Elements 4

Chapter One

It defied all logic.

Toby panted and attempted to calm his breathing. The beautiful creature smiling up at him with love and adoration was a logical anomaly that he had been unable to explain for almost a year.

It was like trying to explain how he had gotten one of the Nobel gases to react with another element. That just didn't happen. In a synthesis reaction, two components bond to create a larger molecule. Energy is required and is stored in the bond.

As he smiled lovingly back at her, he closed his eyes and could practically envision a divine being, carefully mixing the essence of Toby with equal parts the essence of Cile. The shimmering, silverish vapor that resulted would be recognized by anyone as pure, undiluted love.

While he couldn't explain it scientifically, Cile radiated energy that created a reaction in Toby that he had never experienced before, and she had reacted to his reaction. The love between them was real, even if he would never understand how it had occurred through any logical explanation. With dual doctorates in Chemistry and Physics, the human chemistry that existed between him and Celia Reid was beyond his comprehension.

Cile recognized the contemplative expression that she frequently saw on Toby's face when he looked at her and she was always patient with his attempts at understanding her attraction to him. She had struggled with the question herself when they had first met.

Tobias Davis was not 'nerdy', but he appeared introverted and scholarly in the way that the world, and she, had originally viewed him. While the world's view might not have changed, hers certainly had. She had recognized the compassion, intelligence, strength, and morality in Toby which had allowed her to express herself completely and openly to a man; something that she had never been able to fully do before. She was secure enough with Toby to hold nothing back from him. Nothing, with a capital 'N'.

Toby remained far more introverted in social situations than Cile would have preferred, but the subtle changes she had coaxed him to make in his dress and appearance had produced the heartthrob that she was always so proud to be recognized as her guy.

Nothing gave her greater pleasure than when she could feel Toby's strong, naked body against hers, and she could use every technique at her disposal to prove to him just how desirable she thought he was. He was a 'hunk', he was a 'stud', but most of all, he was hers.

"I love you, Professor," Cile whispered up at him as she continued to caress his back with her fingers and tighten her vaginal muscles around his softening erection.

Toby leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose, "I love you, and I love you loving me."

"Good," she said, "because it's dreary outside and not fit for your normal run, so we have time for me to love on you for a while this morning. Will you let me do that?"

"I thought that is what you just did."

"No, that was us loving each other, which we can certainly do again once my loving on you has produced the desired result. Remember what I told you at Katie and Tyler's reception?"

Toby laughed and asked, "That you thought I had too much gray matter?"

"That's right," Cile said, in the sultry, bedroom voice shared only with her man, "And I promised to screw your brains out."

Toby smiled down at her, remembering how diligently she had been attempting to keep that promise for the past ten months, and he knew what Cile wanted from him at this moment. It had taken a few months, and several lengthy conversations between them about their mutual needs and desires, but he had finally abandoned his feelings of selfishness created by her attention to his pleasure alone.

He put his arms around her and rolled onto his back, positioning her on top while remaining joined with the remnants of his erection still inside her. Cile immediately found his lips with hers and teased his tongue with the lightest brushes of her own before moving lower to kiss and nibble on his jaw, his neck, and eventually lower down his body. The feel of her long, soft wheat-colored hair caressing his body stimulated Toby almost as much as her lips and tongue.

Her loving attention never failed to get the desired results.

~~~

"Christ that hurts," thought Vincent Barrow as another muscle cramp, this time in his back, almost brought him to his knees.

What had started last week as stomach cramps; including diarrhea and vomiting, had progressed to these muscle cramps in almost every part of his body. He had tried every self-help remedy he could find on the internet related to stomach and muscle cramps, but things only seemed to be getting worse.

He checked the time and saw that it was just after 8 am. That meant that if on schedule, the ferry had just departed Cheboygan on its maiden voyage of this season. The ferry ceased operation between the mainland and the island during the winter, leaving him and the other seventy or so permanent residents of Bois Blanc Island to find alternative methods for getting to the mainland of Michigan. There were plenty of smaller boats and even a few airplanes that could be used, but if one needed to get their vehicle across Lake Huron, the ferry was the only option.

He needed to get his US Forest Service vehicle to the ferry this morning by 9:30. The ferry made only one round-trip each day during May, and his instructions were to deliver the truck to the dealership in Cheboygan and to pick up a new vehicle. The old truck had less than seventy-five thousand miles on it; it was only driven on a small island after all, but it was more than ten years old, so policy mandated that it be replaced.

Vincent Barrow never got sick. Consequently, he had never bothered to establish a relationship with any doctors, on the island or elsewhere. For his yearly physical examination, he simply went to the doctor or clinic specified through the district office in St. Ignace.

Rising from the toilet and testing his stability while standing, he stared at the shower, trying to decide whether or not he wanted to chance using it this morning. He hadn't showered for several days due to the cramps making him feel like his balance was unreliable.

Using countertops, doorframes, walls, and anything else he could reach while walking through his cabin, Vincent finally made it to the small dining table in the kitchen. He selected the closest wooden chair at the table and while using the back of the chair for support, he slowly slid it back towards the bathroom. He felt like an invalid old man using a walker. Not a pleasant image for him at only thirty-two years of age.

Lifting the chair the mere four inches required to clear the curb at the entrance to his shower resulted in both of his arms cramping so badly that it took ten minutes before they relaxed enough for him to turn on the water. He waited for the water to warm before slowly moving into his shower and taking a seat on the chair.

The warm water was soothing on his tired muscles and Vince wished that he could remain beneath the caressing stream indefinitely, but he knew that the water heater in his cabin had a small capacity and would only provide him with warm water for a few minutes. He quickly washed his hair and body, thankful that the full beard he always grew over the winter months would excuse him from needing to shave this morning.

It seemed as if his body knew exactly when the warm water was turned off because multiple muscle spasms and the cramping returned almost immediately, hampering his ability to dry off. The resulting chill on his wet skin only served to heighten both the frequency and the severity of the cramps. Damn, he could barely move.

It took him over half an hour to get dressed, with much of his body still damp. He dressed in layers to produce enough warmth against his body to minimize the pain he was experiencing every time one of the cramps occurred. His hands were shaking so badly that he had difficulty pouring coffee into his travel mug. Screw it; he'd clean up the spill when he got home.

Vince walked on shaky legs to his truck. He was glad that the skies were overcast because he was convinced that even his shadow would hurt this morning. The cramp that enveloped his back and chest when he climbed onto the driver's seat took his breath away, and he almost passed out before he was finally able to once again suck oxygen into his body. He started the truck, set the heater for maximum heat, and waited for the cab to warm up. Closing his hands around the steering wheel resulted in his forearms cramping, locking his gloved fingers in place for several minutes.

The distance from his cabin on the most northwesterly point of the island to the Bois Blanc Township Marina was just over ten miles, and it would normally take him about twenty-five minutes to make the trip. He had thirty-five minutes until the ferry departed, so he had to tough these cramps out and get the truck moving.

Vince had never considered it, but the lack of curves and intersections on Lime Kiln Point Road was a blessing this morning since it minimized the number of turns he would have to negotiate with his hands and forearms cramping. He struggled through the left turn once he had reached Huron Drive, but the route was once again relatively straight from that point to the ferry dock.

Having made his reservation, and paying the ferry fee online, Vince didn't have to stop for the transaction now. There was only one other vehicle, a small sedan, making the trip to the mainland, so Vince followed the hand directions of the ferry crew and was soon parked on the deck of the boat. He knew that he would be required to turn the engine off, and dreaded the cold that would soon result from the heater being deactivated.

As expected, one of the crew tapped on his driver's side window and signaled for the truck's engine to be turned off. Vince did as requested while glancing in the rearview mirror to watch the ramp gate being secured and feeling the motion of the ferry pulling away from the dock. The ferry crew had finished their departure tasks and were quickly retreating into the warmth of the ferry's interior.

The cold lake surface winds quickly made their presence known inside the truck, rapidly dropping the temperature around Vince as he sat behind the wheel. As the spasms and cramps began returning to his body, the distance between the cab of his truck and the door to the warm interior of the ferry seemed to grow in Vince's mind. If he chanced the journey, he would have to make it a second time once the ferry docked in Cheboygan, and he wasn't confident that he could do it once, let alone twice, but he knew that he had to try.

Using his elbow to push the door handle upwards instead of his cramped hand, Vince leaned against the driver's side door to push it open against the gusting winds outside. Sliding off the seat and trying to find stable footing on the rolling deck of the ferry, he simply had to step away from the door to allow the wind to push it closed.

That one step was all he could manage before the multiple cramps in his body evolved into violent convulsions that sent him crumbling to the deck. His out of control body was at the mercy of the turbulent lake surface as it pitched the ferry from side to side. He first rolled away from the truck towards the side of the ferry before being slid in the other direction as the craft was directed by a gust of wind. The clearance height on his truck was just enough to permit his now unconscious body to be wedged under it, making him invisible to anyone else on the ferry until after it had docked.

He would be dead by then.

~~~

"When did Dr. Phelps say that the test results would be back?" asked Jessie Harris.

"Preliminary results should be back later today," replied her husband Jake. "Those will dictate what additional tests they will need to run."

Jake and Jessie were the head cowboy and cowgirl at the Dryhead Ranch, a working horse and cattle ranch year-round, and a guest ranch during the summer months. They had just assisted the chief veterinarian for the Crow Nation reservation load up two mature elk which had been discovered on the ranch that morning. While the ranch was privately owned, it was situated entirely within the western portion of the Indian reservation, which is why Dr. Phelps had been notified.

"There's no indication that the chronic wasting disease he suspects has been found in any cattle or horses yet, is there?"

Jake shook his head and took his wife's hand as they headed back to the stables, "No, but we'll keep an eye out for any symptoms once the herds get moved back up here from Wyoming next week. We also need to let Iris know that any venison or byproducts from deer or elk in her freezers need to get destroyed so that no one eats any of it."

"Shouldn't we wait to see what the test results say?" Jessie asked. "That would prevent us from having to waste a bunch of perfectly good meat if the cause of death for the elk was something else besides the chronic wasting disease."

"What else could it be?" Jake said. "You heard what Dr. Phelps said about all the reports throughout the reservation concerning the strange behavior of several deer and elk over the past few months. The stumbling, weight loss, drooling, and lack of fear of humans are all symptoms."

"I know they are, but waiting for confirmation won't cost us anything," Jessie said. "I'll just make sure Iris keeps everything frozen until we know for sure."

"I'm fine with that. When do you have to leave for your meeting at the school?"

Jessie checked the time on her cell phone before answering, "I'll need to leave in about twenty minutes. I sure hope that they can shed some light on why our three normally happy kids have suddenly become so moody and depressed."

Six-year-old Ginny, eight-year-old Leah, and ten-year-old Jace had grown up on the ranch and always been well-behaved and joyous personalities, loved by the staff and guests alike. Since right after the New Year, each had exhibited behavioral changes that their parents could not explain. It had started with irritability, followed by depression, and now was affecting their grades in school. Jessie suspected that someone at school was bullying her children, and she wanted to put an end to that today, if possible.

"I wish I could go with you," Jake said, "But I need to have that talk with Phil and Josh. Letting them go now will send a message to the rest of the crew that fighting won't be tolerated."

"You still don't have any idea what got into them?" Jessie asked. "I mean, there's not a girl involved that they might have been fighting over or anything, is there?"

"Curt said that there wasn't any reason that any of the others knew about," Jake said. "Neither of them had been drinking either. Typically, everyone starts getting excited about the weather improving and the upcoming drives, but just the opposite appears to be happening this year."

"Are you sure there wasn't any alcohol involved?" Jessie asked. "Because I have heard Phil and Josh both slurring their words and walking like drunken sailors on the way to the bunkhouse. I've also witnessed Josh falling out of his saddle while his horse was standing dead still."

"When was this?" Jake asked.

Jessie stared at her husband for several seconds before admitting, "I don't remember. Christ, I'm forgetting more and more all the time it seems."

"Well, regardless of the reason, they're both out of here as of today," Jake said. He was shaking his right hand and Jessie noticed.

"Going numb on you again?"

"Yeah, it feels like I've been sleeping on it or something," Jake confirmed.

"I can assure you, dear Husband, that you were not sleeping on that hand last night. I kept it firmly attached to my left breast from before you went to sleep until you awoke this morning."

Jake chuckled and kissed his wife's forehead, "There isn't a part of your body that makes me numb, Babes. If us having three kids hasn't proven it to you, know that your body has the exact opposite of numb on me."

"Well, let me get to the school and back," Jessie responded with a lustful look that her husband treasured. "Maybe we can work on making you 'not numb' before the kids get home this afternoon."

"Don't forget you said that," Jake told her, patting her on her bottom as she walked to her car.

~~~

"Greer..."

"Elliot, this is Clive Grey. We've got an issue at the winery that you need to be brought up to speed on. It will likely require you to get our lawyers involved."

"They haven't been selling to underage drinkers have they," joked Elliot Greer. It was common for him to try to make light of any problem brought to him as the General Manager for Wallace International's operations in Australia.

"We could all wish it was that minor," said Clive. "One of our workers just died, and two more are in critical condition in the hospital."

"Died?" exclaimed Elliot. "Died from what. It's a bloody winery. There's nothing dangerous at a winery, is there?"

"Evidently, there is at ours in McLaren-Vale," said Clive. "The cause of death has been identified as radon poisoning. The Environmental Protection Agency has ordered everyone off the premises until they identify the source."

"Radon?" said Elliot. "Where would radon come from at a winery, and why haven't I heard of this before?"

Clive attempted to explain, "The doctor I spoke with said that there has likely always been radon present since it is a naturally occurring gas from the decay of uranium and thorium in the Earth's surface. It's not generally a problem because the amount of radon normally occurring is small enough to get dissipated in the air and not cause any health problems for humans. The doctor also said that due to the amount of radon detected in the workers and the rapid onset of symptoms, the exposure levels must be off the charts. That is why he was required to notify the EPA."

Elliot checked the time, "The EPA is already onsite? It's almost midnight. They must think it's serious to get some bureaucrats out of bed at this time of night. You mentioned one worker had died and two others were critical. Anything common in where they all worked or anything?"

Clive searched his records for a few seconds before replying, "I have a message in for Nelson Portman to call me. He's the operations manager and should be able to verify my records. Those indicate that all three of the infected workers were assigned to the cask warehouse."

"Then they worked primarily inside," said Elliot. "I thought radon came from the soil. I would expect the workers assigned to the fields to be exposed before warehouse workers. Are any other properties around the winery reporting any radon?"

"Not from what I have learned so far," said Clive, "Radon can build up inside a building if it is located on top of a radon source. Building requirements in place when we built our warehouse and distillery units twelve years ago would have included testing for radon. None was detected at the time, so something underground must have changed since then."

"Obviously," said Elliot. "Let me ask you this, if radon gas can penetrate a concrete floor, which is what you are suggesting, could we also assume that it could penetrate the wooden casks that the wine is stored in? Can radon contaminate a liquid such as wine?"

"That's one of the things that the EPA will be testing," Clive confirmed.

"And we don't know how long the radon exposure could have been occurring?" asked Elliot.

"Sometime between when the facilities were built and now, is the closest we can estimate at this time. That's twelve years."

"Wonderful," said Elliot. "Do you think we can be reasonably confident that we haven't been poisoning people for twelve years with contaminated wine?"