The Beginning of the End (Book 1): Toward the Brink (2 page)

“The cola’s all right. You have nothing to worry about.”

“So what happened to these deformed children?” Allan asked.

“Well, rumor has it, and it’s only rumor,” Elliot began, “the mothers were told their babies died in childbirth, but they were secretly taken to …”

“Hi there, boys!” Elliot’s father came up from behind them.

“Hello, Mr. Goodwin,” Roger and Allan said.

“What’s up, Dad?” The others couldn’t tell, but Elliot saw that look on his father’s face; something wasn’t right.

“Oh, your mother asked me to get some things from Albertsons. I thought you might like to come along?”

“Sure, Dad. You know I would.”

Elliot, like his father, didn’t show any outward emotion but sensed his mother wasn’t well; not if his father had come looking for him.

Though they would see each other at graduation, it would be such a busy occasion they wouldn’t find any time to chat. They said goodbye to each other and that they’d catch up at the ceremony, but each knew different. Elliot wanted to find out his mother’s condition but couldn’t ask in front of the others. None of them knew if they would ever cross each other’s paths again.

Elliot and his father had barely buckled their seatbelts of the family car when the younger Goodwin could restrain himself no longer.

“What is it, Dad? What’s wrong? It’s Mom, isn’t it?”

Mr. Goodwin placed both hands on the steering wheel then hung his head. He breathed out gradually. It wasn’t easy.

“Yes, Elliot. While you were out, she took a turn,” his father said.

Elliot noted that his dad deliberately looked out the driver’s side window, to avoid his gaze he was sure, but he knew his father was concealing his own tears from him.

“The doctor was called, and he said she probably won’t see the day through.”

“Did they take her to the medical center?”

“No, we decided against that,” Mr. Goodwin said. He quickly raised his hand, preventing his son’s objections.

“You know your mother as well as I do, Elliot. Given the choice, she would rather pass at home with her family beside her than at a hospital surrounded by strangers. You know that.”

Elliot tried hard to be strong. He had known this day was coming, but knowing didn’t make it easy. He clenched his fists tighter as he struggled to hold back the tears and still his quivering lower lip.

“Easy, son. Easy,” Mr. Goodwin said. “She wants to see us both before she is taken, so we have to be strong. Do you think you can do it, Elliot? Be strong for your mother?”

They travelled the rest of the way home in silence, resolved to make the most important woman in their lives proud. Elliot promised himself that he would be strong for his mom, that he would not cry. Not while she was alive.

# # #

Nurses gathered by the ER entrance of the Filer Avenue Medical Center. They were more than ready. The EMTs were on their way with another premature delivery. Nurse Bronden, a registered nurse and the most experienced one on duty, busily filled out forms as she waited.

This is getting out of hand. I didn’t agree to this
.

If this was the mild setback that she’d been told about, she didn’t want to contemplate what a major crisis would be like.

“Wait a minute. This doesn’t seem right,” a much younger nurse said. She was reading the file on the inbound patient, and it didn’t add up.

“What is it, Nurse?” Bronden asked.

“The results of her last checkup … it’s all normal, and she’s not quite five months into her term.”

“Let me see that.” Bronden snatched the file from the young nurse’s hands.

“What do you think? Have we got the wrong file or patient?”

“Yes, I see what you mean. I’ll have to inform the doctor of this development.”

The registered nurse was good at showing concern. Precisely why she had been ‘recruited.’

Not fast enough. The EMTs came crashing through the ER doors, pushing a gurney in front of them. The patient, a woman in her early twenties, thrashed about like a fish out of water.

“Oh my God!” the young nurse shrieked.

“Nurse, get a hold of yourself!” RN Bronden said.

The first year had never been told to expect anything like this in nursing school. She was shocked by the size of the pregnant woman’s stomach.

“I’m sorry, but …”

“Do your job. If you can’t, I’ll find someone who can!” Turning to the EMTS, Bronden yelled, “Get her into the ER. I
have
to let the doctor know.”

Bronden skipped down the hallway. She had to notify the doctor before he entered the ER, not about the patient, but about the young nurse who might prove to be trouble.

# # #

Elliot sat on the deck chair by the pool, his head in his hands. There was no need for pretense anymore, and he sobbed openly. His mother was finally at peace. When required, Elliot stood firm as his father had asked. Both men got a chance to say goodbye. More importantly, they were able to express their love and gratitude to the woman who meant everything to them. Now was a time for reflection.

Elliot understood all too well that cancer was a terrible curse on mankind and not only for the sufferer. His mom was finally at rest, and he was thankful for that, but that made it no easier on him—or his dad. He loved his mom, and he would miss her deeply.

# # #

“What was that I just witnessed?” The first year nurse confronted Bronden openly.

“Not here,” Bronden said. “Come with me and I’ll explain.” She led the new nurse down the hallway to the first floor supply room. “Look through the boxes on the shelf like you’re taking inventory, okay?”

“Yeah sure, I can do that.”

“And what I’m about to tell you
doesn’t
leave this room, got it?”

“I won’t tell anyone,” the young woman said to her superior, “but you better fill me in good because I can see you know about this, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, but I’ve never seen anything as bad as this one.”

“Then tell me what’s going on. How can a woman give birth to a twenty-five-pound baby after only five months?”

Nurse Bronden was pleased that she made no mention of the baby’s pig snout nose. She didn’t need reminding. “It’s the growth hormone that was developed here in Idaho and was used on the potato crops. We’re seeing the results of this untested hormone in Idaho because it was used for a full year here before the rest of the country. All the fries you buy are contaminated with the growth hormone,” she explained.

“You mean that’s causing birth defects and premature births in Twin Falls?”

“Not just Twin Falls but across the whole state and soon the country,” Bronden said. “There are also hundreds of cases reported every week of people vomiting a green bile that’s rumored to cause death to anyone unfortunate enough to get spewed on.”

Bronden could see the effect her frank description was having on the young nurse, who was alarmed by such news. However, Bronden sensed she wasn’t quite satisfied with a few answers. She needed a killer punch.

“When the doctor finished the delivery, he said, ‘I have a phone call to make. You know what to do.’ What did he mean by that?”

Bronden looked through the window of the supply room door and checked to make sure no one was watching. This young nurse certainly had good ears. She would try and make her believe they were on the same side. It shouldn’t be hard; that’s why she was paid the extra dollars after all, wasn’t it?

“When this happens, as long as the newborn survives, the protocol is to call CDC headquarters in Atlanta. They send a team over to pick it up. No paperwork, no questions, no problems. You know what I mean?” Bronden was hoping she did or at least was starting to. “And before you ask, I
don’t
know where they take them.”

“Shouldn’t someone from the government or the police be informed?”

“The CDC is a government body, and we have been told not to involve the police in these matters. Giving birth prematurely to a deformed child is horrifying to say the least, but it’s hardly a crime.”

“But surely if a link between the growth hormone and the births could be shown, that would be enough for a criminal investigation, wouldn’t it?”

Bronden could see that this young nurse needed more convincing; to see the secret government agents whisking children off into the night wasn’t good enough. It was time to put the fear of God into her as it had been done to herself not so long ago.

“The thing is, my dear, the producers of the growth hormone own more than half of the potato farms in the country now and certainly all the large ones. They have controlling interests in all the fast food chains, the chip companies, the frozen markets, you name it. It has found its way into many other food sources through potato byproducts. Even the meat we eat will soon contain the growth hormone as the animals will be fed from a potato-dominated grain mixture. They have so much money and power that they decide who makes it to Congress, which judge gets elected; they even decide on who the local sheriff will be and which hospitals get the funding they need. Now, if normal people like you and I wanted to inform the law or make a public complaint, we would disappear like the deformed children.” Bronden raised her hand in front of the wide-eyed nurse’s face and snapped her fingers. “Just like that!”

The young nurse visually flinched when Bronden snapped her fingers. Bronden was sure she got her point across. The experienced nurse kept an eye on her younger colleague as she left the supply room. When she was out of hearing range, Bronden made a call on her cell phone.

“It’s me,” she whispered. “I had a good, long talk with her, and I’m sure she understands. She won’t be any trouble. I’ll keep my eye on her nevertheless.”

She paused while she listened to her instructions.

“Yes, yes I will. You can count on me.”

Pleased with herself, Nurse Bronden went back to her duties. She wondered for a moment whether or not she’d sounded too enthusiastic then shrugged it off. As long as she did what was required of her, it didn’t matter how she sounded, did it? And she didn’t feel bad for lying because she had told the curious young nurse the truth … well, basically. She’d only left out that many doctors, senior nurses, law enforcement, and government officials were a part of the whole sordid mess.

She got back to the nurses’ station when it hit her like a bucket of water in the face.
How long before people start dying from this?
she asked herself.
And what will I do then?
“Oh, my Lord,” she said aloud.

Three months later, a calm had descended upon Twin Falls. A new school year had started, the weather was pleasant, and no deformed infants had been born. Hospitals, medical centers, and clinics had very few incidents of anyone displaying symptoms as before. The three friends that had spent their last close moments together at a burger joint had each started on new journeys. Allan was in college studying for his degree in network design. Elliot and his father had opened up their surplus store practically in the center of Twin Falls. The Goodwins had found the extra hours they put in at the start kept their minds occupied, and that helped. Roger, on the other hand, was not able to follow his desired course. He had been rejected by the Army on health issues, and his dream of becoming a deputy in his home town lay in tatters.

Nurse Bronden, too, found she slept better at night. Less sick people puking up green or delivering deformed children had a way of doing that. Being able to resume her normal duties again was a key factor as well. She had begun to feel like a spy, a traitor, always checking to see if she was being watched or followed. By far, the biggest sigh of relief to be felt in Twin Falls, however, was from the owner of the pesticide company.

# # #

“Come in, Paul. You know Langlie of course.”

Phillip Baer had summoned Paul Dennard, the chemical engineer for Baer Industries, to come to his office in Twin Falls to discuss the recent events plaguing the country which were attributable to the growth hormone developed by Baer and, specifically, Dennard.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Good afternoon, Paul. Can I fix you a drink?” Langlie asked.

“Thank you, Langlie.” No one called him “Mister,” and if Langlie had a first name, no one claimed to know it. “I’ll have a Scotch and soda.”

Langlie’s reaction to the choice of drink by the man responsible for engineering the growth hormone was one of surprise. Baer himself had learned long ago never to underestimate anyone. Never.

“So, Paul,” Baer began once everyone got a drink and sat down, “what the hell happened, and what has changed?”

“It was simply nothing more than the rejection of a new food type.” He took a sip of his drink then pushed his thick-rimmed glasses up before continuing. “That was the cause of the recent affliction.”

“Affliction?” Langlie interjected. “You call tens of thousands puking up green sludge an affliction? What do you call the deformed children then? A slip-up?”

“Langlie.” Like a boxing referee, Baer separated the two. “That’s enough now.”

“Tell us what’s changed, Paul.”

“Well, as I said, people weren’t used to the new food or the chemical, but,” he looked across at Langlie, “there have been no deformities in almost three months and very few reports of people vomiting green sludge of late.”

Mimicking Langlie’s description was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Baer was aware of this and raised his hand toward Langlie, effectively silencing him.

“I think, sir, that from here on in, we won’t be seeing any more sick people or deformed babies. We can probably assume the worst is over.” Paul sat back in his chair.

That was the bottom line Baer wanted to hear. He had been concerned that his multi-billion-dollar scheme would soon unravel at the seams.

“That is good news indeed, Paul. Very good news. I couldn’t bear it if our product continued to be responsible for all the illness and suffering,” he lied. His two employees knew he had, and he knew that they did, but it was all a game.

He thanked Dennard for being so candid and shook hands as he ushered him from the office. He waited a few moments before he turned to Langlie.