Among the Shadows

© 2011 by Christopher M. French. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 05/21/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4634-0166-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-2650-7 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011908633

Printed in the United States of America

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.

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Contents

Chapter 1—November 11, 2008

Chapter 2—March 27, 2009

Chapter 3—March 31, 2009

Chapter 4—April 3, 2009

Chapter 5—April 3, 2009

Chapter 6—April 4, 2009

Chapter 7—April 5, 2009

Chapter 8—April 6, 2009

Chapter 9—April 7, 2009

Chapter 10—April 8, 2009

Chapter 11—April 9, 2009

Chapter 12—April 9, 2009

Chapter 13—April 10, 2009

Chapter 14—April 11, 2009

Chapter 15—April 12, 2009

Chapter 1—November 11, 2008

The painful, bone-chilling ice and snow overpowered his body as the man lay on the frozen ground. The four layers of clothing he had collected over the past few months did not help with his struggle to the fight the winter weather. The tattered hat and gloves that covered his head and hands provided even less protection. It was the coldest night he had encountered since his life on the street began. Wrapping himself with the garbage bag that he found in the nearby dumpster, the man realized that it would provide little protection from the frigid ground, but would act as a buffer against the piercing, north wind. Wiping the mucus from his nose, he listened to his teeth chatter. He missed the spot that he had found at the municipal airport. The staircase at the airport parking garage had a space behind the steps on the ground level. The man had found a chair and various other items and turned the space into a small, cozy home. Hundreds of people passed above him every day, without even the slightest knowledge of his presence. That was until his body began to show the signs of lack of showering, and a patron reported a foul smell in the staircase to the police department.

Hey, the officer said as he poked the homeless man under the stairs with his baton.

The man opened his eyes slowly. Yeah? he answered without rolling over to see who was talking to him.

You can’t stay here. You gotta move on, the officer stated as he towered over the man lying on the pavement.

Why? Isn’t the airport a public place? I am a citizen of the general public you know, the man barked back in the common homeless-lawyer defense.

Reaching down, the officer unsnapped the case housing his pepper spray.

Look, buddy, I am giving you the opportunity to move on your own instead of going to jail.

The homeless man thought about charging the officer. A jail cell would be a great improvement over his current condition. There he would have a warm, dry place to sleep plus he would get three meals a day, a vast improvement from the leftovers he was eating from the trash cans of local restaurants. Recalling his upbringing, he remembered how his parents scolded him as a child when he would get in trouble at school, and realized that this was a battle he was not going to win. So he decided to show respect for the officer and his authority.

A gust of wind blew the garbage bag off the man’s body, and he cursed under his breath.

Screw authority, he thought to himself. I should have taken the jail cell.

Reaching out with his numb fingers, he tugged at the corners of the bag bringing them back over his body. After securing the bag under his legs and torso, the man blew air onto his cold hands and closed his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.

The bright lights blinded the man as he sat up from the ground to identify the noise that had awoken him from his slumber. Looking around, he found two beams of light staring at him. The man froze like a deer caught in the headlights as the approaching car made its way down the dark alleyway. Seconds later, the man heard a door open and the sound of steps walking across the gravel. Momentarily, a second door opened and the man could hear additional footsteps approaching. Raising his hand, the man tried to see the face of the person but only could see the silhouette of the body.

Why don’t you damn pigs leave me alone? the man whispered under his breath.

Excuse me, a man’s voice replied.

If you cops don’t get out of here, I am gonna kick your asses, he shouted, seeing this as a second opportunity for that warm jail cell.

Oh, we’re not the police, the voice answered. We’re here to help you.

The homeless man was stunned at what he had just heard.

Why would you want to help me? he inquired.

Well, to be frank, you look like someone who could use a little help, the voice replied.

Standing up, the homeless man was finally able to see the individual with whom he had been talking. Standing in front of the car was a short, well-dressed elderly man with thinning gray hair. His round face and brown eyes were covered by circular-shaped, rimmed glasses. Judging by the man’s clothing and the way the glasses reminded him of the ones Benjamin Franklin had worn, the homeless man realized that this man was wealthy. Clinching his fist, the homeless man thought of robbing the old gentleman until he spotted the large, muscular man dressed in black standing by the side of the car.

Rather big chauffeur, he thought.

How can you help me? he asked the old man.

Well, actually, I am a doctor, and I need some assistance in my lab, he said. If you help me, I will provide you with food, shelter, and some income to help you get back on your feet. That is unless you prefer your current living accommodations.

The homeless man followed the doctor’s eyes down to the garbage bag on the ground. Wondering if this was some type of sexual-predator trap, the homeless man took a defensive type stance.

I’m not gay, you know, he told the doctor.

Please, I assure you that this has nothing to do with anything sexual in nature, the doctor said as he raised his hand in a motion to calm the thoughts of the homeless man.

The doctor then turned and pointed to the back of the car, inviting the man out of the cold. The driver opened the door and held it like an obedient servant. Feeling the gust of wind hit his face, the homeless man decided to accept the invitation. Walking to the rear door, he glanced inside before entering. Sliding across the leather seats, he stopped at the far side of the car. The interior was black leather and a television was showing the local news. Within seconds, the doctor joined him, and the door closed behind him. Moments later, the driver took his position behind the wheel and pressed a button. A tinted window slowly rolled up separating the driver and the party in the rear. Feeling the warm air flowing out of the vents, the homeless man saw goose bumps form on the skin of his arms.

The car turned onto the highway’s on-ramp as the doctor spoke to his new guest, So, tell me about yourself.

What do you want to know? was the answer he got.

The doctor reached down and opened the door to the hidden refrigerator across from the seat, Care for a drink?

The homeless man’s eyes widened as he saw what seemed like countless cans of soda, bottles of beer, and water. He had never been so aware of the dryness of his lips until then.

Yes, thank you, he answered as he took a soda from the refrigerator.

The cold can felt soothing to the homeless man’s lips as the liquid splashed onto his tongue. The carbonated water in the drink burned his throat as he drank the entire can in one large gulp.

Hearing the homeless man give a loud sigh of relief, the doctor continued the conversation, Let’s start with, what is your name?

Wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his dirty coat, the homeless man looked across at the innocent face of the old man next to him.

My name is Paul, the homeless man stated.

Well, Paul, my name is Dr. Albert Hitzig. It’s nice to meet you, the old man answered as he extended his hand for a handshake.

Paul reached out and shook the doctor’s hand.

If you don’t mind my asking, Paul, how did you end up on the street? the doctor said as he relaxed back into the seat.

Taking a deep breath, Paul began to tell his story. Well, Paul said as he too sank into the comfort of the leather seat. I didn’t have much ambition for college after high school, so instead I became a real-estate agent. Over the years, I worked my way up through the company, making decent money, but my mistake was I never saved anything. I lived paycheck to paycheck, wasting my extra money on going out and paying for everything. I would get a group of friends or co-workers around and simply pay for the entire bill.

Gesturing for approval of another drink, Paul reached down and popped the tab open on another soda can.

Taking a sip, Paul continued his story, Then this damn war happened, causing the housing market to crash. With no money in my savings, it did not take long for my bills to consume all my money. Within months, the mortgage company came and took my house, and the bank came for my car. All I had were my clothes and other belongings. I ended up having to sell them in order to eat. All I had was a high school education. I had no training or experience, except for real estate. No one gave me a chance, so without a house and car, I was forced out into the street.

Paul finished his story and took another sip of his soda. The old man listened intently to Paul’s story. He had noticed the anger in Paul’s voice as he told his tale. The doctor gave Paul a few seconds to recover from his emotional story before speaking.

I am sorry, Paul, but we are going to change all that, starting today, the doctor said as he smiled at Paul. We are going to get you back on your feet with some new training and new money, the doctor assured Paul.

Paul grinned as he looked back at the doctor, That would be nice.

The doctor focused his attention toward the front of the car and announced that they were home. Paul turned and glanced out the window. Watching the car drive through a twelve foot wrought iron gate, Paul looked off in the distance beyond a group of trees. A large brick manor stood alongside a man-made lake. Paul thought of the Batman comics he had read as a child. He felt as if he had entered one of those comics and had arrived at Wayne Manor. The car drove around the circular driveway, passed the large fountain, and stopped by the huge front doors. As the driver got out, Paul watched a butler appear from the front door of the mansion. The car door opened, and the driver stood at attention waiting for Paul to exit. Stepping out, Paul looked down at his torn dirty clothes and felt ashamed and embarrassed. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Paul turned to see the doctor.

It’s okay, the doctor said, acknowledging the expression of embarrassment on Paul’s face. We are all friends here.

Hearing the kind words, Paul relaxed and took his first step toward the house and his new beginning. Paul heard the car door close behind him and the sound of the wheels moving down the driveway as he approached the door and entered the foyer.

Good evening, sir, the butler said greeting Paul.

This is Richard, the doctor said. If you need anything while you are here, just tell him.

Well, Paul, I am going to go freshen up and get ready for dinner. Richard will take you to your room. Dinner is in one hour, the doctor said as he turned and walked away.

Turning back around, Paul looked at Richard.

Right this way, sir, Richard motioned Paul toward the opposite side of the room.

Paul followed Richard across a large main room to the largest staircase he had ever seen. At the top of the stairs, Richard turned right and proceeded down the hall. Paul followed taking in every detail of the hallway as he walked. The walls were made of mahogany wood and were lit by elaborate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Throughout the hallway, several large mirrors and paintings decorated the walls. Paul did not recognize any of them, but knew from their appearance, that they were rare and extremely valuable. Halfway down the hall, Richard stopped and turned around to face Paul.

Here is your room, sir, he said as he raised his arm guiding Paul into the suite.

Paul walked inside and was immediately reminded of the types of rooms you would see in the nostalgic movies of the thirties and forties. Richard walked over to the closet and opened the doors.

There are various sizes; so pick which ones fit you best, Richard said as he turned on the closet light.

Looking inside, Paul saw row upon row of assorted clothes. Paul then followed Richard to the back portion of the room. Flipping on the light, Richard showed Paul the bathroom. The bathroom was completely done in white marble and had an open shower. Paul looked at the sink and saw a razor, hairbrush, and teeth-cleaning products. Richard walked out of the bathroom and advised Paul that he would return to get him five minutes before dinner. Paul thanked Richard and watched as he walked away and closed the bedroom door behind him. Once Richard had left, Paul turned and looked at himself in the mirror. He was dirty and his beard had grown out of control. Reaching down, Paul turned the knob and watched the flow of hot water splash into the sink. Paul closed the door behind him and took off all his clothes. Placing them in a pile, Paul returned to the mirror and picked up the can of shaving cream next to the razor. He shook the can and pressed the top. The shaving cream poured out into the palm of his hand. Covering his face with the lather, Paul rinsed his hands and picked up the razor. As he pulled down with his right hand, he could feel the hairs on his cheek resist the pull of the razor.

This is gonna hurt, he thought.

* * *

Paul made a final inspection of himself in the mirror. He stood there a new man ready to get back on his feet. Finding a yellow Oxford-style shirt, Paul put in on and thought it made a great addition to the khaki pants and loafers he was wearing. Grabbing the aftershave, Paul put a small amount in the palm of his hand. Rubbing his hands together, he splashed the aftershave on his cheeks and neck. Feeling the burn, he let out a couple of deep breaths. Wiping his hands on the towel, he heard a knock at the bedroom door. Paul turned off the bathroom light and walked across the bedroom and opened the door. The amazement on Richard’s face brought a smile to Paul’s.

Regaining his composure, Richard made his announcement, Dinner is ready.

Paul followed Richard down the hallway and back downstairs to the main room. Paul heard his footsteps as the hard soles of the loafers clicked on the hardwood floors. Reaching the opposite end of the room, Richard stopped and opened another large set of doors. As the doors separated, Paul looked inside the dining room and saw a long, narrow table set with silver and china. At the far end of the table, Paul saw the doctor. Standing, the doctor acknowledged the arrival of his guest.

I must say, much better, the doctor said as he pointed to a chair.

Richard held the chair for Paul as he sat down.

Don’t you feel better, Paul? the doctor asked.

Much better. I don’t how to thank you, Paul answered, for all of this I mean.

My pleasure, the doctor replied as another set of doors opened and the kitchen staff entered with dinner.

Ah, what are we having today, Louie? the doctor asked his chef.

Tonight, sir, we have Herring salad, Düsseldorf potatoes, stuffed mushrooms, and German meatballs, the chef said with an air of arrogance.

Sounds wonderful, the doctor informed his chef.

The smell of the meal made Paul’s mouth water. He had no idea what the dishes were, but he did not care. It had been months since he had eaten anything that was not from a trash can or a dumpster. Paul was careful not to eat too fast even though he felt that he could not fill his stomach quick enough.

Putting down his fork, Paul swallowed the last meatball off his plate. The meal had been the best he had ever tasted. As one member of the staff removed the plate from in front of Paul, another filled his wine glass.

Paul, was dinner to your satisfaction? the doctor asked as he took a sip of his wine.

Yes, very much so, Paul answered.

Ah, how rude of me. I apologize, Paul, the doctor said quickly putting down his wine glass. You told me your story, and all I told you was my name.

Clasping his hands together, the doctor began to tell Paul his story, This house belonged to my parents. My father was a brilliant business man and made a fortune in the oil business. Growing up, I had everything a boy could want. For my higher education, my parents offered the choices of medicine or law. Not being one with a proclivity for law, I received my doctorate in neurochemistry.

Even though Paul was not interested nor did he understand, he listened to the doctor explain the principles behind neurochemistry. He did not want to seem ungracious to the man who had saved him from his life on the street.

Which brings me to my latest experiment, the doctor continued. I am studying rabies.

Rabies? Paul asked surprised by what he had just heard. I thought the medical community had that under control.

They do, the doctor informed Paul. But only if they catch it before the symptoms appear. Once the symptoms appear, the disease can no longer be cured and the victims almost always die a horrible death. I want to change that. I am trying to manipulate the disease so that the symptoms may appear, but death does not occur. This would give hope to those who contract the disease and give them more time to be cured. This is where you come in, Paul.

Sounds interesting, Paul said, But how can I help you with this?

I am getting old Paul, and I need a fresh set of hands to help, the doctor said.

Why not get another doctor to help you? Paul asked.

A good point, the doctor started, but the medical community has called my life’s work and research worthless. So they refuse to help me.

Paul felt sorry for his elderly host as the old man’s face drooped.

It would be an honor to help you, doc, Paul said.

The doctor’s face brightened as he stood up from the table. The doctor thanked his guest and announced that he was tired and needed some sleep. Paul agreed and said good night. Hearing the doctor ring a bell, Richard appeared and took Paul back to his room. Once inside the bedroom, Richard announced that breakfast was at eight o’clock sharp. Bidding Paul good night, Richard closed the doors behind him. Opening the dresser drawers, Paul found a pair of silk pajamas. After changing, Paul pulled back the covers of the king size bed that sat in the middle of the far wall of the room. Secure under the sheets and blankets, Paul felt the soft mattress on his back. The gentle material felt so much better than the cold, hard ground by the dumpster. Within seconds, Paul was asleep and the sound of his snoring filled the once silent bedroom.

* * *

Creeping up the sheets, the sunlight finally reached Paul’s face. After a few minutes, Paul slowly opened his eyes to the brightness of the new morning. Paul jerked suddenly as he realized he wasn’t on his normal concrete bed. Remembering the events of the previous evening, Paul gave a sigh of relief. Stretching his arms out, he contemplated staying under the security of the warm blankets all day. His thoughts were interrupted by the knocking at the door. Opening the door, Richard appeared.

Good morning, sir. Sleep well? he asked.

Yes, I did, Paul replied.

Breakfast is in thirty minutes, sir Richard informed Paul as he pulled the door shut.

Throwing the covers off his body, Paul jumped out of bed. For the first time in a long while, he was excited and felt vibrant. He had been given a second chance, and he was not going to let it waste away like he had before. Walking across the hardwood floors, Paul felt a slight chill on the bottoms of his feet. The chill intensified as he stepped onto the tiles of bathroom floor. Turning the knob, Paul turned and removed his pajamas. Once he had disrobed, Paul cautiously stepped into the path of the shower head. His muscles tighten as the hot water hit his back. Once his skin adapted