Chemystery, by Karin Bishop

Part 6

June 21: Evening

We were all in Conference, and quite a mob, too. Mom and I and Dr. Paulson, Mr. and Mrs. Donohue with Dr. Warren–and she was still keeping Mr. Donohue under tight rein–and Nurse Rawlings, who I’d found out was Head Nurse; and two suits, one male and one female, who were Administration. Mom whispered that they were attorneys. There was also a representative for the police, a Latina with dark short-cropped hair named Sgt. Rodriguez, and for some reason I liked her immediately without even knowing why. She wore a crisp blue uniform with one of those little black shoulder walkie-talkie things, and somehow I knew she was not only carrying a gun but knew how to use it. She had to be good to be a female sergeant at a relatively young age.

There was one of those star-shaped conference phones and even a video hookup, and we’d be joined shortly by Craig’s new doctor, Dr. Sarkisian, who was a darkly handsome woman in her fifties. That was when the video popped into life and we were all present, with Craig’s family on several phone lines. There were notepads and pencils at every seat and water glasses and carafes of ice water along the table. I felt like we were part of the United Nations.

Actually, I kind of felt out of it. The long day was catching up to me. Had I wandered into the library only half-a-day ago? Mom noticed and told me to lean against her and doze if I could until it was time for me to make my presentation. The flurry of getting things went on without me as I kind of shut down, recharging, sort of.

Then it was Showtime.

There were introductions all around, and we had Craig and both his parents and even his sister on four separate lines at their home. Something was tugging the back of my mind and I couldn’t think what it was, and then there wasn’t time for thinking about it.

When Craig introduced himself, I was shocked. I suddenly remembered that Dr. Paulson had said something about ‘the whole time he was talking with Craig’ and I knew exactly what it was.

Craig’s voice was a girl’s voice. That was proven when Teresa introduced herself; there was enough similarity that they were unmistakably …sisters. I thought of Mom’s thoughts about the cultural differences, and Craig didn’t use words like a girl would, but the pitch and the whole …feeling of his voice was female. This was proven when I said, “Hi, Craig.”

“You, too, huh?” he chuckled. And of course, it was almost a girlish giggle. “We’re sopranos now and we’re not even Mafia.”

Looks were exchanged around the room. I jumped in. “Craig, do you want to tell the whole room the whole story or do you want me to do it?”

“Tell you what. I’ll tell it first. You’ve already told your Mom and maybe some of the others so they’ll be familiar with it. Then you can throw in anything you want. I think it’d be good for my family to hear you tell it, too.”

It was agreed, and before he started, he asked for an email address or FTP site to upload his photos. Good old Craig had been shooting photos from the start, and he was given the address and also one for a video feed. Nurse Rawlings made a call and a second computer video hookup was wheeled in halfway through Craig’s story.

He told it clearly and cleanly and factually. I thought he was very even-handed at taking the blame for the whole scheme, and his descriptions of the men we met that night were more detailed than mine. The only thing I noticed was that he didn’t mention the three different drinks, he just said ‘drinks’, so I interrupted.

“Don’t know if it means anything on our end, or even their end, but for the record, Craig had Sprite, Tommy had Pepsi–the full-strength regular kind–and I had water. Dasani, the kind made by Coke. Cans and bottle already opened. Separate glasses with ice cubes. Sorry, Craig. Go on. It’s all exactly right.”

He went on to tell the things I didn’t know that happened after they’d moved. Teresa jumped in with her explanation of how she suspected something was very weird with her brother. I looked over at the Donohues; Mrs. Donohue was gently nodding with a slight smile. Mr. Donohue, on the other hand, looked like he’d been ‘smacked upside the head with a 2x4’, as Tommy used to say. Suddenly I wondered, had Mr. Donohue actually used lumber to beat Tommy? But now he was hearing corroboration–my new word–of whatever Tommy had said. My throat tightened. God, poor Tommy!

Craig finished up. “We went to see Dr. Sarkisian–I really like her, by the way; thanks, Dr. Paulson–and kind of dumped it on her lap.”

He paused, and Dr. Sarkisian, who’d been listening with her arms folded across her chest, her head down and occasionally nodding, said, “I’ll talk about my examination when the it’s the doctors’ turns. You want to finish up …Craig?”

The way she’d hesitated saying his name made me flash–she knows he’s Lisa now!

Craig said, “I’m going to fire up the video feed. You’re set up there?”

Nurse Rawlings said, “Think so. The tech is still here if there are problems.”

“Okay, here it comes.”

We could hear some computer keys clicking and then the large screen popped into life like a big YouTube video. And we were looking at a pretty girl with long curly sandy hair. I knew immediately it was a wig but kept quiet. The girl had a light blue sleeveless tank top and, as we discovered later, a denim skirt. She wore a little bit of makeup and was just a very pretty girl.

“Hey, Dr. Paulson. Mrs. Hanson. Chris. Nice to meet you,” said the girl, who then grinned. “I’m Lisa.”

There was an audible gasp from several people, probably including me. I know that the Donohues were staggered.

Craig’s–or Lisa’s–father then spoke, walking into the back of the camera’s image of his new daughter. “This is Paul Wesson speaking. Oh, there we are.” He pointed, and I realized that the tech in our room had activated the camera so the Wessons could see us and vice versa. That strange thought tugged at me again but was lost in his words.

“When Terry brought Lisa to us …no, this is too confusing; I’ll use names for …before and after. When Terry brought Craig to us and they explained, we were shocked and pretty skeptical. Understandably. But there were undeniable physical changes to Craig that didn’t come from a tall tale, and research on the internet indicates that he’d have to have been secretly taking hormones for nearly a year for this kind of physical change. And I can testify that this girl you see here …sorry, honey, I’ve got to say it this way,” he said to Lisa, who shrugged. “Um …the girl you see in the camera is not the girl she was yesterday, and that girl was not the girl the day before that. What I’m trying to say is that the changes are …I don’t know …exponential or logarithmic or whatever the medical term would be. Just …amazingly rapid.”

“Hi, um …everybody,” Mrs. Wesson said, waving from the back of the picture. “What Paul’s saying is that Lisa’s body is changing every day. I can testify that, because …”

“Go ahead, Mom,” Lisa said, nodding.

“Well, a mother notices things. My goodness, that sound trite. What I mean is–” She broke off.

Lisa said, “What my mother is trying to say is that after Terry and I showed Mom and Dad, Mom and Terry and I went into the bedroom and I was measured. And I’ve been shooting digital photos and sent them; have you gotten them yet? Anyway, Mom’s being discreet but this isn’t the time for that. What both my parents were trying to say was that every 24 hours my body changes. Not click! like that, but …like morphing over time. So what Daddy said was right; I’m not the girl I was yesterday. My breasts weren’t the same size, my penis was slightly larger–hey, Chris, ain’t this fun!” Lisa leered, and I had to laugh; there were embarrassed chuckles around the room. “And my bone structure has changed. I’ve lost two and a half inches in almost two months.”

“That’s not possible!” Dr. Paulson blurted out.

“I would have thought so, too, Hank,” Dr. Sarkisian said, “but I know you take careful measurements, as do I. And Lisa is 6.3 centimeters shorter than your records of January this year.” She looked into the camera. “And I haven’t even begun the blood anomalies!”

“My God, what can do this?” Dr. Paulson said, shaken.

Lisa said, “I’m swearing to you, to all of you, and Chris can take the same oath. I swear before God that none of us, me, Chris, or Tommy, has taken any kind of drug. Or any kind of weird thing at all. We don’t do that sort of thing. And the fact that it’s just us three, and it started only after we crashed Intellia, seems to show that that’s when we got it. So maybe we were exposed to a gas or something, but there was never a time we were alone, once they busted us. The only thing we did that they didn’t was have drinks.”

“I thought it was odd they were so friendly to give us refreshments,” I added.

“No kidding. And it explains why the guy with the beard looked scared when we left,” Lisa said.

“You noticed that too, huh?” I said. “I was last in line so I thought I was the only one to see him.”

Lisa said, “Even Tommy said to me, ‘Dude, that guy was freaked!’”

“Are you …” Mr. Donohue said, broke off, and looked at Mrs. Donohue, who nodded. Wow, I thought. She’s strong! He’s already completely under her control.

He cleared his throat. “Are you sure, Dr. Sarki …Sar …” Mrs. Donohue whispered to him. “Sorry. Dr. Sarkisian, are you sure that this girl is …Craig Wesson?”

“I can’t imagine a hoax, but that’s a valid question, Mr. Donohue. Because of the incredible implications of Lisa’s story, I also took DNA samples from her family. And they’re a match. This girl is the child of Paul and Emily Wesson and the sister of Teresa Wesson. Absolutely no doubt. And,” she smiled oddly, “absolutely no doubt that she’s the former Craig Wesson. His DNA profile is in his records, and everything matches that should match, with one glaring difference.”

“Female,” Dr. Warren spoke for the first time.

Dr. Sarkisian nodded. “Yes, female. Blood, urine, DNA of hair and sputum, the works. She’s a Wesson, and she’s a girl. And she didn’t used to be a girl, as of the middle of April, when Craig’s DNA was recorded.”

Dr. Warren says, “What could do this?”

“What could do this so fast?” Dr. Paulson said.

Mr. Donohue cleared his throat. “So you’re saying that my Tommy was …infected with the same thing as you and Chris, here.”

Lisa said, “Yes.”

“But you’re a girl with pretty clothes and hair and …”

“Well, I’ve got a sister for pretty clothes, and …” Lisa chuckled. “Hate to do this.” And she pulled off her wig, showing her Craig head, with sandy curls matted down by the wig, and it was odd because it was sort of Craig’s face, but very feminine. And, of course, she had makeup. “Okay? Good. I’m going to fix this. Chris, you wanna take it?”

I cleared my throat. “Everything Cr–Lisa said was exactly what happened. I had some massive diarrhea that I think was …internal stuff flushing out. Craig didn’t have that.”

“Later, I did. Haven’t talked to you for awhile,” Lisa said, back on camera with her pretty hair in place.

Teresa said, “I was pissed at first because she was always in the bathroom, but I got scared when it went on and on.”

“And on,” Lisa grinned. “But, yeah, Chris, it was just like you told me yours was. Chunks of me.”

“Chunks?” Dr. Paulson gasped.

“Chunks,” Lisa and I both said, and of course, we both giggled.

I went on. “The thing I noticed first was that it seemed to be changing my brain. The way I thought and felt about things was different. I started a journal and brought it along.” I had a disk in Mom’s purse. “Anyway, you don’t know this, Lisa. I ran into some girls we know from school and even they noticed the differences. How I looked, how I sounded, how I acted …everything. And I’m developing as a girl …” I stopped, and said, “Excuse me, everybody. I think I’m going to have to do something really embarrassing here.”

“Right with you, girlfriend,” Lisa said.

Wow. That was weird.

“Cool,” was all I said. I stood at the table and unbuttoned my shirt, looked around at everybody, and slowly pulled the shirt aside, exposing my breasts. I got the audible gasp and Dr. Paulson said, “My God!” under his breath. I turned slowly so everybody in the room could see, and the cameras, and then buttoned up and sat down, my head down. Mom rubbed my back.

“Sisterhood is powerful,” Lisa was saying.

I looked up, and she’d lifted her tank top to show two perky, round breasts with large nipples. Behind her, her mother said, “Honey …” and Teresa’s voice said, “Mom, she’s got to show them.”

Mrs. Wesson said, “Alright, honey, that’s enough.”

Teresa giggled. “Anything else, you’ll need a private room.”

Lisa pulled down her top and said, seriously, “So. Mr. and Mrs. Donohue. How’s Tommy?”

Mr. Donohue let out an anguished moan. Mrs. Donohue sat with her arms folded, her jaw tight. Mr. Donohue began sobbing, “How was I to know? How could we know?”

Mrs. Donohue took a deep breath, swallowed, and said in a very cold, tight voice, “My husband Michael and eldest son Patrick decided that Tommy was becoming a homosexual. This was despite anything Tommy said or did–in fact, they ignored when he pleaded with them. Pleaded! My husband Michael thought he could …what were your words, Mickey? Exactly? That you could ‘beat the queer out of him’? I wasn’t aware of it at first, and to my undying shame when I did find out I was too frightened of them to step in. I’ll carry that shame to my grave. Today–” Her voice broke.

Mr. Donohue didn’t even seem to be listening. He just moaned, “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“He did!” Mrs. Donohue spat out. “He did and he did and he did and you just yelled, ‘Shut up you fairy; no son of mine’s turning queer!’ and you kept hitting him!”

“I stopped!” he roared back.

I was crying, thinking of poor, poor Tommy. Mom put her arm around me and I leaned against her, sobbing.

Mrs. Donohue continued, “Oh, you stopped, is that making it all right for you? You never gave him a chance to explain. These other poor boys are going through the same thing, and nobody is beating them. It took a big man like Mickey Donohue to do it! And then you got Patrick riled up!”

“Patrick …” he whimpered.

Mrs. Donohue faced the room, the words sour in her mouth. “Tommy took a shower today. First one in a long time; he’s been hiding in his room and I’ve been taking food to him. So he showered and almost made it back but Patrick saw him and started yelling. The same filth as Mickey, calling him terrible names. And poor Tommy, ah, my poor child …” She shuddered and regrouped. “Poor Tommy began crying, and that sent Patrick round the bend. He ripped the towel off Tommy and saw …and saw …”

She sighed and paused. The whole room was silent except for the noise of the electronics.

“Could I have some water, please?” she asked.

Her husband sat there, rocking slightly, wrapped in his misery.

“Could I have some water, please?” she asked again, pointedly, to Mr. Donohue.

“Oh,” he roused from wherever he was, and poured her a glass. She drank slowly, put the glass down and spun it slowly with her fingertips, and then crossed her arms again.

“Patrick ripped the towel and I’m guessing he saw Tommy’s …breasts and small penis. And curves, he’s gotten curvy, I’d noticed before he locked himself away. And Patrick went for his knife that he’s always carrying,” she glared at her husband. “As if he’s going to skin a moose in suburbia! Well, fine use for his moose knife!” And back to the room. “All I can guess is that he was going to try to …cut off Tommy’s penis and castrate him. I didn’t see this because I was in the kitchen and it all happened so quickly, but Patrick was shrieking ‘You wanna be a girl? You wanna be a girl? I’ll make you a girl!’ and then finally Mickey realized he’d gone too far and had to pull Patrick off Tommy.”

“Oh, God,” Mr. Donohue said, remembering. “And so much blood …”

“He’d cut the femoral artery,” Dr. Warren said. “Tommy would have bled out–almost did–but Mrs. Donohue got 911 to dispatch quickly.”

We sat there in silence. I wiped my eyes and looked at Lisa’s monitor. She was crying, too. I could feel Mom’s steady deep breathing, the way she did when she was furious. We were all in shock.

Sgt. Rodriguez said softly, “You understand, Mrs. Donohue, that I’ve recorded what you’ve told us. It’s required by law.”

Mrs. Donohue nodded. “Yes. To my shame. And …I want you to know what happened.”

One of the suits, the man, said, “This whole conference is being recorded. We can supply the audio tape with authorization, officer.”

“Sergeant,” she said, but with a smile. “And thank you.”

Back to the business at hand. During the confession, somebody had come in softly, handed a file to the tech, and left softly and quickly. He’d handed it to Nurse Rawlings, who nodded and handed it to Dr. Paulson. He was scanning it in the interlude after the Donohue drama.

Finally Dr. Paulson looked up. “I just got the lab results for Chris. Blood, urine, DNA swabs, all less than two hours old.” He sighed and looked at me. For the others at the table, he pointed at me. “This is the child that I’ve had as a patient for ten years, Christopher Hanson.” He shrugged, pursed his lips and frowned. “And yet the lab results show that this child is a female. There are some anomalies here and there–”

“In Lisa’s results as well,” Dr. Sarkisian added.

“Yes …we’ll have to compare those …later,” Dr. Paulson said. He took up another file and handed it to Dr. Warren, who scanned it and nodded.

Dr. Warren said, “And these are the lab results for Thomas Donohue, now in Recovery.” He looked at Mrs. Donohue with sympathy. “Genetically, your child is female. Now.”

“Female?” Mr. Donohue said, dazed.

“Female,” Mrs. Donohue said, firmly. “She’s our daughter now, through no fault of her own. And she’s mine, do you understand, Mickey? You’ve done enough ruination to Patrick–and Tommy–over the years. Now I’ll try to undo the damage with our daughter.”

I could tell there was nothing he could do about it, and realized it was probably the best thing that could happen to Tommy, now that his …her mother had finally stood up to her husband.

“So, what is the agent of this rapid genetic change?” Dr. Sarkisian tossed into the room.

The doctors began conferring in quick medical lingo when my brain slammed into gear. It was her word ‘agent’ that did it; I suddenly realized what the thing was that had been bumping around my head. The agents! The Black Hats! If they were monitoring our emails and maybe our phones, they knew now that the merde had hit, as Craig used to say.

“Lisa …I just thought of something,” I said to the video camera. “The Black Hats?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, God! What do you think …what do we do?”

For a split second I flashed on how Lisa was different than Craig; he’d always been the one to come up with ideas first. I pulled out my cell phone and it read ‘No Service’.

I asked the room. “Excuse me, do cell phones work in the hospital?”

They were still all talking among themselves. I rapped on the table and raised my voice. “Excuse me! Do cell phones work in the hospital?”

My outburst earned frowns, but Nurse Rawlings said, “There are areas with cell phone blocks because of complications with the machinery, but they work on this floor. I can tell you where you can make a call.”

“Thanks, but that’s now why I’m asking. Mine’s not working. Anybody else?”

Everyone checked their cell phones and I could tell by their faces that they were surprised; even the suits were shaking their Blackberries. I said, “Check a land line.”

Nurse Rawlings did, punched some numbers, and nodded. I asked for the phone, used my phone’s address book to call Jenny, and prayed. Thank God she answered! I quickly briefed her on where we were and said she should tell her dad because Black Hats might be coming. She got it instantly and we hung up.

I looked at the room. “Paranoid, maybe. Better safe than sorry? Anyway, do you doctors have any idea how much farther …”

“Into girlhood,” Lisa supplied. “Good thinking, by the way.”

“Thanks. So, how much farther into girlhood we’re going?”

The doctors looked at each other, stumped. Dr. Warren said, “We can’t even imagine how you’ve gotten this far.”

“So far, so fast,” Dr. Paulson said.

“Flipping,” I murmured.

Dr. Paulson grinned. “Okay, so flipping fast.”

“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. “Our cells are flipping. Or chromosomes. I mean, our XY cells are flipped to XX. That’s all I can think of. Me and Craig, I mean. Lisa,” I nodded to the screen. I didn’t want to mention Jenny, for her safety.

The doctors stared at me. Dr. Warren muttered, “That’s not possible …”

Dr. Sarkisian said, “But setting that aside for the moment, let’s explore it. Can we posit that it’s a genetic mutation …a stimulator of some kind, that strips the Y chromosome or flips it–similar to cancer–flips it into an X?”

“We need to get a geneticist on this,” Dr. Paulson said. “Way overdue. Nancy, see if you can track down Linus?”

Nurse Rawlings nodded and made a call, then made a face because the phone was dead. I got a chill. She stood up and was halfway to the door when it opened, and in walked Military Guy and one of the Bully Boys he’d had with him at Intellia. Military Guy had a dark gray suit on and black sweater under it; the other guy was in a black suit, white shirt, and dark tie. Sheesh, I thought. Here come The Men In Black …

Military Guy smiled with cold eyes. “Good evening, everyone. Nurse Rawlings, please be seated. I am Agent John Turner and this is Agent Reynolds.” He flipped out a wallet showing some ID card and flipped it closed. “We are with the Department of Homeland Security and I am informing you that this conference and all information pertaining to the matters at hand is confidential.”

“Excuse me,” Sgt. Rodriguez said. “Could I see the ID again?”

“It’s all in order, Officer Rodriguez,” he smiled blandly.

“It’s Sergeant Rodriguez and I would like to see your ID, sir.” She was standing, absolutely not backing down.

I knew I liked her!

There was a little pause and he slowly–insolently, I thought–slid the wallet across the table to her. She took it and did the cop thing of somehow reading the information and keeping an eye on him. I’d been with Mom once when she’d been pulled over with a busted taillight and saw how it was done.

Sgt. Rodriguez raised an eyebrow, nodded slightly, and closed the wallet, slid it back, and sat down. The lady lawyer from Administration sitting next to her raised an eyebrow and Sgt. Rodriguez gave a slight nod back.

After retrieving his wallet, Turner smiled again. “Thank you for your compliance. I’m informing you all–and that includes Dr. Sarkisian and the entire Wesson family, here by video–that under the terms of the Patriot Act you are to comply with us. Don’t worry, folks, it’s a pretty painless procedure. First, all notes and recorded data concerning this matter are to be retrieved and handed to us. That means emails, too. And, of course, the medical records. Everything. Everything must be given to us–starting right now.”

End of Part 6