Taboo Descendants and the Multi-Dimensional War

I saw dark, neat dreadlocks, then pale, brown skin.

I screamed internally, This is the man from my dream, I’m sure of it!

Though I had not recognized the man two nights ago, I knew that I would now discover the identity of my dream visitor in the cold, Jackson Memorial morgue.

I leaned back more, feeling the next row of tables behind me. Wait! I’m not ready to know.

When the medical examiner fully retracted the blanket and I stared blankly into the face of the man I had so often hated and despised, but also loved.

Timothy Derrick Jones, JJ’s father, lay dead on the table in front of me.

His nickname cascaded softly over my lips, “T-Rick—” and like the end of an old film, I watched as the light from the room gently shrank into a small circle.

The little, glowing ball became engulfed by the darkness that grew around it and I saw no more.

I woke to the sound of Charnesha’s low, soothing voice and felt instantly comforted by its familiarity. Without her there, I would have considered returning to the darkness. I liked it there.

In the darkness I liberated myself from my emotions, pain, disappointment—and love.

But wait! I panicked.

There came another voice into my ear. This voice purred softly and resonated throughout the room. Heavier than Charnesha’s, I recognized this deeper voice as familiar.

My eyes shot open. That was no ordinary male voice. That voice belonged to him, my knight in shining armor.

I frantically scanned the room, as my eyes came into focus. Charnesha stared at me with great concern. I did not see anyone else there, just her, and some beeping machinery.

“Where is he?” I exclaimed in a cracked voice.

“Where’s who?” she replied, increasingly concerned. “T-Rick’s in the morgue, Honey. They wouldn’t bring him in here with you.”

She stared at me utterly perplexed.

“No, not him!” I looked around the room again.

Maybe I had imagined it. Plausibly, I could have hit my head when I passed out. I may have suffered some minor head trauma.

I began to self-diagnose, but the door opened and in walked the Broward County medical examiner. He looked hesitant. He approached my bedside slowly, caution in each step.

He spoke gently, “May I speak with you, briefly, Dr. Jerito? I have a couple of questions that I have to ask you.”

“Sure, shoot,” I answered lightly, sitting up. I did not want to make his task any more difficult than it already had been.

He prepared his chart and pen to take notes. “The man I showed you is currently unidentified, but Dr. Queens felt you may know him.”

“He came in two nights ago,” Charnesha explained. “I wasn’t on duty then, but no one knew what had happened to him—not until his symptoms were repeated multiple times since last night.

“He was called John Doe or Patient Zero,” expounded the medical examiner, “Because he didn’t have any identification on his person. As far as we can tell, he was the first patient to exhibit the symptoms of the neurological outbreak.

Charnesha continued, “I came to the morgue early this morning to examine his body and hopefully find some more evidence on the situation, but all I could see was JJ’s face on an older man’s body.

“I knew T-Rick was from Miami, so I thought it was possible that this could be him.”

“Could you identify John Doe?” the man asked again, pen at the ready.

My heartbeat quickened causing the heart monitoring machine to beep more rapidly.

“Yes. His name is Timothy Derrick Jones.”

The man spoke as he scribbled, “And how long have you known him?”

“Since I was five years old.”

“What was the nature of your relationship?” he continued as the monitor beeped ever more rapidly.

“You could say we were intimately acquainted with one another,” I said with a hint of sarcasm. “He’s my son’s father.”

“How many children did you have with Mr. Jones?”

“Just the one.”

What is this, the Great Inquisition?

“Thank you, Ma’am. That is all the information I need. I’ll send for the doctor.” He turned to leave. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said over his shoulder.

“Don’t be,” I whispered more to myself.

I had mixed feelings about T-Rick’s death. Though I would have never wished this fate upon him, I had never hoped for his well-being, either.

The infernal beeping of the heart monitoring machine began to slow to a normal pace.

Before the door could close completely, it swung open again.

Maybe he forgot to ask how long we had been sleeping together, I thought sarcastically.

A tall, lean figure came from behind the door. Before my eyes, stood most angelically handsome doctor I had ever laid eyes upon. As he glided over to the bed where I lay, he smiled at me kindly.

That smile! King Charming came to my rescue once again.

He looked a bit tired, but that did nothing to damper his allure.

I hoped he had not been here at the hospital since last night when I ran into him in the parking garage. That would explain the drained expression. He probably needed rest.

As he approached, the heart monitoring machine started beeping steadily faster, blowing my cool right out of the water.

“Of all times to be attached to this thing!” I muttered without thought.

“Kaya, what is wrong with you?” whispered Charnesha concerned.

In lieu of my mother, I could always count on my best friend and surrogate maternal figure to keep me in check.

“Hello, Dr. Jerito,” he purred, “My name is Dr. Rahim Veex. Feel free to call me Rahim. I have been sent to make you as comfortable as humanly possible so that you may return to your standard daily activities.”

I uttered an awkward giggle.

He leaned closer and in a mock whisper added, “When I said I would see you tomorrow, this is not exactly what I had in mind.”

He stood up showing off his seductively brilliant smile.

“According to your chart,” he looked down as he spoke, “your vitals are nearly normal. It say here that you fainted in the morgue and hit the back of your head on the edge of an examination table.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

I am not going over this with him.

“I am sorry to hear that, Dr. Jerito—”

“Kaya.”

“Well, Kaya, I am obligated not to let you out of my sight until I am one hundred percent sure of your safety.”

“That won’t be necessary, Doctor—”

“Kaya, don’t be silly,” Charnesha interrupted, laughing falsely. She shot me one of her ‘stop acting crazy’ glares. She turned to Rahim with a overly kind smile and added, “If it will help—Dr. Veek, is it?”

“Veex, but please, call me Rahim.”

Her grin widened. “Okay, Rahim. I can keep an eye on her for the rest of the day. That way everyone wins.”

He contemplated this thoroughly as Charnesha and I exchanged looks.

We were professionals at nonverbal communication. She shot me a ‘he is incredibly good-looking’ side-eye. To which I responded with a ‘please get me out of her’ stare. This triggered a ‘what in the world is wrong with you’ glare.

“I suppose that could work,” said Rahim looking back and forth between our faces with an amused look of his own.

We stopped our heated, optical exchange to fix our eyes upon the essence of male beauty.

“That’s wonderful,” sang Charnesha.

“If it is acceptable with the both of you ladies, I would still like to stop by Kaya’s office later,” he looked at me intently.

I opened my mouth to refuse.

“She doesn’t mind,” said Charnesha quickly.

“Perfect,” he mused. “I will fetch your discharge papers and some ibuprofen tablets for the pain.”

Before I could muster a single rebuttal, he took his leave.

I sat up and began to detach myself from the monitoring equipment. I did not plan on being there when he returned.

Rahim was the female kryptonite. The mere presence of him made me feel weak and defenseless, especially in my current situation. I felt pathetic lying on the hospital bed when the lives of others depended on me. I would not fail them.

We stood at the door of my office. I had listened to Charnesha day dream out loud about Rahim the entire way back to the Neurology Department.

I did not want to admit it, but I had begun to feel some jealousy at some of her remarks. Above all, I desired to be alone.

“Listen, Nesha,” I cut her off mid-Rahim-fantasy. “Do you remember the guy from last night that I was telling you about this morning? The one that almost gave me a heart attack—”

“Yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with—” her voice trailed off as she drew the meaning from words I had not spoken. “That was him! I mean, Rahim is the guy!”

“Yes and don’t give me that look, Charnesha Nicole. I’m warning you.”

She was smiling from ear to ear.

“This explains everything!” she squealed. “How could I be so blind?”

“To what are you referring exactly?”

I knew exactly what she was talking about, and she knew that I knew.

“You like him—a lot! Aaahhh—love at first sight—qué romántico!”

“What?!” I almost choked on my own saliva. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

She cannot be right—right? I just met the guy.

I put my hand on the door handle, steadying myself and prepared to escape.

“I don’t even know him,” I said this with an even tone though

“You can get to know him in due time. He seems like he’d make an outstanding stepfather.”

“Okay—” I prefaced playfully, “that’s way too much speculation. I’m done talking to you for the moment.”

I smiled at her as I opened the door and added sarcastically, “Thank you very much for an eventful morning. Good day to you, Chica.”

I stepped into my office and closed the door behind me before she could say anything else ridiculous.

“I’ll come by later to check on you,” she called through the thick layer of wood. “I’ll wait my turn, of course. I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything important.”

She snickered at her own joke as she walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Despite the evidence mounting, I refused to accept sexual assault by a petite female as a possible explanation for the severe TBIs and a string of sudden deaths. I wanted to find a more scientific rationalization.

I worked feverishly for the remainder of the day, virtually undisturbed.

I did a copious amount of research and made a few notes of symptoms to look for if any additional evidence became available. I began to convince myself that foul play could not be humanly possible.

Shockwaves could cause the injuries sustained, but the police had yet to inform me of any weapons being used. The lack of evidence also ruled out explosions, earthquakes, or bombs.

Each scenario was as unlikely as the next.

Buried in books, notes and thoughts, I barely heard the soft knock on the door. I paused for a moment to see if it was just my imagination.

***knock, knock, knock***

No, I definitely had a visitor.

“Come in,” I said nervously, hoping I had not missed an appointment or meeting of some kind. “The door’s open.”

As if gliding in on a cloud, Rahim entered my office in his entire heavenly splendor. I swallowed and took a deep breath. “Hello—umm—”

“Rahim,” he said smoothly with a grin.

“Right, how may I help you?”

I had not taken him seriously when he said he would come by later. Now that he stood before me, I found myself at a loss over what to do or say.

“Do not be so coy, Kaya, you know why I have come.” He spoke like an 19th century bachelor. Weird, but cute, it fit his dapper, debonair, and amiable personality.

“I do?”

I could feel perspiration secreting from my pores as my cheeks began to burn.

“Yes, you do. I am here to put you at ease. Are you not in pain?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you. Really, you didn’t have to go through the trouble of checking on me. I’m sure you’ve gone out of your way enough and I appreciate the gesture, but—”

He began to walk towards me slowly and gracefully.

“I hope you do not mind the intrusion. At the least, I need to check you vitals.”

He stepped towards me and placed a black bag, which I had failed to notice before, on my desk. He slipped the cool blood pressure meter around my upper arm.

Then he took out his stethoscope, blew on the end of it gently a few times before placing it in the crook of my elbow. He squeezed the inflation bulb several times, and then tweaked the valve letting the air out of the arm restraint.

“Relax,” he cooed.

The sound of his voice blended with the sound of the escaping air.

“I’m as relaxed as I can possibly be considering the circumstances.”

“I am sure that you are,” he answered. After a few seconds he reported, “Your systolic blood pressure is slightly high. I will assume, for now, that it is an effect of the stress you have endured. Let me listen to your heart.”

He took off the blood pressure cuff and placed the device in his bag.

My heart?

He took the end of stethoscope into his large hand once again and exhaled softly on the end. I watched his mouth move.

He got on one knee in front of me.

I could not help imagining him proposing to me one day. I would love to be married before I turned thirty-five. That was only six months from now.

I pushed the thoughts away. Daydreaming felt childish and unproductive.

He placed the fairly warm stethoscope on my back underneath my blouse. I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Their succulent shade of blue that made me reminisce about the water off Miami’s coast.

His eyes called to me, begging me to come closer. I adjusted my posture.

“Okay,” he said with finality.

I jumped a little at the suddenness of his speech. “All done then?”

“Yes. Your heart sounds good—a little quick, but I suppose that could be due to the amount of excitement you have experienced today.”

“Yes, of course.”

My cheeks and ears burned with embarrassment. I thanked the heavens for my mocha complexion. My melanin saved me from any embarrassment associated with visible blushing.

“I will rest easy knowing that you are perfectly healthy,” he concluded.

“Thank you, Rahim.”

With a smile most illuminating, he got to his feet.

“Good evening, Dr. Jerito,” he said, “May your next morning be more pleasant than your last.”

He left as quickly as a rapidly setting winter sun beyond the western horizon.

A more enticing view of a man walking away from me I had never before seen.