Chapter 98: Should have chosen the Chicken

Lydia

Fine, they had had their fun at my expense. However, as minute the change in shape of my boobs may have been, it had still spooked me. Over the last ten years I had almost convinced myself that I wasn’t aging at all. Well, we could put that theory to bed then. Even Lydia Karass, the freak of nature, who had given age and gravity the L-sign for so long, had finally been caught up to by mother nature.

Of course I was being ridiculous, really. Yes, a closer look at my face revealed that I wasn’t the twenty-five years of age that the rest of my body suggested, and now my boobs looked like those on a twenty-eight year old, probably. My life wasn’t going to become hell on earth, but I decided that the times of endlessly running around naked would have to come to an end, even if neither I nor Mark would like that much.

“Morning,” Femke said sleepily as she came down the stairs, still naked. She had spent the night in Mark’s old room, while Nadja and I had slept in my bed. I handed her a cup of coffee and she did a double take.

“I can’t remember when I have seen you with clothes in the morning for the last time,” she said. “Has it really spooked you that much?”

“It did,” I admitted. “Normally it should be ridiculous to moan about it, but I guess the arrival of Doreen did not come at the best of times.”

“Mark’s not a shallow oaf,” Femke said. “I don’t want to be mean about Rhonda, but she shows her age. Has that ever stopped him?”

“He and Rhonda see each other once or twice a year,” I argued. “We are together all the time. I’m getting to an age where I don’t really need to get laid every second day. But Regina and Doreen definitely do. I’m afraid we’ll drift apart without him even noticing, and I don’t feel like offering myself to keep him interested. Mark would see through that immediately.”

“Aren’t you overreacting a bit?” she asked me with a skeptical look. “You are talking as if he is only in it for the sex, or our looks. The man gave up his identity to be with you. Have you forgotten that already?”

“I know, I know,” I said tiredly. “I think I’m just confused at the moment. I’ve not been feeling too well since we arrived yesterday. Maybe it’s the jet lag.”

Nadja

It was not the jet lag. Both Lydia and Femke were suffering like dogs by the evening, vomiting out everything they had swallowed since early childhood. While waiting for the ambulances to arrive, I called up the service hot-line of the airline and I got confirmation that several passengers on our flight had been taken to hospital with food poisoning. It was a good thing I had gone for the vegetarian option. Ever since that Lasagna incident two years ago, I had stopped eating any meat that had not been prepared by someone I knew.

Things were not looking good, at all. It was in the middle of the night in Germany, so getting their advance healthcare directives transferred to the US authorities had been an exercise in patience. It took until lunchtime the next day. By that time Mark had already arrived, heavily jet-lagged and sleep-deprived. Ian had pulled off a miracle to get his hands on one of Air Berlin’s corporate jets. Our own plane could never have flown from Berlin to Burbank without at least two refueling stops.

We arrived at the hospital, but first we had to wait. Things could not be all that rosy, considering both Femke and Lydia were still in the intensive care unit. Finally, after nearly an hour, a doctor came to meet us. By that time Mark had almost worn out the floor with his nervous pacing.

“How are they?” I asked, feeling nervous myself.

“They are in an artificial coma,” the doctor explained calmly. “I understand you are competitive athletes?”

I nodded.

“That might have saved their lives,” the doctor continued. “They are physically extremely resilient, but we had to induce an artificial coma as the detoxification procedure is extremely taxing on the body.”

“The fuck are they doing?” Mark ranted, gesticulating wildly. “They can check their fucking planes for micro-fissures, but they can’t check their fucking food?”

I forcefully shoved him onto one of the chairs along the wall and scowled at him to make it clear that I would not appreciate being given any lip. He stared at me in a mix of anger and astonishment, shocked into silence.

“I’m sorry, Sir, he arrived just two hours ago, all the way from Germany and hasn’t gotten much sleep,” I told the doctor and he gave me an understanding nod.

“I’m not sure if that will help you with your situation,” the doctor explained. “This is not a case of spoiled food. The airline meals have been tampered with. The authorities are already investigating the incident as a case of a possible terrorist attack.”

“Pizdez, suma soiti!” I swore. “Did anyone ... did anyone die?”

The doctor gave me a sad look and nodded. “We have five casualties so far. They were all elderly passengers. They simply didn’t have the resilience to withstand toxins of that strength.”

I immediately switched into business mode, if nothing else, to distract myself from the severity of the situation.

“Doctor, they are under surveillance of the World Anti Doping Agency. Any medication given has to be meticulously documented,” I informed him.

“That is a given, ma’am,” he tried to calm my worries. “We’ve have had dealings with athletes before who have to report to the WADA. We have all the necessary documentation.”

“Let’s go, Nadja, before I lose my shit again,” Mark interrupted me, his voice sounding weak and tired. “We can’t do anything here now anyway.”

“If you would like to leave your contact data with the nurses’ office, we can inform you when they are being taken out of the coma. It is the last room on the left before the T-junction.”

I acknowledged the doctor’s helpful tip with a grateful nod and shook hands with him. Afterwards I took Mark by the hand and we made our way out of there.

Alas, we weren’t out of the woods yet. John waited for us at the hospital with a GMC minibus and when Mark and I got in, we saw that there were already three large, muscular men sitting in it.

“You will need them,” John told us dryly and stepped on the throttle.

When we arrived at Mark’s place, the street was overcrowded with TV camera crews and reporters. As soon as we got out they started to surround us and peppered us with questions, all trying to yell louder than the next guy.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, ALL OF YOU!” Mark screamed at the top of his lungs, looking at the vultures with unrestrained fury.

“Two of us are fighting for their lives,” he ranted. “I haven’t slept in two days because I came here straight from fucking Germany. I’m tired, scared shitless, and jet-lagged like hell. Those three burly blokes behind me don’t wear the word ‘security’ on their uniforms for decorative purposes. I would advise all of you to get the fuck out of here on the double. If you have questions, present your credentials at the offices of XIS Management Consulting in downtown Pasadena tomorrow, until 11am. We’ll answer your questions in a press conference, but for now all I wanna see is a bunch of contrails while you lot piss off as quickly as possible!”