The Tail Snags

Chapter 1

 

“What in the --” A vexed frown crossed Doc’s clean shaven face. ”No.“ His twitching right eyebrow unwittingly betrayed the emotions behind his intimidating outward appearance. There on the boat dock’s message board under the wooden T-shaped roof, a weathered parchment portrayed a sharp black and white sketch of an unnamed figure with the surgical mask. His red polo t-shirt constricted a violent roll of the brash man’s shoulders. “Well, what do we have here?”

WANTED ALIVE

for crimes against humanity

Contact 1-888-LUV-HECC

Reward: $6 BILLION$

The Doctor known as the I.V. Scissor King

H.O.H. (Hooked On HECCs) Charitable Organization

Center3arth Caverns, Kansas

The growling, bumptious doctor lurched from his previous coordinates, scuttling to the watercraft. Furious syllables whipped through his taut lips, challenging the consoling music of the warm water moving against the sides of the boats and dock in the Key West marina. “Boat powered by engines… bah… compare to sailing… but no! This is July 3rd for crying loud out! Am I allowed a vacation? Of course not!” The temperature in his body rose and his pearly teeth pounded a hummingbird’s vibration until control returned, freezing the expletives blurting from his mouth. Directing his temper toward the anchoring rope, he flailed his arms permitting the physical release of adrenaline. Doc’s head preceded his shoulders, ending in a stoop, thus evading an unpleasant impact from the out-of-control frayed end of the rope. His haughty tantrum ditched the rope into an undesirable puzzle on the floorboards before he sat in the comfortable and expensive seat. With a flick of his wrist, the fifty-year old fit man cranked the engine to life. Roaring away from the coast, the blaring sounds of the throttling engine cut through the obstacles in the marina on the dazzling late Friday afternoon in May.

After Doc achieved total seclusion, his grumbling approached an octave above his normal level of speech. “Where in the world is Kansas? How are they going to dwell in an ocean when it’s landlocked nothingness? I might have created an ocean dwelling race, but they are not land lubing lunatics!… I.V. Scissor King! HAH!… apex of my career… people sought my counsel… Nobel Laureate within my grasp… grr…” Doc cursed the heavens. “But no! Will I get the recognition I deserve? This close… this close… I tell you… had a Nobel Prize in Medicine within my reach!” He spat in the air and ignored the saliva landing on the deck behind him.

Not one boat hung near the entrance to Key West National WIldlife Refuge, so he continued with his hasty journey.

“I would have had a medal! …stupid FBI… filthy…. greedy… gullible FBI… had to raid the pet shop… couldn’t mind their own business… ruined my chance at… I was so close… ACH!…”

Doc’s hand left the steering wheel in order to shake his fist in front of his chest. He burst out, “I’ll show them… I’ll show them!… spent tedious hours perfecting the regenerative solution… one biracial HECC… one… HAH! I created a whole new field of study… Hah!… Their precious ‘Utopia’ will be crawling with biracials by the time I’m through!Jayne was the first! He won’t be the last.”

Covering the twenty mile trip west of Key West in an hour and a half, a large mangrove forest finally popped into view. Doc wasted an extra thirty minutes circling the uninhabited island group until he guided the 170 Super Sport Boston Whaler near the lower west side. Egrets, blue herons, seagulls, and pelicans all sang an eerie but engaging tune on, in, and around the Marquesas Keys. Their interpretative dances could only be understood by their own kind. Wait. Was that the head of a magnificent Hawksbill Sea Turtle lifting her head above the surface of the water? No. It was a green sea turtle!

He flipped off the engine. An hour passed, still waiting.

Doc cranked the engine alive and eased the vessel closer to the mangroves without scraping the sandy bottom. Checking his watch, he thought to himself, Uhm… Right place, right time. Stepping behind the seats, Doc stretched his legs. Leaning over the edge to drop the anchor, he paused. Mangroves Snakes flirted with the surface of the water, but they quickly hid. The swelling sound of a 70HP outboard motor increased in its hum. Peering up and over the horizon, Doc’s eyes widened at the erupting water slapping the side of the approaching boat. One hundred feet, nearing fifty feet, then thirty feet, the 20’ Carolina Skiff showed no mercy when it careened toward and then away from the smaller 17’ Boston Whaler, leaving a wake to collide. Feet scrambled for balance, but his body flew headfirst into the air. Although his hands exuberantly waved at the danger, the water below did not part for Doc. Sploosh.

Scrambling to the surface with flailing limbs, Doc broke into the air and sputtered. Green algae strands mixed with muck, mimicking thick black sewage, plastered his hair, left eyebrow, and left ear. Doc’s trembling hands scraped the earth and gunk out of his throbbing eyes with their uncontrollable self-preservation blinking. Spitting sludge, murky water, and saliva over his left shoulder put a temporary block on the rambling rant. He justified, “Blaahsshole,” with a menacing fist at the retreating boat, Doc cleared his throat, expelling the dirty saliva again. On this occasion, a longer string of curse words migrated directed at the currently out-of-earshot receiving end. Limb by limb, Doc climbed on to the back of the boat and stood to scan the horizon.

The blue craft deviated with the clear intent of bisecting his Whaler. Doc’s eyes protruded and his jaw plunged to the deck.

Behind the simple controls of the approaching boat, stood a 5’7 muscular, but slim man in his early thirties. Unaware of the grotesque amount of hair covering his limbs, he proudly wore white knee-length jean shorts and a white oversized t-shirt. Stationed with his feet slightly spread apart, his bent knees softened the impacts of the spasmodic migration of his large craft. Bright sunrays reflected the oily shine on short curls. After a quick flip of the wheel, the driver idled the engine, and the blue boat stopped parallel to Doc’s rented boat. Over the sputtering engine, the Russian immigrant yelled, “You find what you’re looking for?”

Narrowing his brows, curling his nose and mouth into a blatant snarl, Doc coughed. “Ahh noh. My inside contact.” Doc pulled out a bottle of water out of the cooler to flush his eyes, mouth and face.

The young man violently whipped his rat’s tail braid in between both shoulders. investigating the surrounding desolate key. Flexing his muscles created a swimming effect on the giant squid tattoo on his left bicep.

A Lemon Shark converged on both vessels checking out the intrusion in the water..

After plopping down on a seat, Doc plucked off the pair of saturated shoes one at a time with his left hand. His right elbow rested against his thigh, accommodating his upper weight. Fire emanated from his beady pupils following each movement the stranger exerted. Escaping from sopping socks, the muscles clenched in his jaw, fists, biceps, thighs, and calves. The squalid taste in his mouth created a constant need to lick his teeth and spit out specks and boulders of dirt, tiny rocks and aquatic feces. Checking the thick leather pouch located inside the right side of his jeans, he produced his knife. The two-inch-wide and three-inch-long curved dragon’s tooth blade had deep jagged serrations on one side starting at the tip before slimming down to a smoother surface. The spiral one-inch handle ended with a hammer head. Slow and cool efforts guided his steady hand swabbing it against the cleanest spot on his pants.

“Hey, man,” exhaled the man, eying the knife in the older man’s hands. “No offense. I’m sorry my boat knocked you off, but… really… no ha-harm… no foul!” Wobbling two feet backward in his boat he longed to scramble to the safety of his controls. His hand shook, reaching for the ignition behind him.

“You a frog? You enjoy fishing with a flechette?” Doc tossed his voice and caution to the wind without peering up from his knife cleaning.

Quaking with a Richter scale of four from head to toe and stepping away from his dashboard, he stuttered, “I am Yuri Rusche.” His jittery introduction smoothed into a rehearsed code. “My expertise is catfish.”

Pursing his lips, Doc’s furtive eyes ended with direct menacing eye-contact. He stood up, waving him aboard.

Crouching down and avoiding his gaze, Yuri trudged through the routine: hoisting the end of a 20 foot coiled rope, sauntering toward the edge of his boat and preparing to merge the two boats. With a precise fling, the rope launched through the air before nestling at the feet of his business associate.

Jumping up, Doc fumbled with the rope before tightening his grip. Replacing his knife in its pouch, he hesitated. What is that?

The water in-between the two boats stopped splishing when it should have splashed, revealing two Bull Sharks. Instead of engaging the inching boats closing in on them, the sharks chose to plunge to safety.

Doc shivered before burying the close call under his bones. He thought, Not today, Davy, There’s no way you are taking me to Jones’ locker today. I have unfinished business. Hand over hand and fist over fist, Doc gathered the rope.

Yuri’s right foot retained the blunt force of his balance after his careless left foot dangled over the side to cushion the impact. The boats squealed in protest, striking a few times. He opened a hidden smuggling compartment and dislodged a two-foot long plastic pipe with screwed on caps. Using both hands, Yuri hurdled over both sides to land like a T-Rex with a thud. His right knee wavered and his joints buckled. Fumbling and scrambling after the spinning and whirling pipe did not resolve the situation, pipe and guardian separated, with it rolling one way and him the other. Recovering his balance and treasure, he sprung into action. Straightening his head and body, he discovered himself frozen in place. “Эй, друг (Hey, Friend).”

Staring at him, Doc fidgeted with the menacing cold steel on his wet pant leg.

Yuri flung his hands palms toward the heavens and backed away with a racing heart. “You have a blue eye and a brown eye? Is that normal?”

Doc grumbled under his breath, “Must have lost a contact.” He then bellowed, “Where do you work?” Using his cleanest knuckle, Doc removed the other brown contact from his reddening pupils. Agitating his hand with the knife in a killing thrust, the contact flew off into the unknown. Without wincing, he tested his fishing knife with a fingernail on his free hand.

“I was hired on at the Penguin Scuba Corp.,” announced Yuri with a sniff and snort. Maintaining two arm’s length distance with a wide stance, he reassured, “I am one of the diving instructors.”

“Good.”

“Now, what is it..” Scowling at the doctor, Yuri maintained his brash, but ready to fly posture. “you have hired me to do… what they say, ’under the table’?”

“You will bring certain clients I recommend to the hospital-”

“In Center3arth Caverns?” Yuri interrupted him with naive confidence.

“Yes,” hissed Doc, rolling his eyes. Doc replaced his knife. His chin snapped back into his chest a little. Controlling his voice to emphasize the seriousness of the situation, he continued. “We will not sit at the same table until after we become regulars at the ‘Pearl Coffee & Tea Cafe’. There will be days you will sit alone, for I will not show up. On the days I grace you with my presence, I will provide you with the time and date you will deliver your diver students to the emergency room-”

“How,” heckled Yuri, “do you know they will have an ’emergency’? Can you read their palms or do you have a crystal ball you keep in your pocket?”

“Aaak! Do not interrupt!” Doc swiped his hand in the direction of the moron. “You will inject them with a needle before delivery.” Doc tipped his chin to examine the young man from a crooked point of view. “You come highly recommended.” Searching the boat-less horizon, Doc continued as he watched eager four-legged scaly predators coming to check out the meat before eying Yuri’s needle scars on his arm. “You do know how to use a needle, don’t you?”

With a toss of his head, Yuri mocked, “Of course!”

“Of course you do. You are just an addict looking for your next fix. I paid your debt off so you wouldn’t end up in a dumpster. You owe me jobs now instead of the Bratva.”

“Okay. Okay.” Seven seconds passed before the red tint drained from Yuri’s face, leaving pale skin in place. “You sure it’s safe to be diving in the same water as them freaks?”

“They are not freaks,” scoffed Doc. “They are a marvel of scientific ingenuity. Their gills allow them to ‘breathe’ under water, so watch your back. Make sure none of them are around when you collect my next experiments.”

“What do I look for? What do they look like? Can I catch them with stinkbait?”

“Like normal divers without diving masks!” Doc’s nostrils flared. “Some say they look like they have diving pants and flippers glued on.” A guffaw escaped his lips.

Yuri unknowingly frowned. “I… I won’t catch it?”

“It’s not a disease, you imbecile!” Doc viciously scolded, raising his voice and thrusting out his chest. “I created them! I am an expert in the field of regenerative medicine, but no one comprehends my level of skill in the field of cloning or DNA splicing for that matter.”

Yuri receded, cowering onto the seat.

“I successfully grew organs outside and inside the body.” Doc braced his fists against his solid stance. “I implanted cells into the body where they grew into complex organs for my surgeries. I expanded my research in that crude pet shop. I hired simplistic professional morons to kidnap people!” He gestured toward Yuri. “You are a simplistic professional moron! Spinal fluids were harvested from the selectively acquired humans and mixed with partial strands of DNA from the Electric Cave Catfish. Then… Then, we fed the cells with brilliantly formulated I.V. fluids… only I know the recipe! I created the humanoid race of HECCs. Me! All me!” Doc caught his breath as he finished with an alpha male growl. His planted feet retained a stationary stature, but his upper body shivered.

“You’re… like… like… my American friend called you… that… that… yeah… that ‘Dr. Moreau guy! I know who you are.” He guffawed. “The TV calls you… tha’ ’I.V. Scissor King’!” Yuri pointed a firm waving forefinger at Doc. The lightning quick thought of placing his foot in his mouth briefly suddenly occurred. Too late.

Doc shot to his feet, following a speedy right hand draw of his sharp knife from its protective sheath. In two shakes of an eel’s tail, he landed on his knees in front of Yuri. His left hand snatched a hold of Yuri’s pigtail, his fine blade against Yuri’s throat held with expert pressure, and his infamous breath exhaled in the younger man’s terrified face. “Don’t even think about overpowering me. If I do not return to call the Bratva, your sister will work for them and your brother’s death won’t be hasty.”

The plastic pipe fell from Yuri’s hands, bounced end to end, and then rolled astern.

Doc’s chin lifted high, but forcefully held away from the captive animal. A vein visibly pulsing in his neck and his rigid fiery lips exposed his perfectly arranged teeth as his voice deepened. “Don’t… ever…. refer to me with such absurdity! You will address me as…”

Yuri’s hands clawed the air as he gasped for any passing breath of life. His own face drained under the pressure of the knife deepening against his skin. Blood seeped out of a small nick, trickling down the prisoner’s trembling neck. Tears welled in the corners of his fluttering bulbous eyes, his breath escaped in shallow stuttering spurts, and his mouth twisted with abject terror. Any minute now, his meaningless life would flash in front of his eyes before his last breath left his lungs.

Doc’s fit body straightened taller with ease. Without delay, Doc’s precise hands left Yuri’s neck without stealing his soul. His ruthless jaw twitched slightly as he closed his lips over his teeth and snorted. Strong hands weighed outstretched in a defiant forward guard position and his feet stood shoulder-width apart with his left foot slightly forward.

Gasping, Yuri’s sweaty palms zipped to his throat. Surprised but grateful for having an intact head with his body, he pulled his right hand away from his throat. A hint of blood painted the creases of his palm, revealing his life line. Relief filled his eyes, but only for a moment. Horror widened his eyes, waiting for a repeat performance from his shady ‘boss’. Shifting his legs under him, Yuri placed his hands on the deck. The escape routes flooded his brain with possible outcomes.

Doc swallowed. The muscles on his collar bones swayed to the rhythm of his heated heart. “There was never an I.V. Scissor King! There was only me… a brilliant scientist!” He enunciated every last letter and syllable of his birth name.

The doctor’s name whizzed by Yuri’s ears only to be lost in the increasing wind rattling the lively lush green plants on the awakened islet.

“Hah! Moreau was a wannabee in someone’s imagination. I actually did it! Unlike a fictitious fairy tale, I am known world-wide for my research and discoveries in Regenerative Medicine. Now… go… remember the heat of my blade the next time you think of wagging your uneducated tongue.”

“Простите. I’m sorry. Простите,” Turning on his heel, Yuri drug his rope behind inching toward his boat. “Yes, sir, Простите (I’m sorry).” Dr. King I mean Doctor…Простите.uh uh uh- you can count on me.“

“I,” Doc interrupted the young man. “… I have lots of powerful and politically influential connections who will bury you as a blithering idiot in a mental institution before your final destination in a 6 foot hole without a gravestone! But you will watch as the woman who breastfed you loses her breasts with this knife right before your sniveling eyes. You will not know me in the city until I say so! You will address me as Doctor! Oh…” Doc paused. “I forgot. You will have help, human and Heccan.”

Yuri crossed his arms. “What’s a Heccan?”

“A merman, puta madre! Aye! ¡Vaya gilipollas que es este tipo (What an asshole)!” Doc’s husky dismissive laughter shook the air. “He’s a male Human Electric Cave Catfish!” Doc composed himself. “He will introduce himself to you by asking for job for a payment of fresh fish. He will give you the supplies you need. He will help you with your catch.”

With a sharp nod, Yuri leapt into his water craft.. He teetered momentarily with the rock to and fro of the boat before his blood distributed adrenaline to the living cells of his toe hairs. After nabbing his balance, he dropped the rope on a whim and sprinted like a mad-man for the controls.

“Oh,” Doc’s voice boomed over the lull of the song of the waves. “So you’re not taking the job?”

“Yes. Yes. Sir. You can count on me.”

“Wait.”

Yuri cringed. Could Doc be training a gun on his back?

“Don’t you want your down payment?”

Doc meandered to the bench Yuri had hurdled. Lifting the lid up with his left hand, Doc lifted a bulky yellow envelope high into the sky. “You want your down payment?”

Raising his head, Yuri confirmed, pulling his chin pulling into his chest. “Yessir. I know my place. I am your foot soldier.”

Doc tossed the bulky package to the greedy unscrupulous diving instructor.

“до встречи (See You).” Yuri improved his mood and held his payment with one hand, his free hand wiggled and jiggled to crank his engine. Off roared Yuri to an adventurous life.

Staring after the ‘shark bait’, Doc’s lusterless eyes gaped at the newly hired mercenary fleeing around the island’s corner. Inhaling deeply, Doc let out a long troubled sigh.“Yes, until we meet. Better hire another. He won’t last long,” snarled Doc. “He already knows too much. I slipped. Never used Spanish in front of anyone. Never lost my temper before. I need a vacation!”

Confiscating the blueprints from the plastic pipe, Doc grinned from ear to ear. “I see blackmailing employees in the architecture firm paid off. Hidden passages… Nice. Hidden wet and dry rooms. Hah. Brilliant. All ready and waiting…. for my new experiments.”

Sunset teased the horizon, bringing out the beasts of the mangrove forest; innumerable horseflies, mosquitoes, and noseeums hunting in deranged packs. It was no longer safe to wait around hoping to avoid detection. Doc left the devils behind and raced back toward Key West.

 

{:-)-]~~{

 

Bidyap Boob Beep Beep Beep sang the timer on the waterproof watch hugging the arm of the human doctor caring for the H.E.C.C.’s and their immediate families. Doctor Darren Jensen stretched his upper back before inhaling and exhaling, focused on his goal. No need to glance at the watch; he strode on through the hall in the hospital. Attired in a diving suit, white lab coat, and diving boots, Doctor Darren Jensen whistled the celtic tune, Duleman as he weaved on through the labyrinth The architect had designed the outer walls of the Center3arth Hospital and clinic with the rough texture and colors of a giant coral reef. Dr. Jensen smiled at the aquariums enclosed by clear Plexiglas, framed by the rough and uneven edges of the coral structure. Biodegradable cleaners, strategically placed waterfalls and air filtering plants with grow lights maintained a healthy, but spotless environment.

Arriving in the midst of the four main elevators on the second floor, Jensen accessed the embedded touch screen computer with his security password before fiddling with the appointment app scanning the schedule for the following day. Seven minutes passed before he confirmed the time on his pad. The elevator effortlessly arrived without a musical note or squeak of mechanisms. Out walked a confident, light brown-skinned man dressed in a black suit..

“Well, you’re right on time,” babbled Dr Jensen refusing to allow the new arrival’s lips to open. He closed out of his computer session before turning his attention toward the newcomer. “Welcome to the staff at the Living Sea Hospital & Clinic.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you. I was scheduled to start on the 17th. I’m ready to go.” The doctor’s bright blue eyes sparkled his approval.

“Because this is your orientation, you are not required to change. But tomorrow, you will report for your shift in staff uniform, three of which are hanging in your office.” Jensen continued, “The color of wetsuit varies from employee to employee depending on personal preference. Doctors will be the only staff wearing white lab coats. The nurses will wear blue lab coats and the volunteers have green assigned to them. Gloves, masks and caps remain on a need-to-use basis. The HECC staff grand-fathered in from the pet shop have already obtained their diver certifications, but the newbies are all required to complete their classes before their starting date. I assume your certification has been turned in because it was a requirement to be hired.”

The doctor nodded, setting his jaw.

“Follow me. As you can see, this hospital is unique to the world, but not unrealistic to the city we live in. I will take you on a quick tour of the hospital.” He paused. “Oh. Watch your step. As you can see, water is pumped in from the sea to fill these channels in the middle of the hallways, allowing the Heccs access to all floors, including most elevators. Filtering system helps maintain a clean environment as required by the US CDC and are regularly checked by C3C Health department inspections.” Jensen paused. “Check out these beautiful ocean-inspired mosaics crafted from the finest man-made pearls, dragon’s tears and glass cabochons”.

“Hah,” scoffed the new doctor. “This place feels more like a fancy aquarium than a hospital.”

“It’s the only way we could maintain a consistent July weather in Kansas. The HECCs didn’t ask to be kidnapped and mutated into what they are today, but the world expects us to protect them and make them comfortable.” Jensen continued, “These channels are ADA compliant for visiting HECCs.”

Without looking at his new co-worker, Jensen pushed the scallop button nestled above the kelp-shaped handrails on the wall. A solid glass floor panel moved to mechanically bridge the channel, allowing the two to continue their tour on the main floor. “The main floor houses the lobby, multiple exam rooms, three nurse’s stations, and emergency entrance with boat dock. There are multiple wet and dry surgery rooms to handle any event.” They poked their heads in a room. “The curtains dividing the inner and outer exam areas look like aquatic plants and the inner rooms have aquariums instead of windows. All the rooms are equipped with beds looking like boats, cable hookups for internet, waterproof flat-screen TVs, full bathrooms and closets. Hopefully this décor allivietes some of the stress and the sense of distrust that HECCs naturally have when visiting a doctor in our medical facility. Since the Heccs complain about wireless signals and cables bothering them, we compromised by banning wifi, but have filled the city with numerous cables with heavier shielding. The kids’ playroom in the children’s/baby wing and waiting rooms all have waterproof computers and cable internet hookups. There are also terminals for employees to access on all floors. By the way, you’ll notice we have limited birthing rooms because we make house calls in support of our natural birthing policy.”

The two arrived in front of the main floor elevators just as the sound system screeched the need for Jensen to return to the E.R. Jensen asked the doctor, “Can you see yourself to your office?”

“Yes. From the description you sent me, I understand the offices are on the fourth floor along with storage, bunk rooms, full staff bathrooms.”

“No. That’s the fifth floor. The fourth floor is-”

“I’m confused. Where’s the Surgery rooms, delivery rooms, the kitchens and dining room?”

“That’s on the third floor.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“There should be a nurse waiting for you right outside the the elevator.”

“Yes. Thank you. Good luck, Doctor Jensen,” said Doc, stepping into the open elevator. He rode up to the fifth floor.

The enclosed elevator stopped its lift on the second floor. A female nurse in a shark wet suit burst in the small room before the doors completely opened.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry and what on earth are you wearing,” asked Doc, stepping back an inch or two.

“Oh,” she answered with a sheepish grin and bowed her head slightly. “Hello, doctor. I’m sorry I didn’t see you there. I’m a pediatric nurse… hey… uh my name is Pecha, pronounced Pay-Shah. It’s a Cherokee name.” Pausing to straighten her shoulders, Pecha beamed with pride. “You’re new! Welcome to your new adventure.”

“So…” Doc enunciated carefully and precisely, “Pecha, you were telling me about your costume.”

“Oh! Oh, yea. Silly me… The office manager insists we wear marine costumes. I thought I would show my distaste with this one. What do ya think?”

“I think the kids will like it and she’ll make you wear a dolphin next.” With a twinkle in his eyes, the doctor laughed.

The elevator stopped on the third floor. Pecha announced, “Well. This is me. I’m heading to the dining room. I’m starved!” She waved at him. “It was nice to meet you!”

Nodding,the doctor hit the button to continue up to his new adventure. Upon entering his destination, he bumped into an irritated male nurse, CNA Gary Salazar, with a clipboard.

“Welcome, Doctor. You’re late. Let me show you to your office so I can get back to my rounds.”

The eager doctor stole the lead down the hall, but halted as the testy nurse spoke up, “Sir, this way, please.” The two then trotted back the opposite way passing several offices. He reverently brushed the nameplate on the door before he entered his office.

“Hey, Doc, you don’t start until tomorrow. I suggest you take a few hours to better familiarize yourself with the layout.”

“Thanks. It’s about time they release the floor plans to the hospital staff.” Doc’s arrogant smile faded, impatiently waiting for the nurse to leave his presence. Scanning the room with the octopus-themed rug, the live plants growing in circular tanks, he mused. ”Hmm. Wow. This is truly satisfactory. Fresh oxygen, hemp-woven rug… environmentally sound!“ Pointing at the two wicker chairs, comfortable office chair, leather couch and coffee table, he stared at the nurse. ”Well. those aren’t!“

“No. And neither is your up-to-date computer on the heavy pearl looking desk! They did what they could to balance environmentally friendly and unfriendly necessities. As per your job description, you will be responsible for cleaning your own office.

The two exchanged a hasty ‘goodbye and good luck’ as the nurse left and rushed down the hall to the elevator.

This time, Doc utilized his mind’s eye. Trotting to the reverse end of the hall, he slipped into a storage room. A quick scan around the room with floor to ceiling shelves full of laundry confirmed his solitude. Continually glancing over his left shoulder, Doc sauntered to the locked door and its keypad in middle of the back wall. Concentrating on the code pad in front of him, his fingers immediately tapped five numbers into the nine-digit pad. If the other side was occupied, then the second six-digit entry wouldn’t unlock the door. Tap tap tappity tap. Oh, it did!

Upon entering, Doc’s wry grin spread from ear to ear. If he so desired, he could climb one of the two metal step stools to peer into the dining room, from the back of the aquarium. The filtering and air pump system filled the 4’ by 10’ room with a deafening roar. The construction crew on this delicate, and unauthorized, project had been paid well with a bonus added! Instead, Doc followed the decline of the floor until he stood over the drain near the opposite wall. Hah. No one will ever block the entrance to this secret passage! It’s only for quick maintenance, thought Doc to himself. His right hand fiddled with his keys until he found a tiny Allen wrench which he stuck in the socket hidden just inside the drain. The wall in front of him backed up 4 foot, revealing a three foot drop to the floor of a secret elevator. After returning his keys to his pocket, he jumped to the lower level, tucking his head and shoulders into his knees. The mechanical wall, returned passing over his head before he stood up in the darkness. With his right hand, he entered a nine-digit code on the glow in the dark buttons on the keypad. Mechanisms engaged under his feet before the floor slowly began to rise, taking him with it. He yelled. “No. No. No.” He entered the code again, but corrected the last digit. The elevator froze and then lowered. Doc hissed, “So glad I installed the safety. That was only meant to crush nosy pigs.” Mumbling, Doc briefly waited for his ride to come to a complete stop in the dry basement. Doc stepped off the crude elevator and headed down the hall toward the light above another door.

Again, Doc placed his fingers on the keypad next to the door. No room for error! If he entered the wrong code, a fire would destroy the contents of his secret lair. His lips tightened. Twice he entered the correct secret code before he entered the room. A motion sensor triggered dazzling lights. Marching over to the little desk, Doc huffed. Glancing at the cot and pulling out his chair, he made himself at home. Tracing the his tie with his fingers, he located the secret pocket. Opening and pulling out two small pictures, Doc scowled. His left hand pulled a black and white picture from under the colorful one. A solemn smile lifted his chin as he held each photo lovingly in both hands. Emotions moved his head with precision from side to side. “Hello, ladies.” Doc paused. Dipping his chin, he swallowed. “Long time, no see.”

Staring at the photo in his left hand, Doc swallowed again. A younger version of Doc avoided the eye of the camera, beaming at his older, skinny, pale and thin sister. Pain etched her bony cheeks, but a genuine smile brightened her eyes. Her chipper soul did not match her body. Doc’s thumb traced his younger non-plastic altered forehead and chin.

Salty, bitter tears glassed over Doc’s hardening eyes. “Mother Mary, why did cancer find a home in my sister? Look….look at her spirited eyes. Once she found out… she didn’t… long.” Closing his eyes, he turned away. Although his feet guided his body to the table, his heart remained broken. His left hand lowered only to hover above the thick table. Doc’s eyes fluttered opened. His innocent past stared back without anger and pain embossed across the face of his soul. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at another view of his past. Doc stood trussed up in his white tux next to his Spanish bride under a flower stand. “O great St. Peregrine, you have been called ”The Mighty,“ ”The Wonder-Worker,“ because of the numerous miracles which you have obtained from God for those who have had recourse to you. For so many years you bore in your own flesh this cancerous disease that destroys the very fiber of our being, and who had recourse to the source of all grace when the power of man could do no more. You were favored with the vision of Jesus coming down from His Cross to heal your affliction. Ask of God and Our Lady, the cure of the sick whom we entrust to you.” He paused and mumbled their names just below a whisper and then continued. “Aided in this way by your powerful intercession, we shall sing to God, now and for all eternity, a song of gratitude for His great goodness and mercy. Amen.”

Moments of silence followed.

“I had everything. All the money and insurance in the world didn’t save my wife. She had such a kind soul. All she ever did was volunteer. I spent our first anniversary staring at my love (gulp) in a casket before her funeral.” Sharp emotional knives burrowed in circles in his gut. Tears crawled down his cheeks, bit them and left a heated blush. His longing hands trembled. Both pictures dropped to the freezing hard floor. Dropping on his knees, his hands held his weight on both sides of the pictures. With one hand, he straightened the pictures. Lump after lump formed in his throat no matter how many times he swallowed the pain, he could not bury it. He bowed his head into the floor and let his legs straighten behind him. His shoulders and chest bounced as he imprisoned the pain, increasing in volume.

Four minutes passed before Doc’s blood pressure returned to normal. Leaping into the air, Doc swiped both pictures up with his right hand. His pained eyebrows hardened into a deep furrow as he replaced them into the hidden compartment.

“I made a vow.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I haven’t forgotten you, my girls..my girls. They think they’ve stopped my experiments. I have to finish several more before I can continue my cancer research.” Mr. Hyde transformed into the calm and in-control Dr. Jekyl. He paraded about his lair, preparing for the next round. Looking at his locked door, he knew what layed beyond: sleepless nights for weeks on end.

 

 

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