The Chronicles of Dr. Ann Bennet: The Last Day of Normal Life
By Darrall Mitz
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The Chronicles of Dr. Ann Bennet - Darrall Mitz
THE CHRONICLES OF
DR. ANN BENNET
The Last Day Of Normal Life
27297.pngJUDITH L MITZ
Copyright © 2015 Judith L Mitz, Darrall L Mitz.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.
ISBN: 978-1-4834-3106-2 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4834-3110-9 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4834-3109-3 (e)
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 09/30/2015
Contents
Acknowledgements
Prologue The Last Day (Of a Normal Life)
Chapter 1 Departure Envelopes Delivered
Chapter 2 Doctor Gold’s Interview
Chapter 3 Space
Chapter 4 The Selection Committee
Chapter 5 Changes Come
Chapter 6 New Prison System
Chapter 7 Government Reformed
Chapter 8 Smoke and Mirrors
Chapter 9 The Reporter
Chapter 10 The Warning
Chapter 11 Hammered
Chapter 12 The Story of Grams
Chapter 13 Preparation Begins
Chapter 14 The Jones Family
Chapter 15 For My Son
Chapter 16 Dr. Bennett’s Plan
Chapter 17 The Escape
Chapter 18 Grams New Home
Chapter 19 Jack Wakes Up
Chapter 20 Joel’s Journey
Chapter 21 The Trip South
Chapter 22 Wilson’s Theory
Chapter 23 The Beginning of the End
Chapter 24 Joel At The Way Station
Chapter 25 Dr. Gold Gets A Message
Chapter 26 Dr. Bennett’s Narrative
Chapter 27 Joel Continues Training
Chapter 28 Joel Arrives Home To Family
Chapter 29 Spa Day
Chapter 30 Gold’s Preparation And Reflection
Chapter 31 The Homecoming Party For Joel
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgements
Author
Judith L Mitz
Edited By
Mary Beth Kotrodimos
Photography By
Sandra Moreira Nunes
Darrall Mitz
Contributors
M. Carol Adams
Darrall Mitz
Sara Mitz
Laura Mitz
Quintina Buck
Dedicated To
My Loving Family
JPG1.jpgEarth In The Before Time
Provided By Thinkstockphotos
27173.pngTHE LAST DAY
(Of a Normal Life)
A Narrative by Dr. Ann Bennett
Prologue
I find myself standing at this window that I have stood in front of for so many years. Monaco Parkway lies below. The belt of green grass and tall trees which divide the roadway is a great place to walk your dog. At one end of the Parkway, there are large expensive homes, which become larger and more expensive the further you get away from Sixth Street. In the other direction, going north, the upper class neighborhoods give way to middle class neighborhoods. All have green lawns, tidy yards and tidy houses. I myself live on Second and Fairfax, in a neighborhood that could be described as being upper middle class, not quite as wealthy as the far south end of the parkway, but still, as they said in days gone by, fairly well-to-do. Across the street from my house is Robinson Park. It has a few trees, a steep hill for sledding in the winter and a large playing field for baseball and football. It is a nice park. I can see it from the front window of the house. It goes from Second Ave. to Third Ave., Fairfax to just past Glencoe. All the children in the neighborhood love to play there.
My cousins lived on Elm Street. We would ride our bikes around the park and to Aylard’s Drug Store. It was one of our favorite places to go on the weekend. It had a soda fountain and booths, a lunch counter and a huge comic book section, as well as a wide assortment of magazines and newspapers. When you walked into the store, the first thing you saw was The Denver Post and the Rocky Mountain News, all neatly stacked. They had a candy section, with lots of bubble gum: square, round or packaged with baseball cards, which my cousins, Jeff and Brian, loved to collect. They had Hershey’s chocolate bars as well as salt water taffy in the long flat wide strips which came in many colors and flavors, all with a white stripe down the middle. They had penny candy like the bubble gum, nickel candy like the taffy, and chocolate bars were a dime. Comic books were ten cents as well. MAD magazine was 25 cents. There was a ladies’ cosmetic counter, and sections with office and school supplies and a pharmacy. They had something for everybody. It was a wonderful place to explore. All these memories of Aylard’s and all the stores around it, even the Supersaver Grocery Store where my mom often shopped and the book mobile often parked, the dry cleaners and the Texaco gas station, where my mother bought gas, were layered over with other memories as I grew older.
My father bought a small house up in an area of the mountains called Troutdale Estates. It was named for the once beautiful hotel known as Troutdale. It was a wonderful place to stay as a guest and more fun when it had been abandoned. Our summer visits to the mountains and our once routine visits to the drugstore, faded to never going back. I went away to a two year college, then to the university where I excelled in astrophysics. I started in research and worked my way up to my position here at the Astral Research Center (ARC). I had been in on the USA’s best kept secret. Less than one percent of the population knows the secret. It saddens me to think that all the places and the people I once knew and loved will disappear forever. Today is that pivotal moment in time that we have come to regard as the last day of a normal life.
27171.pngChapter One
Departure Envelopes Delivered
I don’t know if you realize it, but you’ve been standing in front of that window for most of the morning,
Carol said while she was standing in the doorway. Actually I hadn’t even noticed how much time I’d just been standing there recalling old memories from my childhood. Time seems to pass more quickly when you are lost in thought. I wish I had that kind of time,
Carol said in a soft voice. I thought I should let you know that I had the results of the latest data,
Thank you Carol,
I replied. Just leave them on my desk.
Carol turned to leave but stopped in the doorway and leaned against it with her head down. They are coming today, aren’t they?
I looked at Carol over my shoulder, fighting hard to hold back the emotion. Yes, they are,
I answered.
I could hear her mumble under her breath, Oh God, I’m not ready to let it all go.
Carol,
I said to her, if it helps, neither am I.
I went back to staring out the window; so many faces, so many places. All of them will soon be lost to the ages. So few of us have been chosen, so few of us to carry the burden, to preserve the past and prepare for the future. Carol and my entire team were among the very few chosen. All of them excelled in their duties for this project, which has been under way for more than half a century and is about to come to fruition. I was grateful not to be part of the Selection Committee. My background in astrophysics and technology, made me a valuable asset during my forty-year stint with The Project. The great exodus was about to begin. I was glad that Carol and her team had been selected. From that I could draw comfort. For all the rest all I could feel was a deep sadness. Carol was supervising the packing of all the equipment and files. In days this building would be completely empty.
I continued to stare out the window, not just remembering, but looking, watching, and waiting for the United Postal Service (UPS) truck to arrive. Contained within its belly was everything we needed, including special identification cards and passes for all those who would be saved, including each family member, providing that they could pass their final physicals. Each packet also contained special instructions that had to be followed to the letter.
Carol had long since returned to the lab. I could hear her voice in the distance: This goes here. That goes over there. I finally took a moment to look at the clock: 11:30 a.m. Time certainly flies when you are distracted. When I turned my head to look out the window the UPS truck was coming up Monaco Parkway. It turned and pulled into our driveway and my heart jumped. I could feel it pounding against my chest. I could no longer see the truck, but I knew it was bringing a large package. Any moment now my phone would ring informing me of a package that had just arrived. Should I send a courier up or will you come down? The voice on the phone would belong to Kim, our receptionist. She had worked here for two years and had never seen the inside of the rest of the building, just her desk and the waiting area. Identification cards and codes were the only way to open the doors. The security guards were actually military service men, heavily armed and quick to subdue anyone who attempted to enter the main part of the building; but they didn’t look military. They looked like ordinary security guards.
As I predicted, the phone rang and it was Kim and there was a package. Should I have it brought up or are you coming down?
she asked.
I’ll come down and get it, Kim. Thank you.
I hung up the phone and walked to the door of my office. For some reason Carol instinctively turned her head and looked at me. She raised her eyebrows, her way of asking a question without saying it out loud. I nodded yes and the color in her face seemed to drain. I turned away and headed down to Kim’s desk. The box was bigger than I had anticipated. The courier offered to carry it up to my office. I thanked him politely and told him no, the security guard would do it for me. I motioned to the guard and thanked Kim, and the security guard carried it to my office. He placed the box on my desk and even offered to open it, but I said no, I could do that myself, and he quickly left the room.
With care, I opened the box. Inside were the envelopes with the names neatly printed on them. I took out the envelope with my name and put it in my handbag. I took out the remaining envelopes, walked into the laboratory, and asked Carol to please use the intercom and have everyone come up to this lab as quickly as possible. People began filing into the room. When everyone had arrived, the tension was so thick you could cut it and serve it on plates. My heart was pounding and my hands were shaking, and I knew when I began to address the people gathered before me, my voice would be shaky and might even fail. They gathered around in anticipation for the announcement.
As I call your name,
I began in a strong voice, please step forward. Have your ID badges in your hands.
One by one I called them and they stepped forward holding their ID badges. I handed each one his or her envelope. Now I am going to give you some instructions: As you exit the building, you will scan your ID tag and your envelope. Put your envelope in a safe place, because if you lose it, it cannot be replaced. Take only your personal possessions with you because you will not be coming back. This is the last time we will all be together. Say your goodbyes and exit the building. Go directly home. Read the instructions inside the envelope and follow the instructions to the letter. There are no exceptions. It has been an honor to serve with you. I wish you only the best. God speed.
They stared at me like confused sheep not knowing which way to go. To your desk, to the door, to your car, home, in that order,
I added, and I left the room. I picked up my large purse, the family picture off my desk, my two best astrophysics textbooks off the shelf, and left my office. I wanted to give my staff words of encouragement and calm their fears but time had become a pressing issue and I couldn’t bear the looks on their faces. I had known them for so many years. I knew their families and children. I had nursed them through divorces, attended weddings and all the holiday parties. Saying goodbye was just too hard.
I felt even worse about Kim; she was not selected. I paid her for her time, gave her severance pay and a year’s worth of health insurance and asked her not to open the envelope until she got home. I said my final goodbyes and headed for my car. As I neared my house I couldn’t help but pull into the parking lot and head into the store. This would be the last time I would walk through the sliding glass door, the last time I would be in a 7-Eleven, so I thought I would treat myself to all my guilty pleasures. I grabbed my favorite candy bar, a small package of cheesy puffs, two large Slim Jims, a package of orange candy slices, a can of salted cashews and a small bag of white pistachios and headed to the counter. The cashier had begun to ring up my purchases when I just happened to glance at one of those tabloid rags. Splashed across the front page was the sensationalized headline, THE MARTIANS HAVE LANDED. Under that, a caption read: On the surface of the moon their lights can be seen. Below the caption was a photo of the moon with overly exaggerated lights. I couldn’t help myself; I started to laugh. Without realizing it, I was thinking out loud as I said to no one in particular, The Martians aren’t landing; they’re leaving.
I looked at the cashier so he could tell me the sum of my purchases. He was staring at me with his mouth open. Realizing what I had said, and that someone had actually heard me, I looked at the magazine and then back at him and said, You don’t believe everything you read, do you?
The young man stammered out a No,
and told me that my purchases had come to $7.42 including tax. I handed him a ten dollar bill and told him to keep the change. I picked up my bag, exited the store and went straight home.
I already knew the drill. I didn’t need to open the envelope. I went to my closet, pulled out the suitcase and wandered through the house eating my goodies and picking up select items that I couldn’t live without. I gathered pictures of my kids and grandkids, an old album, my husband’s favorite jewelry and my favorite jewelry and a box of antique jewelry. I tucked these items under clothing, mine and my husband’s, and hurriedly pulled the suitcase behind me, to the car. There were so many things I wanted to take, but we were only allowed one suitcase. Glancing at the time, I saw that it wouldn’t be long before my husband would be home. I had my story ready. The car was ready; the envelope with all the paperwork, ready. I had cash; the bills were all paid, no debt on the credit cards and no pets to worry about. All I had to do was wait. I looked around my house. I had lived here for twenty years. I could hear the refrigerator running and a clock ticking, yet I felt like I was engulfed by silence. Twenty years of memories have been packed into this house. Tonight when I leave it, I will not be coming back. I will never sleep in my bed again. Everything that we take as routine will never be again. My home will become someone else’s home. My things will be put away in storage.
By the time my husband realizes what is going on, it will be too late. He won’t even be able to say goodbye to anyone or anything. How very sad; my heart broke for him. He won’t ever return to the job that he loves, or see his friends or his family again, but I think the most painful part of it was that he wasn’t given a choice. I was able, on a happier note, to get our children and their families to safety. Tomorrow it will be a moot point. The last hours that we will spend in our home will be spent going out to dinner. After a long drive, I get to show my husband the project that I have been working on for all these years.
I’ll go to my room, take a shower, put on fresh makeup, do my hair and put on a simple outfit. My husband will come home. I’ll rush him through the bathroom and into the car and tell him I have some exciting news to share. He’ll pretend to be excited. My husband is such a goof he thinks meteorites and meteorology is the same thing and I let him think just that. All I do is collect data, so it must be data on the weather. When it’s sunshiny and hot or if it’s cloudy and rainy, he gives me the look. He teases me and says he’s going to get a job like mine because, he says, he can guess with the best of them.
What, are you crazy,
I ask, and give up this luxurious life we’re living?
Of course,
he’d answer. I’ve always aspired to be in a house we could pull with a pickup truck.
My husband knows that much of the grant money I make for my work as a meteorologist
goes to paying my assistants, my laboratory and equipment, and other materials, leaving very little for me.
Chapter Two
Doctor Gold’s Interview
Dr. James Gold and his wife, Miriam lived with their three children: Joel, age seventeen, who, at the time of these events, was in his senior year of high school, and their two twin girls Kathy and Georgia, age ten. James Gold was not your standard plastic surgeon. He didn’t do face lifts or breast enlargements. He did corrective plastic surgery for burn victims, and for people with birth defects and severe scars left by catastrophic injuries. He pioneered many of his own successful techniques, making him well-respected in his field.
One year earlier, The Committee had contacted Dr. Gold for an interview. They explained to him that what was to be discussed was to be held in the strictest of confidence and his failure to comply would result in dire consequences for him and his family. They couldn’t stress how dire. He couldn’t talk to his wife, his colleagues or his friends; he could speak with absolutely no one about what they would tell him. He would be monitored and watched. Dr. Gold agreed to their terms and listened patiently while they described in detail what was to come. As their story unfolded, he listened in horror to the point of becoming physically ill. His face went ashen, beads of sweat began to form and waves of nausea washed over him. He looked as though he were about to faint.
I never thought that this could happen in my lifetime or my children’s. Are you absolutely sure? Is there nothing we can do to prevent it?
he said so quietly he was almost muttering.
They also issued another warning: each member of his family would have to take a very thorough physical. Anyone who was addicted to alcohol or drugs would not be allowed to leave, so it was crucial that anyone who did not meet that criteria needed to be cleaned up before the time of departure when the second physical would be administered. There would be no exceptions.
You will receive an envelope on the day of departure. You are to follow the instructions to the letter. Do you agree to these terms?
Dr. Gold agreed and signed the contract.
How will I be monitored? You mean like spying on me?
He asked.
Your house will be monitored along with your offices, surgical facilities, and car. Quite simply, you will be watched. You won’t know who is watching you or when or where. This is our way of making sure that you comply with the contract that you just signed. I will remind you that if you violate this contract the consequences are dire. We have already scheduled your physicals. Just tell your family that they are necessary to qualify for new insurance. If everyone is healthy your premiums go down.
In a softer and calmer voice a woman from The Committee said, What’s coming really is coming. It’s sad and it’s frightening. We need you and we need your skills so that you can pass them on to the next generation. You are a good man and you have a good family. That is why you were selected. There are no second chances here. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut. You must not say a word about this meeting and you must report for the physical with your wife and children. We understand how you feel and the pressure you are under. We have had to sign the same contract. You may go now. If anyone should question you about your appearance - because frankly, you look like hell - just say you have the flu.
James slowly stood and exited the room. He was still feeling nauseous; his hands were still shaky and sweaty. It was hard for him to grasp what had just happened to him. He stopped in the men’s room, washed his face and hands and caught his image in the mirror. The lady was right, he thought to himself. I do look like hell. Then Dr. Gold made his way to his car and called his office to say he wouldn’t be in all afternoon as he was feeling sick. Putting his cell phone back into his pocket, he drove home. He knew the kids would all be in school and his wife was probably out shopping. He walked through his silent house and into his office, closing the door behind him. He went to his desk and opened the envelope. The date and time of the physical were clearly written underneath the words: For insurance purposes only. He poured himself a small stiff drink to settle his nerves. If this didn’t work he would just tell his wife he had the flu. He emptied the contents of his pockets onto his desk. He wondered, What about my cell phone? Would they be listening in on that too? How do you tap someone’s cell phone?
What he didn’t realize was that The Committee already had a plant (a person who worked directly for them secretly gathering information on selectees) working closely with him. She was hired as a file clerk who could very easily tag his phone. This little task only took seconds to accomplish and no one was any wiser. If he got a new cell phone, she would replace the listening device. But they really didn’t need to worry about James Gold, for he did not want his family to face what was coming. Mass extinction was a terrifying thought, let alone a reality, and the clock was ticking down. He certainly didn’t want his family to suffer bitter cold, slow starvation, or worse, being murdered for a few cans of food.
James finished his small drink, unaware that his wife had returned home. Miriam flung open the door to his office and let out a gasp. Oh my God,
she said, you gave me a start. I wasn’t expecting you to be home! I was just going to put your mail on your desk and here you are.
She then stopped and gave him a hard look. Are you feeling alright? You look awful!
She smiled a little and asked, Shall I call a doctor and make you an appointment?
No thank you,
James answered. It’s just a touch of the flu. After all, I do work in a hospital where we keep sick people. That is probably where I got it.
Well, why don’t you go lie down and I’ll bring you some hot tea?
Sounds like a good idea,
he replied and went up to his room, put on his pajamas and climbed into bed to wait for his wife. James knew that he didn’t have the flu; he was sick at heart. He understood the ramifications for his family and for his patients. If he couldn’t resolve their health issues he knew the consequences that awaited them in the final days. These were good people: decent, loving, and dedicated to their families. None of that would matter. They would be literally left out in the cold. He could write a six month supply of medication for some of his patients, but eventually the supply would run out. People with heart conditions would suffer the ultimate consequence. He folded his hands and placed them behind his head trying to formulate a plan to help these people who would be left behind. How could he quickly convince them of the benefits of healthy eating, exercise and stress management? You can preach to them, hand out pamphlets, and slowly wean them off their medications; you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink. Stress management that is a whole other ball game. It’s like pealing back the layers of an onion. They worry about their receding hair lines, complain about their sex drive, worry about their jobs; but the real causes of the stress are buried deep down inside. The mistakes they have made, wrongs they can’t right, childhood issues that they cannot resolve and nagging fears they refuse to address are contributing factors of their heart disease. Well, let’s face it: we are the most self-absorbed creatures created. We often forget (and I am guilty of this too) that the suffering that we endure creates suffering for our loved ones. Such were his thoughts as he waited alone in his room.
The door creaked open and Miriam Gold entered the room with a large cup of tea and a plate of butter cookies. She set them down carefully on the nightstand, then placed her hand gently on James’ forehead and said in a soft voice, You don’t seem to have a fever, but your skin feels a little damp. I can still make you an appointment to see the doctor.
Oh, thank you for reminding me; they changed our insurance again,
the doctor said. Everyone needs to go for a physical. It is a standard routine physical: checking your blood pressure and oxygen saturation of the blood. They will weigh you, record your height, check your eyes, ears, nose, swab your mouth and then draw your blood. It shouldn’t take more than 20 minutes and it is mandatory. Nothing to it.
His wife reminded him that the girls would not cooperate when it comes to having their blood drawn. That is not a problem,
Dr. Gold said. They will do finger sticks on them. They will probably go along with that.
What is so special about this insurance?
Miriam asked.
It costs less,
her husband replied, and it has more coverage. It includes corrective surgery for vision. So if you don’t want to wear glasses, or in your case, contact lenses, they can correct your vision. It’s covered 80/20. Certain forms of elective surgery will be covered. There is no deductible, and there is a cap of over $2,500,000 on catastrophic illnesses and injuries, which is three times the coverage, at about the same cost, of what we have now. That is why I am changing the insurance. Now we also have a teenage son who is about to start driving and that gives me the willies. We believe we have raised Joel to be responsible, but he is still a boy and he has hormones, and lots of them now, and sometimes their hormones override their common sense. I should know because I was a boy once myself. Just so you know, I am speaking from experience.
Miriam laughed and said, I know. I was there.
They both started to laugh. Still laughing as she prepared to leave the room, she said, I’m certainly glad we cleared that up.
James listened to her footsteps as she left, and once again he was left alone with his thoughts. He felt himself again tangled in a whirlpool of sorrow and horror of what was to come. He knew that human beings can feel the pain of the deaths of thousands, but the human mind cannot grasp the deaths of billions. The alarm was sounded about global warming: the theory that industry and over-population were responsible for the melting of the ice caps and the warming of the oceans. But the warming trend had natural causes too. People had forgotten that increased CO2 promotes the growth of plants and causes them to flourish in the most unlikely places, because plants can adapt faster with the availability of carbon dioxide. In return they give us oxygen and water. They also hold heat which keeps this world from freezing over. People also forgot that we have a lot of active volcanoes, five or six of them being super volcanoes. Mother Nature never sleeps; this planet is very active. Natural catastrophes can be violent and can occur without warning. We must also remember that these warming trends have set off the catastrophic ice ages of the past, lasting for thousands of years and causing mass extinctions which have wiped out 95% of all life on this planet. Every day, somewhere in the world, a volcano will erupt. People worried about aerosols damaging the ozone layer without realizing two very important facts: First, when sunlight hits the atmosphere ozone is created. The second fact is that lightening does the same thing, and at any moment, at any time, somewhere in the world lightening is striking. So even though aerosols do pull ozone apart, sunlight and lightening replenish it.
We have a super volcano in our own backyard: Yellowstone National Park. While great respect is due to our scientific community, they missed the signs and ignored the red flags. On this issue they weren’t practicing science; they were practicing political science. Everything they tried to do to clean up the air, water and land would not save us. This ice age was long overdue and it was on its way with a vengeance. There was no way to save everyone.
As these thoughts ran through his head, the good doctor glanced over at his wife’s dresser. It was almost completely covered with pictures of family, friends, places they had been, vacations they had taken, her parents, his parents, aunts, uncles and their kids. What will happen to them? These thoughts moved through his mind as a wave of cold chills echoed through his body. These are good decent people. They lead decent lives. But he knew deep down inside none of them, with the exception of his wife, his children and himself, would be on the list. There was nothing he could do to help them. The Committee was not going to take just anybody. Selectees had to have those special skills
to qualify. These extended family members and friends in the photos all lacked those skills. He began to feel sick again.