'I'll be gentle, Kyle,' Matt replied.
By six-thirty, the impending crisis surrounding Kyle Slocumb was over. The hard-won rectal exam disclosed black stool that tested positive for blood. Perhaps cowed by the procedure, Kyle put up little resistance to swallowing a thin plastic tube, which Matt slid up one nostril and down the back of his throat into his stomach. Years of smoking potent homegrown cigarettes had done in his gag reflex, making the often difficult insertion a snap. The stomach contents aspirated through the tube were old blood (coffee grounds in appearance) and some streaks of fresh, bright red blood as well. Transfusions had quickly replaced the lost blood and circulating volume, so that by the time Kyle was wheeled into the GI Suite for an examination through gastroenterologist Ed Tanguay's scope, he had recovered his color and stabilized his blood pressure.
'So thet's it,' Lewis Slocumb said as he and Matt walked together out of the ER. The dewy morning air was fragrant.
'Just about,' Matt replied. 'We'll keep our fingers crossed that all Dr. Tanguay finds is some gastritis. That's like inflammation of the stomach lining. If it's a little ulcer, that'll probably be okay, too.'
'But if'n he got cancer he's finished.'
'Not necessarily. We can cure stomach cancer with surgery. But let's not go there until we hear what Dr. Tanguay finds. We're lucky he could do Kyle so quickly.'
'If'n thet doctor sez ol' Kyle has to stay overnight, Ah think he'd jes leave.'
'I was thinking he ought to stay anyway, just to get some medicine for his stomach and maybe another transfusion.'
'Ah tell ya, if'n he kin walk, they's no way he'll stay.'
'I got him to let me do that exam, Lewis. I can talk him into staying.'
Lewis Slocumb turned and looked up at Matt. The sharpness in his blue-green eyes was belied by the rest of his weathered, scruffy face.
'Wer different, Matthew,' he said. 'It's a way we done chose fer ourselves an' it don' mean nothin' ta us thet mos' folks think wer crazy or sick or evil. Thet is, 'til we cross the line inta their world. It ain't nothin' we enjoy doin', b'lieve me it ain't. Kyle an' me crossed thet line this mornin'. Now we want ta cross back as quick as possible. So yew make thet happen, Doc, an' we'll take our chances. Our kind, the mountain folk, unnerstand thet so long's ya don' hurt no one, ya kin be whoever ya want. Mos' people down here in town ain't none too pleasant ta us, an' thet goes fer yer hospital, too.'
Matt was so astonished, he could barely reply. Lewis Slocumb hadn't called him anything other than Doc since his return with his M.D. He had also just spoken more words than Matt could ever remember.
'Okay,' he managed. 'I'll do what I can to get Kyle out of here. But if I think he's in danger, you're going to have to sign him out against my advice.'
'We'll do thet. An' donchew worry none. We ain't gonna sue ya, no matter what.'
He guffawed, coughed, and spat.
Matt gazed east at the flush of morning sunlight brightening the sky from behind the hills. As he did so, he slipped his hands in his pockets and connected with the envelope.
'Hey, Lewis, tell me what you make of this,' he said, handing it over.
He felt pretty certain that all of the Slocumbs could read to some degree or another.
'Don' make nothin' of it,' Lewis said.
'You mean you don't know what the guy who wrote this note is talking about? You don't know where the cleft is?'
Lewis scuffed at the ground with the toe of his worn high-cuts.
'Ah mot know, then agin Ah mot not.'
'Lewis, I just saved your brother's life, and I've been coming out to the farm to check on you guys for years. This note is very important to me. It has to do with the mine.'
'Ah know what it has ta do with. Ya really got a burr up yer butt fer thet ol' mine.'
'I have good reasons,' Matt said, suddenly exasperated. 'My father and my wife, for two. A couple of dead miners, for two more… Lewis?'
'Ah 'preciate what ya done fer Kyle in there, Ah surely do.'
'So?'
'It's really thet important ta ya?'
'It is. I put out notices offering a reward for information about illegal chemical waste dumping by the mine, and this note was slid under my door.'
Lewis scuffed thoughtfully, covering up the gouges he had made in the sand.
'So, whar's the big news?' he asked finally.
'What do you mean?'
'Ah mean, they's lotsa folks livin' in the woods what knows 'bout the cleft an' the tunnel and even 'bout the crap the mine people keep inside.'
Matt's pulse began to race.
'What do you mean 'crap'?' he asked.
'Chemicals, jes like ya sed. Barrels of 'em.'
'Hot damn. Lewis, can you take me there?'
Lewis sighed.
'Inside the mountain? Ah s'pose Ah kin.'
'When?'
'When ya thinkin' ya'll be done with Kyle?'
'I don't know. Maybe late this afternoon.'
'Then we'll talk late this afternoon.'
'But you know about this poison the note talks about?'
'Ah know.'
'And you'll take me to see it firsthand?'
'Ah 'spect Ah will, but Ah cain't say rot now. It's sorta up ta m' brothers, too.'
'Lewis, surely you knew I've been trying to get something on BC and C. Why haven't you said something to me about this before?'
'We lak ya, Doc. But we lak eatin', too.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'It means Stevenson an' them people at the mine bin paying us ta keep quiet 'bout what we know.'
'I don't understand. What connection do they have with you?'
Lewis rubbed at his chin, then sighed again.
'Per a time, we done hauled the stuff in thar fer 'em,' he said.
CHAPTER 9
For two and a half years, nearly all of the Omnivax commission meetings had been held in one or the other of the two main conference rooms located on the third floor of the Parkman Building, FDA headquarters in Rockville, Maryland. When Lynette Marquand made her speech later in the day, the sliding partition between the rooms would be open, allowing seating for the press, the Omnivax panel, the First Lady's staff, and those hundred or so dignitaries who had managed to procure invitations.
For the moment, though, the partition was closed so that the commission could hold its meeting in private. From what Ellen knew, this gathering was probably the last one before the session to vote formal approval for the distribution and general use of the supervaccine.
She scanned the first room as she passed by. Television camera crews were preparing to beam Marquand's message to the world, and several Secret Service agents were carefully inspecting the walls, podium, and beneath the chairs. Most of the Omnivax commission members were already in the other room, mingling in twos and threes. A few were settling down in front of their computer-generated cardboard place cards at the gleaming, football
