“Does it matter?”
“Not really.” He shrugs and turns back to Riley. “What’s our timeline?”
“No more than three weeks,” Riley tells him. “After that, I run out of injections, and that’s going to be an issue. I can synthesize some of it, but not all.”
“What are you missing?”
Riley rattles off a list of chemical compounds, and Errol makes note of them.
“I can get everything except the Seroquel.” He glances at me sideways. “We don’t have access to that. I have something similar.”
“The others don’t work,” Riley says quietly. She also glances at me.
“What is it?” I ask, but neither of them seems inclined to speak up. I ask again, and Riley finally tells me.
“It’s an anti-psychotic. Due to the level of hormones in your system, psychosis is imminent if you don’t get regular doses. We tried similar drugs, but this is the only one that works and only when combined with the other components of FOG.”
“That would explain the nature of his breakdown in the beginning,” Errol says. “I wondered about that.”
“Fabulous.” I rub my fingers into my eyes. “So if we can’t get that, I’m going to go nuts on everyone?”
“Probably.” Riley reaches out and touches my arm. “We could try some others…they could have some effect on you, maybe slow the—”
“No.” I shake my head emphatically. “We can’t take that kind of risk, Riley. I could…I could end up hurting you, or worse.”
“Where can we get it?” Errol asks.
“It’s only manufactured at Mills Pharmco, the pharmaceutical lab just outside of Milton.”
“You’re talking about the heart of the Mills Conglomerate.”
“It’s the only place.”
“We need to bring this up to the group.”
*****
We gather around the same office conference table with all the same people plus two other techs who work for Errol Spat. Riley shifts her chair a little closer to mine as Donald Cross looks at everyone around the table.
“Errol, you said there was a problem?”
“Not exactly a problem, per se.” He raises his hands in a glorified shrug. “We just need to…reconsider our options.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well,” Errol says, “I know we’ve been talking about using Galen to figure out how to turn all the shit in his head off, but there’s an issue with that.”
“You said you just needed time to figure it out.” Cross leans forward on the table. “Are you saying now that it can’t be done?”
“Oh, it can be done,” Errol says.
“Out with it, Errol” Merle says.
“I don’t want to be changed,” I say, and all heads turn toward me. “I want to stay the way I am.”
Riley places her hand over mine on the table. Donald Cross narrows his eyes and glares at both of us. I can see the vein in his temple throbbing.
“We’ve already determined that’s our best course of action,” Cross says. “How are we supposed to figure out how to turn off the rest of them if you refuse to assist?”
“Galen’s discussed his concerns with me,” Riley says. “He wants to remain the way he is. We’re not going to try to inactivate the implants.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” Merle asks.
“I think it’s what he wants,” Riley replies.
“What he wants or what you want, Dr. Grace?”
“It’s what I want.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I had to talk Riley into it.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Anna says. “We’re already talking about how to get the drugs he needs. How are we supposed to accomplish that long term?”
“What drug is this?” Merle asks, and Anna explains it to him.
Donald Cross is visibly disturbed by the news that I could go ballistic on the lot of them, but Merle just nods slowly as he stares at the table in front of him, contemplating.
“How much do you have?” Merle asks. “How long can you keep him going?”
“I have nineteen days’ worth of all his medications,” Riley says. “I can stretch that to three, maybe four weeks. It should remain at a high enough level in his system for four or five days after the last injection. After that, his aggression levels will increase significantly.”
“Will I be able to control it?” I ask.
“For a while, maybe.” Riley looks at me, concern filling her eyes. “Eventually, the rage will be too much. You’ll start seeing everyone as an enemy.”