Desperate Times Three - Revolution Page 15

  Dr. Chen and Sonya drove to work in an uncomfortable silence. There had been an argument, their first serious quarrel, and despite apologies from both sides, damage had been done. Sonya drove the Prius while her Uncle Hideo stared out the passenger window, lost in his own thoughts. The drive took just under half an hour.

  Sonya reported for duty in the trauma center where she worked as a surgical assistant. Overqualified, Sonya was highly regarded in her field, and her services were in constant demand. Today would be no different, and twenty minutes after arriving for work she found herself standing over an operating table. Sonya’s uncle had worked at the Mayo for almost two decades before the crash, before being lured away by the people at the Monroe Institute. The flu virus had claimed its share of surgeons, and the Mayo had been hit especially hard; when Dr. Chen had called and inquired about returning, with a considerable amount of excess baggage, they were delighted to take him back, and they were both met with open arms.

  Throughout the day, she fought to retain her focus as her thoughts drifted back to the events of that morning. How much did they know and what, if anything, could they prove?

  Sonya assisted in three quick surgeries. After lunch and after checking with Uncle Hideo’s charge nurse, she suddenly found herself with some time to kill. She slipped down the back stairs into the basement to visit the Mayo’s secret patient.

  Patty Dahlgren’s brain tumor had been nearly the size of a grapefruit, and it had taken all of Uncle Hideo’s skills to remove it. The rigid chemo and radiation treatments had been especially brutal, and Patty had lost sixty pounds along with every strand of her hair. Her skin had turned the color of an over-ripened orange, and she had knocked on death’s door on more than one occasion. Luckily for Patty, Dr. Chen had plenty of friends. The fact that a battle of ethics was being fought on the front lines of the medical field hadn’t hurt either. Patty’s recovery was crucial as a firm rebuttal against the “useless eater” philosophy that was sweeping the country.

  Florescent bulbs cast yellow light along the murky corridor, and her footsteps echoed on the hard tile floor. Patty’s room was directly across from the morgue, and the narrow hallway was cluttered with boxes of hospital supplies and empty stretchers. Sonya didn’t like the basement and swore that once their patient was moved she’d never venture down here again. The hallway smelled of disinfectant and death, two distinctive smells which Sonya was becoming very familiar with.

  The door to Patty’s room was closed, and Sonya looked over her shoulder before knocking. The detectives had made her jumpy, and her senses were on high alert. She took a deep breath and tapped lightly on the door. She waited the standard three-count before entering. She walked inside the room, and her hands went directly to her hips. “Patty, what on earth do you think you’re doing? You get back into bed this instant.”

  Patty, emaciated, discolored, and wearing a fresh turban of snow-white bandages, was stooped over on her hands and knees with a washcloth and appeared to be washing the floor. She looked back at Sonya from behind her glasses. “I’m sorry,” she said, slowly rising to her feet. “I tried to make it into the bathroom.”

  Sonya, her heart aching for this proud woman, rushed to Patty’s side and took the vomit-soiled washcloth from her hand. “Come on,” she said, gently, “back to bed. What am I going to do with you?”

  “I know,” Patty said, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “Someday you’ll be my age and you’ll understand.”

  “I want you to be lying down. You need to rest.”

  “I’m tired of lying down and I prefer to sit, if you don’t mind.”

  “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you? How does your husband put up with you?”

  Patty smiled and batted her hand in the air, as if shooing away a pestering fly. “He doesn’t have a choice; he’s stuck with me. Besides, he knows I’m the boss.”

  “Well,” said Sonya, dropping the washcloth into the soiled linen bin. “Down here, I’m the boss. No more getting out of bed unless it’s an emergency. You could’ve fallen.” She ran some warm water and dampened a fresh washcloth. She walked over to Patty and smiled. “Give me your hands,” she said.

  Patty rolled her eyes and held her hands out for inspection. “Yes, mom,” she said.

  Sonya removed a small plastic bottle of hand sanitizer from the pocket of her lab-coat and poured some of the clear goop into Patty’s open hands. “Okay,” she said, “time to say our ABC’s.”

  Patty shook her head and smiled. She wrung her hands with the sanitizer, staring back at Sonya like a small child, proving that they were adept at this most basic skill. Finally, when her hands were nearly dry, Sonya took the washcloth and wiped the excess sanitizer from the older woman’s hands.

  “There,” she said. “That’s better. We have to be careful. You remember what we said about your immune system, right? We didn’t come this far to have you catch a cold or a case of pneumonia.”

  “I want to see my husband,” Patty said. “When are you going to tell him about me?”

  Sonya had been expecting the question. “I am trying to get word to him as we speak. Don’t worry; we’ll find him.”

  Patty nodded her head and smiled. “I know we will. I just miss him so very much.”

  Sonya nodded and put her hand on Patty’s forehead. “How are you feeling?” she asked. She stared into her eyes and saw that Patty had turned the proverbial corner while no one was looking. Her eyes were clear and bright, and her skin color was better than it had ever been.

  Patty nodded her head. “I feel pretty good,” she said, putting a hand to her stomach. “Now that that’s over. How much longer do I have to get the chemo?”

  Sonya shrugged. She couldn’t say with any certainty. Patty Dahlgren, the secret patient in the hospital basement, was being seen by an entire team of concerned doctors. There was something about the woman that made people think of their own mothers, or in Sonya’s case, their own grandmothers. As word leaked out about who she was married to and how close her life had come to being scrapped for used parts, Patty had become the hospital’s favorite patient.

  Patty nodded her head, eased out of her slippers and crawled back under the covers. “I wonder where Ken is?” she asked. “I hope we find him soon. I miss him so much.”

  Sonya smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t you worry about your husband,” she said, tucking the blanket up under Patty’s chin. “You worry about your own recovery and getting out of this hospital. Everything else will take care of itself.”

  Patty smiled. “I know,” she said. “I just wish it didn’t have to take so long.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Sonya was suddenly filled with dread, but when the door opened she was relieved to see that it was only another doctor making his rounds. Sonya hovered over Patty’s bed for a moment while Dr. Thompson, Patty’s oncologist, discussed another series of tests that he wanted to run. She excused herself from the little room when Dr. Thompson began to check Patty’s vitals.

  Chapter 23

  “Those who are too smart to engage in politics are punished by being governed by those who are dumber.” ~ Plato

  Somehow, the contents of the hotel room found their way to the little house out in the woods. Everyone except Bill was happy to see the truck when it arrived. Thrill and Katie arrived by helicopter a week later, unannounced, with two technicians and a producer in tow. The morning was clear and warm, and the big helicopter landed on the green grass of the open field in front of the house. The group had just finished breakfast, and Julie was helping Dunn finish up the dishes.

  “Well, it’s about damn time,” growled Jacobs. While Dunn was polite and clearly happy to have the company, Jacobs had grown agitated, the boredom showing in his face. Jimmy could see that Bill was wearing on him, and he knew there was nothing to be done for it.

  “I’m sure they’ve got their reasons,” Dunn said, drying his hands on a dishtowel. “Come on, let’s go see if they need a hand.”r />
  Twenty minutes later, Jimmy sat on the sofa next to Julie as Thrill and Katie explained their plan. Bill, Dunn, and Ken were seated in chairs, sipping coffee. Thrill was dressed impeccably, as always, and his dark suit was perfectly tailored. He wore a bright red tie with a matching kerchief in his breast pocket. Katie was dressed more sensibly. She wore a tan button-up shirt and matching khaki shorts that fell just above her knees. Her warm smile put everyone at ease, except Jacobs, who stayed outside with the pilot.

  Katie and Thrill seemed different; Jimmy had caught that right away, but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on it until the pair exchanged a quick kiss.

  “Oh, my,” said Julie.

  Thrill looked at Julie quizzically. “I know what you’re thinking, and to be honest with you, we feel the same way. We are exact opposites, but I’m all done trying to fight it. I’ve fallen in love with a bleeding-heart liberal.”

  “How sweet,” Katie said, winking at Julie. “Can we stick to business here, Thrill? I’m sure these people don’t want to hear about our personal business.”

  “No,” said Julie, “it’s all right. I’m just a little shocked, that’s all.”

  “You know,” Thrill said, scratching the top of his head. “One can never explain these things, but I happen to think our love was preordained. Katie and I couldn’t be further apart in our political beliefs, yet here we are, together. I think this is the message we want to convey to the country. Don’t you think so, dear?”

  “Absolutely,” agreed Katie. “We need to find common ground, and that’s where you come in, Ken. The people seem to love you.”

  “And Jimmy, too,” said Thrill. “Let’s not forget about him. By the way, you look much better, kid. Look at him, sweetie. He looks great, doesn’t he?”

  Katie nodded. “I was going to say something about that. That’s amazing, Jimmy. You look almost as good as new.”

  Jimmy smiled. The swelling was gone, and only the faintest shadow of a bruise remained under his right eye. His other bruises had disappeared, too. His only complaint was that his ribs were still sore, but he knew that they’d bother him for weeks, and possibly even months.

  Julie draped her arm over his shoulder. “He’s a quick healer,” she said. “He’s always been like that.”

  “I used to be like that, too,” said Dunn. “But that was a long time ago.”

  Jimmy looked at Dunn’s crumpled nose and cauliflower ears and thought there was a lesson to be learned there. He didn’t want to look like that in another decade.

  “I’m sorry to break this up,” said Thrill, looking at his watch. “But we’ve got to get this show on the road. Ken, Jimmy, we’re going to do a live interview out on the front lawn. Katie and I have written up some questions and we want you both to be familiar with them before we go on the air. Ken, you’re the candidate, so most of these questions will be directed at you. I want you to deliver a message of unity. Do you think you can do that?”

  “I’ll do my best,” said Ken. “How long before we go on the air?”

  “About fifteen minutes,” Katie said. “I’m sorry. I wish we had more time.”

  “Don’t you have some questions for me and Julie?” asked Bill. “We’ve got opinions, too, ya know.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Katie. “We just don’t have the time. Look, we’re going to do a series of interviews, right up until the election. We’ll plan something and get the both of you on the air. We want to hear your story, we really do.”

  “Huggins,” said Ken, turning to face Bill with a cold stare. “Do you understand what we’re trying to do here?”

  Bill squirmed in his seat. “I know,” he moaned. “I’m not a dummy, Ken.”

  “Nobody is saying that you are,” said Thrill. “We only have so much time, and we’ve got to use that time the best we can. We’re trying to overthrow a government—a corrupt government that is only interested in turning our beautiful country into a nation of wage slaves. If we don’t stop them now by winning this election, we’re going to lose everything. Try to remember that, Mr. Huggins. We’re at war here.”

  “Bill,” corrected Bill. “Mr. Huggins was my dad.”

  Ken’s eyes flared at Bill, and Bill returned the look with a satisfied smile.

  Katie was staring at the console television. “My God,” she said. “My parents used to have a television like this one. Does this thing work?”

  “The radio does,” said Dunn, rising to his feet and joining her. “It belonged to my folks. Neat, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is,” agreed Katie. “I love your house, Roger. I feel like I’ve stepped back in time. Is that a carpet rake?” she asked, pointing to a wooden handle sticking up from behind the couch.

  “That’s exactly what it is,” said Dunn, beaming. “When was the last time you saw one of those?”

  “I don’t know, maybe forty years ago.”

  “Katie?” Thrill asked, pointing to his watch.

  “I’m sorry. Okay, let me go grab my notes and you guys can go over the questions. Don’t worry, there won’t be any surprises. The people are going to eat this up. They’ve been looking for someone to step up to the plate, Ken. I can’t thank you enough for doing that.”

  “Katie’s right,” agreed Thrill. “Do you know that you’re already running second in the polls? And you’re running as a write-in candidate. That’s unprecedented, Ken. That’s nothing short of amazing.”

  “Are you kidding me?” asked Ken, the color draining from his face.

  “Hardly,” said Thrill. “We’ve got a little over five months to go until the election. As long as we play our cards right, you’re going to win this thing. I promise you that. What we need to do is dig up some good men and women to start running campaigns for the House and Senate. That’s what we want to talk about today. You’re going to need some help once you get to Washington. We’re going to need help at the state and local levels as well. We’ve got to wipe the slate clean and start over.”

  “I’ll be there to help,” said Bill. “You can count on that.”

  “Stop,” said Ken, rising to his feet. “I have to find Patty. I’m leaving after this interview and I’ll walk if I have to. This is driving me crazy. Have either of you heard anything?”

  “Don’t forget about Cindy,” Bill said, nodding his head.

  “We’ve got people scouring the state, looking for the both of them,” said Thrill. “You have to trust me on this. You’ve made a lot of powerful enemies, Ken. You wouldn’t last one week on the street. You’d fall out of a tall building or have a drug overdose. You too, Jimmy. These people are ruthless, and they’re searching for you as we speak. They want the both of you dead. We’ll find Patty and Cindy. You have my word on that.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Katie. “We do have some good news. She was alive when she left the Monroe Institute. We suspect that she was rescued and that whoever has taken her has gone into hiding. Most doctors are strongly against the new laws surrounding organ donors. We want to touch on that in today’s interview. Do you think you can do that?”

  Ken put his hands over his ears and tightly closed his eyes. Jimmy could see the pain on his face and how he was trying to control his emotions. There would be time for tears later. Ken let his arms fall to his sides and nodded his head. Julie rushed to his side and wrapped her arms around him.

  “That’s great,” said Katie. “I’ll be right back with the questions.”

  Five weeks and four interviews later, Ken found himself trailing President Richter by a mere three percentage points in a three-way tie with Marcus Stearns, the DFL candidate. The group continued to live with Dunn as Thrill continued to pour money into the search for Patty and Cindy. Both Ken and Bill had no choice but to admit that there was nothing more to be done. They seemed to have vanished.

  Chapter 24

  “Politicians are people who, when they see light at the end of the tunnel, go out and buy some more tunnel.” ~ John Quinton

  P
atty woke up and for the first time in days; she felt really good. There was no nausea, no headache, no fuzzy feeling in her head from painkillers. She felt like her old self, and the feeling was wonderful. She thanked God in a quick prayer and sat up in bed. She would find out today if her doctors wanted her to have another round of chemotherapy. Patty prayed that wasn’t necessary. She got up out of bed and went to the bathroom. She was still weak, but she was steady on her feet and even felt hungry. She dressed in a pair of snow-white pajamas that Sonya had picked up for her and studied herself in the mirror.

  “So, that’s what Mrs. Clean looks like,” she said to herself, touching her bandaged head.

  She stood there for a long moment and then found the brown shopping bag that Dr. Chen had dropped off one day when she had felt as if she were about to die. “For when you feel better,” he had said. “I think you’ll like it.”

  Patty had never worn a wig in her life, and she felt strange about putting this one on her head. She slipped it over her bandages and fussed at it for a moment. Unlike her old hair, which had been cut short and white in color, the wig was light brown, and she suddenly had hair that flowed down to her shoulders. She did not recognize the thin, brown-haired woman in the mirror staring back at her. She picked up the little makeup kit that one of her nurses had so kindly left for her, and she sat down in the armchair. Fifteen minutes later, Patty found herself unable to look away from the mirror. She took off her glasses and found herself suddenly wanting contact lenses. She felt like Cinderella. The makeup had transformed her from an old, tired-looking woman, into someone she thought could pass for fifty. A tear dribbled down her freshly powdered cheek. There was a knock at her door, and Patty brushed the tear away.

  “Patty?” said Sonya, opening the door slowly. “How are you today?”

  “I don’t know,” Patty said, unable to contain her smile. “Why don’t you tell me?”