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The Hunters

Fan Fiction by Adam Smith (USA)

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

September 14, 2003

Dear Becky:

As promised, I enclose herewith a copy of the tape that Eli made just before he underwent his final surgery.  From our phone calls you are familiar with its contents, but I knew you wanted to have a copy.

I personally have not listened to it for the last six weeks.  I finally just had to stop playing it, because I couldn’t keep doing that to myself if I want to move on with my life.  I still think about him every day, though, especially those last days we spent together.  I think of both him and Jed, and everything that happened, and whether things might have been done differently leading to a better outcome.  Things are not as bad as they were during those first few weeks after the failed surgery, and I am trying to remain positive and upbeat about everything, but it is hard--very hard.  I know you have struggled, too, so be careful listening to the tape.

As far as I can recall, we have not spoken since the news of Bill Andrews’ suicide hit the papers late last month.  He was the one person who did not call me after Eli’s existence and death was leaked to the press, but I’m not surprised, because I think he was the one who was ultimately responsible for everything that happened.  I am still trying to understand all of that, but I’ve come to realize that now he’s gone, that might be impossible.  I know that it is wrong to say it, because Bill was a colleague for years, but I am not grieving over his death.  I really don’t feel anything, which surprised me. Maybe I’m just kind of numb right now.

As I am sure you are aware from the media, the investigation into Dr. Goodwin’s death is officially over.  My criminal defense attorney closed his file and, naturally, sent me a whopping bill.  And also as anticipated, I received a notice letter last Tuesday from the Virginia Board of Medicine.  The investigator wants to meet sometime within the next 20 days.  I have already retained counsel for that, so I am going to be paying legal fees for some time, I’m afraid.  I have decided to put up a fight for my license, but even if I prevail I will probably be looking for work as a PA because my patient load has declined precipitously since all of this hit the papers.  Presently I am in discussions with Dr. Jack Owens, another family practitioner in Arlington and a long-standing friend of mine, about selling my practice.  He had been thinking about opening a new office in Culpeper, and so this might be the perfect opportunity for him.  We’ll see.

Dr. Mattias called again on Sunday.  He is a great guy, and the two of us have developed a close friendship over the last few months.  Like me, he was also very torn up about the way things turned out, although it has not been as bad for him for the obvious reason that he did not have the opportunity to spend as much time with Eli as we did.  My professional relationship with him and with you have been one of the few bright spots in what has turned out to be a very bleak year, and I am happy to tell you that a very prominent medical journal has accepted a draft of our case study for peer review.

I have not been back to Jed’s cabin since March, when I went up there to make sure the place was locked up.  The document that Eli drafted with the help of the people in Boston, by which he gifted everything he owned to me—including Jed’s entire estate—has so far met with no legal challenges.  It is a beautiful place—his friend Katie is still there—but right now I am just not emotionally prepared to spend time there.  I am hopeful that maybe in the future, things will change.

I still have Eli’s marvelous egg, bunny, and other personal belongings that he arranged to have delivered to me, but last weekend I put them in a safety deposit box at my bank.  They will be safer there, and with them out of the house I am naturally much less tempted to look at them.  This has been helpful for my recovery.  I should not have held onto them this long, but with everything else that’s been going on, I have just not yet had the chance to fly to Sweden and see about interring Eli’s remains, egg, and all the rest of it with his sister in Linköping.  That will probably have to wait until the Spring.  If necessary, I plan to use some of Jed’s money to get a marker set up, as I am sure he would have approved, and I just don’t feel comfortable spending Jed’s cash on my own needs.  I plan to have a marker made for Jed as well, to be placed next to Eli’s.  If things don’t work out in Sweden, then I think I will simply have everything done at Jed’s mountain, because I know both of them would have approved of that as well.  Either way, I want to talk to you about how things should be worded.  I have seen Eli’s photographs of Oskar, and I want to make sure he is included in whatever gravestone I order.

Please do keep in touch.  Your friendship and support has meant a great deal to me, and I doubt that I would have made it this far without you.  Once you have finished listening to Eli’s tape, give me a call and maybe we can find some time to have lunch together.

Yours,

Dave
†

“This is a message for Dr. Cook.  It’s New Year’s Eve—yes, I do know what day it is, Dave, and I know where I am--and I’m having my surgery tomorrow.  I’m very scared, but also very excited.  I’m sorry that you can’t be here with me, but I understand why it can’t be that way. And it makes me feel better knowing that you’ll be able to hear this, in case things don’t . . . you know, turn out.

“I’m taping this with the help of a very nice lady here at the hospital.  Her name is Eileen Baker, and she’s a social worker who helps families with children who are going to have heart surgery.  We’ve talked a lot about my situation—about Jed, about you, and about all the things we did together that’ve brought me here, and even though I’ve only known her for a few days, she’s been a big help to me, to sort of put everything in perspective.  So I wanted to let you know how friendly everyone up here has been.  You picked a good place.

“I guess I should fill you in on what happened in Philadelphia after you took off.  Jed backed up and rammed into the truck that was chasing us, and both trucks were wrecked.  I’m sorry about your car.  I’ll pay you back to the extent I can when we see each other again, okay?  So please try not to be too mad about that.  I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

“So anyway . . . there was a lot of gunfire.  Jed hit a couple of people in that truck, and one of those guys was about to shoot him, but I stopped him.  And then we tried to get away, but we got hit when we were trying to climb over a fence.  You know, because Jed had that dumb boot on, and that slowed him down.  He hated that boot, didn’t he? 

“Anyway, both of us got it.  Jed’s was . . . in his side, and mine was right into my hip on the right side.  And Jed, he . . . he bled a lot, and we couldn’t stop it.  We did try, we tried to put pressure on it, but I think it was too much.  And I was bleeding too, only not as much. 

“And so we crawled, we made it into this church—not a, you know, a nice church, but an old one that was falling down.  And that’s where he—

. . .

“I’m sorry.  Just a minute.

. . .

“I’m sorry. 

“He died there.  Right in front of the altar.  We couldn’t stop the bleeding, we just couldn’t.  But he made me promise that I’d keep trying.  He said you’d managed to get ahold of someone up here so Dr. Mattias would know to expect me, and that you were going to keep trying.

“After he died, I really didn’t feel like going on; I just didn’t.  But he was right: if I gave up, everything that he and you and Dr. Goodwin and everyone else had done for me would have been wasted.  And I couldn’t bring myself to do that, because I know how disappointed he would have been—and you, too.  Because you put your life in danger for me, too; I know that.  So I ran away.  I felt like trying to get even, to hurt those men who’d hurt me and killed Jed, but I had a bullet stuck inside me and I knew that no matter how hard I tried, there would just be more of them.  And plus, I had kind of made a promise to Jed that I wouldn’t hurt any more people.  Or at least, he wanted me to make that promise, and I did, too.  So I just took off, and made my way up here.  And now here I am!  Thanks to the two of you.

“So I’ve spent a lot of time with Dr. Mattias.  I was very surprised that he was so accepting of what I am, especially when I think about all that I went through with you and everyone else, but I guess he couldn’t argue with my medical records, and especially with my MRI.  And he’s explained everything that he plans to do tomorrow.  He won’t tell me what my odds are of coming out on top, but I understand why he won’t.  But you know, Dave, I’ve been kind of a gambler for a long time now--I’ve had to be.  So this is just one more gamble—maybe the biggest gamble I’ll ever take.  But if it works, it’ll all be worth it!  So I’m crossing my fingers.

“I think this is a good time to stop and tell you how thankful I am for everything you did for me, Dave.  And I’m not saying this because I don’t think I’ll see you again, but, you know—I want you to know how I feel.  That . . . you believed in me.  That you cared enough to really go all out, go all the way, to see that I could be up here with a doctor like Dr. Mattias, who might really be able to change things; to make my life so much better.  So I just want to say thanks, and to tell you that I know how difficult I’ve made things for you.  Thanks for everything.

“Now there are a couple of things about this surgery that I’ve worked out with Dr. Mattias that I want you to understand, in case things don’t work out. 

“First, I told him that they have to burn the thing on my heart right away, as soon as they take it out.  I don’t want it saved, or cut up and studied.  And the same thing goes with my blood.  You know why, Dave.  We talked about this, and I don’t want to take any chances.

“Also—and don’t get upset with me, but I told Dr. Mattias that if it looks like the normal blood isn’t going to keep me going, that I don’t want my old blood back.  I know you’ll probably be mad at me about this, because Dr. Goodwin figured out a way to keep me alive by using a blood donor like Jed—like Jed would’ve been . . . but I just don’t want to go through with that.  Because Jed’s gone now, and—I know you would volunteer, but I just . . .

. . .

“I just—

“I’m not part of this world the way I am.  That’s really what I want to say.  The whole thing with those men in the truck and the helicopter proved that to me in a way that . . . I mean, I knew it before, but this whole thing really made me understand that I would never be left alone.  Someone would always want to do something to me.  Always want to use me so that they could do something bad.  Try to spread the disease around and hurt people with it.  And I just don’t want to go on living like that, or run the risk of that happening.  If I’m cured tomorrow, I’ll be happy.  I’ll be willing to tell everyone what I was and, you know . . . face the consequences.  But if it doesn’t work, I don’t want to go back.

“You see, Dave, I had a dream not to long ago about Oskar.  And it might just’ve been a dream, but maybe it was more than that.  It felt like it was more than that.  And he told me—told me that someday I would see him again, only he didn’t know when . . . but that I had to let go.  And I’ve thought a lot about what he meant by that, and about some of the things Jed was saying, too.  I thought at first he meant that I had to let him go.  That he was telling me that I had to stop wishing he was still around.  But now I think that what he meant is that I can’t look back at how I have been--I mean, at all the things I’ve done in the past.  I have to look forward to the future, to what I might be, if I’m brave enough. 

“And that’s really why I want to go through with this.  So that maybe, I can just be a normal person again.  Even if Jed’s not here to see it . . . because I know that’s what he’d want me to do.

“So, anyway, that’s about it.  Dr. Mattias will call you and let you know how things go. Wish me luck!   You’ll see a new me in 2003.

“Let me see  . . . how do I turn this off?  Oh—”

THE END