| General Fiction posted September 23, 2024 | Chapters: |
...39 40 -41- 42... 
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Disaster strikes as we return to the present in 2022
A chapter in the book DUEL with the DEVIL
DUEL with the DEVIL - Chapter 41
by Jim Wile
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
| Background A brilliant young chemist creates a new painkilling drug with unknown benefits and pitfalls. |
Recap of Chapter 40: Brian begins testing Dipraxa on himself with good success at a 200 mg per day dosage. He has reduced his pain to the desired level 1, and he feels great. He monitors his vital signs regularly and keeps track of this data for his eventual application to the FDA to proceed with human trials.
With activity returning to normal after Covid, Julia plans a two-month tour to resurrect her career. Fran and Mike are also being sent on missions. Brian and Julia decide to hold a combined holiday/farewell party at the end of the year and invite Fran and Mike and the Stubblefields. Part of the party is a musical program.
Several days later, Fran and Mike have gone, and Brian takes Julia to the airport to begin her tour. He will be left alone to complete his testing and write his application to the FDA. Julia has sudden misgivings about leaving and feels something is different this time.
Chapter 41
January 2022
We’re nearly back to the present in the telling, and by the middle of this chapter, we will be. Then come the events in the Prologue with the full context established. You may recall what it was like for me, but I didn’t give you the whole story the first time around, in particular what caused it. This time, I’ll reveal a few things I didn’t tell you about that final day of my binge.
When I got back from dropping Julia off, I decided to catch a few more winks. It was still early in the morning, and I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep.
I woke up a few hours later and went through my usual morning routine. While I scrambled some eggs to make myself an egg sandwich, I felt a warm glow start to come over me. This was unexpected because, normally, I felt deflated on the days Julia left on tour. But as I finished up with the eggs and started putting together the sandwich, there was no denying that I felt great. I didn’t even feel the level-1 pain that I’d gotten quite used to. I’d also had a slightly stiff neck from sleeping funny a couple nights ago, but that pain was totally gone now too. I was 100% pain-free for the first time in 13 years! I felt more than great. I felt fantastic!
Something didn’t compute. What could account for this? As I ate my mundane little egg sandwich, which seemed like a feast because it was indescribably delicious, it occurred to me that I had just inadvertently begun my dose testing of Dipraxa.
I remembered then that when I first got up with Julia at 4:00 AM to take her to the airport, I did my usual morning routine, which included taking two Dipraxa capsules. But I did the same routine when I awoke from my nap three hours later. I forgot I’d already taken the day’s dose of Dipraxa and took it again.
Well, I’d made it a goal to start varying the dose. I had planned on taking it up much more gradually than doubling it the first time, but what the hell? There we were, and it was wonderful!
But it was also terrible because Dipraxa made me high. Very high. Extremely high, as the full effect continued to increase while I sat there eating the last few morsels of my utterly sumptuous egg sandwich.
I should have felt depressed then because I’d failed. Well, not totally perhaps, because it worked just as intended at 200 mg. But at 400 mg, and probably beginning somewhere between the two doses, the euphoria began. That was not good. That’s what opioids do. At lower levels, they manage pain pretty well, but as you take more and more, not only does the pain decrease, but the euphoria increases. And then you get addicted because it feels so damn good.
Yep, I should have been totally bummed, but I wasn’t. So far, I’ve used the words great, fantastic, and wonderful to describe the growing feeling inside me. Let’s see; how else could I describe it? How about amazing? Awesome? Glorious? Even prodigious?
Perhaps even orgasmic? Mm, maybe not quite that, but close. Yes, I really should have been bummed, but how could I be bummed when it felt so utterly.....splendorous! ...............................
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.....That was a good word........for it...............
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............ I was on cloud 9.........................
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................O h, f u c k m e !............
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.....N o t c l o u d 9.....
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............ I was on cloud 9.........................
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................O h, f u c k m e !............
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.....N o t c l o u d 9.....
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...c l o u d 9 9 !........
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I spent the rest of the morning sitting right there at the breakfast table, not moving, just sitting and letting my mind wander at will. Much of the time, though, I think it just stood still, not thinking about anything. I’d been simply luxuriating in the incredible feeling that enveloped me.
Two months later: The Present
March 2022
I wake up this morning feeling good. I feel good every morning when I wake up. Have since I began taking Dipraxa. I get out of bed, wade through the mess of dirty clothes I’ve left everywhere, and make my way to the bathroom. After relieving myself, I look in the mirror.
The image would be shocking if I cared. In two months, I have gone from a not-bad-looking, clean-shaven 31-year-old guy with normal-length, sandy-brown hair and a good build for my 6’2” frame to a beanpole with a permanent bedhead of longish, greasy, unkempt hair and a thick, scraggly beard. I also probably stink so bad that, again, if I cared, I’m sure I would be totally grossed out. No matter; I’ll be taking a shower tomorrow.
I feel pain-free now, which is better than I’ve felt in years since the chronic pain I suffered has been vanquished.
I wend my way through the jumble of clothes on the floor over to my dresser. My underwear drawer is empty, as is my sock drawer because I haven’t done laundry in a while. I grab one of the two remaining T-shirts from the T-shirt drawer and head over to the closet to find a pair of pants. There aren’t any hanging up, so I find an old, holey pair of sweat pants on the floor that are way too large in the waist for me now. Fortunately, it has a drawstring rather than an elastic band around the waist. I also scrounge around for a pair of matching socks. Realizing this is a habit that isn’t an important consideration anymore, I just grab a random pair from the floor. I forego underwear and pull on the sweatpants, tying the drawstring as tightly as I can; it can only be tightened so much. It barely holds my pants up.
I leave the bedroom and head for the kitchen. Flipping on the light switch reveals a complete pigsty. Dirty dishes are everywhere, and the place smells like rotten fruit. Ants are crawling over the counters and floor. A couple of old pizza boxes are piled in the corner next to the overflowing trashcan. But none of this bothers me.
Julia has been gone for two months now. God, I miss her. She’ll be home in a couple of days, and I’ve got to get this place cleaned up before she arrives. No worries. I’ll do it tomorrow.
I open the fridge, but there’s almost nothing left in there that is edible. I pull out a bottle of flat Coke and drain the last few ounces. From the meat drawer, I remove and open a dented pack containing a couple pieces of greenish-looking bologna. I close up the pack and put it back in the drawer. All that’s left are a few limp carrots in the vegetable drawer, so I pull one out and begin munching.
I’ve pretty much quit eating because I never feel hungry. I no longer leave the house to buy groceries or for any other reason.
Not only has Julia been gone, but so have Fran and Mike, who I’ve neither seen nor heard from since they both left on missions right about the same time Julia left on tour.
Aside from missing Julia, I don’t feel particularly bad about anything else. As I said, I feel good. Nothing special, just a comfortable feeling. But that will soon change as I reach for the bottle of Dipraxa and take five. In about 10 minutes, I will be on cloud 99 again, feeling the most intense pleasure you can possibly imagine—a greater high than the most potent narcotic can ever give you.
I will do this again—take five more—four hours from now and every four hours for the rest of the day. The bottle will be empty tonight, and there won’t be any more after that. Tomorrow I’ll begin my comeback and my return to normalcy—hopefully. This experiment will be over. What I will do after that, I’m not sure yet.
Who am I kidding? These last two months have definitely not been an experiment. I knew full well how this was going to go as soon as I had that first double-dose of Dipraxa. But for the fact that it wouldn't immediately kill me, there was nothing new to learn. I take that back; I did learn that 500 mg is the dose to take if you want the maximum high.
At least I’d had enough self-awareness to realize that after creating this last batch, I had to get rid of all my raw materials so that I couldn’t easily make any more. Maybe now I’ll attempt to fight off this addiction, for that’s surely what it is. Perhaps not a physical one, but a powerful one nonetheless.
Tomorrow morning, there won’t be any more to take, and I’ll have to get busy cleaning up the house before Julia returns. I know I will eventually explain to her about the failure of Dipraxa, including my failure to do anything about it, if indeed there’s anything to be done. But I don’t want to shock her and gross her out with the poor condition of the house and myself.
I will have to shower and shave, get a haircut, go to the grocery store to replenish the refrigerator, do a ton of laundry, and maybe even mow the lawn, which is starting to get very shaggy-looking.
You may be wondering how Julia hasn’t yet noticed my scraggly appearance during our Skype calls. That’s because I purposely turned off the camera and told her it had broken, and I had just been too busy to have it repaired or buy a new one. We’ve been Skyping but with her unable to see me. I’ve also made sure to always Skype during a time when I’m not under such a heavy influence from the Dipraxa—usually when it’s about time for the next dose.
I’ve been hiding the problem from her because I didn’t want to worry her. She had been unable to work for over a year due to COVID and had been looking forward to getting back to it. The last thing she needed was to hear that her husband had fallen off the wagon, because I knew she would have canceled the rest of her tour and hurried home.
I know this has to end. Tomorrow I’ll be busy, so today, I might as well enjoy the final day of my binge, but as I sit in the family room amid the mess, enjoying the marvelous feeling that’s now beginning to engulf me, I hear the front door open, and Julia walks in—two days early.
 Recognized |
Brian Kendrick: The narrator of the story. At the beginning of the story, he is 12 years old and in 6th grade in Kernersville, North Carolina. The story traces his life into his 30s.
Julia Kendrick: Brian's wife whom he met at rehab when they were 16. She becomes a premier violinist.
Francine (Fran) Kendrick: Brian's older sister. She is 18 at the beginning of the story and goes to junior college, where she studies law enforcement.
Rafael Ortiz (Raffi): Youth therapy group leader at the rehab facility.
Robert Entwistle: Julia's father.
Dr. Marie Schmidt: Julia's mother.
Mike Pekarsky: Fran's boyfriend who she met on her Caribbean cruise.
Daniel Molebatsi: Brian's undergrad college roommate. He is from Botswana and is a business major.
Dr. Paul Rieke: Brian's organic chemistry professor.
Kimiko Yamada (Kimi): Brian's organic chemistry lab partner. She is from Japan and also resides in his and Daniel's dorm.
Willy Stubblefield: The leader of the Clark Creek Drifters bluegrass band that Julia joins.
Shannon Stubblefield: Willy's wife and the drummer of the Clark Creek Drifters.
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