Stardust

A novel by Aaron Craiger

First Draft

Chapter 2

"Steve,' I said over the phone as soon as my call was connected. "It's me, Dean"

"Hey, man," Steve said. "What's up?"

"Stardust, bro," I replied. I heard Steve whistle over the phone.

"Wow, that's some trippy stuff, man," he replied.

"Yeah, I know." The fuzzy ball's voice, still indistinguishable, floated through the air. "I think I got a bad trip – I keep hallucinating the voice of something I saw."

"Huh, that's odd," Steve replied. "Stardust doesn't have bad trips – you know that. You're probably still coming down from it."

"Yeah, I know the so-called facts," I said with a sigh. "I read the briefing papers at the station. Hell, we all did." I shook my head. "I'm off topic anyways. I have a question about Stardust."

"OK. Shoot."

"Do you know if it has a side effect that can cause you to not feel your pulse, or your heart beating?" There was silence as I waited for an answer. "Steve?"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm here. I was looking up something on my laptop. There's a study from Johns Hopkins up in Baltimore about Stardust's side effects. Apparently, in rare cases it can cause some funny responses in the central nervous system. I'll spare you the boring details, but in a nutshell, yes, it can cause you to not feel your heartbeat or pulse."

"Creepy." A shudder danced down my spine as fingers of ice caressed my spine.

"Yeah it is. You should be fine in about twelve hours. Do you still have your Lifepak?" he asked, referring to a defibrillator.

"Yeah, but it's busted. Apparently, Blizzard likes the taste of the charger's power cable," I said, irritation in my voice.

"Oh, I see," Steve said, suppressing a laugh. "Well, I'll tell you what. Come over to Atlantic General this afternoon at about four thirty and I'll give you an EKG to help settle your mind, OK?"

"Alright, Steve. Thanks, bro."

"No problem, Dean. Be safe."

"Will do." I flipped my cell phone shut, and dropped it into my pocked. Another mystery solved by Dean Parks, Paramedic, Ocean City Fire Department. I rock.

Later that day, I crossed the Route 50 bridge on my way to Berlin, Maryland. Berlin is a small town south of Route 50, not too far from Ocean City. As I drove, my scanner chattering away quietly on my dashboard, I mused over the Stardust dream I'd had. The feelings I was awoken with had faded, and left me with a deep emptiness - a longing. I wanted to go back. My life isn't the worst – I have a great job that I love, an awesome condo on Ocean City's famous three-mile boardwalk, and an adorable, affectionate cat – but there was something missing. Call me crazy, but when I had been in that strange place outside of reality, of the many different emotions I was experiencing, the loneliness was strangely absent. Suddenly, with a screeching of tires, blasting of horns, and exchange of vulgar gestures, a car cut me off, nearly running me off the road and jerking me from my reverie. I

I took the turn into Atlantic General's parking lot even more freaked out. Encounters like the one with the poor driver would normally have shot adrenaline into my system by the boatload, causing me to go all shaky and have an upset stomach, not to mention other symptoms, for about twenty minutes. This time, however, I was as calm as a child in its mother's arms.

Really creepy.

I walked into Atlantic General Hospital through the main entrance and found my way to the cardiology wing. "Hello," I said to the charge nurse, who was sitting behind a desk. "I'm Dean Parks here to see Doctor Hawthorne."

"Oh, right," She said with a smile, "You're his paramedic friend. He's in his office – you can go on back."

"Thanks," I said warmly, and passed through the doors and into the patient ward. After passing by the doors of patient's rooms, I arrived at Steve's office. Knocking on the door, I entered the office and greeted Steve.

"Hey, Dean," Steve said, and waved me over to a patient exam table. I saw down and Steve turned, smiling. "Sorry about that, man. I've been behind on my charts for days." He stood up, and opened the top drawer of a medical cart that was next to his desk. On top of the cart was a Lifepak exactly like mine, minus the chewed-up charger power cord, of course. As Steve pulled out some electrode stickers for the Lifepak's EKG leads, I pulled off my shirt. After I did so, I could have sworn I heard the fuzzy ball's voice giggling. I really need to come down off this high.

"I have to admit," I said, laughter in my voice, "When I couldn't find my pulse earlier, I actually thought for a second that my heart had stopped."

"That's a good one," he said as he put the stickers on my chest. "How long have you been Stargazing', Dean?" He finished applying the stickers, and began to attach the leads.

"Oh, I've only done it a couple times. It's freaking awesome."

"Be careful you don't get addicted, man," he said. "I'd seriously hate to see you filling one of those ICU beds like that girl you brought in last week."

"Yeah, poor girl. She was hot," I said, nodding.

"She was your age, right?" Steve asked me.

"Poor thing – twenty-eight, so yeah." Now that Steve had the leads attached he turned to the cart and powered up the Lifepak.

"Huh. That's odd," Steve muttered, moving aside so I could see. The display read "ASYS", meaning A systole (no electrical rhythm), and a flat line traced across the screen. He jiggled the connectors for the leads, and when that failed, restarted the Lifepak. Still no luck. "Sorry about this, Dean," he said. "Something's been going on around here lately; our equipment's been going haywire. Let me go grab another Lifepak. Hold on." Steve left the room, and while he was gone I unhooked the EKG leads. He returned a few minutes later carrying a new Lifepak, which he set on the cart. Muttering about the reliability of the equipment around him, Steve hooked up the leads from the new Lifepak, fired it up, and sighed.

"What the hell is wrong with these things!?" Steve yelped, exasperated. I peered over at the screen, which was also displaying "ASYS" and the flat line.

"OK…" I said, eyebrow cocked. "This is getting scary." With an angry flourish, Steve turned the Lifepak off, and then disconnected the leads.

"Stupid equipment," Steve muttered, then grabbed a chart off of his desk. "Come on, Dean," he said. "Put your shirt on and follow me. I'll hook you up to a monitor in one of the patient rooms."

"Alright," I shrugged and slid my shirt on, following Steve out of the room.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, "But I need to stop in and see a patient first. I didn't plan on all the equipment going haywire."

"Yeah, that's cool," I replied. We entered a room where an older lady – about 92, I think – lay in bed, a heart monitor beeping along. As Steve walked up to the bed and smiled, I picked up her chart and flipped it open. Eep. Not to sound cold or anything, but I'm surprised this lady's still alive. I scratched at the electrode stickers through my black Ozzy t-shirt. Those things itch.

"How are you today, Ms. Davenport?" Steve asked the lady. She opened her eyes.

"Oh, good afternoon Steve. Just taking a nap. I'm feeling fine, I suppose, all things considered," she replied. "Is your friend a police officer?"

"No, Ma'am," I replied. "I'm a paramedic up in Ocean City." I flipped the page on her chart. The poor lady – Alicia Davenport – was almost literally straddling the line between life and death. "My name is Dean Parks."

"Nice to meet you," Ms. Davenport said, smiling.

"And I, you," I said. I'm such a charmer.

"Well, Ms. Davenport, everything looks OK for now. I'll be back later to check on you," Steve said.

"Alright. Have a nice afternoon, Doctor." I replaced her chart, and turned to leave with Steve.

"Excuse me, Dean?" She asked. Steve, already out of the room, was over at the nurse's station.

"Yes Ma'am?" I replied.

"Come here for a minute, if you don't mind." She said. I shrugged, seeing no harm in it, and walked over to her bedside. She lifted a hand and laid it on my arm. "There's something odd about you, Dean. You seem to be…shimmering, and your little friend is too." Little friend? Huh?

"Do you mean Dr. Hawthorne, Ma'am?" I asked.

"No," she said, "The thing behind you." Maybe she was experiencing a lucid Stardust trip. I was having a hard time coming up with a response, but thankfully, Steve saved me.

"Dean," he said, poking his head in, "Are you coming, or do you plan on bothering my patients all day? " There was a smile dancing across his face as he spoke.

"Yeah, I'm coming. Take care, Ms. Davenport." I turned to leave.

"Take care, Dean." I left the room with Steve.

"She seems nice," I said as we entered an empty room. I pulled off my shirt, leaving my camouflage pants on, of course, and sat on the bed's edge.

"Yeah, she's really sweet," Steve said. "Been around a while, seen a lot." Steve connected the leads to the electrodes and we looked at the monitor after he pushed a button, turning it on. We were greeted by the same data from the Lifepak, except with an obnoxiously annoying beep.

"You have GOT to be kidding me!" I said.

"Seriously? This is really happening?" Steve said, aggravated.

"Try another lead," I suggested. Steve pressed a button. Still no change.

"That's it," he said, turning off the monitor. "I'll be right back, Dean. Disconnect the leads if you don't mind," he said, then stormed out of the room. I carefully disconnected the EKG leads, then gingerly peeled the electrodes off my chest. Ow, damn it! A few minutes later, Steve returned, a portable ultrasound in tow. "All right, Dean. Lay down for me, if you don't mind."

"Oh, Steve," I said jokingly as I lay down.

"Shut up, nerd," He said, then squirted some ultrasound gel onto my chest.

"Eeep – that's cold!" I said.

"Waaa. Big baby," Steve said, chuckling. As he turned on the machine, and applied to probe to my chest, the fuzzy ball's voice faded in for a few seconds, then faded away. Steve's brow furrowed in confusion. "What the hell!?"

"What?" I asked. Steve held up his finger, signaling me to wait a second. I did so, and a few minutes later, he turned to me, a look of disbelief evident on his face.

"Dean, I don't know how to tell you this, and I sure as hell can't explain it, so I'll let you see for yourself." He turned the screen towards me, and I looked.

Have you ever seen those movies where the dead dude or chick's a ghost, and they don't know it yet, then something really shocking happens to them and they get that look on their face of stunned, utter disbelief? Take that look, put it on my face, add in a slew of colorful language that would give my mother a stroke if she heard me saying, and you have my reaction.

The image of my heart on the screen was as still as a frozen lake in the dead of winter.

The EKGs were right.

I have no heartbeat.