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1998
“We’re leaving for the park, honey. Be back in a couple hours,” Steven called from the front door. There was no response from the upstairs bedroom where Serena lay resting. He debated going up and checking on her again, as he had off and on the entire morning, but decided against it. She might insist on coming with them, and that would never do. The bi-monthly visit to the park was just a ruse. Their true destination today, as every other Saturday, was Howard Pharmaceuticals. For three straight years he’d brought Zander to the company lab for an injection of SensilineU40. Since Serena hated clinics and doctors, she was happy to let him take the baby for his scheduled appointments, and when those excuses began to wear thin, it became the park in summer and the Mall of America or the Minnesota Zoo in winter.
“Come on, bud,” he said, taking his son’s hand. “Let’s go for a ride.”
“Is Mommy sick? She has owie head?” Zander asked, his eyes wide with worry.
“Mommy will feel better after she takes a nap,” Steven promised, but doubts flooded his mind. Serena was sleeping a lot lately, and it wasn’t improving her mood. He didn’t understand what took her down that dark road again. He’d done everything he could think of to make her happy. She had Zander now; what more could she want?
The drive downtown was easy on a light traffic day. Zander usually chattered non-stop in the car, pointing out big trucks or police cars, but he seemed to know when they were going to Howard Pharmaceutical, and was silent, his eyes round and worried, his lower lip sucked in and held with his tiny top teeth.
Steven pulled into his private parking space and shut off the engine. He glanced in the rearview mirror before unbuckling. “It’s all right, bud. This won’t take long and then we really will go to the park and play. I promise.”
Zander stuck his thumb in his mouth and looked out the side window.
The Howard Pharmaceutical building spread out over ten acres, surrounded by manicured lawns dotted by young elm trees and landscaped with rocky-edged flowering gardens and brick-red pathways winding throughout. The glass and concrete facade rose up three stories, a modern edifice of ingenuity and wealth.
Steven and Zander entered through the front doors. There was a guard on duty twenty-four hours a day. Once inside, the sound of splashing water from the huge fountain in the middle of the vaulted lobby drew Zander’s attention. He ran ahead and stopped just short of the rail that kept folks back at a safe distance, his face turned up to watch for the burst of water that would soon shoot thirty feet into the air, as it did every sixty seconds. Steven followed his son across the marble floor, the clacking of their shoes echoing with eagerness. He nodded at the security guard manning the front desk. His hands came to rest on Zander’s shoulders and together they watched the powerful spray shoot toward the ceiling. Zander squeezed his hands tightly at his sides, his little body tense with excitement. He looked up at his father and grinned, then waited for the water pressure to build again. Steven stood patiently through three more cycles before tucking Zander’s hand securely in his and moving toward the executive elevator.
He waited until the doors closed before using his keycard to access the sublevel. Few individuals were allowed below ground. If you didn’t have business down there, you didn’t know there was a down there. The other elevators only accessed the three top floors. When the doors reopened, his son’s grip tightened on Steven’s hand. He knew Zander was not fond of this place, but he’d never shown fear before.
He bent down and ruffled his hair. “You all right, buddy?”
Zander nodded, his lip caught between his teeth again.
They stepped out of the elevator and hurried down the hall to Lab 4. He inserted his card, then leaned toward the dark screen and allowed a scan of his iris. The door buzzed, and he pulled it open.
“Good morning, Mr. Howard,” a familiar sardonic voice greeted him as the door swung shut behind them.
“Devlin.” Steven glanced around. “Where is Dr. Kapoor?”
The Indian scientist had always administered the drug on previous occasions. He had a way with children and Zander seemed to like him. The time Carl Devlin was present, Zander cried and climbed under the table to hide. He didn’t want a replay of that episode; the boy was already in a fearful mood.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be here in a moment. He just went down the hall.” Devlin bent to speak with Zander at eye level. “So, how is the little experiment today?” he asked.
Zander stepped back and whimpered, his thumb automatically finding a home in his mouth. Steven sighed and picked him up. “It’s all right. Dr. Devlin isn’t going to hurt you,” he said, patting his back like he used to when he was an infant.
“Of course, I’m not going to hurt you, Zander.” Devlin’s lips pulled back from his teeth in the semblance of a smile. “You’re our own little dream machine.” He laughed and shook his head, meeting Steven’s hard gaze. “The way you baby that kid, you’d think he was your own flesh and blood.”
“He is my own and if you ever say anything like that in his hearing again you will live to regret it.” Steven turned and walked away, wanting to put some space between the man and his son. Devlin gave him the creeps; it was no wonder Zander was afraid of him.
The door opened again and Dr. Akhilesh Kapoor bounced through, his thin body moving like a spring. He smiled, white teeth gleaming against dark skin, and hurried forward to greet them. Devlin slinked away toward the rear of the lab and Steven watched until he went into the back office before setting Zander down. He shook the doctor’s outstretched hand.
“Good to see you, Akhilesh.”
“How are you, Steven?” The doctor reached in the pocket of his white coat and pulled out a package of multicolored candies. Zander’s face lit up expectantly, but he still held tight to Steven’s hand. “Alexander, I have a very important question to ask you,” the doctor said with raised brows, looking directly into the boy’s face. He put the candy behind his back and concealed it in his left hand, then brought both hands forward tightly clasped. “Which hand is the candy in?” he asked, his eyes wide with suspense.
Zander grinned and stepped forward. He reached out and touched the top of Dr Kapoor’s left hand with one finger. “That one,” he said with a decisive nod of his head.
“Very wise choice, my son.” He poked the piece back into the opening of the box. “Before I give you this box, close your eyes and tell me, what color is the next piece of candy?”
Steven watched as the doctor shook a piece into his hand but concealed it from Zander. He thought it was a silly experiment but certainly not harmful to his son in any way.
Zander scrunched his eyes shut and clenched his hands into fists at his sides, obviously deep in concentration to win the box of candy with the right answer.
“What do you see when you close your eyes, Alexander?” Dr. Kapoor held his hand within inches of the boy’s face. “Do you see a shape? Color? What?”
He licked his lips and nodded. “It’s pointy. Like lemonade.”
The doctor exhaled through his nose with a small laugh of excitement. “Yes! Exactly like lemonade.” He opened his hand and Steven saw that the candy was yellow. Of course, that didn’t mean anything. It could be a lucky guess. The doctor shook out another candy and palmed it. “What does this one look like?” he asked.
Zander, his eyes still clinched tight, swayed a bit on his feet. “Like a ball.”
All the candy was oblong in shape, none round or pointy and Steven frowned at his son’s second wrong description. Wasn’t Serena teaching the boy anything at home? He should know shapes, numbers, letters, and colors by now. He was a smart kid. “Zander...” he began, but the doctor stopped him mid-sentence.
“Let him say what’s on his mind,” Dr. Kapoor said, his voice a gentle nudge not to interrupt again. “Anything else, Alexander?”
He took a deep breath, his little chest expanding with the motion and then released it in one big puff. “A red ball.”
“You can open your eyes now,” the doctor said. He reached out and ruffled Zander’s hair, his smile warm and caring. “Very good, my son. Here–the candy is yours.” He tucked the box into the pocket of Zander’s jacket, then straightened and turned toward Steven. “You may take a walk. Alexander and I are going to play a couple more games before he gets his medicine.”
Steven frowned. “He’s only three, Akhilesh. Is this really necessary? I was under the impression he wouldn’t be tested for some time.”
The doctor shrugged and nodded toward the back room. “My colleague believes we should begin sooner and although I argued on your behalf, knowing you wouldn’t agree, I can’t see that it will do your son any harm. I promise you that Alexander will be perfectly safe.” His lips turned up slightly. “You’ve seen for yourself that he has a gift. We only want to discover to what extent.”
“That may well have been a fluke,” Steven argued half-heartedly. “There are only five colors, and the odds he would guess correctly are not that bad.”
“Perhaps.” He held his hand toward the door, an invitation for Steven to make himself scarce. “But right now, you are a distraction and we must have a clinical situation. No hovering fathers allowed.”
“How long is this going to take?” Steven asked, uneasy just knowing that Devlin would be involved.
“Not long. Give us about thirty minutes.”
*****
STEVEN TOOK THE ELEVATOR to the third floor. The hallway was quiet, but he knew his uncle would be there, burning the weekend oil in his elaborate corner office. Aunt Marion had been married to Frank for over thirty years, but obviously she was not Frank’s first love. He was also married to the company. As in the biblical story of Jacob marrying both Leah and Rachel, one of them was loved less and often neglected. Steven passed the empty outer office where Frank’s secretary usually held court, and paused at the heavy walnut door, his hand raised to knock.
“Where is that grand-nephew of mine?” Frank’s voice boomed behind him. He whirled around and nearly knocked the mug of coffee out of his uncle’s hand. The old man smirked, his teeth clamped around a lit cigar. “A little jumpy, aren’t you?”
Steven pushed the door open and waited for Frank to lead the way into the inner sanctum. No one entered this office without an invitation. His uncle stepped through the open doorway and headed directly for his desk. Steven slowly followed.
“Dr Kapoor wanted Zander to perform some tests and didn’t want me around. You wouldn’t have anything to do with it, would you? Because I was under the impression Zander’s life wouldn’t be interrupted with this business until he was much older.” He stopped before his uncle’s desk and crossed his arms.
Frank leaned back in his leather chair and frowned, his brows nearly meeting in the middle. “Why would you think I have something to do with it? Kapoor and Devlin are the experts and will decide when Zander is ready.” He shook his head and reached out for his coffee. “You’re acting paranoid. I’m not the bad guy here. I care about Zander too, but he was created for a purpose and we can’t be dissuaded from our agenda because feelings get in the way.”
Steven narrowed his gaze. “What do you mean created for? I thought Zander’s mother was pregnant when she came here.”
“Of course.” Frank set his cup down and tapped one finger impatiently along the rim. “But if we hadn’t brought her here and talked her out of aborting, Zander would not exist. Therefore, his life has purpose. Our purpose. The board’s vote four years ago was unanimous. The only definitive way to test this drug is on human subjects. No one will hurt the boy. But we need to know how well Sensiline works.”
Steven released a breath of frustration. “I know SensilineU40 is slated to be your next wonder drug if everything pans out, but isn’t there another way of testing other than using an innocent boy?”
“You won’t say that when he’s a teenager, believe me.” Frank laughed at his own little joke and tamped the end of his cigar into the ashtray. “By then you’ll probably be asking us to do shock therapy on him.”
Steven shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. What he really wanted to do was put them around his uncle’s neck and squeeze, but where would that get him? “How many other test subjects do you have?” he asked, hopeful that perhaps Zander wouldn’t be needed for long.
His uncle raised his brows. “I don’t think you really want to know all the details Steven. Your guilt might get the best of you.” He swiveled in his chair and reached out for a small bright colored package on the credenza behind him. “Marion instructed me to see that Zander got this. The woman lives to shop. It’s not even the boy’s birthday.”
Steven took the package and stared at the images of red and green frogs hopping over the wrapping paper. Exactly the kind of paper Zander would love. He was an outdoors kind of kid, always catching bugs and playing in dirt and puddles. A lot like the grandfather he would never know. Marion adored him and he her. Frank’s wife was a treasure.
“Actually, today is my father’s birthday. He would have been fifty-seven.”
Frank cleared his throat and leaned way back in his chair. “That’s right. My baby brother. I should have known. Marion never forgot his birthday.” He gazed absently toward the window, his expression softening slightly. Then he released a weary breath and turned back to face Steven. “If Douglas would have listened to me, he never would have gone there in the first place. The last thing those people needed was more religion. He could have come to work for Howard Pharmaceuticals, but no! He had to save the world, one savage at a time.”
Steven felt much the same way about his father’s mission work in Zambia. Once a doctor and scientist of renown, Douglas Howard had thrown it all away to give his life’s work to people who had no idea who he was or what he was capable of. Instead of working on important drug research and earning world recognition, he went to Africa to heal the sick, feed the poor, and preach Christianity. Until the day his small biplane went down. Steven was engaged to Serena and working at Howard Pharmaceuticals by that time. He never wanted to return to the continent he blamed for his father’s death. But hearing his uncle’s words was all it took to take the defensive.
“Dad lived what he believed. It’s a lot more than I can say for most people. Everyone acknowledges the importance of research and some even throw money at making drugs to lengthen the lives of those inflicted with AIDS, but Dad went where innocent people fall victim every day and tried to find a cure while teaching the basics of protecting themselves from contracting it.”
“That is the definition of a lost cause, son.” Frank chuckled and lifted his cup. “Those sorts of people never learn. Why do you think the disease is running rampant over there? Not for lack of education. They’ve been told over and over the means of protecting themselves and still refuse to give up their heathen ways.”
Steven slowly shook his head. It didn’t matter that he’d said nearly the same words to his father the last time he spoke with him, he hated listening to Frank belittle the good work his father tried to do. “I guess Americans also refuse to give up their heathen ways, because it’s spread here too, in spite of the pride we take in our terrific sex education system.”
“Douglas was fond of saying that it was a spiritual problem rather than an educational one. Perhaps he was right.” Frank reached for his cigar and puffed it back to life. He blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling and smirked. “God’s curse and all that.”
“Dad never said it was God’s curse. He believed God would use him to find a cure.”
“And you know how well that turned out.” Frank nodded toward the door, dismissing his nephew, and thus ending the conversation. “Let me know how Zander’s tests go,” he said as he pulled the computer keyboard close and began typing.
Steven stared at his uncle for a long moment. How could two men be so different and have the same blood running through their veins? His father longed to use his gift of medicine to heal those with no hope, and his uncle longed to extract as much money as possible from those with no hope, giving them drugs to prolong the agony rather than cure the problem. Frank had long ago given up on cures and pointed the company’s agenda toward “drugs to live by,” as he called them. Drugs for depression, stress, anxiety, attention deficit, whatever. If you had a physical or mental problem, Howard Pharmaceuticals had a drug to help you live with it without it taking over your life. They failed to mention in the small print that the need for more and more drugs often took over your life instead.
*****
“DADDY!” ZANDER CALLED out when he spied Steven waiting at the door. He sat across a small table from Dr. Kapoor who held up a card in one hand.
Steven approached, knowing he was early but unable to wait any longer to see what they were doing with his son. Carl Devlin was not in the room and he was grateful. Zander was nervous enough about coming here without forcing him to spend time with a man he obviously feared.
“Hey, bud. Are you ready to go to the park?” he asked, ruffling his son’s hair as he met the doctor’s pointed gaze.
“I thought I asked for thirty minutes.” The doctor glanced at his wristwatch. “I believe you are nine minutes early.”
He shrugged. “Sorry Akhilesh. The clock in my uncle’s office must be off.” He took Zander’s hand when his son slipped from the chair to stand beside him. “There’s always next time,” he said, although he hated the idea that Zander could possibly be used as a Guinea Pig for years to come. “Did you learn anything useful?” he asked, standing his ground as Zander tried to pull him toward the door and freedom.
The doctor smiled down at the struggling boy. “Alexander is amazingly sensitive to emotion in others. I had to send my colleague from the room before your son could cooperate.”
“Well, you know what they say about dogs and children. Their first impressions of people are usually spot on.”
The doctor failed to hide a smile. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I believe Alexander possesses abilities that will far surpass our hopes for the drug. He just needs to learn to embrace them and use them willingly. There seems to be a struggle going on within him.” Kapoor nodded, his dark eyes resting on Zander with quiet certainty. “Of course, he is very young yet, and time is on our side.”
“Is it? How many other children like Zander are you testing?” he asked, hoping to get a straight answer for once. Instead, laughter echoed from the rear of the lab. Zander immediately pressed close to his father’s leg.
“Curiosity killed the cat, Steven. What might it do to a man?” Devlin called out.
Ignoring him, Steven held out his hand to Dr. Kapoor. “Have a good day, Akhilesh. Zander and I have a date with the park swings.”
“Good day, Steven.” The doctor patted Zander on the shoulder. “And thank you for your hard work today, my son. I look forward to our next time together.”
Steven hurried Zander out the door to the elevator. His son’s tense grip on his hand didn’t relax until the doors opened again in the lobby and Zander spotted the fountain.
*****
“LET’S ZIP UP YOUR JACKET, buddy. The wind is getting kind of chilly.” Steven waited for the swing to come to a stop and bent over Zander to help him with the zipper. He pulled up the hood and tied that too. “There you go. Now that arctic breeze won’t freeze your tonsils.”
Zander looked up at a flock of geese flying overhead. They called to one another in a honking chorus. “Birdies!”
Steven nodded, following his gaze. “Yep. Big birdies.”
The wind was definitely blowing a rainstorm into town. The sky, a clear blue just minutes before, was quickly turning a dingy grey as low-hanging clouds swept in to close out the afternoon sun. The geese were soon out of sight and Zander’s attention returned to the ground. He slipped out of the swing and ran to the merry-go-round.
“Push me, Daddy! Push me,” he said, clambering aboard. Tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth, Zander carefully sat on the platform and held tightly to the metal piping, waiting for Steven to push.
“All right. Don’t let go now.” Steven gave the Merry-go-round a hard shove and watched as it slowly turned.
“Faster, Daddy,” Zander insisted, rocking back and forth as though he could set the thing moving by sheer will power.
Steven smiled. “Okay, but after this we have to go home because it’s going to rain.” He dug into the sand with his brown dress shoes and pushed hard against the metal contraption, setting it into motion. It quickly picked up speed. He stepped back and watched his son twirl around and around, the boy’s eyes scrunched shut, his blonde hair lifting in the breeze.
The Merry-go-round eventually lost momentum and slowed to a crawl. Zander opened his eyes. “One more time, daddy?” he begged, his Sable-colored eyes round with hope.
Steven shook his head. “We need to go.” He felt the first drops of rain splat upon his face. “Come on, Zander. It’s starting to rain. Your mother will be worried.”
Zander crawled off the platform and followed, moving as slow as possible without actually disobeying. He suddenly let out a yelp and fell to the sand clutching his left leg. Tears quickly welled and spilled from his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Steven stepped forward and knelt beside him, puzzled. Zander wasn’t the type of kid who put on a show to get attention; in fact, he seldom showed pain when he took a tumble.
“It hurts bad,” he whimpered.
Steven felt the length of his son’s leg but couldn’t detect a break. They had no real source of medical history for Zander. His body could be harboring a rare bone disease and after three years of loving and caring for him God might choose now to take him from them. He shook the thought away and massaged the boy’s calf, hoping the real culprit was a simple charley horse.
“Does that feel better?”
Zander rubbed the tears from his face, leaving streaks of grime and sand behind. He nodded. “Better.” He stood up and took Steven’s hand. The phantom pain was gone.