The Brain Parasites, Part Three

MONDAY, OCT. 22

My phone buzzed at 6:30 a.m. Rachel kicked me in the ass. I rolled over and managed to hit the right button. “Hello? Uh—”

“Russell’s dead.” Jolene’s voice sounded lifeless too.

Oh no. I lurched up. “What? I mean  . . . what?”

“He wasn’t . . . he wouldn’t wake up.” She sniffled. “I couldn’t wake him up. And he wasn’t breathing . . .”

We sat in silence for 10 seconds. Finally I managed a question: “What do the doctors say?”

“A cerebral  . . . thing? Just like that old woman in the park. I don’t know. I had to call his parents, my mother, and then . . .” She sobbed.

“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I have to . . .” She blew her nose. “Sorry. There’s all this stuff to do. Just send me your bill.”

Bill? Right. “Look, we’re square. I’m going to keep checking this out—”

“Do whatever you want. I can’t . . .” Jolene hung up.

“Wha . . .?” Rachel rolled over. “What’s going on?”

“Russell’s dead.” I stood on shaky legs. “Same thing as the woman in the park. Goddamn it.”

“Oh, no.” Rachel clutched my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I grabbed some sweatpants. “I need coffee.”

I sat at my computer, trying to think of what to do now. Damn it!

Rachel came up behind me. “You okay?”

“Not really.” I drummed my fingers on the desk. Maybe I should have done something different. Maybe I could have saved him. I closed my eyes. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this at all. “I should have been an accountant. Like my mom and dad wanted.”

“You’re lousy with math.” She punched my shoulder. “Hey, I think  they’re hiring down at McDonald’s. All you’d have to do is push buttons. Want to go?”

All I’d have to ask was You want to supersize that? My mother would be so proud.

“Not yet.” I picked up my phone to call the clinic.

“So what do I do?”

            “Come here tonight around 9 p.m.,” Reid said over the phone. “Bring whatever you need to sleep comfortably.” He chuckled. “Some of our patients bring stuffed animals. Anyway, you’ll lie down in a sleep room and we’ll attach some monitors to your head, and you’ll be given a mild sedative to help you sleep. Then we’ll monitor your brain wave activity throughout the night, and in the morning you can go home. We’ll analyze the results and call you.”

            “Will there be anyone there?”

            “Yes, we have staff on hand throughout the night. If you need anything, or decide to leave, someone will help you.”

            Nuts. That meant I wouldn’t be able to poke around. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight.”

            Rachel wasn’t happy.

            “Are you crazy?” She didn’t even punch me, so I knew she was mad. “This is as stupid as sticking your hand into a jar of flesh-eating fungus—oh wait, you did that. I forgot who I was talking to. Are you nuts?”

            “First, I’m not going to take any sedative.” We were eating dinner—meatless burgers and salad. “And I’m not going to stay there all night. There’ll be people around, so I can’t snoop as much as I want, but maybe I’ll get an idea about whether they’re up to anything.”

            “I should go instead of you.” She bit into her burger. “I could pick up something, maybe.”

            I shook my head. “It’s too dangerous—”

            Now she slugged me. “See what I mean?”

            “Ow.” I’ve faced vampires and demons, but Rachel has a meaner punch than any of them. “I just meant—”

            “Fine. Whatever. I’m going to watch all of Daredevil and tell you every single spoiler. Jerk.” She looked at my plate. “Are you going to eat the rest of your salad?”

            I pushed it over. “Knock your socks off.”

            Rachel’s phone buzzed. “Hey, Gary, what’s up?” She put it on speaker. “Tom’s here.”

            “Hi, Rachel, hi, Tom.” Gary had a friendly voice. “I took a look at that sleep machine. It looks fine—I mean, I’m not an expert on that kind of tech, but I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary for a sound system. The one thing was that there’s an extra stream on each of the tracks, just under the white noise.”

            “Like something subliminal?” I looked at Rachel.

            “Maybe.” Gary coughed. “The stream itself is short, about 30 seconds, but it repeats over and over again. Maybe it’s nothing. I mean, this is supposed to help you sleep, right?”

            “That’s what they say.” I nodded. “Thanks, Gary. Send me a bill.”

            “Nah, it’s a favor for you guys. I’ll bring it back tonight.”

            “Thanks.” Rachel hung up. “Nice guy.”

            I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want another fight before heading to the sleep clinic.

Terri walked me down the hall to one of the sleep labs. She was just as cute as before, even with the ring through her nostril.

Inside the lab a wall of electronics loomed over a hospital bed. “There’s a restroom over there.” She pointed to a door. “Did you bring any pajamas? If you like, there are gowns in that drawer.”

            “Just a book.” I set a copy of Infinite Jest on a table next to the bed and put my phone on top of it.

            “I’ll let you change and get comfortable.” She smiled.

            “Uh, wait.” I leaned against the edge of the bed. “Are those—cameras?”

            Lenses pointed down from three corners of the room.

            Terri nodded reassuringly. “We just need to watch your sleep behavior. Don’t worry, it’s all completely confidential.”

            I’d signed some forms. “Okay. I just . . . you know . . . roll over a lot.”

            Terri giggled. “That’s fine. It’s not like I watch them. Just the doctors.”

So I got undressed, except for my boxers and socks, and tied a hospital gown around my neck and waist. Then I sat down on the bed, nervous. It was like waiting for surgery. Or worse.

            After ten minutes I heard a knock on the door. “Come in!”

            It was Terri again. She carried a tray with a pitcher of water and a small paper cup with a pink pill. “Are you comfortable?”

            I pulled  blanket up. “Uh, I guess so.”

“All right.” She set the tray down on a nearby table and started sorting through strings of wires. “I need you to pull everything down to your waist.”

Okay. I pushed the blanket back down.

Her hands skimmed across my forehead and scalp as she plugged in the wires, one by one. “These are long enough for you to get to the restroom, if you need to,” she told me. “Just be careful not to pull any of them off. If you do, you can probably push them back on, but if you lose more than one or two, call me. Or whoever’s on duty. I go home at midnight.” She lifted a typical call-button device that dangled over the side of the bed.

The door opened again. “Everything okay here, Terri?”

“Just finishing up, Dr. Usher.” She attached a final wire to my chest. “There. All done.” She patted my arm. “You okay?”

“Just fine. Thanks, Terri.”

“Sure thing. Just one thing more . . .” She bent down next to the computer wall. “This will help you sleep. It’s called the Nyx. The latest model.”

She pressed a purple button. This Nyx was as big as a microwave oven, with black sides all around. “There we go. Sleep well.”

“Thanks.” I vaguely heard wind and waves in my ears. I rubbed my eyes. I had to stay awake.

Usher pointed at my phone. “We discourage patients from looking at screens before they go to sleep.”

            “That’s just in case my girlfriend calls.” I patted my book. “This one puts me to sleep in 15 minutes.”

            He nodded. “I’ve tried that book three times. Never got past the first chapter.”

            “It’s just you and her?” I rubbed my head cautiously.

            “Terri’s off at 10:30, but there’ll be another staffer working. And I’ll be here all night. Napping, like you.” Then he picked up the pitcher and poured water into a tall plastic cup. “This will help you sleep.”

            “What is it?” I picked up the pill.

            “A mild sedative. Not habit forming. Just to help you relax.” He smiled.

            I popped the pill into my mouth. And under my tongue. Then I took a long gulp of cold water. It tasted funny. Would Usher check under my tongue to make sure I’d actually swallowed the pill? They did that Orange is the New Black.

            But Usher was at the computers, pushing buttons and adjusting dials. “All right.” He stepped back. “I’m going to turn down the lights. Try to relax and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

            “Thanks.” I laid back. “Say good night to Terri, okay?”

            He grinned. “Sleep well.”

            I closed my eyes. Keeping the pill under my tongue was harder than I’d expected—and I kept wondering how much of it was dissolving into my bloodstream anyway.

            After a few minutes I rolled onto my side and spit the pill out onto the pillow. Then I spent ten minutes breathing shallowly, thinking about Rachel. I actually drifted off . . .

A pinprick of light stabbed my eyes. I tried to blink. What the—?

            A spidery shape dropped down toward my face. I couldn’t close my eyes. I couldn’t move as it wrapped its long thin legs around my head. My scalp, my ears, my neck, my throat, my cheeks . . . my eyes.

            Don’t fight, said a voice inside my head. Let us come. Relax and let us come.

            Me: “Who are you? What are you? What do you want?”

            We are seshai.

            Me: “What—what does that mean? Where do you come from? What are you doing?”

            Let us come.

I tried to scream. But the spider legs were deep down inside my throat, cutting off my air. I choked. No. No!

The Brain Parasites, Part Four

WEDNESDAY, OCT. 24

I rolled over on the bed, feeling like I had the worst hangover of my life.

            “Good morning.” Dr. Reid pulled the last of the electrodes off my chest. “It looks like you had a good night’s sleep.”

            “Uhh . . .” I sat up. “What time is it?”

            “It’s just 8:30. We got a good read off of you.” He smiled. “How did you sleep?”

            “Uh, fine.” I fumbled for my jeans. “Can I get dressed now?”

            “Of course.” Reid tapped some buttons on the wall and pulled a flash drive from a USB port. “Take your time. We’ll be in touch.”

            “Dr. Reid?” I was already looking for Rachel on my phone. Three messages.

            He paused. “Yes?”

            “What’s seshai?”

            He blinked. “Why do you ask? I don’t know.”

            I was a reporter before I was a private detective, so I’m pretty good at spotting lies. Reid knew the word.

            I just shook my head. “Just something from a dream.”

            Then I got dressed. I didn’t quite run out the door, but I wasn’t sauntering either.

            I sat in my Honda, catching my breath and checked my phone. Six messages, all from Rachel. I erased Rachel’s messages before calling home. “Hi. It’s me.”

            “You asshole!” Rachel’s voice stormed my ear. “You said you were going to stay there half an hour! I hope you got a good night’s sleep, because I haven’t gotten any! By the way, everyone dies! Even Nick Fury and—okay, I may have watched Infinity War without you, but you said—”

            “Shut up.” I started the car. “I’m coming home. I don’t know what happened, but . . . I need you.” I twisted the key.

            “I’ll be right here. Jerk.”

Back home I staggered into the kitchen for a bottle of water and collapsed on a chair, rubbing my temples. Rachel stalked in from the office wearing a T-shirt and green panties, which, okay, did distract me from my headache a bit. “What the hell happened?”

            “I didn’t take the sedative, but I fell asleep anyway. Maybe it was the sleep machine.” I gulped some more water.

            “Yeah, Gary dropped ours off right after you left. It’s in the office.” She bent over me. “Hold still.”

            I closed my eyes and felt her fingers on my forehead and temples. My skull and my heart were pounding.

            Then Rachel sighed. “You idiot.”

            “It’s there? They called it . . . the seshai.”

            “Something’s there.” She wiped her hands on her T-shirt. “Not as strong as I felt in Russell. The what?”

“It called itself the seshai. It talked to me. Damn it.” I wanted a beer. And a bottle of Tylenol. And more beer. Probably not a good combination at 9:30 in the morning.

“Now what?” She sat down across the table. “I can’t take much more of this, Tom.”

“Yeah.” In the past year I’d been turned into a vampire, infected myself with flesh-eating fungus, and now this. Maybe it wasn’t too late to apply to McDonald’s. “Sorry.”

Rachel stood up and sighed again. “That pill was nothing. The numbers didn’t match up to anything I could find.” She stretched. “I’m going to take a shower. Try not to have a stroke before I’m done.”

Maybe the water was the sedative, not the pill. Or the Nyx machine. “Sorry.”

She kissed the top of my head. “Get some rest.”

I snorted. “Thanks.”

While Rachel showered I tried to look up every possibly spelling of “seshai” on the internet. Mostly I found variations on sushi and sashimi, which only made me hungry despite my blinding headache.

            I found a bottle of Tylenol in my desk and gulped a handful down dry. Then I drank the rest of my water and made my way to the kitchen for more.

            Rachel came out of the bedroom, fresh and clean in jeans and boots and a sweater. “Feeling any better?” She slugged my shoulder. “Jerk.”

            I couldn’t blame her. “I’m going to take a shower too. Then—”

            Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was the Reid Sleep Clinic. “Mr. Jurgen? This is Dr. Usher. At the clinic? Can you come in today? As soon as possible?”

            Uh-oh. “Is there a problem?” I switched the phone to speaker to Rachel could hear him. Maybe she’d pick something up from his voice.

            “No problem. We’d just like to discuss your results.”

            That seemed . . . quick. I glanced at Rachel. “Uh . . . is this about the seshai?”

            A short pause. “What’s that?”

            Rachel smiled and jabbed a finger at my phone. He knows, she mouthed without words.

            Yeah. Even without psychic powers, I could pick that up in his voice. “Just something I heard in a dream last night. I’ll be there in an hour.”

Terri escorted Rachel and me down the hall. “In here.” She seemed nervous as she knocked at a door. A nameplate on the wall read DR. ASHTON REID.

 Inside Reid sat behind a broad desk, with Usher next to him, staring at a laptop screen.

            “So what’s going on?” Rachel and I sat down. I looked from one doctor to the other. “You said this would take a few days.”

            “Your data indicated a need for immediate intervention.” Reid smiled at Rachel. “And you are?”

            “Rachel.” She stood up and smiled, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.” They shook.

            She shot me a glance and a nod. Yup. He had the seshai too.

            “What kind of intervention?” I didn’t have to pretend to be nervous. “Am I going to have to get hooked up to that machine again? Because I had the worst hangover of my life this morning.”

            “Maybe you should get one of those sleep machines you told me about.” Rachel nudged my shoulder. “Might help with your snoring.”

Reid nodded. “We can show you a line of them. You don’t have to get the most expensive model, of course. We mostly keep it for—”

“Oh, let’s cut the crap.” Usher shoved his laptop to one side. “We know who you are, Tom. Why you’re here. It all came out in the readings.”

Okay. They’d scanned my brain for 12 hours last night. I hoped they hadn’t picked up my adolescent fantasies about Justine Bateman on Family Ties. Or that dream about Rachel in a chain mail bikini. Or . . .

            I shook my head. “Fine. I’m not just a consultant, I’m a detective.” I tossed my business card on the desk. “Jolene Beckham hired me to find out why her boyfriend, Russell Lenehan—one of your patients?—was getting up and leaving the house at night. I don’t have all the answers yet, but Russell’s dead. And it’s inside my head.” I tapped my ear. “So I’d like to know what’s going on. What are the seshai?”
            Usher and Reid exchanged a glance. As if they were communicating silently with each other.

“They’re . . . from another dimension,” Reid said.

            “Are they demons?” I’ve encountered more than my fair share of demons, Not with 100 percent success, but still . . .

            Reid shook his head. “Not demons. They don’t mean any harm.”

            “Then why is Russell Lenehan dead? And Dale Kirkpatrick?”

            “You need to come to the clinic at least once a week to refresh the energy,” Usher said. “The sleep machine every night, too.”

            “Otherwise the seshai begins . . . eating your brain.” Reid shrugged.

            Oh hell. I’d taken Russell’s Nyx. Did that mean I’d contributed to his death?

            “You should tell people,” Rachel said. “I mean, that they need the machine every single night, at least.”

            And how the hell was I supposed to sleepwalk my way out to Oak Park once a week? Or sleep-drive? I wanted to start throwing things.

            “I was just trying different techniques for better sleep.” Reid crossed his arms. “I looked into meditation, drugs, sound therapy . . . I reviewed all the literature, and I tested everything on myself. The seshai—made their way into my through one of the Nyx machines that Dr. Usher developed. I contacted him, and we opened the clinic.”

            “To infect more people with the seshai?” He might have been talking about a coffee shop.

            “It’s what every organism wants.” Usher tapped a pen on the desk. “To survive and reproduce. They can’t do that in their original dimension anymore. As long as our patients—”

            “What about the naked thing in the park?” Rachel stomped a foot on the carpet. “Where that woman died?”

            “They need to come close every once in a while.” Usher glanced at Reid. “We’re together every day, but others—”

            Reid smiled. “Not naked, of course.” I hid a shudder at the mental image.

            “—have to come into contact with each other.” He folded his hands. “If you use the machine often enough throughout the day, you may not have to do any of that. I don’t know what happened to that woman. Maybe it was just her time.”

            “So Dale Kirkpatrick really was a patient here.” Russell said he’d seen her, but I still hadn’t been sure.

            Usher nodded. “She came to us—”

            “Tom, some of our patients are from Chicago or the other suburbs.” Reid was trying to sound reassuring. “We can manage this together with regular appointments and—”

            Wait a minute. “Why you telling us all this?” They were like Bond villains, about to launch their evil scheme because they thought we couldn’t stop them—

            Except they’d already done it.

“To stop you from poking around our clinic.” Usher tapped a pen on the desk. “Look, Tom, I hate to make threats, but the seshai won’t let you attack or endanger them. You’re better off just coming back here regularly—”

“Or they’ll kill him?” Rachel stood up. “You might have a right to survive and reproduce, but that’s not a right to rape people’s brains. Come on, Tom.” She grabbed my hand. “We’re done here. For now.”

I had more questions for them, but I could tell she needed to leave right away. Maybe because she’d been exposed to too many seshai at once. I stood up. “Yeah. This isn’t over.”

We stalked through the waiting room. I didn’t make a follow-up appointment with Terri. I resisted the urge to shout at the waiting patients: “They're here already! You're next! You're next, you’re next!” But I restrained myself, if only because most of them wouldn’t realize I was quoting from Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and if any did, they’d think I was joking. Or crazy.

Out in the Honda I gripped the steering wheel with trembling fingers. “You know, I don’t think you’ve ever been so hot as you were just then in there. Except that one time on the beach—”

Rachel punched my arm. “Nobody messes with my boyfriend. Now shut up and drive.”

Still exhausted, I slept for most of the afternoon with the Nyx in the background. I missed a Skype appointment with a client, and I had to call another to say that I wouldn’t be tailing his wife tomorrow. Both were reasonably understanding, but I knew I couldn’t get away with ducking clients for too long. Seshai or no seshai. I’d have to do some work while I figured this out.

            Rachel made spaghetti with alfredo sauce for dinner. We drank some beers. “Are you okay?”

            “Fine.” I rubbed my head. “I think.”

            “So what are we going to do?” She twirled some pasta on her fork.

            “Hell if I know.” I sipped some beer. “We could firebomb the place.”

            “That wouldn’t help you. Or any of the others.”

            “It might stop the seshai from getting any further.”

“I don’t care about that.” She put her fork down. “Well, I do care about it, but I care about you more. Jerk.”

“Yeah, I’m at the top of my to-do list too. Along with you.”

Rachel opened another beer. “Want to watch TV and think about it?”

           

We were watching Infinity War after dinner. Rachel tried to restrain herself from spoilers. We were both a little distracted.

            “Wait!” I pointed at the screen. “Is he really dead?”

            She punched my arm. “Shut up and watch the movie.”

            Then my phone buzzed. Unknown number. Maybe a telemarketer. But sometimes unknown callers are the best kind. “Sorry. Just a second . . .” Racherl paused the movie. “Hello, Tom Jurgen speaking.”

            “Mr. Jurgen? It’s Terri Smith, from the Reid Clinic?” She was whispering. “I’m supposed to call you Friday about setting up your next appointment. But . . . I need to talk to you. Alone. I get off work at 10:30.”

            I sat up. “About what?”

            “I think you already know? There’s a coffee shop.” She gave me an address. “Bring your girlfriend.”