Robin Cook - Acceptable Risk

Christina put her hand to her mouth and mumbled, “I’m going to be sick.”

Dave jammed on his brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. Christina cracked her door and vomited in the street. Dave said a silent prayer that it all went out of the car.

Christina pushed herself back to a sitting position. She laid her head against the headrest and closed her eyes.

“I want to go home,” she said miserably.

“We’ll be there in a sec,” Dave said. He drove away from the curb. He could smell the sour aroma of vomit, and he worried that his lovely car had been ruined.

“We can’t tell anybody about this,” Christina said. “If my parents find out I’ll be grounded for six months.”

“All right,” Dave said.

“You promise?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Dave hit the lights when he turned onto Christina’s street. He stopped several doors down from her house. He hoped she didn’t expect him to kiss her and was glad when she got right out.

“You promised,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” Dave said.

He watched her run across the lawns and disappear into the same hedge from which she’d emerged.

Under a nearby streetlight, Dave got out and inspected his car. In the back there was a dent on the bumper where he’d knocked over the headstone, but it wasn’t bad. Going around to the passenger side, he opened the door and cautiously sniffed. He was relieved when he didn’t smell any vomit. Closing the door, he walked around the front of the car. That was when he noticed the windshield wiper on the passenger side was gone.

Dave gritted his teeth and swore under his breath. What a night, and he didn’t even get anything. Climbing back into his car, he wondered if he’d be able to rouse George, his best friend, from sleep. Dave couldn’t wait to tell him about what had happened. It was so weird it was like some old horror movie. In a way, Dave was thankful about the broken wiper. If it hadn’t happened George probably wouldn’t believe the story.

Having taken the Xanax around one-thirty that morning, Kim slept much later than usual, and when she got up she felt mildly drugged. She didn’t like the feeling, but she was convinced it was a small price to pay forgetting some sleep.

Kim spent the first part of the day getting her uniform ready for Monday, when she was scheduled to start back to work. It amazed her how much she was looking forward to it. And it wasn’t just because of the mounting anxieties about the lab and what was happening in it. During the last two weeks she’d become progressively weary of the isolated and lonely life she’d been leading in Salem, especially once she’d finished decorating the cottage.

The main problem on both counts was Edward, despite the better mood he was in while taking Ultra. Living with him had hardly been what she’d expected, although when she thought about it, she wasn’t sure what she did expect since she’d invited him to come and live with her on impulse. But she certainly had expected to see more of him and share more with him than she had. And she certainly hadn’t expected to be worrying about him taking an experimental drug. All in all, it was a ridiculous situation.

Once Kim had her uniform in order, she hiked over to the castle. The first thing she did was see Albert. She’d hoped the plumbing work would be finishing that day, but Albert said it was impossible with the additional work in the guest wing. He told her they’d need another two days tops. He asked her if they could leave their tools in the castle over the weekend. Kim told him he could leave whatever he wanted.

Kim went down the stairs in the servants’ wing and checked the entrance. To her great disappointment it was again filthy. Glancing outside, she noticed the mat was in pristine shape, almost as if they purposefully ignored it.

Getting the mop once again, Kim scolded herself for not mentioning the problem to the researchers the day before, when she’d been at the lab.

Crossing the courtyard, Kim checked the entrance to the guest wing. There was less dirt than in the servants’ wing, but there was some, and in some respects it was worse. The stairs in the guest wing were carpeted. To clean them Kim had to cart over an old vacuum cleaner from the servants’ wing. When she was finished she vowed to herself that she would talk to the researchers about it this time.

After putting away the cleaning paraphernalia, Kim contemplated walking over to the lab. But she decided against it. The irony was that in the beginning of the month she’d not wanted to visit the lab because they’d made her feel unwelcome. Now she was reluctant to go because they were too friendly.

Finally Kim climbed the stairs and fell to work in the attic. Finding the Thomas Goodman letter the day before had kindled her enthusiasm. The hours passed quickly, and before she knew it, it was time for lunch.

Walking back to the cottage, Kim eyed the lab and again debated stopping by and again decided against it. She thought she’d wait rather than make a special trip. She knew she was procrastinating, but she couldn’t help it. She even considered telling Edward about the dirt problem and having him talk to the researchers.

After lunch Kim returned to the attic, where she worked all afternoon. The only thing she came across from the time period she was interested in was Jonathan Stewart’s college evaluation. Reading it, Kim learned that Jonathan was only an average student. According to one of the more verbally colorful evaluating tutors, Jonathan was “more apt at swimming in Fresh Pond or skating on the Charles River according to season than in logic, rhetoric, or ethics.”

That evening while Kim was enjoying fresh fish grilled outdoors accompanied by a mixed green salad, she saw a pizza delivery service drive onto the compound and head to the lab. She marveled that Edward and his team existed on junk food. Twice a day there was a delivery of fast food such as pizza, fried chicken, or Chinese take-out. Back in the beginning of the month Kim had offered to make dinner for Edward each evening, but he had declined, saying he thought he should eat with the others.

In one sense Kim was impressed with their dedication, while in another sense she thought they were zealots and a little crazy.

Around eleven Kim took Sheba outside. She stood on the porch while her pet wandered around in the grass. Keeping one eye on the cat, Kim looked over at the lab and saw the light spilling from the windows. She wondered how long they would keep up their insane schedule.

When she felt Sheba had had adequate outdoor time, Kim carried her back inside. The cat wasn’t happy, but with what the police had told her, she surely wasn’t about to let the animal roam freely.

Upstairs Kim prepared for bed. She read for an hour, but like the evening before, her mind would not turn off. In fact, lying in bed seemed to augment her anxiety. Getting out of bed, Kim went into the bathroom and took another Xanax tablet. She didn’t like taking it, but she reasoned that until she started back to work, she needed the respite it provided.

Saturday, October 1, 1994

Kim pulled herself from the depths of a minor stupor caused by the Xanax. Once again she was surprised she’d slept as long as she had. It was almost nine.

After showering and dressing, Kim took Sheba outside. Feeling guilty that she’d been denying the animal her normal wandering, Kim was patient with the cat and allowed her to go wherever she wanted. Sheba chose to go around the house. Kim followed.

As Kim rounded the back of the house she suddenly stopped, angrily put her hands on her hips, and let out an expletive. She had discovered she’d been targeted by the vandals or the animal which the police had warned her about. Both her trash containers had been tipped over and emptied. The trash had been strewn around the yard.