re the most innovative people in the field,” said Ace with genuine admiration. “When we find a cure for this, they should have at least half the credit, because of what their equipment has allowed us to do.”

“Write them a letter,” said Jeff. “I mean it. We need to give full credit where we can. There’s enough of a morale problem without getting—”

“Tight-assed?” suggested Ace.

“Something like that,” Jeff agreed. He was looking down at the blood samples. “Will you look at that.” The specimen he indicated was showing visible signs of alteration. “How long ago did you draw blood on . . . whoever that is?”

“It’s Loren Protheroe,” said Ace softly. “I didn’t draw it, but it was taken about five hours ago. We’re going to have to transfer him to a hospital before long. He won’t like it, and he’ll probably fight it, but I don’t think he’s got more than two weeks before he’ll need constant care.”

“That’s going to be hard on the kids,” Jeff said. “Protheroe’s been very important to them.”

“Yeah, like their families,” said Ace. “Don’t tell me I’m out of line—I know that.” He was about to go on, but looking up, he fell silent and motioned to Jeff to do the same. “Mason and Laurie. They’re outside.”

“Are they coming in?” Jeff asked.

“There’s no reason to keep them out. Mason’s been pretty helpful around here. Laurie hasn’t been much interested until now. I think she’s getting interested in Mason.” The admit buzzer sounded and Ace looked around deliberately and waved.

“How long do they usually stay?” Jeff wanted to know.

“It varies. But this late at night, not much more than an hour or so. Mason’s been coming in twice a day for the entire week, following the testing. He’s a bright kid, Jeff.” Ace buzzed the two teenagers through.

“Hi,” Mason said to Ace, then held out his hand to Jeff. “How are you, Doctor Taji?”

“Tired,” Jeff said honestly.

Laurie Grey hung back; her years of dance made even her uncertainty graceful. “Is it okay to be here?” she asked Ace.

“Sure; it’s fine,” said Ace. “We were talking about these new tests, and we were going over the blood samples. You kids’ specimens are here, at the left side of the rack. You can see that the responses of your samples are different than the others.” He had lapsed into his lecturing mode again; Jeff wondered if at the end of it, Ace would give a quiz.

“Are you using anything to act against the TS?” Mason asked, looking at the specimen racks through the clear cover.

“No, we’re using techniques to speed up the TS. We’re trying to establish the breakdown pattern in the blood. If we can find a consistent pattern, then we can—”

“—think of something that will stop the breakdown,” Mason finished for him, nodding his enthusiasm. “One of us should have thought of that before.” It was apparent from the tone of his voice that the one he thought should have done it was Mason himself.

Ace was not willing to let Mason indulge in self-recrimination. “It’s just one of a series of tests, Mason. We can’t look for solutions in one place only. We haven’t the time for that. You remember last week we did those sedimentation tests, to analyze changes in blood and urine? That might show us the way as much as this test.”

“But this test is so
obvious
,”
Mason insisted.

“It’s also very new equipment that did not exist until four months ago. We couldn’t have made the test even if we’d thought of it. If hundreds of skilled technicians and engineers as well as thousands of doctors didn’t think of it until now, why should you have?” Ace gestured to Laurie. “Do you want to see this?”

“I guess,” she said, staring. It was apparent that the lab exercised a dreadful fascination over her. “It’s so spooky, looking at blood like this. It’s like it’s alien, from outer space.”

“That might make our problem easier,” said Jeff. “Then we wouldn’t have to treat people, just blood.” He turned to Mason. “How’s it going?”

“It’s okay. I talked to Dad yesterday. He’s going to the hospital in a couple of days.” His face paled but he remained resolutely calm.

“That’s too bad,” said Jeff sincerely, thinking he ought to call Harper Ross before that happened.

“I wrote to Mom, but I haven’t had an answer from her. I tried to talk to Grant, but he hung up on me.” Mason turned away from Jeff, his eyes hurt and distant.

“Mason?” Laurie asked.

“I’m okay,” he insisted, choking the words out. “I’m okay.”

She moved a few steps closer to him. “Your Mom’ll come around, you’ll see.”

“Un-huh,” he said vaguely.

“You kids want to stick around, or do you need some time alone?” Ace was able to make this sound like an unimportant question, no more significant than whether they would have honey or marmalade on their toast.

“I want to stay here,” Mason said quickly and firmly. “If I sit by myself doing nothing, I’ll . . .”

Jeff patted him on the shoulder, realizing that Mason had got taller in the last two months. “I know how you feel,” he said. “Every time I think I’m too worn out to go on, I think of how I’d feel if I
didn’t
go on.”

Ace shook his head. “That’s not always smart. You work too hard, you get too close to the problem, you lose perspective.” He got back on his drafting stool. “You need a balance, Mason. You too, Jeff.”

“It’s not easy,” said Mason. He gave his attention to the blood samples. “Have you found out what makes ours different yet?”

“You mean beyond the DNA modification?” Ace began. “We’re reasonably sure that the mutation was triggered externally, which is why your case is still part of the Environmental Division and not with the big boys at the main Disease Control Center. We’ve also determined that the exposure happened
in utero,
as we first suspected. That in part accounts for the closeness of your ages. Whatever carried the modifier was available only for a limited time.” Ace did his best to include Laurie in his impromptu lecture, though he found most of his response was coming from Mason.

“Do you think you’ll find out what caused it?” Laurie asked, her mesmerized gaze on the specimen racks.

“If we knew what to look for, perhaps,” said Jeff. “That’s part of what we’re working on, but realistically, unless we’re incredibly lucky, we may never know. We have established that your parents were not in the same place at any time during your mothers’ pregnancies. As far as we have been able to determine, your parents did not have any common links at that time, aside from the fact that they were all west of the Rockies. That isn’t enough.” He indicated the machines around them. “We’re hoping all these guys will give us a clue.”

“And if they don’t?” Mason challenged.

“Then we’ll do our best to find a cure without knowing the cause. The cure is what matters in any case; it would be helpful to know the cause in terms of prevention of similar outbreaks.” As soon as he said it, he could see that the two kids were upset at the idea.

“There could be another outbreak of TS?” Laurie demanded, her voice suddenly so high it was almost a squeak.

“Yes. We have to be prepared to deal with that. Or there might be something else.”

“Who’d want to give a disease like this?” Laurie persisted.

“People who don’t care,” said Mason, his young face harsh now, his eyes filled with anger and betrayal.

All four of them were silent; the hiss and hum of equipment, the soft clicks from monitors and clocks were suddenly very loud in the laboratory. In the adjoining room, someone started to whistle.

“Doesn’t it make you frustrated?” Laurie asked Ace.

“Sure as hell does,” said Ace amiably. “But I can’t let a little thing like frustration stop me. We’d all be hanging around caves and eating grubs if we let frustration stop us.”

“And the people who did this? What about them?” Mason accused them all with his question. “Are you going to let them get away with it?”

“First things first,” said Jeff, hearing a second whistler in the next room. “We have a disease to stop, and then we can go looking for the people who might be behind it.”

“Might be?” Mason said, clearly not convinced.

“Yes, might be,” said Jeff. “We can’t rule out accident, or a freak combination of . . . oh, toxins or contaminants, that resulted in the change in your DNA.” He looked toward Ace. “Or have you been able to rule that out?”

“Not yet,” Ace admitted. “It’s a long shot, but not impossible.”

“But how come us? Why did it happen to us?” Laurie wailed.

“We don’t know,” said Ace. “It was an accident. Your parents didn’t set out to change your DNA and you didn’t select the DNA that brought this about. It was an accident.”

“I want it over with,” said Mason. “Before everyone I ever knew is dead.” These last few words were desolate.

Ace put his hand on the cover that protected the table where the specimen racks stood. “We’re doing our best.”

The wiles in the other room had attempted a duet which had failed and now they were laughing together. One of them was doing his best to find a new melody, but the tune was interrupted by chuckles.

“What do you think you’ll get out of this?” Laurie asked, clearly trying to move their conversation onto safer ground.

“Another piece of the puzzle,” said Ace. “Most scientific breakthroughs aren’t sudden dramatic changes, but the result of hours and hours and hours of painstaking analysis of detail. The first part of that analysis is trying to determine the parameters of the problem, because until you do that, you can’t tell what is and isn’t part of the puzzle.”

“My dad had one of those puzzles,” Mason said, making an effort to contain his anger. “You know the kind? It was round and all red and it took forever to put it together. You’re talking about something like that, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” said Ace. “But in this case, you can’t be sure that if something is red it’s part of the puzzle, or that all the pieces of the puzzle are in the box. It’s a good analogy, Mason.”