Chapter 2

I was still in negotiations about how to turn over my

process when the hospital administrators informed me I would be receiving an

award for my accomplishments in medicine. The ceremony was to take place in a

week's time. Ma showed up without Charles.

It is funny the things you remember from your

childhood. Here I am being honored, along with Dr. E. D. Grey in absentia, in

the field of genetics, and as the speaker is spouting platitudes at the podium

about me, all I can think about are the words of my drunk of a stepfather who

had a sixth-grade education. He was such an asshole. However, my mind continued

to drift back to a day, like so many others, when a drunken Charles was

berating me.

"Ya ain't shit! And ya ain't gone never be shit!" he

said with a snide scowl on his face.

I could smell the liquor on his breath from where I

stood. It seems like we had this discussion over and over again when he got

drunk.

"Readin' dem damned books and day-dreamin' ain't gone

do shit for ya! Ya gone end up diggin' ditches just like me!" he yelled.

I was only eight, but I had a firm grasp not only on

reality, but on MY reality.

"You've never had a dream?" I asked. "You've never

wanted more for yourself?"

"Ya sassin' me boy?" he snapped as he slapped me with

the back of his hand.

"No, sir!" I quickly replied as I caught my face and

backed away.

"Da home and the livin' I make fo' yo' ungrateful ass

ain't good 'nough for ya?" he screamed as he stalked me.

"It's not that, sir! I was just curious if you ever

wanted to do anything else? What were your dreams?" I asked while backing up.

He stopped. You could actually see the vein in his

forehead throb as he thought about my query. He drunkenly stumbled across the

room and fell into his ratty old recliner. He sat in the chair and placed his

head in his hands.

"Ya think I wanted ta dig dem damned ditches, marry a

woman past her prime and raise anudda man's kid? I shoulda been first! She

shoulda picked me!" he quietly sighed.

It was as if he was talking to a peer. You could hear

the lamentation in his voice.

"I had dreams. But dey ain't comin' true, so stop

wastin' yo' damned time wit dem damned books!" he said as he renewed his point.

My stepfather was a drunk. He was a conniving, violent

drunk. He verbally abused me and kicked the crap out of me whenever my mom

wasn't around. He hated the fact that my dad married my mom and took it out on

me every chance he got. I think I reminded him too much of my dad. He and my

dad were friends. They both loved my mom. She chose my dad, and they fell in

love and got married.

When my dad died, it broke something in my mom. That,

among other reasons, was the driving factor that caused me to choose the field

of genetics. I not only wanted to understand why my dad was taken from me, but

I wanted to prevent it from happening to another kid. When he died, my mom was

devastated. I think a little part of her died with him that day.

The presenter continued: "We're here to honor Dr.

Marvin Harris for his outstanding achievements in the field of genetics and

curative proteins. His approach has defied a number of degenerative maladies

and ailments, both mental and physical. It is believed that they will lead to

cures for diseases such as HIV, Cancer, Multiple Sclerosis, Muscular Dystrophy

and a host of other medical evils that have beset mankind. Ladies and

gentlemen, I present to you, Dr. Marvin Harris."

As I walked to the podium, I recounted the people and

the work that got me here. Sam, T, my Ma and dad, and even Charles to a certain

extent. This was my attempt to make my family proud and to prove Charles wrong.

I locked eyes with my Ma and all was right with the world.

"Thank you, Dr. Bellows. One little enzyme

artificially added to a protein was the impetus for the reversal of Alzheimer's

disease. Through a concerted effort, we were able to extend its applications to

schizophrenia and other mind-altering ailments. We have since been able to

suspend the functions of all the vital organs; the heart, the liver, the lungs,

etc. without inducing death or even a coma-like state. With this procedure, we

are able to repair the organs and rely less on transplants. We are able to place

patients in a waking stasis or as near to death as possible while maintaining

complete control over bodily functions and organs. This has allowed the medical

community to strive light years ahead in the treatment of their patients.

During this stasis, operations and consultations can take place with a

conscious patient. We will no longer be like children feeling around in the

dark to cure what ails you. We will now take control, hopefully over life and

death. Thank you all very much."

But it was our hubris; MY hubris that brought on the

end of mankind. Just like Icarus, I flew too close to the sun. I reached too

far. And all of mankind is paying the price. And to think that it all began

with an abusive, drunk of a stepfather with a sixth-grade education.

Even though I despised my stepfather as a man, I never

truly wished him any harm. I often thought to myself that his drinking would be

the death of him. How ironic, he was only two blocks from home when a drunk

driver broadsided his car. The police said it flipped more than six times. My

mom kept silent for the longest time as the police and the doctors spoke to

her.

"Mrs. Williams, the swelling of your husband's brain

is massive. The frontal cortex has some contusions, abrasions and lesions.

We've had to induce a coma to allow time for the swelling to subside. I won't

pull any punches. Right now, your husband is in little more than a vegetative

state. I'm sorry. All we can do now is wait," said Dr. Emily Jones, chief of

neurosurgery at St. Margaret's Hospital.

"Doctor, if I may. The patient is my stepfather and

with my mother's permission, I would like to utilize some new techniques with

some radical proteins and enzymes that I've developed," I said. "If, at all

possible, I'd like to see his charts, his EKG, EEG, Cat Scan and his MRI."

"And you are?" she questioned, a little annoyed.

"I'm sorry, I'm Dr. Marvin Harris," I responded.

"THE, Dr. Marvin Harris? The one working on the

proto-enzyme protein treatment in, well, I guess everything. The medical field

is calling you the next Hippocrates," she stated excitedly. "Wow! Your work is

groundbreaking. I saw you on TV just the other day and it all seems so

exciting. I would kill for an opportunity like that. Doctor, would you have any

objections to my consulting with you on this case?"

"Not at all," I said as I put my arm around my mom. "Thank

you for allowing my input."

"Marvin. I really want you to know how much I

appreciate this," my mom said softly. "I know Charles can be a bitter pill. And

I know the two of you had a volatile relationship. But there is something you

need to know. When your father died, I literally checked out. I couldn't

function. Charles knew my heart was still with your father, but he married me

anyway. Here I was, a widow with a small child and no visible means of support.

And on top of all that, I was an emotional wreck. Charles may not have been the

best man, and some would even argue that he wasn't a good man. But he was MY

man, and he took care of us."

"Mom, I know," I responded. "I will do my best."

"Your best has always been more than enough," she said

as she kissed my forehead.

We dedicated ourselves, Emily and me, to the care of

my stepfather. The hours became days; the days became weeks, as the time

unfolded before us. Spending so much time together, I guess it was inevitable

that we would develop feelings for each other. It seems that Emily was

attracted to the geeky, studious type.

Em, my pet name for her, was striking. She was a

former Miss Georgia and used pageants to pay her way through medical school.

Me, I had to rely on scholarships, grants, and student loans. The money rolling

in was a big help for the patent of my serum. It was difficult to avoid the

glitz and glamour that was rushing my way, but my passion was research. Who

knew it would lead to…whatever this relationship was?

We began to eat our meals together but spent most of

our time together at the hospital. She accompanied me to Ma's for Sunday

dinners. But we always stayed at her apartment when we slept together. She said

she just felt more comfortable at her place. We were a mixed pair for sure. She

was tall and beautiful, and I was a skinny nerd struggling to earn my next belt

in martial arts.

"Dr. Jones, is the panel from the 25th ready?" I asked

while peering into the microscope.

"Why so formal all of a sudden, lover?" she responded.

"There's no one around."

Emily was concerned about hospital gossip if it got

out that we were "dating." She was always careful that we did not show any

public displays of affection. If I wasn't sure that she cared for me, I'd think

she was a little ashamed of me.

She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. That was

another thing about Em, she was very regimented. Even when it came to intimacy.

Everything had to be just so. She never wanted me to touch her hair. We always

made love in the dark. And when she was done, WE were done.

"I guess I'm just distracted," I said. "We're so close

to a breakthrough, I can taste it."

"You sure that's not me you taste?" she asked a little

annoyed with my continued distraction.

"Six o'clock," I responded thinking she had asked the

time.

"I guess it's my own damned fault for getting

romantically involved with one of the greatest medical minds since…since…well,

ever!" she smirked. "You have another awards ceremony coming up. How about I

order dinner from that expensive restaurant and we eat in afterwards? I love

their caviar!"

"I'm so sorry, dear. You know you're my heart and the

center of my universe. But you know what I'm like when I get ahold of an

unsolvable problem," I said. "The swelling is decreasing too slowly on the

cerebellum. I think if we attach the enzyme-infused proteins to DNA markers A45

Alpha through D666 Omega we will decrease swelling as well as stave off any

infections."

"And there he goes again ladies and gentlemen," she

said a little annoyed that my attention again deviated from romance and back to

science. She walked out of the lab in a huff, fuming. I gave her a few moments

before I followed, which was out of character for me.

"Girl, I don't know how much longer I can put up with

his skinny ass," I overheard her say on the phone. "I know, I know! The longer

I hang in there, the better it will be for my career. I just can't stand it

when he touches me. It makes my skin crawl!"

She continued on like that for about 15 minutes and I

overheard her plan to use me to advance her career and standing. She actually

pitied me and was soon going to dump me. She just needs to be published with me

and seen with me. A few red-carpet appearances, award ceremonies and society

pictures should cement her plan.

What a bitch! I think deep down I knew it was

something like this. Why would a woman like that ever be interested in a guy

like me? I was no good at conflict and confrontation. I decided to just allow

it to happen. I walked back to the lab and pretended that I had heard nothing.

After a few moments, I made my way back to my office.

There was a man there with a briefcase. Everything about him screamed lawyer.

He looked nervous.

"Marvin Augustus Harris?" he asked. "My name is

Jermaine Gnosis. I was your father's friend and personal attorney. After your

father's death, you and your mother sort of fell from the grid. It wasn't until

I saw you on TV that I was able to track you down. The government seized

everything of value that your father owned, but they could not access or

contest his will. Your father was not the man the government painted him to be.

This belongs to you."

He handed me a manila envelope with four sheets of

paper and quickly exited. I read the document and was astounded. These were my

father's words. One particular passage that stood out. It read:

Son,

you are now the man of the family and I expect you to take care of your mother.

I know I didn't spend the time I needed to with you. And if you are reading

this, well, I never got the chance to rectify that. The reason being, I was

working on something very important. Something that could save humanity. Just

writing this to you could be considered an act of treason, but you have a right

to know why I wasn't there.

I was the project manager and chief programmer for

Project ARC. That means I was in charge of artificial intelligence, digital

security, mainframe accessibility and access. I chose a series of phrases that

should be familiar to you. Hopefully, you never need to access ARC. Please

remember what I always taught you, a man can be measured by three things: his

intent, his actions and his heart. I love you, son. More than you'll ever know.

Maybe this will someday make up for my absence.

The rest described the coordinates of an access

keyboard at the ARC. I sat there dumbfounded. My dad was communicating to me

from beyond the grave. I decided to sit on the information until I could figure

out what it meant. I had a suspicion, but I wasn't sure. It was better to just

focus on the problem in front of me.

My stepfather had been in his waking stasis for over

three months now and we were finally ready to bring him out of it. Who knew

that things would go so terribly wrong? My passive-aggressive behavior towards

Em was obvious. She continuously asked me if anything was wrong, but I denied

it.

We backed down the dosage of the proteins and the

enzymes serum and waited. His heart and lungs resuscitated, but there was very

little brain activity. But then the strangest thing happened: He sat up with

his eyes wide open. No movement. No words. I thought for sure that his muscles

would have atrophied.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn that

his eyes glowed red. We attempted to lie him back down, but he resisted us. We

adjusted the bed to accommodate his new position and proceeded to strap him

down due to a horrible feeling that overcame me. This result made absolutely no

medical sense.

At 12:07 am, Tuesday, June 15, 2010, he coded. His

heart and his lungs stopped. I had one of the hardest conversations I've ever

had to have with my mom. For the second time in her life, she had to hear the

words, "Your husband has died."

Em and I prepared for his autopsy. I figured if I

threw myself into my work, I could avoid the reality of our relationship. But I

began to grow cold towards her, and she began to notice. I wasn't that good of

an actor.

"Marvin is there a problem?" she asked. "I know how

you get when you work, but it's been almost a week since you've slept over.

What's going on?"

"Nothing is going on," I snapped. "I'm just trying to

focus on what killed my mother's husband. God! How self-absorbed can you be?"

That was uncharacteristically harsh for me. Em was

starting to get suspicious due to my newfound backbone. She was still unaware

that I knew of her plan to use me, so I decided to continue to focus on the

work, as she cried her crocodile tears.

I kept wracking my brain in an attempt to figure out

what went wrong and what caused his death. The autopsy would hopefully reveal

some clues. Em was beginning to grow more and more suspicious as I continuously

avoided her attempts to insinuate herself into my spotlight. I focused on the

fact that T was coming home for good in a few weeks.

At 5 am, there were reports from an orderly named Adam

in the morgue who saw movements on his gurney. The chief resident scolded him

about muscle memory and it was laughed off as a prank. Rumors began to spread

around the hospital and Adam asked to be assigned as the orderly to this case.

Adam was young and strong. He was a pre-med student at

the university and wanted as much exposure as he could get in the medical

field. It was a dream come true for him to get this close to what he dubbed as "medical

royalty."

At 10:26 am, during my stepfather's autopsy, he again

sat up, and this time he bit Em on the arm. She screamed in pain, but he would

not let go. It was as if he were a Pitbull Terrier. Adam rushed in to help.

Charles released Em and sunk his teeth into Adam. I instinctually grabbed a

scalpel and stabbed Charles in the forehead, piercing his cerebral cortex, and

all his movements ceased. He released the orderly and slumped back on to the

table.

Em was crying, and her arm was a bloody mess. Adam, on

the other hand, was trying to manage the pain. I helped Em to a nearby bed

where I cleaned and dressed her wound. I gave her a shot of my protein/enzyme

cocktail and her heart rate slowed.

Adam went to the nurses' station and had his wound

cleaned and dressed. He became listless and very thirsty and complained about

stiffening joints. Later that day, he fell ill with a horrible fever. He also

complained of chills and aches. We had no clue what it was, but I knew it was

linked to my stepfather.

Even from beyond the grave, Charles continued to

torment me. As I continued his autopsy, I noticed that his organs had begun to

decay and liquefy at a rapid rate, and that his bodily fluids had begun to

blacken. His skin, however, turned pale and was clammy to the touch.

Adam had now become unresponsive and slipped into a

coma. His vitals were extremely weak, and I had no clue why. I was beginning to

worry. I put him on a steady stream of fluids and antibiotics. What had

happened to my stepfather and what did he pass on to Em and Adam? It seems that

what was happening to Adam is happening to Em, only much slower.

Adam's condition deteriorated rapidly. He was in agony

towards the end. He complained that it felt like glass was passing through his

veins. His heart and lungs slowly began to shut down. This young man's entire

life was in front of him prior to this. He expired on Wednesday, June 19, 2010,

at 6:42 pm. At 7:28 pm, he rose from his gurney and attacked another orderly.

The dead are dead no more…