Cari Tunlyle walked up to the gate attendant with her press pass. She liked getting to cover her newspaper’s university sports section. It was fun to meet the athletes, and she never had to pay admission because of her press pass. She had started to develop a good working relationship with AD Whitham too. He always gave her advance notice if there was going to be a new athlete that she should follow. Today, she was hoping to get a good view of a new hurdler named, she flipped through her notes—Stephen Ithaca. He was a true freshman that had some good success during the indoor track season. Cari hadn’t gone to any of those meets as her boss preferred she cover the basketball games instead. They had an aspiring student reporter that wrote the copy for the indoor track meets.
Ithaca was expected to win both of the men’s hurdles events today. Whitham had hinted that they might throw him into a relay or two, at least that’s what Whitham had heard from the track coach. Maybe Cari could snag an interview with him too. She made her way up the stadium steps to scope out the track. Her press pass gave her access to the field too, in case she wanted to take photos. She thought she could get a better one of him from the front row of the stands though. She unfolded her bleacher seat and sat down with her camera bag and notebook, excited for the events to begin.
Cari had wanted to work for a newspaper for as long as she could remember. As a child she would interview her extended family members over the phone and write up articles using her grandmother’s old typewriter whenever she went over to pay her a visit. It wasn’t just about sharing information; it was sharing the heart of the story with her readers. In middle school, she had petitioned her English teacher repeatedly until she let her start a quarterly newsletter for the school. The first year, she had put the entire thing together on her own, but by eighth grade, they had created a journalism club for the sole purpose of learning about creating and editing a newsletter. The editor of their local paper had even come to a few of their meetings, encouraging the aspiring writers to stick with their dreams.
Cari’s grandmother always encouraged her to reach for the stars. Of all of her family members, Cari was closest to her grandmother. In college, she had received handwritten letters from her grandmother every week. She still called and talked to her on the phone at least once a week, if not more often. Her grandmother was so proud of Cari’s success in the journalism world and told all of her friends about Cari’s writing. She even subscribed to the Brenington Beagle so she could see Cari’s article every week. Cari fingered the delicate, gold locket around her neck. Grandmother had given it to her when she graduated from high school. It had a photo of the two of them smiling next to some sunflowers from when Cari was a child. She wore the necklace every day and was always double-checking that it was still there.
Cari was still relatively new at the Brenington Beagle, but her dreams of having a front-page byline had not diminished in the slightest. She knew what it took to get there and was committed to putting in the time. Her parents were always asking if she had made any friends or if she was dating anyone new. Anyone new? She didn’t have time to date anyone period. This was her first real job with a real newspaper. She had gotten up early the day her first article was printed and rushed to the newsstand down the street to buy a copy. She knew it was probably over the top, but she had plastered selfies on her Instagram feed with her article up by her face. Eventually, she carefully cut her article from the newspaper and had it professionally framed. It hung on the wall in her apartment.
Her parents were constantly worried about whether Cari was living a well-rounded life. Was she going to church? Was she eating healthy? Was she making time for friends? Was she ever going to settle down and get married? She sighed to herself. There was plenty of time to do all of those things later. Besides, she had friends. Just because she didn’t go out with people every weekend, didn’t mean that she didn’t have any friends. It has been a while since I’ve said yes to a ladies’ night out. She tried to remember when the last time someone had called to invite her out for drinks or a movie. She had gone to that work happy hour last week with her co-workers, even if she had left early to read up on the next week’s match ups in the sports arena. She wanted to get a head start on her research, and it had paid off, right? She was front and center for the track meet right now. Cari knew her editor was going to be impressed with her efforts today.
* * * * * * * * * *
Stephen Ithaca walked hand in hand with his girlfriend, Marjorie Pryor. They were both freshmen and had been dating for two years. He was so glad she decided to follow him to this university even though she didn’t make the track team. They had both run the hurdles in high school, but Stephen had always seen more success. Marjorie probably could have competed at a smaller school, but she wanted him to have this opportunity, and she wanted to be with him too.
“I can’t believe the first meet is today! I’m so excited to watch you run again, Stephen.” Marjorie exclaimed, squeezing his hand.
“Thanks. I really appreciate your support. It’s going to be pretty incredible to run against some of the guys from these other schools. I hope I can keep up.” His brown eyes held a look of determination. Marjorie recognized it as his in the zone look. As his start time drew near, he’d gradually zone out of the world around him and focus on performing his best.
“Keep up? You’re going to blow them all away. You had a great indoor season. I wouldn’t expect outdoor to be any different.” She nudged him with her shoulder playfully.
“I don’t want to be over-confident. You never know when your rhythm might get off and before you know it, you’ve clipped a hurdle and fallen out of contention.”
“I know. I know. But that never happens to you. You’re gonna be great! I’ll be in the stands cheering you on the whole time.” She squeezed his hand and let go. They had reached the outside of the men’s locker room and had to part ways.
“Love you, babe.”
“Love you too.”
Marjorie pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She was a little jealous of Stephen getting to run hurdles in college. She loved competing but was happy for him too. He had gotten even better since joining the college team. She knew his practices were longer and more intense than theirs had been in high school, not to mention the extra time in the weight room and with a personal trainer. Plus, he had told her that the university’s sports medicine doctor had given him a nutritional supplement that was supposed to maximize his power. When Marjorie had expressed concern, he had dismissed it. “A doctor swears to do no harm, right, Marj?” He’d asked her. He promised her it wasn’t a steroid; it was just a protein powder. Still, she wasn’t sure she would trust it, especially since he’d also told her not to talk about it to anyone else. It was just an edge to help them up their performance. Sounds a lot like steroids to me, Marjorie thought.
She found her way to the stadium entrance and showed the gate attendant her student ID. The attendant was obviously an athlete from a different sport that got stuck checking ID cards. She gave him a dollar for her entrance fee and then walked up the steps to find a seat. She wanted to be near the finish line, along the last hundred meters of the race, so that she could cheer Stephen on to victory. There was a young woman with curly chestnut hair and a big camera bag on the front row already. She must be one of the press people—she was in good shape and very pretty. She flashed a bright smile at Marjorie as she slipped past her and sat on the edge of the stadium nearest the finish line.
It looked like the running events were going to start soon. She saw the starter walking towards the line and talking on a radio of some sort. The field events were already underway: the women’s high jump was still going as well as the triple jump and pole vault. For late February, it was really a beautiful day. There was a slight breeze that kept lifting her hair back out from behind her ear. She had wavy red hair that she usually kept pulled back in a pony tail, minus that one pesky strand. Her blue-grey eyes squinted in the sunlight. She grabbed her bag and rooted around until she found her sunglasses. Now, she was ready to watch.
* * * * * * * * * *
Stephen tried to shake out his nerves as he warmed up in the infield. He had already made it to the finals in the 110m high hurdles, so now he was focusing on following suit in the men’s 400-meter intermediate hurdles. The latter was a stronger event for him; he had more stamina to go with his speed. Plus, it seemed like that nutritional supplement was really making him faster. He had asked Dr. D. a lot of questions about it before agreeing to take it. Dr. D. said it was like hitting the mute button on your muscles when they started to scream that you needed to stop. They just got another boost of energy. He heard the announcer call for the men’s 400-meter hurdle entries to make their way to the starting line. It was go time.
Before he knew it, he was lined up in the blocks and listening for the starter to say the call signals. The starter gun went off, and Stephen shot out of the blocks towards the curve and the first hurdle. He was in lane four, which was supposed to be the best place to start. As they made their way down the back stretch, he could tell he was ahead of the other runners, even though they still had another curve to pass. He rounded the curve to the final straightaway and kept his speed steady. Barring a catastrophe, he should easily qualify for the finals now. He had two hurdles left. He focused on counting his steps: one, two, three, kick, one, two, three—
“STEPHEN!” Marjorie shouted from the stands as she watched Stephen collapse onto the last hurdle. He’d been running steady and was well ahead of the other hurdlers when suddenly he went slack and just fell down. The crowd gasped, thinking he tripped on the hurdle, but Marjorie had seen his face. His eyes had rolled back into his head before he went down. She knew at best, Stephen was unconscious. She grabbed her bag and ran towards the stadium steps, but the attendants wouldn’t let her onto the track. With tears streaming down her face, she begged them.
“Please, that’s my boyfriend who fell. Please, he’s not okay. Just let me see him.” She struggled to see around them, pleading with her eyes as they held her back.
She watched in horror as the team trainer ran onto the track and tried to get Stephen to wake up, but he didn’t respond. She saw him check for a pulse, and then he was shouting, but Marjorie couldn’t see or hear anything anymore. She knew Stephen was gone. Something very terrible had just happened.
* * * * * * * * * *
John paced the floor outside of Coach Whitham’s office. He was in a meeting with two of the track coaches and they hadn’t thought to invite John to join them. He really needed to talk to Whitham! His office door had a small window, making it challenging to stand and try to listen to the conversation. Besides, John didn’t feel like standing still.
He had gasped along with the rest of the spectators when Ithaca hit the track. He vaguely remembered hearing a girl scream right before he saw Ithaca go down. The EMTs had rushed over and tried to do CPR, but it was no use; the kid was gone. Many people were speculating that he must have had an unknown condition, an enlarged heart or something like that. It hadn’t been in his medical history! Finally, the door to Whitham’s office opened, and the coaches started to file out. Their faces looked as shocked as John felt. Whitham motioned for John to enter and closed the door behind him.
“What did the coaches say?”
“Well, you know the kid’s parents were not here. They said that his girlfriend had to call them. I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. Heartbreaking from the sounds of it. The coaches said that the EMTs are guessing he had that hyper-whatever cardio thing.”
“Hypertrophic Cardio Myopathy?”
“HCM. Yep, that must be it. I have no idea what that means. They said that people are usually screened for it already at this point in their careers, but you just never know.” He paused when his office phone rang.
“Coach Whitham speaking. Yes. Yes. Okay. I understand. Thank you for calling.” He put the phone down and turned back to John. “That was the medical examiner at the hospital. They won’t do an autopsy unless the parents request it, but they did get an image of his heart.”
“And?” John prodded.
“They said that it might have been slightly larger than it should be, but it wouldn’t have warranted restrictions for competing, according to the ME.”
John sighed. “I think we need to hit pause on the program until we know more.”
“What?! Why? They won’t detect it in his system. Hell, it’s almost been a month since the last dose, right?”
“I’m not worried about getting in trouble, Whitham. I’m worried about causing harm to these kids. My friend was right; this is too much for the human system.”
“Hold on, now. Let’s not rush any decisions yet. When is the next dose day?”
“Today, they’re supposed to come by in half hour shifts, you know, so they don’t run into each other. I’ll just message them and say it’s on hold. It won’t be a problem.”
“I don’t like this, John. Some of these kids have been in the program for two years already. If they were going to have a problem, we would have seen it by now.”
“I can’t continue it until I know what happened with Ithaca.”
“We may never know! What if his parents don’t want an autopsy?!”
“I’m sorry, Whitham, but I can’t risk it. I just wanted to help get this athletic department back on track. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. He DIED, Curtis. I should have listened to my friend. This is all my fault.” He turned and walked out of the office without waiting for the coach to reply.
John shook his head as he walked back to his office. He couldn’t believe that he might be responsible for Ithaca’s death. He replayed the race over in his mind, this time hearing the girl scream as Ithaca crashed down to the track. He hadn’t even realized that the young man had a girlfriend. He had been too focused on making better athletes. What a mess he’d made.
He opened his office door and then locked it behind him. He didn’t want anyone disturbing him for the time being. He pulled up the app that sent separate messages to each of the athletes in the program. Scrolling down slowly through the short list of names, he found Stephen Ithaca and started to remove him from the list, but figured it could wait. Instead, he opened up a new blind message to go out to the group but clicked the little ‘x’ next to Ithaca’s name, removing him from that message. Then he sent the message to the others that there would be no pick up today. The program was on hold. If you had a question, you could come by the following morning to discuss it. He closed the app before he got bombarded with questions from the other eight.
John kept the container of powder locked in the bottom drawer of his desk. He decided to take it home with him for now. He didn’t want anyone to break in to get it or show up and demand it from him. Almost no one at work knew where he lived, so it would be safer at home. He stuffed it into his gym bag and zipped it closed. There was no point in staying here any longer. He was mentally and emotionally exhausted. He grabbed his keys and left the office, locking it behind him.