The Deal

Chapter 1

Dr. Atticus' lips were set in a straight line. "Yes, I'm afraid...that was the longest time a patient has been in a coma due to that condition. However, like everything else, it can be on a spectrum, which means..." He shifted the clipboard into his left hand. "For Michael...it could take from two weeks to...a few months."

I stood there, my jaw slightly agape. My hand splayed against the wall for support. I felt lightheaded.

Dr. Atticus stepped forward. "Maybe you should have a seat. I can get you a cup of water-"

"No, no-" I broke off, my hand rubbing my face. "I'm good. I'm just..." I exhaled, looking up. "What exactly is causing this?"

"Encephalopathy," Dr. Atticus said. "That's what we think it is, at least for now. We need to do more tests."

"What's that?" I said.

"It's a pretty broad term for any kind of brain disease that occurs when the brain's function or structure is damaged," Dr. Atticus explained.

I frowned. "So what caused it exactly?"

"We don't know yet, Ellie," he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "We're going to be doing more tests this week, and I'll let you know if we find anything." His eyes trailed down to my other hand, where I was gripping the bill.

"Don't worry about that," Dr. Atticus said gently, taking the bill from me. "We got the Wayne Fundraising program for families. You should apply."

I looked through the window, where my older brother of 26 years lay, his chest steadily rising and falling. A nurse was tending to him, checking his vitals and the IV bag, making sure everything was working right. Looking back down, my eyes briefly hardened as I looked at the bill.

$125,120...

I barely had over 10k to my name. Where was I supposed to get the rest of the money? I would have to find a job. Maybe more than one. Being only 13, finding a job that would hire me was hard. But now, I had no choice.

"Okay," I said finally, looking up. "I'll apply later. You got my number. Please let me know if anything comes up." I grabbed my jacket and put it on. I glanced at the room before exiting through the back doors.

Winter was coming; that much was obvious. I let out a steamy breath of air as I tugged up the zipper to my neck. It was only five, but the sky was getting darker by the minute. I needed to get back home before the crazies got out.

The city streets were bustling with natives and tourists alike as the street lamps were turned on. Although Gotham was notorious for its high crime rates, it wasn't too bad- well, only sometimes.

I wove through the familiar streets and made it to our humble apartment located in east Gotham. It was a 15-minute walk from the hospital. I left my shoes at the door and went to change into my pajamas. It was time to eat and apply for some part-time jobs.

"Aw, man..." I put my hands on my hips, impatient. I had forgotten to do laundry, and my pajamas were sitting on top of the basket. "I'll see if Mike has any..."

Despite the grim circumstances, I felt a small grin appear. Mike, my older brother, never let me into his room. He always told me that it was too dirty and that he didn't want me to get sick with whatever germs he brought back from the lab. That's right- Mike was a researcher at a local lab geared to help cancer patients. I was so proud of him.

"Entering your room!" I announced aloud and with a giggle, as I entered his room. It was like any other room- maybe just a tad little messy. Clothes were strewn on the floor, books were stacked high on his desk, and his bed covers were scrunched up in a ball.

A faint smell of chemicals and antiseptic lingered—something Michael always brought home from the lab.

"Nasty," I commented. I waded through his closet and opened it to look for some sleepwear when a small plastic container fell out onto the floor, its contents scattering all over. I grabbed a pair of pajama pants and crouched, staring at the box. It was an ordinary plastic container that you could get from your local corner store. Picking it up, I sat on his bed and opened it. Inside were a bunch of papers. A name caught my eye.

Catalyst Research Facility. 

That's where my brother worked. I knew I shouldn't, but curiosity overtook me. I gingerly picked up what seemed to be a letter and read it. 

Here's what it said: 

Dear Dr. Michael Green, 

I hope this letter finds you well. My name is Benjamin Halter, the patient you treated two months ago for my rare neurological condition. I wanted to express my profound gratitude for the experimental treatment that has fundamentally changed my life. The health regeneration capabilities you've helped me develop have been nothing short of miraculous. While my original condition persists, I can now manage symptoms that would have previously confined me to a hospital bed. I've been able to attend my daughter's school play and take weekend trips with my wife—moments I thought were lost to me. As we discussed, I am maintaining absolute discretion about the nature of my treatment. The potential implications of this research are significant, and I trust your professional judgment in how we proceed. I have noticed some... unexpected physiological changes that we should discuss during our next consultation. Nothing alarming but certainly intriguing.

Sincerely,

Benjamin Halter 

I looked up, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. What was this guy talking about? Was he sure he sent it to the right Michael Green? Sure, my brother did experimentation, but not on humans.I put the letter to the side and rummaged through the container, eager to know more about this. There weren't any more letters, but there were some... science-y-looking things.

"Resiniferatoxin?" I mumbled, squinting at a paper. "The hell is that...?" Pulling up my phone, I quickly searched for it: A naturally occurring chemical compound that's a potent analog of capsaicin... what does that have to do with anything?

I looked through more websites; realization washed over me. It was a painkiller; one website said it was a last resort- so hot eating it could cause internal burns and even death! Glancing back at the paper, I tried to correlate my brother with this information: Sure he was a researcher; he... he researched things! Maybe this was his research...!

Maybe- 

My eyes widened as my lips parted slightly; I felt my stomach drop as dread settled in like lead in my gut. Swallowing nervously, I reached for the next set of papers. It was some sort of patient log- like the one Dr. Atticus had been holding earlier- only this one contained...a whole list of people.

My hands trembled slightly as I turned each page; the clinical language feeling increasingly cold and detached.

"Ten patients tested to see if one could withstand resiniferatoxin," I whispered, my eyes roaming down the page as panic began creeping in again. "Patient one..." My blood ran cold. "Seven years old...Kayla Williams...reacted severely to the toxin." My breath caught in my throat.

Seven. Just a child. I slowly flipped the page; I wanted to stop but couldn't- I felt bile rise in my throat as I looked at the picture. Kayla- unrecognizable- blood everywhere.

"No..." I whimpered; then my eyes trailed down to little caption at the end of the report

Experiment by Dr. Michael Green.

I crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it across the room; my heart nearly bursting out from my chest as panic set in again- I scrambled up and ran to the bathroom with tears in my eyes. No! This couldn't be...true! I barely made it before starting dry-heaving having eaten nothing earlier- I coughed as tears streamed down my cheeks.

Please. This had to be a misunderstanding. 

I had to be dreaming.