The Roman Lee Series "Crimson Rows" .... The Match.......

THE ROMAN LEE SERIES

 

"CRIMSON ROWS"

 

 

Twenty-Seven

1:30PM

The speeding ticket was held by a Starbucks magnet to the refrigerator in the one bedroom apartment.  Instructions on the back were either to pay the required fine for the civil infraction or make an appearance before the magistrate to plead her case. A decision had to be made soon because failure to do so would result in a bench warrant.  As a redshirt freshmen on the University basketball team Brandi Jones had overslept one morning making her late for an early practice.

Only a mile away from the Huron fieldhouse she didn’t see the Kirkwood Patrol unit until it was too late.  He had been parked in between a pair of used cars for sale on a vacant lot.  The officer had pulled out of the space closing the distance on her within a quarter mile turning on his lights.  Stopped for exceeding the posted speed limit by 20 mph the patrolman gave her a break by only writing the citation for 5 miles over.  Thankful for the generosity of not ticketing her for reckless driving the fine still remained imposing at $125 for a freshman athlete who did not work.  Brandi’s stern warning from her parents on countless occasions regarding her lead foot had seemed to have served as some prophetic warning.  The constant nagging during her probationary period before she obtained her license was always a source of contention.  Stubborn and independent she had chosen to live on her own off campus despite her parents recommendation to reside in the first year suites.  Consistently on a rigid budget the recent added expense might derail her plans to live on her own.  Her pride would not allow her parents to have a told you so moment. 

The UPC or the United Plasma Collection center was extremely busy mid-day.  First time donors stood in a line waiting for the representative to greet them.  Brandi checked her phone displaying the time.  Her only class of the day didn’t start until 6:00 PM and practice was cancelled giving her the opportunity to come across town. Brandi had planned on meeting a friend from her statistics course who gave her the idea in the first place.  He bailed on her at the last minute when he discovered that he couldn’t retrieve his term paper from the cloud and was in a full panic having not backed it up anywhere.  A quick text told her that she shouldn’t worry about anything.  In fact, the next time he planned on donating his roommates all intended on doing it to intensify the effects of alcohol they had planned on consuming at a party next week.  As she was about to reply to his text she was called to the counter.  A woman in her late twenties with auburn hair and blue eyes greeted her.

“Welcome to UPC.  This your first time donating with us?”

“Yes”

“Do you have valid identification with you?”

“I do one second.”

Brandi reached into her purse pulling out her driver’s license along with her social security card.

“Thank you.”

All of her information was entered into the system creating an account.  Payments would be credited once a successful donation had been completed.  It was suggested that she schedule a follow up appointment within seven days from the first one.

“Ok, if you will go over to the kiosks that are lined up against the wall and login using this default password and then change it after you answer all the questions.  Once you’re finished a health representative will come and get you for a quick screening.”

It wasn’t long and Brandi was seated in front of another smiling face.  Although the attire was somewhat unsettling.  They wore a plastic shield that covered the entire face.  A long white lab coat and purple latex gloves that extended to their elbows.

“Are you right handed or left?”

“Left”

“Can I see your right hand please.”

The tech rotated Brandi’s hand so that her palm was facing upward.  A swab of alcohol was quickly rubbed against the tip of her index finger.  As soon as the plastic end of the device was placed against her skin the spring exploded propelling a small lance penetrating deep enough to draw blood.  A pipette was angled against the wound to collect a sample for testing her iron levels.  She watched as her sample was placed in a solution.  Satisfied that her iron levels met the minimum standard for donation she was led over to a row of reclining comfortable looking chairs.  Several donors occupied most of them in various stages of the process.  Most were looking at their phones or watching a popular talk show on the large flat screen.  After the needle had been inserted into her vein Brandi watched the blood retreat from her arm in the tube leading to the machine that would separate the plasma eventually returning it mixed with a room temperature saline solution.

“This your first- time donating honey?”

A woman in her thirties sat next to Brandi looking to be almost complete with the process.  She was wearing black yoga pants and a white hoodie.  Several empty holes in her earlobes indicated multiple piercings that were being given a respite for the day from holding additional weight.

“I almost didn’t come in today.  My friend cancelled on me at the last minute.”

“Once you do it the first time it’s nothing after that.  I can usually get out of here in an hour.”

“Is that normal?”

“Everyone is different.  My first time in here took me about two hours.  I have small veins and my iron level was questionable.  Once they find a good vein you’re all set.  I needed to donate today to get money for my electric bill.  Those bastards were going to shut me off for $40.  I had kept all my arrangements until my ex didn’t pay his child support last week.  What about you?”

“Speeding ticket.”

“How fast?”

“About 20 mph over.”

“Did he write you for the whole thing?”

“Actually, he cut me a break only five over.”

“Nice guy.”

“Still over a hundred dollars for the ticket.”

“Ouch.”

“So, you go to school or work?”

“School at Huron University, I was late for practice.”

“You play sports?”

“Basketball, on the women’s team.”

“Nice, I played in grade school but didn’t like practices so I quit, wished I would have kept with it.”

A man in his early twenties walked over to them.  Wearing light blue hospital smocks he had dark wavy hair and brown eyes.  He had strong features with a distinct jawline flashing a bright smile at both of them.

Adjusting his purple latex gloves he took care of Brandi’s neighbor bandaging her arm.

“You’re all set.”

Looking at his tablet he scrolled down stopping at Brandi’s profile.

“Brandi, a very pretty name.  The plasma has been separated from your blood that we borrowed. Now were going to give it back to you.  We use a saline solution mixed in at room temperature so it may be a little cold when it enters back into your arm.”

“Ok.”

She watched as the machine reversed the order of its business returning her blood back thru the large clear tube. Slightly concerned she quickly called out before he got too far away.”

“Hey.  Quick question.”

“Yes?”

“My blood supposed to be that light color?”

“No worries.  Perfectly normal.  I’ll be right back.”

Brandi felt her arm.  It was cold to the touch as the saline mixed cells entered her bloodstream.  The whole process until now felt no different when she donated during the Red Cross Blood drive at her High School during her senior year.  Except the last part of it creeped her out slightly.

Jorje went to a supply closet closing the door behind him. Placing his tablet on a shelf next to a roll of gauze he pulled out his smartphone.  Scrolling to his text group he quickly sent a message.  They had the match that they were looking for.  Jorje was only to target the transients because the odds were in their favor that no one would look for them once they had gone missing. But they were not lasting long enough for the farm.  The homeless were usually unhealthy because of poor diets along with their propensity for drinking heavily.  Brandi Jones was the best candidate that would serve the dual purpose placed before them.  Except for the recent incident almost all of the previous farm donors had been disposed of at a place called Devil’s Lake.

Having gone only once out to the lake to help Jorje vowed to himself he would never go again.  Rowing out to the middle of the waveless lake they dumped the wrapped body over the side of the aluminum boat.  The water greedily drank the corpse into its depths as though it yearned to be fed.  Upon watching something so unnatural Jorje gripped the sides of the boat demanding they row like hell to reach the boat launch. His accomplices for the nights disposal took pleasure in his fear rocking the boat violently.  After the boat scraped the concrete slope on shore Jorje jumped out running to the car refusing to get near the water or help with the boat.

Multiple blank captions appeared before texts began filling Jorje’s screen. 

“You sure a match?”

“Allelle 100% and recessive trait.  Statistical Anomaly.”

“In return process now?”

“Yes”

“Dosage administered?”

Injecting the beta blocker into the saline solution was relatively easy and unnoticeable.  Jorje always carried it on him in case they were lucky enough to get a match.  The mixture caused momentary fainting in its intended victim by slowing down the heartbeat lowering their blood pressure to reach the threshold of a syncopic episode.  A short period of unconsciousness allowed them the opportunity to get their donor through the back doors into the awaiting van.  Time was limited so a coordinated effort was needed in order to succeed.

“All set.  We have just a few minutes until the process is complete.”

“Everything is ready here.  Make sure there are no mistakes.  You need to execute this with perfection understand?”

“I flirted with her a bit so she is relaxed.”

“Parking the van near the door now.”

Watching he last of Jackie’s blood return Jorje powered down the centrifuge with the plasmapheresis process now complete.  Looking into his eyes she smiled shyly.  He slowly withdrew the needle placing a square piece of gauze on top of the wound holding it there applying the right amount of pressure with his thumb. Gently he wrapped just below the bicep area.  Taking her opposite hand he placed it underneath the bandage asking her to elevate it for a moment.

“Ok, Ms. Brandi Jones you are all set.  Your deposit should be in your account.  Remember to go online and schedule another donation in the next 5 to 7 days.”

After standing up something didn’t feel right. Brandi started to perspire feeling very warm.  She remembered reading about a possible effect of donating but had dismissed it entirely.  The room became unsteady as though one side of the floor was pulling her down.  Closing her eyes momentarily to regain her bearings did little good making it worse.  Jorje had started to prep the machine keeping a watchful eye on her the whole time waiting for the exact moment to catch her.  Quickly he moved towards her helping her to a recovery room near the back.  Almost no one had paid any attention to the events that had unfolded.

The back door was opened slightly allowing the natural sunlight in to mix with the artificial.  They placed her inside strapping her down on the gurney and shut the windowless doors.  The black Ford cargo van with its bright green UPC logo drove off with their most valuable donor.

 



The Roman Lee Series ...... Now in paperback and ebook.... Two Great Titles

THE ROMAN LEE SERIES

 

TWO GREAT TITLES

 

 

Enjoy these while I continue writing the third installment of the series.

 

Ned Harris is an Apex Predator and Huron University offers him an ideal landscape in which to stalk his prey. But no one is flawless. His ego has caused him to trespass over a line of perfection and into the crosshairs of Detective Roman Lee.

 

 

Beneath Devil's Lake

 

 

 

 

 

An International Medical Tourism syndicate has found its way inside the city limits of Kirkwood. Roman Lee pursues a trail of evidence uncovering a conspiracy at Memorial Hospital and an organization of unspeakable evil.

 

 

The Harvest Scar

 





The Roman Lee Series "Crimson Rows" A Morning Commute................

THE ROMAN LEE SERIES

 

"CRIMSON ROWS"

 

 

Five

6:30AM

The unmistakable jarring of something heavy hitting the front of the late model Chevrolet Impala caused the windshield to crack in multiple directions.  The same way you would see ice underneath your feet crack if the stress of the weight were too much.  Forty-eight year old Burt Stiles had been laid off for seven month after working at the same electrical company for more than a decade.  His unexpected financial situation had been compounded with problems at the unemployment office.  They had mishandled his claim documents delaying payment causing most of his bills to go further past due.  He pleaded with the water department to avoid shutting off his water which had bought him a little more time. 

His wife of twenty-five years had surprised him with an unexpected pregnancy just a month before.  They had been empty nesters only briefly as their youngest had gone away to college.

This morning was to be a new beginning for him and a path to financial recovery.  He had beaten out several candidates for a position with a new company in a neighboring city.  On his way to the employer he chose to take the rural route instead of the highway.  A small farming community separated Kirkwood from his destination.  The fog was dense resulting in poor visibility.  White waves rolled low to the barren ground climbing over tops of the mounds of unfertile dirt.  Soil samples taken by the EPA had revealed high levels of DDT resulting in the entire small community economy to go belly up.  A few of the residents had remained scattered among the dilapidated barns and outbuildings.

Burt Stiles had only taken his eyes off the road momentarily to find another XM station.  The current one had nothing but politicians yelling over one another about the pharmaceutical companies.  Included in the debate was Michigan’s senator John Royals.

Whatever he hit it was heavy.  Slamming on the brakes caused the vehicle to slide uncontrollably on the moist concrete rendering the anti-lock brake system useless.  Skidding sideways he went into a deep drainage ditch. After the vehicle had come to rest, icy cold water started to pour into the interior.  Smoke also crept thru as the dashboard had been cracked in two.  He needed to get out quickly.

Where was his cell phone?  It had been on the seat next to him when he had reached for the radio.  What in the hell did he hit?  Where did it come from? His wrists hurt something awful from bracing against the steering wheel as his car slammed the bottom of the ditch.  He managed the steep climb to the road despite the pain.

Regaining his bearings he looked up and down both sides of the road for the cause of the impact.  The slight indiscriminate sound of gravel being disturbed on the shoulder near the pavement drew his attention.  Under the scarce light from the moon he could make out a shape pulling itself along the ground about twenty yards away.  Mortally wounded its progress eventually slowed down then stopping altogether.  Burt approached carefully.  His unexpected vacation had found himself occupying his time late at night with science fiction movies and a litany of horror titles.

A truly shocking discovery as he was within range close enough to make out details.  Thin greyish looking skin stretched over a lifeless skeleton.  At first glance it almost looked alien.  But a closer look revealed that it was human after all.  Burt began to tremble as his heart sank.  He had struck and killed someone with his automobile.  Thoughts raced through his mind as his body shook faster.  His family without him while he served how long of a prison sentence?  His wife and newborn living in a shelter because they couldn’t afford the bills.  Staring down he noticed a small patch of uneven hair full of dust and blood sitting atop the sunken profile.  The male appeared to be in his twenties.  He was only wearing a pair of Nike running shorts that had been torn from the accident.  What was he doing out here in the middle of road?  Kirkwood was a few miles back.  Maybe he was a drug addict. 

While Burt stared down pondering his future and possible imprisonment he failed to notice a set of headlights about a quarter mile away.  It had been there ever since he went off into the ditch.  Slowly it backed away extinguishing its beams before turning around to head in the opposite direction.   The owner inside let go of the slide on his 9mm Beretta stopping just short of chambering a deadly round.  The glow of a cell phone light stayed on for a about a minute or so and then it was gone.

Traveling the same direction he had been headed earlier a truck stopped to offer assistance.  The smell of diesel exhaust was a welcomed interruption from his thoughts.  A window powered down.

“You ok?”

The voice was deep and direct.

“Yeah, I’m alright I guess.”

The trucks high beams flashed toward the side of the road.

“And him?”

“Not so fortunate I’m afraid.”

“I called for a tow when I saw your car down there in the ditch.  I’ll text 911 the location also for the body.”

A sheriff’s deputy arrived minutes before the ambulance.  The spotlight from his squad car illuminated the gravel shoulder on the road displaying Burt’s mortal sin.  The deputy was in his late thirties slightly overweight with a recent tan indicating he had just returned from vacationing in a warm climate.

“You the one that called it in?”

He was shining his flashlight at Burt.  The sudden brightness causing his pupils to try and adjust so he could see.  Why in the hell did they always shine the light in the eyes?

“No, the truck over there…… did.”

The stranger who had placed the necessary calls for assistance was gone.

“Have you consumed any alcohol in the last few hours Mr. Stiles?”

He had a couple of beers last night before going to bed while watching the London Knights take on Detroit.  But that would have been digested and metabolized by now.

“No sir I have not.”

“Ok, I need you to have seat in the back of the car while I get a blanket for our friend over there.”

He opened the back door.  The back seat was cramped with little leg room.  A small consolation was that the deputy left the car running with the heater on.  The trunk lid opened and shut causing the vehicle to move slightly.  Burt watched as the deputy walked over to where the body rested placing a blanket over it.  He returned to the car and flipped on the interior dome lighting.

Watching the deputy log on to his mounted laptop he began the interview right there.  He asked him about the speed at which he was traveling and the direction.  The purpose for being out so early in the morning.  He noted the weather conditions including the thick fog that was beginning to dissipate now as hints of daylight nudged its way into the dawn hours.  Noting the road conditions, he filled out the vehicle information.  Burt was surprised at the amount of information that populated in the fields on the deputy’s screen.   His personal information along with relatives addresses.  Lastly came the narrative.

“Mr. Stiles, so you were driving to the new job this morning.  What happened?”

“I was headed to my new job.  I reached to change the station on my XM radio and something smacked into my windshield.  Naturally I pressed firmly down on the brakes.”

“Causing you to lose control of your vehicle.”

“I didn’t know what I hit.  It could have been a deer or something.”

“So, your stating you didn’t see him before you struck him with your car.”

“Correct, I did not see him.”

The red flashing lights from the EMT’s were approaching less the siren.

“Do you need medical attention Mr. Stiles?”

“My wrists are sore is all.”

The deputy finished his report.  He printed a copy for himself.  Taking a pen from his shirt pocket he wrote the incident number down on a business card and handed it back through a small slot in the reinforced glass partition.

 

“Our office will be contacting you regarding the accident.  You will be free to go after they remove the body and the tow truck collects your car from the ditch.”

The deputy powered down his window as one of the EMT’s approached the drivers side.

“Your counties Medical Examiner is on vacation from what we were just told.  We are taking the body to Dr. Nyguen’s office in Kirkwood.”

“That’s fine I’ll amend my report later.  Any ideas about his condition before he got hit?”

“Never seen anything like it.  One of his arms has puncture wounds like he has been shooting up for quite a while.  But his skin is such an odd color.”

The tow truck finally arrived to pull his vehicle from the deep drainage ditch.  He rode with the driver back to Kirkwood in silence and grateful he wasn’t in custody.



The Roman Lee Series "Crimson Rows" Trouble at Tribeca .................................

THE ROMAN LEE SERIES

 

"CRIMSON ROWS"

 

 

Twenty-four

12:00PM

The lunch crowd left Tribeca Coney Island packed.  A table in the rear section of Canal Street opened up which was quickly cleared and wiped down.  Saul Anagnostopolous owned Tribeca’s and was a proud New York transplant.  He looked eager to seat us.  Lonnie was just about his favorite customer.

On his wall of memorabilia was a more recent picture of Derek Jeter.  Saul noticed me looking at it.

“That was his last bat as a Yankee.  The Captain autographed it for me.”

“How are they doing without him now?”

“Not worth a shit if you ask me.  Never going to find another like him.  But enough of that you guys must be starving.  Your table is ready.”

I peered over the menu.  Lonnie sat studying his for a moment.  I never understood why because he always ordered the same thing.  The house special which was two of their infamous Coney dogs with fries.  Flipping the plastic list back over I was pleased to finally see a heart healthy section that I could choose from.

“You two started thinking about names for the little one?”

“We did but it’s difficult.  You each suggest one and neither agrees because of some association in your life that you instantly remember as not being so wonderful.  Monica and I went back and forth a few times like that until we agreed to stop for now.  Maybe look at a different approach by going through our past family names.

“She may be on to something there.  Gordon is not a bad name if you ask me.”

“My Father’s name?”

“If it’s a boy of course.”

“It still haunts me Lonnie.  That son of a bitch that killed him still out there somewhere.  I was a world away and nothing I could do.  I glance at his file every chance I get reexamining the notes.

  “I know it does.  It’s one of the cold cases we never solved.  Chief Maxwell know you have the file?”

“I think he suspects I do but he hasn’t said anything.  Been in my drawer ever since I made Detective.  I have a rebuilt file at home.  I copied everything.  The earth is going to shrink under that bastard’s feet because I will find him.”

“I’m sorry Roman, your Dad was a good man.  That’s why I suggested the name, I didn’t mean for it to bring that out in you.”

“I know it’s just..”

There was an explosion and screaming.  The crashes of dishes breaking the rhythm of the ordinary sounds of the restaurant.  Two men with shotguns had entered the front door.  Both had dark ski masks covering their faces.  Each had thick coats with gloved hands and combat boots.  One was standing at the front of the entrance blocking it having locked the door behind him.  The other was already at the cash register trying to open it so he could clean it out.  Most of the patrons huddled together in the booths or were on the floor under tables.

The doorman checked his watch.

“Three minutes.”

“I can’t get this fucking thing opened.”

“We’re not leaving empty handed.”

“Everyone wallets, keys and cellphones on the tables now!  I see anyone texting or making a call I’ll fucking drop you right where you sit.”

“We don’t have much time.  Grab all you can get.”

“Two minutes.”

Lonnie was facing me with his back to the pair that had violently taken over his beloved place to eat.

“What do you think?  We have a chance without anyone getting hurt?”

“Everything’s timed, must be a third out there waiting with a car.”

“I can’t see shit Roman, we have a shot or not?”

“He’s going to have to do something with that barrel when he tries to retrieve what we put on the table.  You grab it and him.  I’m already out with the safety off.”

“You sure?”

“I hate assholes like this Lonnie.  Always fear with these guys.  I’d like to just take the gun and beat the fuck out of him with it.”

“In a perfect world.”

“Here he comes get ready.”

“This is all you two bitches have between you.  A wallet with a couple of bucks?

Time slowed considerably being processed frame by frame.  Lonnie grabbed the barrel of the shot gun pressing it down using it as leverage to swing him through the double doors and into the kitchen.  Saul’s staff eagerly jumped on him.  The doorman quickly realized what had happened.  Racking a shell, he was bringing it down to aim in my direction.  My first shot from the 9mm hit him in the shoulder causing him to lose his grip on the weapon but not before it discharged striking the counter grazing Saul.  The next three reports were grouped center mass.  None penetrated because they were absorbed by a bullet proof vest.  Staggering backward using the other hand he unlocked the door.  He started pulling something from his jacket.  Sprinting with everything I had lowering my shoulder I hit him before he could draw.  We knocked the glass door off its hinges as we spilled out into the parking lot.  His sidearm clattered and bounced on the pavement.  He tried to get up but could not push himself up with the wounded shoulder.  I quickly dropkicked him in the face spraying blood spilling teeth.

“You picked the wrong day motherfucker.  Assholes like you don’t deserve to breathe air.”

I was blinded by rage in the moment.  Lifting him off the ground with his feet dragging behind him running towards a parked car.  I was going to bury him in the grille.  Typically, a lookout who senses danger will flee the scene.  Unfortunately, theirs didn’t see it that way.  A screeching of tires behind me along with an accelerated engine jumped the curb barreling towards us.  I jumped onto the hood but was thrown off from the impact instantly.  Hitting the cement flush it felt like I fell from a high-rise building.  The driver was out now trying to get his wounded accomplice to safety.  Seeing me standing once more the driver pulled out a tech nine.  Eight rapid shots in succession ripped through the air none of which came from him.  This time the center mass grouping tore open small crimson holes causing the victim of the ballistic violence to slump down to the ground convulsing in the final moments of their life.

Lonnie Temple had saved my life.  Then everything grew dark as if someone was blocking out the sun.  All I could see were pinpoints of light then nothing.

 



The Roman Lee Series "The Harvest Scar" Bora Bora........

THE ROMAN LEE SERIES

 

"THE HARVEST SCAR"

 

 

 

 

The gentle ocean breeze had breached our bungalow with a hint of sea salt.  I woke hearing the small waves clapping underneath us.  Bora Bora and St. Regis were Monica’s idea.  We had spent the last two weeks on the island resort doing any and everything it could offer.  Our last night had been spent at a five-star restaurant followed with a trip to a local club.  We had to be to the airport by 1:00 PM to catch our flight to Atlanta.  I slipped out of bed accidentally pulling the sheets from Monica’s beautifully toned body.  The Pacific sun had turned her skin into a beautiful bronze color with only a hint of a tan line. Foreigners were constantly snapping pics of her with their phones and even asking for selfies because they thought she was a model from the United States.  I covered her back up and kissed her gently on the cheek.  The stationary on the wooden desk had not been touched until now.  I left her a quick note indicating I was going for a run before breakfast.  Walking down the wooden dock I reached the white sand that was the perfect temperature for running barefoot.  The bartender on the beach was busy stocking his station prior to the day starting. He looked surprised when I asked for bottled water. 

“This your last day on the Island with us sir?”

“Good guess you’re very intuitive.” 

We both laughed quietly.  I took two bottles of water and drank the first saving the second for my run.  I had texted Donnie and Shariff back home and sent them a couple of pics of Monica and I on the Island.  They had replied that they could not wait until I got back home so we could continue our pickup games in the morning at the local YMCA.  They also added that I should at least try and run a little because they did not plan on displaying any mercy on the court.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I ran a few miles on the smooth surface of the sand.   Walking into the bungalow I could hear the shower running.  Slipping into the bathroom not trying to make a sound hoping that the running water would cover any peripheral noise I was instantly made. 

“Roman Lee were you trying to sneak into the shower with me?” 

I threw my clothes on the tiled floor and stepped in behind Monica. 

 

 



The Roman Lee Series "Crimson Rows" Another glimpse of my upcoming Novel

THE ROMAN LEE SERIES

 

"CRIMSON ROWS"

 

 

Four

6:00AM

The human like screams were still unsettling although he was growing accustomed to them.  But these were quite different.  Unlike anything he had ever heard before.  Jonas Paez looked out of his large glass window from the top floor.  A troop of marauding chimpanzees had made a surprising invasion during the early morning hours upon their neighbors.  Small trees shook violently as branches cracked loudly taking their bright green leaves with them as dark hairy bodies fell to the ground.  After a ferocious battle, it had ended.  Almost as if the entire ecosystem waited on the outcome from the confrontation nothing moved in the jungle until a winner was declared among its new residents.  When it was over the sounds within the dense foliage of the Amazon along its vast river resumed its harmonious symphony.

The two troops of chimps had been purchased from a sanctuary back in Africa.  They were later shipped to Jonas when he first arrived some time ago, having been kept in separate designed enclosures during their captivity.  Careless attendants combined with their problem-solving ability led to an almost easy predictable escape.  Dr. Jonas Paez sometimes thought about the impact they were having outside the perimeter. 

Caution was a must now when taking the deliveries by drone.  He had caught the alpha male of the troop staring at him one morning as he sipped coffee in his enclosed balcony.  The simian was standing atop a branch high above the jungle floor.  Their climbing abilities were endless.  So was their adaptation to their new surroundings. Strangely neither troop ventured far from the building and its grounds.  They had decided to stay close.  Although unable to collect a sample neither troop appeared to display any signs of affliction.

They had tried to capture one of the smaller members with a dart gun a while back.  When they missed, the alpha male attacked with blinding speed.  The hunting guide had been dragged some thirty yards.  A few others pounced on him tearing his genitals apart with their huge teeth. His left foot was shredded as though he hadn’t worn any boots. The skin on his face folded over on top of his bloody skull.  The fatal attack lasted less than three minutes.   No one contemplated a rescue as it was imminent suicide.  The relentless viciousness of it all.  It felt pointed and personal.  Eventually, automatic weapons were brought in and the reports of gunfire kept them at bay.

The new residents of his building seemed to be adapting well.  Dr. Jonas Paez wanted to get an early start this morning.  He was expecting a shipment of much needed supplies later in the day.  On top of this he needed to respond to some emails that he had received yesterday but purposely neglected because he didn’t have an answer.

 

 



The Roman Lee Series "Crimson Rows" A second bite victim..........................

THE ROMAN LEE SERIES

 

"CRIMSON ROWS"

 

 

Eighteen

8:30AM

Dr. Marlene Scott leaned against the door frame with her shoulder and arms crossed staring into the room.  The machinery had been removed several hours ago along with the bedding.  Riley Olk was not coming out of the coma and was being sent to another facility.  Two more cases had already been confirmed now with the possibility of a few more since her admission. 

She had been up most of the night on the Internet reading every article she could find regarding Tambo.  Having maintained her NEJM subscription through medical school they along with the CDC & WHO had the best up to date information about Tambo and others.  The Zika virus was similar in some ways like this strain of Tambo.  Zika had virtually lied in obscurity for seventy plus years before jumping continents.  A lone rhesus monkey left alone in the forest of Uganda was the first documented case.  Tambo had had lied dormant for a very long time.  The first victim was actually a curator of a South American museum who handled the bits of the broken vodka bottle from the diamond mine.  The pathogen was thought to have entered his bloodstream from a small cut on his hand.  But these findings bore entirely different traits compared to the strain that they were seeing now.  It was almost as if nature had a personal vendetta against the species targeting young children and expectant mothers.  She remembered a lecture specifically related to viruses back in school.  At some point in time they should not be surprised to be introduced to transmitted diseases showing up around parts of the world where they were normally not expected.  The explanation was entirely plausible given climate change and the globalization of economies.  It wasn’t uncommon to find a case now and again of dengue fever in Denmark or other vector-transmitted viruses.  Still something didn’t seem right.  Her phone buzzed in her pocket.  She was being paged again down the hall for a second time.   Keeping mental notes of her observations as well as a separate chart on her laptop Dr. Marlene Scott had planned on emailing a contact at both the CDC and WHO later after her shift ended.

She walked to the end of the hallway stopping at the last room on the right-hand side across from the nurse’s lounge.  Someone was leaning back on the couch trying to catch the light at the best angle for a selfie.  It was a reminder to her of how little of a social life some had while immersed in their work while others thought of it as merely a paycheck.  Her eighteen- year old patient was standing beside the bed when she entered.   A colorful artwork of tattoos traversed her arms from the sleeveless blue hospital gown. Marlene had read the notes on her chart early in the morning while sipping on a hot cup of green tea in the cafeteria.   She had only been in her first trimester.  The patient had complained about abnormal pains at about a six on the pain scale.  Describing them as almost menstrual like from her front lower abdominal area ending behind her kidneys.   A few short hours later brought severe hemorrhaging and termination of the pregnancy. Her patient looked pale from the loss of iron almost anemic.

“You may want to lay down.  The amount of blood loss you suffered can bring dizziness almost immediately.”

“I’m tired of lying down.  “I’m sick of being poked and prodded like some animal.  Every fifteen minutes there is someone else in the room.  Honestly, I just want to go home with my boyfriend.”

“I have to make sure that you are well enough.  I’m not going to grant a discharge if I think otherwise.  But I understand your situation.  Trust everyone that comes through those doors has your best interest in mind.”

“You think I would get more rest if that were the case.”

“I know it is a difficult time right now but I wanted to ask you just a few questions if you don’t mind.”

“Ok, if that will get me out of here any quicker.”

“If you would at least sit down I would feel much better.”

Dr. Marlene Scott’s patient begrudgingly went and sat in the chair next to a window with her arms folded.  Pulling the cable from her cellphone content that it was fully charged she began to text a message half listening.

“This your first time being pregnant?”

“Yes, it was a complete accident though.  I missed a day taking a pill.  I really didn’t think it would have mattered.”

“Do you remember what you were doing just prior to coming into the emergency room?”

“My boyfriend surprised me after work and took me to a park for a picnic.”

“We barbecued and he brought some food from the deli where he works.  After that we went on a walk looking at one of those play areas for kids.  The bugs were kind of bad so we turned around to go back to the car.”

“You were bit by mosquitoes?”

“Just a couple of times near my elbow and the back of my arm.  It itched something awful.”

“How long was it after being bit did you start to notice any differences in the way you felt physically?”

“I dunno maybe the following night.  It felt like I was having my period again but I knew that couldn’t be it.”

“Did you have any other symptoms perhaps a fever or the chills?”

“I felt warm but I feel like that right before my cramping starts usually.”

Marlene was quickly writing notes in an attempt to catch every detail.  Was it possible that the virus lowered the levels of estrogen in pregnant women that quickly to affect an imbedded embryo in the uterine lining?  The thought of it alone was frightening if it were even possible.  This was the first pregnancy confirmed to have been compromised by the Tambo virus.  It was not even probable to draw such a conclusion.  There would have to be other pregnant women infected with the virus suffer the same symptoms.  Dr. Marlene Scott did not want to think about those prospects under any terms.  With any luck the CDC would have more definitive answers and the mosquito abatement department would bring the population quickly under control.  She had already heard the trucks out late at night spraying in her neighborhood.

Regardless of the information that had been shared at the first meeting her curiosity had been piqued now.  Dr. Marlene Scott ordered additional blood work going against protocol she was going to send the samples to a different lab.  One that she was familiar with because it was owned by someone she knew.  As she exited the room making a left to walk back down the hallway she quickly sent a text.