Saving Medesha Read online

  “Wally!” Mabel replied sternly. “It was for girls only, for heaven’s sake! I’m sure you would have been just a little out of place drinking beer with a bunch of women.”

  Wally said, meekly, “Oh! For girls only? Why was it only for girls?”

  Mabel smiled at Wally like a mother forgiving her son for bringing home an ‘F’ on his report card. “Now, Wally dear, don’t you have to be at the factory in a few minutes?”

  He looked down at his watch. “Oh boy! I better hurry!”

  As he rushed out the door, Mabel called after him. “I’m sure that a lot of the girls that were at the party last night work on your shift, so don’t you get on ‘em about getting to work late.”

  Wally smiled and said something that was drowned out by the sound of the cowbell over the door as he rushed past the front window of the coffee shop.

  Looking somewhat forlorn, Ollie stood up and walked over to the cash register. As he dropped a couple dollars in Mabel’s hand, he said, “Well, I guess I’d probably better get the station opened up. Lester seems to have a bit of a problem getting to work on time when he’s scheduled for the early shift.” He smiled and continued, “Thanks Mabel. See you around noon for lunch.” Then he turned toward Tandy. “Sure hope you’re feeling better the next time I see you, Tandy.”

  She waved at him, “Oh, I’ll be just fine, Ollie. I’ll see you at lunchtime.”

  As the door closed behind him, Tandy said, “Oh, Mabel! I didn’t mean to hurt him. I feel just awful.”

  “Now, Honey,” Mabel replied. “You’ve got to realize that Ollie has to work this out all by himself. There’s nothing that you can do for him right now. Sometimes I think that he’s just in love with a memory of the senior prom. You know that since he and Shauni went to the prom together, they have drifted to the point that neither one of them have a single thing in common anymore.”

  “Oh, I know that,” said Tandy. “It’s just that… well… he’s only two years older than me, but he always looks at me like I’m his little sister or something. I’ve loved Ollie since I was in eighth grade, and I’ve never even been on a single date with him. Sometimes it’s just so hard, waiting around for someone that loves somebody else.”

  Mabel had a faraway look in her eyes, as she said, “I know what you mean. Believe me Honey. I know what you mean.”

  At the age of forty-eight, Mabel Martin had never been married. Like her waitress, Tandy Williams, Mabel had done her own share of waiting. She had also fallen in love in high school, and like Tandy, she stood and watched as the love of her life fell for someone else. Many times over the years, Mabel had wished that she had been the lucky one that had been able to spend a life of wedded bliss with Harold Wheaton.

  During their high school years, Harold had been the big fish in a very small pond. He was Medesha High School’s star fullback during football season, and the hero of the ice during hockey season. After high school, while most of the graduating seniors headed off to college in the Twin Cities or Duluth, Harold Wheaton remained in Medesha and became a deputy with the local sheriff’s department.

  Two years after high school, Harold had married one of Mabel’s childhood friends, Maureen Trautman. One year later, Harold and Maureen became the parents of a beautiful girl that they’d named Shauni. When Shauni was eleven years old, Maureen had been killed in a freak car accident right on Main Street in downtown Medesha. Her car was diagonally parked outside the Sheriff’s Office, where she had been having lunch with Harold. As Maureen was preparing to leave, she was opening the driver’s door to her car when a drunken fisherman from Minneapolis careened his car directly into hers, crushing her between the two vehicles. Being that the accident had occurred before Medesha had a hospital, she had been taken to the clinic at the factory where she had clung to life for two days before she was finally pronounced dead by Preston Vandervork. For sixteen years, Harold Wheaton had been a widower, and had only recently begun to show interest in Mabel as something more than a good friend.

  Just then, the cowbell over the door brought Mabel out of her daydreams.

  “Good morning, Sheriff Wheaton,” smiled Tandy. “How are you this morning?”

  Harold smiled back. “Mornin’, Tandy. From what I heard about last night, I’d venture to say that I’m doing a whole lot better than you are this morning.”

  Tandy blushed, “Oh, Sheriff Wheaton! It wasn’t that big of a deal. Us girls just sat around talking and giggling… and maybe having one or two beers.”

  He leaned over the counter and looked directly into Tandy’s eyes and grinned. “Well, I don’t know. From the looks of those eyes, I think that I could probably give you a breathalyzer test right now and you’d stand a fifty-fifty chance of flunking it.”

  “Harold Wheaton!” shouted Mabel from the far end of the counter where she was working over the grill. “Now don’t you go harassing my friends, or you’re gonna get your eggs on top of your cap instead of on your plate.”

  Harold chuckled. “Well, you know, Mabel… this little gal you got working here… she does look a little like one of the posters I’ve got hanging on my wall over at the jail.”

  As she carried a plate of ham and eggs over to where he was sitting at the counter, she said, “If you don’t behave yourself, I’m gonna have YOU hanging on the wall over at the jail!” She clunked the plate down in front of him, and leaned over with her elbows on the counter. “How have you been, you big ol’ mean law-enforcement officer?”

  He grinned, and gave her a wink. “I’ve been pretty good… how’ve you been doing?” He raised his voice slightly and glanced in Tandy’s direction. “Shauni told me you weren’t at the drunken brawl last night.”

  Tandy placed her hands on her hips and replied, “Now, Sheriff Wheaton! You know it wasn’t a drunken brawl.”

  Mabel waved her hand and said, “Oh, that kind of stuff is for all those little young chicks, not some old hen like myself. Besides, with the out of towners coming in now, I’ve got to keep the diner open later and my summer help doesn’t start ‘til this weekend.”

  Tandy interrupted, “Mabel, I think I’ll go in back and make up a bunch of hamburger patties for the lunch crowd. Okay?”

  She smiled back, “Sure, Honey. That’d be great.”

  When Tandy had disappeared through the swinging door to the back room, Mabel became serious. “So, how are you feeling about Shauni being engaged?”

  Harold lifted his cap and ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t really know how to feel about it. In a way, I’m excited for her, and in a way, I’m a little disappointed.”

  Mabel raised her eyebrows. “Disappointed? Why would you be disappointed?”

  Suddenly, he became slightly embarrassed. “Well, it’s Jefferson. I guess I had always hoped Shauni would settle down with Ollie Torgerson. He’s such a nice guy, and he’s more normal than Jefferson.”

  “Harold!” she said with mild surprise. “Jefferson Cordain is a very intelligent, and extremely nice young man. I’m sure that those two kids will make a very happy couple… and I’ll tell you another thing. I think that what you just said should go no further than you and me.”

  He looked down at his plate. “I know, Mabel. I wouldn’t ever tell anybody else but you anyway. The only thing is that… well… Jefferson is so rich! He’s had all of the advantages in life. He’s been all around the world. Why, Shauni has only been out of Minnesota a couple times in her whole life, for heaven’s sake.”

  “But, Harold,” pleaded Mabel. “Don’t you think that how rich or poor a person is, is a very bad measuring stick when determining their true value? Especially when the person you’re talking about is the one your daughter has fallen in love with, and intends on spending her whole life with?” She hesitated for just a moment, and then blurted out, “I think the main problem here is that you don’t like the things that Jefferson is so passionate about, do you? You don’t like it that he is so interested in this human spirit stuff, and that Shauni has take
n up those same interests. Am I right?”

  He stammered as he looked over at Mabel. “Well, it… it…it’s not normal. It’s not the kind of thing that most people even think about, let alone spend most of their time studying. It’s just not right!”

  “Ooookaayy!” she replied as she reached over to grab the coffee pot. “So, what you’re telling me, is that you feel that a scientist, whose particular field of study is whether or not a person’s spirit really exists after their death, is less normal than a gas pump jockey that spends all of his free time sitting in a boat trying to catch some fictitious fish named Wilbur. Does that about sum it up?”

  Harold couldn’t help but chuckle. “Why do you always have a way of making difficult situations seem so trivial?”

  She reached over the counter and touched Harold’s ear. “Because they ARE trivial. Don’t you see? The worst thing in the world that can ever happen to a person, is to go through life never having experienced love and happiness. There’s really nothing else, is there?”

  Sheriff Harold Wheaton reached up and held Mabel Martin’s hand, and said, “You, my Dear, are absolutely the most interesting short order cook I have ever met.”

  Mabel raised her eyebrows and replied, “I haven’t fully decided, but I think that I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

  Just then, the radio that Sheriff Harold Wheaton carried on his belt crackled to life. “Sheriff Wheaton… Sheriff Wheaton?… This is Irene… What’s your twenty? Are you in your car?”

  Harold chuckled as he reached for the microphone that he kept attached to the pocket of his shirt. “Irene gets so nervous when she has to call me on the radio. She goes on and on, and usually doesn’t give me a chance to answer her.” He keyed the mike. “This is Harold, Irene. What’s the problem?”

  “Sheriff… are you in your car?”

  He smiled at Mabel. “No, Irene. If you stand up and look out your front window, you’ll see that my squad is parked across the street in front of Mabel’s, and if you look real close, you can see me sitting at the counter talking to you on my PCD.”

  “Oh! Hi sheriff! Hi Mabel!”

  They both looked out the window of the diner at the Sheriff’s Office across the street. Sure enough, there was Irene Olson, standing at the window waving. They both smiled, and waved back as Harold keyed his mike again. “Hi Irene… was there a problem that you wanted to discuss with me?”

  “Oh! I’m sorry! I was just in telephonic communication with Dr. Gerard Slocum over at Medesha Memorial. He was wondering, when you have time, if you could stop by the hospital and talk to him for a few minutes.”

  “Sure, Irene. Tell him that I’ll be over to see him within the hour, please.”

  “Will do, Sheriff. Thank you.”

  Mabel looked at Harold with a smile on her face.

  “What?” he said, feeling self-conscious.

  “Telephonic Communication?” she said rather sarcastically. “What the heck is ‘Telephonic Communication’? Did she mean that she had a phone call from Dr. Slocum?”

  He smiled, “Yes, Mabel. Irene had a phone call, but she thinks it sounds more official by saying ‘Telephonic Communication’.

  “Oh, for Pete sake! A phone call is nothing more than a phone call. And another thing… what in tarnation is a ‘PCD’?” she inquired.

  He grinned widely. “That’s another requirement directly from Irene. We are supposed to call our walkie-talkies, Personal Communication Devices. To keep her happy, I told her that I would call mine a PCD.”

  Mabel laughed. “I think Irene needs to find a hobby, or something.”

  As the cowbell over the door began to clang, three fishermen came strolling in chatting noisily.

  Mabel greeted them. “Good morning, gentlemen. Have a seat, and Tandy will be with you shortly.”

  “Mornin’, Mabel,” they replied, in unison.

  “Can I get some coffee for you while you’re waiting?” she asked.

  “Sure,” one hollered. “All decafs, please.”

  Harold said quietly to Mabel, “Well, it looks like your busy day is starting. I guess I’d better head on over to the hospital and see what Doc Slocum wants.”

  She placed her hand over his and said, “You have a good and safe day, Harold.”

  He smiled at her and replied, “You too, Mabel, and thanks for the breakfast.”

  Chapter 2

  When Sheriff Wheaton walked into the hospital, Dr. Gerard Slocum was standing behind the front desk talking to the head nurse. “Good morning, Gerard,” said Harold. “How are you this morning?”

  “Mornin’, Sheriff,” replied Dr. Slocum, as he walked out from behind the desk to shake hands.. “I’m frazzled as usual. How ‘bout yourself?”

  “Well, I can’t complain. Boy, you sure look tired.” He looked down at his watch. “It’s only seven in the morning, Gerard. When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”

  Dr. Slocum replied with a weary smile, “Well, let’s see. I came to Medesha almost five years ago now. I had med. school, and internship, and… hmmm. I think I had a full eight hours of sleep about twelve years ago.”

  “Jeez, Doc, did you ever think that you might be in the wrong profession?”

  “Actually, Sheriff, not until yesterday.”

  “Oh, really?” said Harold. “Is there something serious going on?”

  Dr. Slocum motioned down the corridor. “Why don’t we go into my office. I’ve got something I’d like to discuss with you. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “No thanks, Gerard,” smiled Harold. “If I had anymore coffee this morning, I’d probably have to have the cup surgically removed from my hand.”

  As they entered Gerard’s office and sat down, Harold asked, “What’s going on Doc? With the Boat Parade coming up this weekend, and the fishing and boating season just starting, please don’t tell me that we’ve got some weird kind of medical problem beginning to surface also.”

  Gerard smiled thinly. “Sheriff, you’re uncanny! I’m sorry to say it, but that is exactly what we’ve got going on.”

  Harold leaned forward in his chair. “No!”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Gerard. “It all started yesterday.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Harold, becoming concerned.

  Dr. Slocum picked up a piece of paper from his desk. “This is a list of patients we have admitted within the last thirty-six hours. There are twelve in all. They are all young boys, between the ages of nine and twelve.”

  As he reached across the desk to examine the list, he asked, “And, just what are the symptoms?”

  “This is what makes it so strange. They all have the exact same symptoms. Every one of the patients has regular vomiting at intervals of fifteen minutes to a half-hour. Everyone has the exact same temperature, one hundred and three, point six, and nothing we’ve tried seems to help to bring down their temps.”

  Confused, Harold asked, “Don’t they use penicillin or something like that to fight the flu? That’s what it is, isn’t it? I mean, it sounds like the flu.”

  “Yes,” replied Dr. Slocum. “That’s just it. It sounds like influenza. But, that’s not what it is.”

  “Can you be so sure that it isn’t the flu?” asked Harold.

  “Sheriff, it isn’t viral in nature. If it were a virus, each of these kids would display different levels of symptoms, and some of them wouldn’t have all of the symptoms. These kids weigh from sixty-six pounds to one hundred eighteen pounds. For the most part, they’re all historically healthy. Where the problem arises, is they differ in ages and weight. They shouldn’t be affected exactly the same by the same virus.”

  Harold scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Gerard. This is getting extremely confusing.”

  “I KNOW it’s getting confusing, Sheriff! Both Dr. Roberts and myself have been getting more and more confused as this thing snowballs.”

  “Do you have any educated guesses as to what it might be, Gerard?” aske
d Harold.

  The Doctor leaned forward with his elbows on his desk, and hands on his forehead. “Dr. Roberts and I have been discussing the possibility that this is a ‘Tin Lizzie’.”

  “What the heck is a ‘Tin Lizzie’?” asked Harold. “That sure isn’t a very medical sounding term.”

  “No.” chuckled Gerard. “I guess it doesn’t sound like any Latin terminology I’ve ever heard either. However, it is a term that best describes what we appear to have developing right here in Medesha.”

  “But, Doc!” whined Harold.

  Gerard held up his hand. “Let me explain. Back about a hundred years or so, ol’ Henry Ford developed the assembly line method of manufacturing automobiles. He created such an efficient process that he was able to cut the costs of production to the point that almost everyone was able to afford to buy one of his products. Using his method, every car that came out of his factory was exactly like the one that came before it. There was nothing like a custom made vehicle amongst all of those millions of cars. They were all called ‘Tin Lizzies’.”

  Harold removed his cap and began scratching his head. “Gerard...” he began.

  The doctor held up his hand again. “Just give me a minute, Harold. As I’m sure you know, in the last few years, great strides have been made in the field of cloning. Coupled with the increased knowledge of gene manipulation has been the question of ethics. Everyone in the medical profession is convinced that it is just a matter of time before someone comes up with a new disease that could be used far more efficiently than any bomb. It’s theoretically possible to create a virus or defective gene in the lab that would be controllable to the point of doing anything its’ designer wanted it to do. Looking at it from one end of the spectrum, you could completely eradicate a certain disease, such as certain forms of cancer. However, if you approach it from the other end of the spectrum, you could also create any number of diseases never before known to man, which could completely annihilate whole populations. Once the virus or manipulated gene was developed in the lab, it would be like an assembly line to clone these things and produce them by the millions. For lack of a better term, most of the medical community has begun to refer to these theoretical possibilities as ‘Tin Lizzies’.”