The Man Who Fell Apart
Howell was puzzled. He was in shock and suffering the grief that most people would when losing a brother, but still puzzled. Joe Carruthers, his good friend, called him in London with the news, explaining that his parents were in "deep mourning" and "unable to talk about it." Howell thought this odd and a bit disturbing, as his folks were very down to earth, no nonsense people of hardy Scotch-Irish stock. So, it was with a sense of vague foreboding that he stepped into the terminal at Kennedy Airport and awaited his flight to Will Rogers World Airport in Oklahoma City.
Howell Beaumont, Jr. was born and raised in Butler, a small town seventy miles or so from Oklahoma City. A very small town in the heart of the Bible belt, Howell left home immediately after graduation from high school to make his way in the larger world. Howell and Mabel Beaumont were hurt and confused by their eldest son's desire to leave home so quickly, but accepted it as best they could. As the years passed, their anger at Howell eased, in large measure because Hadley, Howell's brother and junior by 12 years, was a model son who moved back to Butler after finishing junior college in Lawton.
Howell felt somewhat guilty about returning home under these circumstances. He had been back only three times, for short visits, in 28 years. Time had mellowed him, but he had been overseas for 16 years and it felt strange to be standing on American soil. A top-notch free-lance geologist, he was much in demand with all the major energy corporations and was well off financially, if not exactly wealthy.
Saddened and worried, he was anxious to talk to Joe, who was to pick him up in Oklahoma City and drive him to Butler.
"How was your trip?" Joe asked perfunctorily, as he pumped his old pal's hand. He and Howell were best friends when growing up and were still close, corresponding three to four times a year. Joe and his family met Howell in Denmark 12 years ago, enjoying several days of holiday together. They had not seen each other since.
"OK. Hey, you're getting old." Howell replied.
"But not bald," Joe shot back, pointing to his friend's thinning hairline, which was thick and long the last time he had seen him.
This good-natured repartee lasted until Howell and his bags were loaded into Joe's car. The old friends allowed themselves these few minutes of lighthearted comradeship before the serious discussion began on the drive to Butler.
Pulling out of the airport parking lot, Howell asked simply, "What's going on?"
Joe now began to act nervous. "We're going to stop and talk. You hungry?"
"Ate on the plane."
"We'll stop anyway. Don't want to drive and go over this."
Howell was certain that something was wrong. Joe was not the kind to rattle easily, but he was extremely agitated now.
Over coffee at a not-too crowded McDonald's on the way out of OKC, Joe slowly began to speak. His hands fidgeted and he was very pale. Howell wondered what in the hell could have his normally steel nerved friend so upset. He was about to find out.
"The funeral was yesterday," Joe offered.
"I know," Howell wryly replied, "kind of annoys me off that they couldn't wait," referring to his parents.
"They did you a favor."
"How so?"
"The funeral was closed casket."
"Get to the point," Howell snapped. Immediately, he apologized. "Sorry Joe."
"Don't worry about it." He looked at his friend for a moment, saw he had delayed too long, and began to speak. Slowly and quietly, he began, "Your brother didn't die of cancer. He died of an unknown ailment." He was a little too deliberate with that statement.
"What the hell does that mean, Joe?" "For gosh sakes man, spit it out." Howell was tired, confused, and certain something was hidden from him. He was out of patience.
"It means Hadley died a horrible death. He literally fell apart." Joe's hands were now trembling terribly and his face was ashen. Howell was bewildered to the point of disorientation.
"It started about five weeks ago. One day, Hadley noticed his right index finger was numb and it had an odd inner itch, the kind you can't scratch to get rid of. It was numb and cold, he told Doc Roberts later, with this itch he couldn't scratch. This bothered him for a couple of days." Taking a deep breath, Joe continued, "It was on the third day, in the morning when he got up. He started to rub the sleep out of his eyes and saw his finger was missing. It had fallen off in his sleep." With this statement, Joe thought he was going to throw up. And he had barely started with his story.
This had not sunk in on Howell as yet. "His finger just fell off?" "Why?"
"No one knows." Joe had to steel himself to continue. "When he discovered this, he freaked out. Ran out of the house screaming. When Jan caught up with him outside and saw what happened, she fainted. Ed Beers next door called 911 and the paramedics came. They found Howell's finger underneath his pillow."
"This killed him?" Howell weakly asked.
"No. What killed him was this kept happening. Doc Roberts didn't believe his finger just fell off. He figured he had an accident of some kind and just didn't want to say so. Jan tried to tell him there was no blood on the sheets or pillow case, just a small portion of the scab that had formed under the skin line, but he refused to listen."
"It happened again?" Howell asked shakily. He too was feeling weak and nauseated.
"Yeah, it happened again," Joe replied ironically, "couple of days later, Hadley felt this same numbness and deep itching in his right wrist. He panicked." Shaking his head, Joe added, "Well, guess I would too if I was scared to death my hand was getting ready to fall off.
"Did it?" Howell could scarcely utter the words.
"Uh huh." Joe's reply was barely audible.
The men sat in silence for several minutes; Joe overcome by emotion and Howell in near shock. Neither man had taken more than a couple of sips of his coffee.
"Want me to go on?"
"Yeah, if you can."
"Well, it was the same deal. Only this time Hadley tried to steel himself for the possibility. He kept it wrapped. And he went to Doc Robbers. Made a believer of old Doc, too. Fell off, or rather, came off, when he unwrapped it. Luckily, Hadley was in the best place he could be. Freaked out again, but Ann (Doc's nurse) put him out with a shot." Joe felt hot nausea in his throat and he had to stop for a moment. "Shit. Think I'm going to be sick."
While Joe was in the restroom, Howell had his first moment alone since hearing this bizarre story. He hoped he would wake up soon from this nightmare, only he was wide-awake and alert. He was numb and felt sick himself, but the full horror of it all would not come until later.
Joe returned looking pale but a little better. "Sure you want to keep on?"
"Yeah, I'll be OK now. I think." This nightmare would not go away for him, either. No horror in this life ever bothered him, or ever would bother him, as this one did, and he was a man who had seen plenty in Korea. He took a sip of his now tepid coffee and started again.
"After what happened in Doc's office, Hadley never recovered mentally. Oh, there was very little blood when his hand went. Again, it scabbed over underneath before detaching. No pain, just numbness and itching. But his mind couldn't handle what was happening. He was being brave as possible, but in the next two weeks he lost the middle toe on his right foot, his left foot, and his left leg just below the knee. Doc and Ann tried to keep him sedated, but still he spent all of his time screaming or crying." Joe's voice cracked and he began to weep quietly, "It was terrible, Howell. God, I'm sorry."
Howell was trying valiantly to keep his composure. He had to keep hold of himself. There was much he did not know. In a thick, almost slurring voice, he asked his friend again if he could continue.
"Have to, Howell. I want to get this done. But, let's go outside." Joe gave him no time to answer, as he was anxious to feel the cold February air. He was out of his seat and out the door before Howell was hardly on his feet. He dreaded the next few minutes more than he did dying himself. Hell, he thought, dying now would be a relief. Joe knew he would never again have a peaceful night's sleep.
Shuffling his feet and taking a deep sigh, Joe looked at Howell and said, "In the following two weeks, before he died, he lost his left arm just above the elbow, his right ear, a couple of teeth, his left eye, and started spitting up blood. Part of what he spit up was parts of his stomach and esophagus. Listen to me, Howell; I'm only going to say this once." Joe was like a man who was exhausted after a long marathon, but saw the end in sight. "None of this killed him, though I'm certain all of it was a strain to his system and that it certainly would have." Joe was now wild eyed and animated, but Howell neither noticed nor cared. "The day before he died, he felt numbness in his neck."
The men stood in silence in the dark cold for a long time. Howell asked, in a whispered voice, "Was he conscious when he died?"
"No. The doctors from Atlanta had him heavily sedated. The blood and oxygen to his head were cut off by the scab underneath the skin line, and he never knew. Thank God."
Right now, Howell wasn't interested in hearing the details of his brother's death. He had nightmarish visions of his head falling off and rolling down the hospital corridor. Later he would learn Hadley's head was tightly wrapped and kept in place with a neck brace, in the vain hope something could be done to save him. Only after his death was the head lifted off of his neck, exposing the heavy scab, and taken to Atlanta to be studied in total secrecy.
Howell was close to hyperventilating, but he forced himself to think clearly. That bad accident in the North Sea a few years ago, the explosion where 22 men were killed and dismembered hadn't shaken him as much as this, and he had seen that first hand. This was ghoulish and monstrous and it had happened to his brother. After swallowing down the contents of his stomach, he asked Joe, "Atlanta?"
"Yeah. Doc Roberts wasted no more time after his first screw-up in notifying the Center for Disease Control. The Federal guys didn't believe Doc right away, either, as he himself doubted Hadley, but his reputation is good enough to where they sent a doctor from the City to check it out. After seeing Hadley and his cleanly severed hand with the odd scab on it . . . , well, a team showed up in town the next day. They've been working on this ever since."
"So what caused it?" Howell was scared, confused, and starting to get disoriented. It was almost an out-of-body experience. Time slowed down for him and it seemed it was himself he saw from afar; not Joe in front of him.
"They don't know yet."
"I guess everyone's shocked by this," Howell thought aloud. No doubt small town Butler, Oklahoma, was abuzz with it.
"That's something else, Howell," Joe replied, slightly condescendingly, "No one knows. Everyone but Ann and Doc, your folks, and us, know the truth. The Atlanta people put Joe in an isolated ward at Mercy Hospital in the City after they examined him in Robert's clinic. Everyone believes it was fast acting cancer. The funeral was closed casket."
"No kidding. You told me that already."
Joe gently replied, "You know why now."
Howell began to twitch, and it was not because of the cold night air. His hands shook badly, and Joe was afraid he pushed it too far. "Come on, Howell, I got whiskey in the car. You better have some."
Howell regained his composure, somewhat, after a couple of stiff swigs of Joe's Jack Daniels. Lying down in the back seat with his knees up helped also. He was to spend the night with Joe and Peggy and would see his parents tomorrow, as he had been through too much today. Joe told him, "They're coping," but offered no other words of assurance concerning them. Joe added that Jan was "holding up". Well, OK, he would see them tomorrow. He needed time to adjust to this horror before an emotional reunion with his family.
Neither man slept well that night. It would be more accurate to say that neither man slept at all. As always, when emotionally upset, Howell suffered from acute diarrhea and cramping. Joe suffered through nightmares and listening to his friend's bathroom noises. Both were grateful when morning came. Morning always offered fresh hope from the blackness of night.
Peggy Carruthers served Howell hot tea for breakfast, hoping to quiet his grumbling insides. He sipped it slowly, beginning to feel a little bit better. Joe had a light breakfast of toast and coffee. "Have a little toast, Howell. You'll feel better." Howell knew he was right, but he wasn't quite up to solid food yet.
When Peggy returned to the kitchen, Howell, in a low voice, asked, "Does she know everything?"
"Yeah."
"Suzanne?" Suzanne Carruthers was Joe and Peggy's 18-year old daughter and a senior at Butler High School.
"No. No one else, not even the Beers."
Peggy returned with more coffee and sat down. "Feeling human yet?"
"Almost," Howell replied, smiling at her. Peggy Carruthers was still a handsome woman. "I haven't had a chance to visit with you much. You getting along OK?"
"I'm fine. Sorry about your brother, Howell," she offered, quietly.
"Thanks. I get the feeling that there's more bad news," he replied, gently.
"There is." Joe had dreaded this moment all night long, but it was time to get this over with. "Your parents aren't doing too well, Howell. Your father had a nervous breakdown. He's in the City at Mercy. The Atlanta guys are watching him. Don't know what he may say."
Howell felt like a sixteen-pound bowling ball had just sucker punched him in the gut. "He's that bad off?" he asked, weakly.
"Yes," Peggy answered, to Joe's relief, "This has driven him over the edge, at least temporarily. Dr. Benson from Atlanta thinks he's just had too much stress. "
Howell felt panic and disorientation returning. "How is Mom?" "What about Jan?" Howell's voice had risen slightly.
Joe was quite concerned, especially since he had one more thing to add to his already considerable burden. As he did last evening in the McDonald's parking lot, Joe looked his old pal in the eye and told him, "Your mother is not doing too well, either. She's also at Mercy. She left yesterday morning before I picked you up. Howell, night before last, she developed an odd numbness in her right thumb." Before Howell could reply, he added, "Jan is with them in Oklahoma City. They don't want to risk problems with her."
Howell Beaumont, at that moment, was as close to losing his sanity as a person could possibly be and still be functional. The news of the last twelve hours caused him to change from a well-adjusted, strong, middle-age professional man to one who was now crying, almost whimpering. Joe and Peggy were both embarrassed and deeply saddened. "Wish Dr. Roberts were here," Peggy thought aloud.
"Yeah, we need to call him." Joe saw that Howell's eyes were glazed over and his fists were clenched so tight that his prominent knuckles were bleached white. Pushed him too far, Joe thought, unhappily.
A few minutes later Doc Roberts showed up with Linda Howerton, a medical technician from Atlanta who was visiting with him when the phone rang. They arrived none too soon, as Howell had quieted down but was into a quiet shock.
"Shock," Doc Roberts said, in straightforward, matter-of-fact fashion. Roberts reminded Joe of the doctor Milburn Stone used to play on Gunsmoke - a very crusty, but kind-hearted small town doctor. He was immensely popular with the local people, as he should be. He had been in practice here for 32 years. This business with Hadley Beaumont had shaken him severely, though he tried not to show it. Next was Mabel, he thought, and now Howell, Jr., buckling under the stress. Behind his poker face Dr. Roberts was, too, a very scared and confused man. What in the hell, he wondered bitterly, is happening here?
"Yeah," Joe answered, about the only thing he was capable of saying right now. He, Peggy and Doc had born the brunt of the horror and pressure of the last few weeks, and it was starting to show.
Linda Howerton, working with the Atlanta crisis team, had authority over Dr. Roberts as far as where to treat him. She was under standing orders from Dr. Benson to get anyone else affected with the "strange problem" to the isolation ward at Mercy. She told the rest of them, "While he may not have the illness, he may start babbling." Doc Roberts nodded his head. He knew to risk letting this secret out was to risk national panic. He also knew Joe and Peggy were near the breaking point, also. He promised Ms. Howerton he would watch them closely while she tended to Howell.
An hour later, Howell was on his way to Oklahoma City in a medical helicopter. Linda Howerton was with him.
Doc Roberts stayed with Joe and Peggy, having a light lunch of soup and crackers. The good Doctor Richard Roberts a well regarded man in his profession. He was able to calm Joe down by spending the remainder of the morning with him and just visiting and shooting the breeze. Peggy, too, seemed comforted by his presence.
Doc listened. "Doc, have you ever been terrified? I mean, really terrified?" Joe was not a man who expressed himself well, so he thought for a moment before adding, "It affects you physically. Real terror doesn't go away soon."
"I know, Joe. True horror stays with you awhile. It certainly isn't like going to a horror picture show and leaving the theatre, forgetting about it within an hour." Gently, he added, "I have an idea of what you're going through."
"A man literally falling apart inside and out. Who would ever think that something like that would happen outside of a gruesome horror novel?" Joe was calming and becoming more rational, one of the few bright spots in Doc Roberts day so far.
Looking at Peggy now, while the three relaxed in the living room of the Carruthers modest home after lunch, Doc replied, "It is a true to life nightmare. The worst nightmare that can be imagined has come to pass in Butler, Oklahoma." He didn't need to add that Hadley and Mabel were possibly not the only victims. He hoped against hope the Disease Center could come up with an answer and soon. He wasn't sure human beings could take this particular kind of stress indefinitely. Watching your friends fall to pieces and fearing that you may be next was unknown in the human experience.
As if reading his mind, Peggy asked, "Has Dr. Benson, or anyone else, learned anything yet?"
"You know as much as I know," Doc said, flatly.
"How are you doing?" Peggy asked him.
Doc appreciated her feminine concern. "I'm tired and stressed out, but I'm OK." He grinned at her, "Thanks for asking."
"What do you think this might be?" She was determined to get Dr. Roberts to talk a little bit.
To her surprise he did open up a little bit. "My idea is that it's a virus of some kind, possibly a hereditary disease. This kind of thing has no precedence anywhere, but I'll bet it's a disease of some order." He paused and looked right at Joe and Peggy, "You know it's odd that this happened to Mabel and Hadley at the same time."
"Yeah. We know," Joe said, gloomily. "If it's catching, then we're next."
The three sat in silence for a long time.
Mercifully, Mabel Beaumont died the next day. Doc Roberts took the call in his office, learning the particulars from Dr. Benson. "She died early this morning, Doctor. She began vomiting late last evening and didn't stop." A slight pause, "She choked to death, Doctor. She spit up a portion of her stomach and the remainder of it was stuck in her esophagus." Dr. Benson made a valiant attempt to be as clinical and unemotional as possible, but still, Doc Roberts detected his voice cracking just a little bit. He felt sick himself.
"She didn't suffer long?"
"No. Not long at all, and there had been no further, ah, separations."
No further separations. A polite way of saying that nothing else fell off before losing her stomach. Doc was tired, angry, sick, and worried. What in the hell is going to happen next, he thought? Well, he sighed, guess we'll know soon enough. "Thanks for the call, Doctor. I'll be with the Carruthers. How is Howell?"
"No change. We don't think that there is any permanent emotional damage. It's just too much to deal with."
"Don't I know it? Any word from Atlanta?"
"None."
Doc knew that the conversation was over. "Thanks again, Doctor. Keep us posted."
"You know we will. I'll call you tonight."
"I may be at the Carruthers. Talk to you then."
Six weeks went by. Early spring in Oklahoma can be warm and windy or cold and windy. This late March day was the latter. The Disease Center could find nothing concerning the cause of this terrible illness, but, thank goodness, no more people had fallen apart. The bad news was that Joe and Peggy, Doc Roberts and Ann were wearing down under the strain. It was a terrible secret and heavy lie to live with, but they knew it was for the best. No reason to panic the country if Atlanta could find answers.
But Atlanta found no answers. Doc felt it was only a matter of time before this time bomb exploded. Ann accidentally bruised her elbow hitting it against the lab room door, and it was numb for a couple of days. She was sick with worry and almost hysterical until feeling returned to her arm, and Ann was an experienced nurse of fifteen years.
The break, if you could call it that, came several weeks later, during Memorial Day weekend. Dr. Benson called from Atlanta. He and Doc Roberts knew each other well now, and were much less formal with each other.
"Hey Doc, we have something to talk about." Dr. Benson admired the scrappy rural doctor very much.
"Good. The Beaumont's are doing better?"
"A little bit. Yes, I think so," Benson replied. "Howell Sr. has come around a little bit. Having his son here has actually helped him. Howell Jr. seems to be benefiting from the time spent with his parents. Jan seems to draw strength by watching over them. Yes. I think that, under the circumstances, they all are coping satisfactorily."
Any good news was welcome. There was so little of it lately. "Glad to hear it, Doctor. Anything on our study?" The doctors were careful about what they said over the telephone.
"Yes, there is. By the way, how is your nurse?"
"Ann is feeling better." That there had been no "separations" in several weeks now had restored her nerves somewhat, but Doc was acutely aware of what possibly lie ahead.
"Excellent. We think we have found our virus. Not a virus, exactly, more like an abnormality in the blood make-ups of Mabel and Hadley. We have tested thousands of blood samples and have not seen it anywhere else. I'm coming to see you tomorrow."
"Are the Beaumonts going to be able to return home?"
"We'll discuss that tomorrow." After chatting for a few more minutes, the doctors said their goodbyes until next time, and Doc anxiously awaited the arrival of Dr. Benson. He knew it had to be important to get the man to fly here over the holiday weekend.
The two doctors met in Doc Roberts clinic late the next afternoon, a warm and rainy Saturday. Dr. Benson looked tired and drawn. This hasn't been easy on him, either, Doc thought. The men drank coffee and ate cookies before getting down to business. Ann was present.
"Hope you've got something to tell us, Doctor. Ann and I have about had it." Ann nodded her head in agreement and refilled the coffee cups.
"I do. It appears that it was a virus of some sort. That doesn't explain why no one else has caught it." That statement brought a shudder from Ann. "White cell count was up in both patients; many antibodies in both blood systems, but the fact that only they have been stricken suggests that may not be the whole story."
"What are you saying, Doctor?" Doc was not wanting to play cat and mouse. He was too tired for that.
"I'm saying we don't really know. Maybe this will strike again, maybe it will not. Maybe it's a virus, but possibly it's something else. The fact they were stricken in the same time period suggests that it was not hereditary or some other organic disease. But we don't really know. We have had only two patients to study." Ann began to feel faint and turn pale, another reminder at how this would affect the populace were this to be made public.
"What about the Beaumonts?" Doc had not seen or talked to any of them since the weekend Howell Jr. came home to his nightmare.
Gently, Dr. Benson replied, "They will stay with us indefinitely. You understand."
Doc and Ann understood. They could not be allowed to talk. The people in Butler believed Howell Sr. was in a coma in Oklahoma City and Howell Jr. back in Europe. Mabel had a closed casket funeral in Butler a few days after her son was buried. Heart attack. Too much stress, and that no good oldest boy left for Europe before her death and no one had seen him since.
"We understand," a shaken Doc Roberts answered. He and Ann were close to physical and mental exhaustion. As Joe had mentioned weeks ago, constant terror can be physically as well as emotionally devastating.
Doctor Benson understood his friend's plight, but what could he do? The welfare of the nation and world depended on these few people to keep the secret. "Doctor; Ann," he looked at each in turn. "We are depending on you to carry on. The people here need you. I need you to keep yourselves together. We need normalcy here, which means you have to continue on and do your duties as doctor and nurse. We have to keep the lid on this, and too many people are involved already." He didn't have to tell them there was more room at the Inn in Atlanta, should problems arise.
Doc looked at Ann. "Normalcy." Looking down at the floor, he addressed Doctor Benson, a man he had come to admire. "We know the score. You can depend on us."
Benson was relieved and grateful to hear those words as Ann nodded her head in agreement. "Thanks Doctor." Putting his hand on Ann's shoulder as arose to leave, he thanked her also.
"You're welcome, Doctor. You will keep working on this?"
"Count on it," he answered, and, with that, he stepped outside the back door of the small clinic and got in the back seat of the waiting car. As his driver steered the big auto out of the parking lot, he realized those were the only words that Doc's nurse ever spoke to him.
It was the last time Doc or Ann would see him.
Epilogue
In the months and years that followed, Doc and Ann never saw the Beaumonts again, either. Doc knew it would be useless to find out about them. Probably they were being kept in a nice place somewhere, isolated from the outside world. No doubt they were under constant medical care and surveillance. They were prisoners with VIP treatment and status, but still prisoners. He hoped they were well enough to understand why they were subject to this treatment.
Doc and Ann carried on many more years after this experience. At one time, shortly before the Beaumonts became ill, she planned to quit and move to the City. This shared nightmare drew the Doc and Ann close together, and they eventually married. Not surprisingly, both knew there would be no comfort in living with anyone else. Their horrible shared secret bonded them together as few couples have been.
The first couple of years after Dr. Benson's last visit; they lived in constant fear of the mystery ailment striking again. It never did, but that did not ease the fear. Over time, they learned to live with it, but certainly never got used to it. Patients complaining of numbness always brought high levels of panic and anxiety. Doc and Ann had a relationship and marriage based on a living, ongoing nightmare.
How would you like to live in constant fear of your neck going numb and losing your head in a couple days, but not being able to share your fears with your friends and neighbors, who someday may need to know?
Doc also bore the burden of keeping his eye on Joe and Peggy. He didn't want them to wind up as Dr. Bensons "guests" in Atlanta. Fortunately, they adjusted very well and were never a problem (meaning that they kept their mouths shut).
Most of us will never know what it is like to watch a living man disintegrate into pieces. If you are a Christian, then you probably believe you will never be called on to bear more than you are able. Though only a lukewarm believer at best, Doc found himself praying much more after Hadley's death than he ever had before.
It is said that one has to "walk in the other man's shoes" to fully understand him. One supposes that there are not too many people around who will ever understand the silent terror lived by Dr. and Ms. Richard Roberts, of Butler, Oklahoma.