Chapter 20: PILLS, PILLS, PILLS

Natalie Addaway was admitted to the ER in Saint Anne’s Hospital on the night of the 16^th, December 2020. The patient was complaining of difficulty to breathe, generalized pain and vomiting. He state of consciousness shifted rapidly, with a few episodes of stupor, and generally low alertness. Septic shock with acute organ dysfunction. The prognosis indicated a rapid deterioration. Within two hours after referral, she incurred in multiple organ failure, and she fell into a coma. 

After reading the report, Noah briefly explains the cause of death to the group. “A blood infection killed her organs. Now, normally, this is a natural cause… But Dr. Corrales…” He reads the history again. “She was perfectly healthy…” He mutters.

Previous analyses were perfect. She was healthy, young, no diagnosed conditions. She wasn’t prescribed antibiotics, or immunosupressants, or anything on the sorts. No autopsy was performed, so these incident reports are the only thing they have left. Of Natalie’s life there not much, her being reduced to a few scribbles, and ticked boxes with tags like ‘Non-smoker’ or ‘Social drinker.’

“I don’t know,” Noah says, his gaze lost in the words. So much so that he suspects they may lose meaning if he looks at them once more. “There’s nothing that would indicate an increased risk.”

Dr. Corrales had complained about pressure from above to move forward with Riley’s sister’s death certificate. Noah himself had seen him arguing in the distance with an important-looking man. 

Noah keeps reading, there’s a copy of her admission form. He recognizes Riley’s handwriting. It’s basic information, much of a repetition of her history… However, there’s something different.

Noah points, “Here. It’s an OTC flu med…” The trade name rings a bell deep inside, as if he heard it by coincidence, in the intimacy of a conversation. He grabs his phone and searches the trade mark,“Gamma Pharmaceuticals gained a spot for themselves in the stock market after the release… But they practically disappeared…”

Rose slaps Noah’s thigh with excitement, she’s looking at the screen of her own phone, “The National Drug Committee retired the drug from the market.” She points at some words only she can see. “After a number of people filed a class-action lawsuit for failure to disclose side effects. The NDC released a statement denouncing Gamma PH for faking medical trials to hide the adverse interaction of the drug with certain flu strains.”

Noah narrows his eyes, “What are those effects?” He asks, but his mind is already placing the pieces together. 

Rose reads silently. She gapes at the text, and her gaze travels from her phone to Noah. To Riley’s face. To Riley’s body, which has lived through the loss of a sister. “Blood poisoning. Is that…?”

Noah nods. “Infection, yes. Which leads to sepsis.”

“So Natalie’s cause of death…” Duncan intervenes, “is due to that drug?”

The group falls silent. 

“It might have been, but they didn’t investigate it. They rushed her diagnosis, and I think they intentionally left the med out of the records.” Noah swallows, taking in the meaning of the words he has just spoken. The injustice of it all. “This might not be the only case. Maybe more deaths have been covered.”

Eve raises her hand, stopping Noah in his tracks, “Why would they attack you now? Their fraud was already in the open.”

Noah considers this. “Yeah, it’s weird… And what’s the connection to Sam?”

“Wait,” Rose exclaims, “Earlier this year, they merged with Solace Pharmaceuticals.”

Noah perks up, his mind tingles with recognition. “That. Might be?” He mutters, as he rushes for his messenger bag, spilling some ice cream in Rune’s lap. He’s barely conscious of the quick apology he directs at him. “It might be. Yeah.” He scrambles to reach the messenger bag—Rune left it in the peg by the entrance door—, tripping with a box and cursing at the many obstacles between him and his prize.  

Finally, he fishes for Riley’s diary, and he opens the page spread. And there it is. In the margin, Noah’s handwriting. But he’s only interested in one of the entries. 

MONALGIA. SOLACE PHARMA.

He gets back, shoving the diary in Rune’s chest to hold on to while he searches the drug. He remembers. It was an OTC to treat the flu symptoms. Too much of a coincidence, right? 

The answer is at the tip of his fingers. It’s close. Even if it’s a partial answer, it solves part of Riley’s mysterious last days. Noah runs both hands through his hair. 

“These motherfuckers…” he whispers, incredulity tinging his words. 

“What is it?” Eagerness fills Rose’s words. 

“Professor Zhang talked about the radio. Remember?” She nods. So Noah continues, “They’re selling the same shit with different name.”

She gasps. “Is that what you heard?”

It’s Noah’s turn to nod.

“Is that something to kill for?” Eve asks.

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“If you’re desperate enough to hide it… Maybe.” Noah responds. He claps his hands, “Tomorrow, I’ll go see them. See their reactions.”

“I’ll go with you,” Rose offers with a smile. 

Noah nods. He briefly looks at Rune, who is staring at the diary, seemingly not paying attention. He hesitates, the words almost slipping out. However, he decides to leave Rune some space for now. The thought of Rune staying by his side all this time hurts him with guilt. 

Noah looks at the floor, biting his tongue. 

“We’ll go, too,” Duncan says.

“No, I think it’s better if they don’t see us as threats.” His words surprise even him. Duncan looks at him with raised eyebrows, questioning the irony in his words. It’s true. If Noah alone was the target, he would sink in face first, aggressively throwing bait until some fish bit the hook. However, now that the group is involved, he has to be careful.

Duncan points at his face, “Don’t go into a rampage. At least warn us first, so that we can equip fighting gear.”

Eve chuckles. “I can bring my wooden sword.”

Noah nods. “It’s a plan, then.”

The sun is setting, and the apartment is bathed with orange light, the kind which gives the place an ephemeral quality to it. The five of them, sitting in disparity, together with a mission. They left the trash in the table, so Noah gets up to throw it in the bin. When he turns, Rune is in the doorway, blocking his exit. Noah takes an enzyme stain remover from the cupboard under the sink, and sprays Rune’s pants with it. The boy simply looks at the white foam of the spray, then back at Noah, as the latter takes a wet rag.

He kneels, awkwardly holding on to Rune’s jacket with the broken hand, and pats the stain. Rune shifts in his stance. Noah’s thoughts run wild. He looks up, and those piercing black eyes are looking down at him. Noah is at least a feet shorter than Rune, so he’s used to seeing him from under. But this perspective is different. Rune’s shoulders are broad, and the jacket compliments his frame. His breath catches at the sight of him, and he swallows. The tendrils of ink stick out from the cuff. Noah fights the temptation to run a finger across the lines, to touch the skin under it. 

He turns his head to the side, utterly aware of his burning cheeks and the presence of his warm body mere inches from him. 

“It works with blood, too. Any protein stain can be broken down with this,” he explains shaking the bottle. 

Noah gets up. He throws the rag to the sink.

Rune follows his every movement as Noah carefully avoids exchanging looks. “Ice cream contains a high concentration of protein, mainly from the dairy. This product contains enzymes, which are molecules that break proteins. So… Blood also contains protein.” He opens the tap water, letting it soak the rag. “Actually, having too much protein concentration is a condition called Hyperproteinemia. Normally, it’s nothing serious.” 

Once the cloth is clean, he lets it dry. 

“How do you know that?” Runes asks, he’s propped against the counter, his arms crossed in his chest.

It’s a trap, Noah’s mind screams. He let Noah out for too long. Noah looks back at Rune. He shrugs. “Actually, I though about studying medicine.” A portal opens in the deep part of him. A white desk, full of anatomy books. Post-its, highlighters, pens. A photo of Noah as a five-year-old child, with golden locks and a smile with missing teeth, his father hugging him.

He closes his eyes.

His chest tightens. He wipes some tears with the back of his hand, hoping Rune isn’t paying attention.

“I wanted to study literature. But my parents didn’t want to.” 

“What did you do?”

“I argued with my mum, and she threw me out.” His words are matter of fact. Like he’s repeated them so much their weight has evaporated. He wonders how much time it took Rune to speak them aloud. If they still hurt as much. He looks at the boy. His mask is a perfect statue of stone. 

“So you went to live with your godparents.”

He shakes his head. “I moved to Sam’s place.”

Noah opens his mouth, but Rune is already on his way out. 

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