Crux

9 CONSEQUENCES

Thursday October 18th

Martin Holtzmann woke with a gasp. An alarm was blaring. His skin felt clammy, drenched in sweat. The world was spinning. The room was on its side. His face was pressed up against something.

Where am I?

Then he remembered. The wave of pleasure. The opiate surge from his brain… The Nexus theft from his lab.

He groaned as it came together.

He was on the floor. He pushed himself up to one knee. The world spun more vigorously, then started to go gray. Holtzmann barely caught himself against the desk in time.

He waited there for a moment as the blood returned to his brain and the world stabilized ever so slightly. He felt starved for air and forced himself to breathe. He put a finger to his wrist and found his pulse faint and slow.

The finger on his wrist was blue from lack of oxygen.

I overdosed, he realized. I could have died.

The alarm was still blaring. There was a voice over it.

“A level three lockdown now is in effect. All non-essential personnel must evacuate. Repeat: An explosion has occurred in the Chicago office. A level three lockdown is now in effect. All non-essential personnel must evacuate.”

Explosion. Lockdown. Evacuation.

That meant him. He didn’t think he could get to the exit. And he couldn’t let anyone find him like this.

Opiate overdose. Dear God.

He needed something to counteract it. Holtzmann racked his confused brain. Was there anything in the lab that could help him? Naloxone? Some opiate antagonist?

Dammit, he thought, I can’t even make it to the lab.

He’d have to settle for a stimulant, try to counteract the massive opiate concentration in his brain.

He tried to pull up the interface to the neurotransmitter release app, and fumbled the command. He tried and failed a second time. He stopped himself, took a deep steadying breath, and succeeded on the third try. Once the app was up, he selected a release of norepinephrine. How much? He was still so woozy. Too little wouldn’t help. Too much and he’d risk a heart attack or worse.

The alarm kept blaring in his head. He could hear people in the hallway outside his door. If someone came in to look… He couldn’t be found this way.

He dialed up what he thought was a moderate dose, only twice as large as the bumps he’d taken yesterday, and hit the mental button to release it.

His thoughts felt a little clearer within seconds. The fog receded a bit.

He kept a hand on his desk and pulled himself to his feet.

The world spun again and he fell to his knees, gasping.

Dammit.

Holtzmann stayed there for a moment, getting his breath, and then gave himself another burst of norepinephrine, as large as the first. The world cleared further.

On the second try he got to his feet and managed to fetch his cane from where it had fallen. His skin crawled, his hair was matted with sweat, and his stomach wanted to empty itself, but he was up, he was moving.

He crossed the room to the door, a little unsteadily, and pulled it open to join the exodus.

It wasn’t until he was in his car and had told it to take him home that he checked his phone. Five missed calls. Three messages. All from Anne, wondering where he was, if he was still alive.

He leaned his seat back and told the phone to call her.

“Martin!” she answered. “Are you OK? Where have you been?”

He could hear voices behind her. The hubbub of Klein and Perkins, the law firm she was a partner at.

“Anne, I’m so sorry. I fell asleep at work. Don’t feel quite well.”

“I was worried,” she replied, sharply.

“I’m sorry, Anne. I’m in the car on the way home now.”

There was a pause on the line. Then Anne spoke again. “I’ll meet you there.”

“No, no. No need. I think I’m going to just lay down when I get home.”

Another pause.

“Call Dr Baxter, Martin. This might still be an effect of the bombing.”

The neurologist. The last person he’d let examine him right now. “I’ll call him as soon as I get off the phone with you.”

“OK,” Anne replied. “It’s good to hear your voice. I’ll come home early this afternoon. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

He hung up the phone and lay there, feeling like death warmed over, as the car continued towards home.

Someone stole Nexus from my lab, he thought. And used it to try to kill the President.

I have to find them. Before the ERD comes looking and finds me.

Martin Holtzmann lay in his car and began to make his mental list of suspects.