The Search for the Last Flower – (Part 9)
“Your body has had some sort of reaction to the anti-aging elixir.”
Dr. Smith shook his head. “No––it can’t be.”
“Certain molecules from the synthetic solution have bonded to your white blood cells, reducing their ability to engulf and destroy bacteria.” Caleb’s voice was brittle.
“So my immune system is shutting down.” Dr. Smith pounded on his head with both fists. “Soon my body will be invaded by all sorts of bacteria, microbes, parasites . . . I’m already suffering the symptoms of bacterial, viral, and fungal infections.”
Caleb covered his eyes with his hands. He shook and convulsed in anguish. “This is my fault! I should have done more tests. I should––”
“Stop!” Dr. Smith groaned and went into a coughing fit. “You know you’re not to blame. I, and I alone, decided to take the elixir before the proper tests were done. The question is, what are you going to do to resolve this problem?”
“As soon as I saw the results of your blood tests, I made some phone calls. The anti-aging elixir is in the process of being recalled, and a notice will be sent out by the CDC to pharmacies and all patients in their database. I’ve already posted a notice on our website and social media accounts.” Caleb’s pulse was racing. “There’s also a television commercial that will run every half hour, asking everyone who had bought or used the elixir to go to designated areas in their state established by the CDC to get labs and tissue samples done. I think we can contain this, but––” Caleb broke down again. “There isn’t much we can do for those already showing symptoms of microorganism invasion.” Caleb took his glasses off, cleaned the foggy lenses with his t-shirt, and put them back on.
“So I only have a few hours left. It won’t be much longer before the organisms completely dismantle my body and take it away until all that’s left is my skeleton.” Dr. Smith closed his eyes briefly and shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t want to wait for that to happen, but before I go, I want to feel the warmth of a woman’s body next to mine.”
Caleb’s face contorted in shock and revulsion. Microbes must have ravaged his father’s mind.
“Call somebody for me,” Dr. Smith pleaded. “It must be done quickly. I don’t know how much longer I will be lucid.”
“I don’t think you’re in your right mind any longer.” Anguish was etched on Caleb’s face.
Dr. Smith frowned. “You will not give a dying man his last wish?”
Caleb bit his lower lip.
“You don’t think I’m suffering enough? Dr. Smith cough and his lips became red with blood. “Bring me a woman while I can still see her!”
His large blue irises were now an opaque purplish hue with yellowing of the outer rims. The whites of his eyes were bright red due to the engorged blood vessels within. A cloudy film covered the eyes. His face was a purplish color with black dead patches marred by tears in the skin, which was shiny due to the oozing of infectious fluid, which mingled with the blood seeping from his mouth, nose, tear ducts, and ears.
Caleb stared at him, his stomach churned, and he retched again and again. He tried to contain his feelings of disgust. This was the only father he’d ever known. He vomited a little in his mouth and swallowing it back down only made him more nauseous. He ran to the toilet, put the seat up, fell to his knees and vomited his last meal.
He got to his feet feeling lightheaded, grabbed a wad of toilet paper and wiped his mouth. He walked back into his father’s bedroom. “I can call a dozen women, but what makes you think any woman would stay after taking one look at you?”
“If you pay them enough, they’ll stay,” he said, each word a gasp.
Caleb narrowed his eyes. “You are infectious. You could make the woman sick.”
“I simply want to feel her close to me. Please grant me this final wish.” Dr. Smith went into another coughing fit.
Caleb winced and jumped back.
“In my iPhone, in the Notes app, under friends, you will find a list of women. Call any woman on the list and tell her to come now.” Dr. Smith’s croaky voice sounded creepier by the minute. His face had become as black as the iPhone he pointed to on his night table.
Caleb inched by him to pick up the phone. His father no longer smelled human. He smelled like a dumpster filled with dead flowers. Caleb cringed––his thoughts embarrassed him. He picked up the phone and looked through it. He found the list of women––his father’s friends. Who would he subject to this horror?
“Mary Anderson, Patricia Jones, Elizabeth García, Barbara Thomas . . .” Caleb said under his breath. “I don’t know who to call.”
“Hurry!” Dr. Smith began to wheeze. Caleb touched a woman’s name, Lolita Jackson, and the phone dialed her number. When a sweet voice answered, Caleb almost dropped the phone.
“Dr. Smith?” Lolita asked. “Is that you?”
“No, this is his son, Caleb.”
“Oh! He has spoken often of you. How can I be of service to you?”
“Me? No––no, not me. My father needs you.” Caleb’s lips quivered. “Can you come over right away?”
“Yes, of course. Anything for Dr. Smith.”
Ten minutes later Lolita was knocking on Dr. Smith’s door. Caleb opened the door to find a petite blonde with large celery green eyes that looked like they had seen a lifetime, but could only have seen a fraction.
“Hello, my name is Lolita. You must be Caleb.”
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you.” Caleb cleared his throat and pushed the rim of his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Are you old enough to be doing this?”
Lolita laughed. “I get that a lot. Yes, I’m twenty-three years old and totally legal. Where’s your dad?”
“Um, before you go to him, I have to warn you––he’s a bit under the weather, and his appearance is a bit, um, ah––he doesn’t look like himself.”
Lolita giggled. “Who does he look like, then?” She waved her hand dismissingly and went to Dr. Smith’s bedroom.
Copyright © 2014 by Vashti Quiroz-Vega. All rights reserved.
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