Hometown Kelly and the Gizmo Team Read online

  Sharon L Reddy

  Hometown Kelly and the Gizmo Team

  ©2011

  Target Yonder

  Smashwords Edition

  ISBN 978-1-58338-355-1

  Chapter One

  It was Hell and always had been, but the only other choice was dead and he didn't get to make that one either. He'd worked not to wish he'd died with his parents in the accident he'd been too young to remember. He was alive and they weren't. Because they weren't, he was so rich he was kept alive. As long as he was, others had control of the wealth and used it, in his name of course, to make more wealth. They wielded the power it gave them, also in his name.

  He wasn't asked if he wanted more wealth. He wasn't asked if he wanted to 'merge.' He wasn't asked if he wanted to close three plants and put over two thousand people out of work. He wasn't asked if he wanted to be alive. He had four nurses and five people who cared for his body. And none of them asked if he wanted to be alive. They were discussing another surgery. Not the physicians, the ones who controlled the wealth. His wealth. They discussed it right in front of him, but they didn't know he was there. No one did.

  "It's probable the implant will keep him alive for a few more years. If he dies now, the Frazier deal will die with him. The potential profit is too high to suddenly have it fall apart. If his grandmother hadn't been crazy, we could have let him die years ago."

  "She wasn't crazy. She just didn't expect her son to die within three days of her and her grandson to be a lump for seventeen years. Naming a bunch of charities as third down on the list of 'give it all to' was great public relations, when she did it when he was born."

  "He's got one aide who's sure there's someone in there. He tried to get me to authorize a series of new tests. Years of tests and he wants to try a long list of new ones. I think he's going to be a problem."

  "Why?"

  "The implant will reduce personal care. I think he should be terminated before it's even discussed further."

  "Agreed. He's becoming too emotionally involved with the patient. I'll tell Thurrel. Pitying the poor thing is one thing. Believing it's more than a body is going too far."

  He heard the two leave and stared at the ceiling. He didn't know what the "implant" they were talking about was. He hadn't known one of the aides was sure he was aware. It didn't make him hope. He'd stopped hoping the day the physicians had said the neural activity they'd recorded was response to physical stimuli and nothing else. That had been when he was eight.

  One of his aides came in and gently rolled him onto his side. It hurt, as always, but he appreciated it because he could see the television. This one usually turned him so he could see it. This one had been turning him to see it since he'd been hired. This one had taught him to read. He'd turned him to watch Sesame Street. He'd heard him tell one of the others, who moved his body and worked his muscles, that even infants liked the colors and sounds. He was sure he was the one, but he couldn't ask. So he watched the educational programming he'd tuned in. They were getting a degree in microbiology.

  Jim Waters looked at the termination slip and check in his hand, again, and nearly stumbled down the steps of the huge mansion where he'd worked for almost three years. The reason for termination was a long explanation that basically said he was very good, but the wrong one for the job because he just couldn't accept the patient would not, could not, improve. It "highly recommended" him for employment in a position working with individuals who could appreciate his "careful attention to the needs of the physically impaired and determination to aid them."

  He'd tried to get them to run new tests on the boy and they'd fired him for being sure they'd show something that hadn't been seen ten years before. He'd wanted a CAT scan and a trace of neural activity when the boy had something to see and hear to stimulate his mind. They'd fired him for believing he had one.

  He got in his car and started home. He didn't know he wasn't going there, until he passed the freeway exit that would take him there. He didn't know why he had, until he was pulling into the parking lot of the retirement condo complex where Dr. Hoskins lived. He buzzed her door and smiled slightly when she yelled she'd heard, but she was "too damn old to move fast," across the intercom. She opened the door about two minutes later.

  "Jim!"

  "Hello, Doctor."

  "What's wrong?"

  "I was fired for becoming emotionally involved with my patient."

  "What?!"

  "I wanted them to run more tests. There are a lot that weren't around before. Dr. Hoskins, I'm sure that boy is aware. I checked and every test they ran was... wrong."

  "Explain wrong."

  "They didn't do anything that would stimulate his interest. They poked and prodded, flashed lights in his eyes and made loud noises, but they were just lights and noises. I think they're planning on doing something to him and wanted me out before they do it."

  "Jim, if you didn't care about your patients, you'd be playing football and making a lot more money, but they may be right about you becoming too attached. You've been taking care of that boy's physical needs eight hours a day, five days a week, for several years."

  "Doctor, I can tell when he's awake."

  "What?"

  "He can't close and open his eyes, but he sleeps and wakes. He can't move, but he sees and hears. I'm not the only one who feels it. The last time they did surgery on him, the surgeon insisted he be anesthetized. He had the statements of a dozen doctors that it was unnecessary, but he insisted on anesthesia."

  "Surgery?"

  "Many. They've been going on for fifteen years, usually without anesthetic. The whole program was ordered not long after the accident. They've been doing skin grafts and such since he was a baby. He's a pretty young man now. I've seen what he looked like after the accident. It's odd to be grateful they rebuilt his face and got rid of the scars and still be angry that they only did it because he's rich. That is the reason, Doctor. I heard one of the trustees say it was worth the expense to have photos to show 'nosy do-gooders' he wasn't being neglected. He thought it was funny they wanted to be sure they were doing all they could for him, when they'd get several billion dollars if he died."

  "Jim, that's reality."

  "No, Doctor, it's greed. I think they've found something that will reduce the cost of his care and got rid of me before they did it. I'm not saying they're bad people, Doctor, but most of them don't think of him as anything but a business expense. Doctor, they don't want to know he has a mind. I don't know if he did when they did all those tests before, but I'm sure he does now. He was an infant, Dr. Hoskins. We know that the brain does develop after severe trauma in infancy, in some cases."

  "You really are sure."

  "Yes. I... can feel his presence. Find out what they're planning. Please. He's never had anything beyond an EEG. They haven't run one of those in years. Doctor, I want to be wrong."

  "I understand that completely. I may have nightmares. Jim, those trustees have probably had them."

  "I have. I've dreamed I was a marble statue and helpless to tell anyone I was alive. He's beautiful and I think I'm in love with him."

  "I'm not in practice anymore or I'd be looking for financial assistance for you for therapy."

  "That's why I'm sure, Doctor. I'm twenty-seven and I have three special friends, who assure I know I'm a healthy heterosexual on a regular basis. I never wanted to make love to a male before, but I don't make love to very many women and I have lots of volunteers. Basically, his gender isn't particularly important. That I love him is. I know how healthy I am, Dr. Hoskins. I couldn't fall in love with a vacant body, no matter how beautiful it is. I wanted to be there when he stopped being in pain."<
br />
  "Stopped?"

  "All the muscles are supple. All the surgeries that were scheduled are done. In a few days, he'll see live human faces for the first time when masks, gowns and gloves aren't required due to immuno-suppressants to prevent rejection. In a few days, he'll be 'cosmetically restored.' Doctor, he's hung like a horse."

  "Why did you tell me that?"

  "Who else could I tell? Who else wouldn't say too bad it was wasted?"

  "Anyone in my profession or I'd do my best to get them out of it. Get in here and make tea for us. I'll get on the phone and see what I can find out. I'll probably want two or three others in on this, if I do decide something needs to be done."

  "I'd prefer there weren't. I'm going to keep them from hurting him. I'd have stopped it before, but I'd have endured the pain to have the type of damage he had repaired. That's done. Nothing they do now is for his benefit. I intend to rescue him. I'm sure they'll call it kidnapping and say I'm 'sadly disturbed.' I imagine I'll be caught, but he'll get those tests. They can't pay you enough to believe I'm crazy."

  "All right. I'm convinced. Let's get a judge in on it to start with and see if we can keep you out of jail."

  Doctor Elaine Hoskins had many friends. She called one who wouldn't spend a great deal of time considering the financial ramifications on a 'human rights' case. Five hours later, a young woman showed her badge at the gates of a huge estate.

  A judge hadn't been pleased with being put off. He'd decided he wanted answers now. He'd sent a marshal to get them. It worked well. The chairman of the board of trustees was on his way to the estate to answer them. The marshal smiled slightly and waited patiently. She wouldn't have had a receptionist put a judge on hold, then said call back at three the next afternoon.

  Terry Sandusky looked around her and wondered if they hung velvet ropes and gave tours of the place. It nearly shouted it was kept beautiful to look at but nobody lived there. She was there because someone was sure a not-quite eighteen-year-old kid did. She stood and smiled when a plump gray-haired man hurried in the door.

  "Good evening, Marshal. I'm Walter Amunson."

  "Sorry to interrupt your dinner, Mr. Amunson, but James Waters has requested tests on Keller Nathan Holland the Fourth. Judge Hernendez doesn't see the request as unreasonable, but could not contact anyone to discuss it. Mr. Waters believes there is some type of additional procedure scheduled. He expressed his concerns and belief all reconstructive surgery was complete."

  "I'd better talk to the judge. Keller Holland was flown to Switzerland last night. He had surgery this morning."

  "What kind of surgery?"

  "A team of physicians developed an implant to aid in the care of vegetative patients. It both monitors the patient and stimulates muscle contraction to prevent atrophy. He'll require less care, but we approved it because all studies of the implant show the patients are healthier afterward."

  "Does it hurt?"

  "What?"

  "Does it hurt to have muscles stimulated like that?"

  "Marshal, vegetative patients don't hurt. They don't anything but breathe. Keller Nathan Holland the Fourth is alive because his family was extremely wealthy. Everything that could be done for him was, including reconstructive surgery that's a work of art, but he doesn't know it. He never did."

  "I suggest you get him back here and get those tests done. I got off work two minutes ago, so that's personal advice. I've never heard of the implant you're talking about so it's real new. The tests on that kid are real old. You're probably right about him, but even I wondered why he'd never had a CAT scan. It's looks odd you discharged Mr. Waters today, Mr. Amunson."

  "That wasn't planned. The discharge was, but not it would be the day the surgery was done. It was scheduled in two weeks, but the institute called and said get him there now and they'd take thirty percent off the surgical bill. They had a large group of surgeons who wanted to see it done."

  "You've still got a problem. Good luck."

  Terry got in her car and called her grandfather. She usually did when something bothered her. He was expecting her to call. She was late for dinner and she'd told him why she probably would be.

  "Granddad, they did a real new experimental surgery on the kid this morning. I'm sure it's legitimately intended to improve his health and they checked it out well."

  "So why are you mad?"

  "Great-aunt Elaine doesn't make mistakes about people, Granddad. Judge Hernendez knows it. They haven't done any tests since a few days after they took a plate out of his head ten years ago. They didn't expect to find anything different, so they didn't look very hard."

  "You did some research."

  "I researched this one in the headlines and the court record. It was nine pages of proposed surgery and a half-page of court proceeding. There hasn't been a two-month period since he was born he wasn't healing after surgery. I'm including now. I'm going to Elaine's."

  "Terry, Mike didn't tell you to conduct an investigation, just ask a few specific questions."

  "Granddad, remember Dad yelling the university had cost itself a bowl slot about eight years ago. They wouldn't give a football player a scholarship for pre-med because it took too much time away from football."

  "I remember the other results of that action far more clearly than the football season scores. Jim Waters is six-foot-five. Elaine said he told her lifting a person from a bath was a 'more personally rewarding use of muscle than slamming into someone else with the object of moving a football a hundred yards one way and then the other' and he'd get there on his own. I'll call her and warn her you'll be raiding her refrigerator because Amanda's putting your dinner in ours. You call Mike. He needs to know your personal opinion before you file your impersonal report."

  "Currently, it's I want to do an investigation before I give a report. Except, I'm absolutely sure the only one who did anything wrong was the person who took several people with him, when he committed suicide with alcohol and a car. I'm also sure I don't like this implant, even if it does make him healthier. Granddad, I have visions of rows and rows of people jerking like the frog leg in biology when you touch an electrode to the muscle, and a yawning person watching cartoons, not the monitors that show the amount of fluid dripping in and running out."

  "Good Lord, Terry!"

  "Think of it, Granddad. One person could give all the care necessary to a large number, if a computer was doing everything else. It sounds like too many are interested in that implant to me. There aren't enough unoccupied bodies with money for them to deduct a third from the bill for a demo patient. Be a nice way to keep a body functioning after the brain died though. Might really lower the cost of organ transplant."

  "Gruesome, but I'd cheer if there was some way for more lives to be saved by transplants. I signed my organ donor card. I know you have too. Why are you so sure Jim Waters is right and all the rest are wrong?"

  "Because I think he's the one who most wants him to be the one who is wrong. You're hired. If he's right, I may help him get that kid out of there. We'll both need a good lawyer."

  "Terry, they'll run the tests and get the best help to give that boy some kind of life if Jim is right."

  "Will they, Granddad? Mr. Amunson would, but would they all? Will he get a report thorough testing was done, but not what tests, or all of what they said."

  "I may call Elaine and tell her I'm paying for your dinner hour. You've got a hunch something is wrong with this whole thing."

  "Yes, and everyone in it is innocent, so far."

  Elaine Hoskins finally got some information on the implant. A neurosurgery resident in Africa faxed her a report on it. She arranged five thousand dollars be sent to help fund his education as a thank you. He'd politely asked for the price of sending the fax back. He'd borrowed it. She sent Jim to answer the door. She'd just called George back when his granddaughter walked into the bedroom she'd turned into an office. She nodded to her and motioned her to a chair.

  "Experimental procedure is an
understatement, George. He's the fourth and the first was less than two months ago. The stats look terrific, but I've got problem with drawing conclusions about a procedure that fast and real problems when it includes a mechanical device. I ask how long the warranty is on a kitchen appliance. It bothers me I had to get on the internet to find someone who'd heard about it. I couldn't even find out where someone was working on it, let alone who. They may have done this one at a discount so they could keep the project going. She's here. Jim! George says feed Terry whether she feels like eating or not! Go get something from the deli! Of course I want to talk to her alone. Since I'm not getting paid, I'll tell you all about what I think you should know about later."

  He endured. It wasn't a choice. He longed for an end to it forever long before it ended. He always did. His eyes shut. He longed for the gentle hand that had closed them and the soft deep voice that had told him to sleep well. His eyes opened and his calves contracted. His calves relaxed and his thigh muscles contracted. His buttocks were next, then his back. The order never varied. He endured. It wasn't a choice.

  Chapter Two

  Jim watched the ambulance pull into the drive of the estate. It had been two months. The doctors at the clinic had suddenly changed their minds about keeping him for four. Dr. Hoskins was trying to find out why. She was trying to find out anything at all. She didn't know he was there, or that he still had a working gate card. It wasn't his. That had been cancelled.

  He inserted the spare 'master key.' He'd had it almost two years. That's when a nurse had thrown it at him and told him to "answer the damn door," because they didn't pay her to put away groceries. He'd continued to accept deliveries on the housekeeper's day off, even after the nurse had been replaced.

  He'd almost forgotten he had the card. They'd given him one that would open all the doors he'd needed to go through instead of raising his salary for the extra work the housekeeper mentioned he did, several times. She hadn't liked the nurse either. He wondered if she remembered telling him to keep the master because their list of "needed" and hers probably didn't match. She wasn't around to ask. The house had been closed for two months and it had been expected to be four. It didn't make sense to have a live-in housekeeper in an empty house.