The Protocol: A Prescription to Die (19 page)

Chapter 52

Barbara sat alone in her office.

It was the way she liked it.

She was exhausted after the little pep talk with the giant imbecile and the toothless idiot. At least the toothless idiot was able to carry out the administration of the protocols without any trouble.

She needed more like him.

If she could just get used to his smell. She doubted if Carl took to the time to regularly bathe like most humans. He reeked of cigarette smoke, and his breath smelled of rotten meat and sour milk.

The minute she discovered that Teague was still alive, that Butch had failed, she knew how to make sure Butch understood how serious she was. It was the only way to make him realize and respect the amount of power she wielded.

Barbara moved her mouse, activated her laptop, and then accessed the Aequalis system that housed the profiles of all customers, both current and future. Unlike the sheep on the outside, she knew that “future customers” included everyone. Private health insurance would be a luxury of the past very soon, and every aspect of a person’s healthcare, and health, would be under her realm.

Within a few quick keystrokes, Richard Rheumy’s profile was on her screen. She scrolled down to the section listing all of the medical accessories he required, used, and had used. It was his complete medical history. Richard had a pacemaker. All of its data was constantly being transmitted to the Aequalis database. At this moment in time, Richard’s blood pressure was on the high side of normal, and his heart rate was a little fast.

She clicked the checkbox next to “Terminate.”

Choosing terminate did not end the transmission of data to Aequalis; it simply shut down the electrical current the pacemaker provided to the patient’s heart.

She clicked “Submit.”

“Are you sure you wish to continue? This will terminate electrical current to the patient. Press ‘Submit’ again and then enter your credentials.”

Barbara hated this crap.

She didn’t understand why she was being second-guessed by a fucking piece of software. She clicked “Submit” again by pressing the mouse button with a hard click as if her anger could be transmitted to the Aequalis system housed in DC.

The message “Enter your credentials” appeared along with an empty data entry box. She typed the credentials of an anonymous user of her creation. If anyone looked at the log files, an employee named Rich LaMonte from Des Moines shut off Mr. Rheumy’s pacemaker.

It only took a few milliseconds for the command to travel from her laptop, to the central main frame in DC, to Richard Rheumy’s pacemaker inside of his chest. He required a demand pacing device since his heart was in such poor condition. His heart needed continual electrical stimulation to keep pumping blood. At her command, the device no longer sent the life sustaining electrical signals to the muscle that kept the beat regular and continuous. She watched as the data quickly changed; the irregularity in the heartbeat was instantaneous. Barbara was amazed at the technology before her, as she watched the man’s erratic sinus rhythm begin to play out in front of her. A few seconds of normal beating were followed by three seconds of beats that were closer to punk rock which were followed again with normality then slowed to a pace that was almost imperceptible.

Then he flatlined.

According to the time shown on her laptop, the heart had stopped forty-two seconds after electrical stimulation was terminated. The math was quite simple. She had killed a human being in seconds without lifting a finger, besides the finger to press the mouse button, without leaving her office.

She loved the power she wielded at her fingertips.

She noticed, with repugnance, that she had broken a fingernail by her over-zealous pressing of the mouse button.

“Thank God for expense accounts,” she said as she admired her other, unbroken, fingernails.

Chapter 53

The elevator door dinged, and slid open to the fourth floor of Eastside Medical. Somewhere on this floor, Evan Teague was recuperating from an unplanned interaction with a light pole.

“I don’t know why you had to bring those flowers,” grumbled Carl.

“So we blend in. Two guys carrying flowers. We’re going to visit a friend. Two guys carrying nothing. We look suspicious,” said Butch as he ducked under the elevator’s frame and walked out. “Trust me.”

“Looks gay to me.”

Butch walked onto the floor like he knew exactly where he was going. Without seeming too obvious, he studied the board above the nurses’ station.

“He’s in 432. Down the hall to the left.”

“How did you know that?”

“I can read,” said Butch impatiently as he motioned to the board and wall signs. “You should learn how.”

Butch knew why he was here. He could feel the syringe in his coat pocket. He just didn’t feel right about doing it. Butch wasn’t a killer, but he knew she’d send Carl to his parents the minute she discovered he hadn’t finished the assignment in front of him.

Butch didn’t have a choice.

Chapter 54

Andy sat reclined in the chair next to Eat’s bed with her legs warming from the afternoon sun coming in through the windows. She had just opened her eyes from a quick nap. Eat had had a restless night, and early in the morning had been given a dose of morphine to ease his pain and help him sleep. He was snoring softly, with his face turned towards her.

He looked very peaceful.

His eyes fluttered open. He looked at his surroundings. He seemed confused.

“Hey, Sunshine,” said Andy has the brushed a few stray hairs from Eat’s face. He focused on her face. “They gave you some morphine around two. It kicked your butt.”

Eat smiled, albeit weakly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Sorry for what?”

“I was trying to make you a surprise dinner. Anniversary of our first kiss.”

“I was wondering what had happened in the kitchen,” she smiled as she kissed him. “It’s the thought that counts. I’ll take a rain check. I brought you a present.”

Andy reached into the small duffel bag she’d brought with her. She held up Eat’s pen and put it in his hand.

Eat smiled.

“Feels good,” he said as he twirled the pen between his fingers.

“Don’t go getting all mushy on me now.”

Eat rolled the pen between his fingers and clicked it three times. His eyes were getting droopy again.

“The doctor said you might be able to go home tomorrow.”

Andy pushed the recliner’s footrest down, and stood up.

“I have to brush my teeth,” she said as she licked her teeth. “Horrendous morning breath,” she looked at her watch “even though it’s two in the afternoon.” Andy grabbed her bag and bent over the bed to give Eat another kiss.

He fanned his good hand in front of his nose.

“Smartass,” she said as she exhaled a puff of breath into his face.

Chapter 55

“He will likely already have an IV in his arm. That makes it easy,” said Carl.

He looked at Butch who was studying the hypodermic and only listening to his mono-toothed co-conspirator with one ear.

“Are you paying attention?”

“Yes,” said Butch.

“All you have to do is stick the needle into the bag of saline and it’s done. I like to put some snot on the port though.”

Butch looked at him with disgust.

“It’s become my signature!”

Butch shook his head. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“It’s something I made up while tending to a cabbage one night. Now I do it for every visit I make.”

“Cabbage?”

“Yeah. Some kid with Down syndrome. Gave her an injection earlier this week. Started doing it every time I make a visit.”

“You’re sick.”

“Perhaps. But paid well,” laughed Carl as he patted Butch’s shoulder.

Butch shied away in disgust just as his phone rang.

“Sir. There are not supposed to be cell phones in the patient areas. You have to take your call someplace else,” said a nurse behind the station.

Butch acknowledged the woman and looked at the display. It was his mother calling.

The phone stopped ringing.

“That’s odd,” he said. “Why would she call and hang up?”

The phone rang again.

“Sir?” the nurse said with more emphasis.

He clicked the phone to disregard the call then turned to Carl.

“Here, take this,” he said as he handed the syringe assigned to Evan Teague, over to Carl. “You take this. I’ll meet you outside of his room. Don’t do anything. Do you hear me? Don’t do anything.”

Carl saluted.

Butch turned, headed towards the floor’s waiting area, and redialed his parent’s phone number. It was picked up before the second ring had time to complete.

“Hi, mom. I missed. . .”

Chapter 56

Carl decided not to wait.

He enjoyed what he did for a living too much, and deep down, he knew that the big guy probably wasn’t going to be able pull it off anyway. At least not without his help. The guy was just too nice.

Nice and dumb.

Big ears.

He stood outside the door to where his next victim was supposed to be. Evan Teague. Room 432. His diagnosis was nothing more than having pissed off Barbara.

And that, evidently, was enough as his treatment was an accelerated Protocol-U.

Carl unwrapped the foam that protected the syringe, and then pulled off the hard plastic ring that prevented the plunger from being pressed before it was time. He left the cap on the needle, as he didn’t want to stick anything that wasn’t an IV port or a bag of saline.

He took the toy stethoscope out of his coat pocket, took his coat off, and threw it on the floor next to the room’s entrance.

“Well, how’s our patient doing today,” he said as he turned the corner into the main area of the room. “Mr. Teague. I hope you are feeling better.”

Carl walked closer to Eat’s bed, and looked at the bracelet secured to his left wrist. Evan was sound asleep and would probably never wake up if he did his job correctly.

Evan Anderson Teague.

He had the right guy.

It was his cable repair man.

Carl shoved his finger into his nostril, extracted a nice sized nugget, and smeared it across the top of the IV port inserted into Evan’s arm. He could have injected the contents of the syringe into the bag of saline, but inserting it directly into the port was quicker.

For both of them.

Chapter 57

Butch closed his phone and slumped against the wall. His father was dead, his mother was practically inconsolable, and he was not even close to being able to be by her side.

Where he should be.

Butch was positive that Nordstrom was behind his sudden death. She had shown him how easy it was to turn off his pacemaker, and now she wanted to punish him, to prove a point. To make sure he understood who was in charge.

His father had collapsed while helping his mother load the dishwasher. The paramedics said he had probably died before his body landed on the floor, that it was very unlikely he felt any pain. It was as if a switch had been turned off.

They didn’t know how close to the truth they were.

Butch had talked to both of his parents not more than two hours ago, and had made plans to take them both out to dinner. Now, his father was gone. Now, instead of a pleasant dinner, sharing a bottle of nice wine, he was going to be with his mother at Gordon, Leake, and Bluthe as they were the only Aequalis-approved funeral home.

Butch pushed himself off of the wall with his shoulder, stuffed his phone in his pocket, left the waiting room area, and headed back to room 432.

He had business to finish.

Chapter 58

Carl heard the sound of a flushing toilet, followed by water running from the bathroom sink.

“Hey Eat, do you think they’d let me bring you in some ice cream,” came a female voice from behind the bathroom door.

“Fuck,” whispered Carl.

He was going to have to think and move fast.

The door opened, a woman walked out of the bathroom, and walked over to the recliner.

“Oh. I didn’t know there was anyone else here,” she said to Carl.

“No problem. The doctor ordered antibiotics for Mr. Teague.”

“Oh. Ok. Have at him,” she said.

Carl noticed her attention was suddenly elsewhere then heard her yell.

“What are you doing? Hey!”

Carl was sure he’d been caught, and returned his attention to the IV port. He had to get the needle through the rubber stopper, and then push like hell.

“Like I said. I’m just giving. . .”

Chapter 59

Butch knew how to improvise a weapon with anything that presented itself. When he saw Carl’s jacket on the floor, he knew what to do. He picked it up, twisted it like a rope, and held an end in each hand, letting it dip in the middle.

Carl was next to the bed with the uncapped syringe in one hand, and Teague’s good arm in the other.

Stealth was his best offense at this point, and so far, Carl was unaware that he was here.

A woman walked out of the bathroom, and seemed to be caught off guard by Carl. Although Butch did not hear what he said, it apparently was good enough as she moved out of his way, and walked around him towards a recliner.

Then she saw Butch enter the room with the twisted jacket. Butch’s face felt red-hot, and he was certain that he probably looked about as innocuous as a great white shark circling a feeding frenzy.

She yelled as Butch continued walking into the room.

Carl seemed oblivious to the situation about to play out and didn’t hesitate. Neither did Butch. He didn’t intend to give Carl the opportunity to use the needle on Teague, and he really didn’t want to give Carl a chance to turn him into a seven-foot pincushion. His mother couldn’t take two deaths in one day.

Butch gracefully whipped the coat around Carl’s skinny throat, twisted it like a shoelace, and pulled back and down with all of his strength. Carl flew backwards, and flailed at Butch with the needle. His head hit the tray that was rolled next to the bed causing the pitcher of water to fly into the air and fall onto the white blanket covering Teague. Carl’s head then bounced three times onto the hard, tile floor.

Butch kicked Carl’s hand, and the needle few across the room. More than a few bones in that hand were now likely in multiple pieces. Carl’s eyes rolled back into his head, and his lids fluttered shut. His struggles against Butch’s heavy foot slowed then stopped completely. He wasn’t going anywhere, but Butch was sure he’d have one hell of a headache when he woke up.

“Grab that syringe. Be careful,” he said to the woman as he pointed to the syringe stuck into the wall. “He was here to kill Mr. Teague.”

Butch looked at the man lying in the bed. The man’s eyes followed his every move. The faint light of recognition flickered between the both of them. Butch looked down at his shoes, ashamed.

Ashamed at what he’d done the day before.

Ashamed at what he’d intended to do just minutes ago.

“Hello, Mr. Teague. I’m very sorry,” said Butch to Eat. “He was going to kill you.”

Butch pointed to where he left Carl.

But Carl was gone.