The Phoenix Experiments

By Nan Pipes

Several years after losing both her parents, Kimber Taylor is ready to create a new life. Her nursing career begins in the psychiatric ward of a county hospital where Kimber is drawn to a handsome colleague, Dr. Tom Williams. But when she accepts just one pain pill from a seemingly kindhearted nurse with the hopes of remedying a headache, Kimber has no idea that she has just embarked down a dark path where dreams disappear.

In the meantime, romance blooms between Kimber and Dr. Williams. Settling down with him seems like the next step in the ordinary life she has always wanted. But when Kimbers relationship with the doctor ends in heartbreak, she is left wondering if he is the respectable doctor everyone believes him to be or if he is involved in something sinister with his associate, Dr. Johann Simms. While contemplating what secrets Dr. Simms is hiding in his stem cell research lab, Kimber begins a quest to seek the truth where she must determine who she can trust and who she should saveeven as the tentacles of addiction begin to engulf her own life.

In this riveting story, a young nurse unwittingly becomes involved with the activities inside a secretive research lab where she discovers that no one is safeincluding her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491772553

Nan Pipes

Nan Pipes resides in Texas with her two sons, two dogs, two cats, and a cute guinea pig named Oreo. This is her debut novel.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

I found myself in a cold room in an unfriendly place. The entire room was enclosed by walls made of one-way mirrors, allowing a clear view into all surrounding hallways. They were empty. The room was five stories beneath the earth. Only a few people knew it existed. I wished that I didn’t. Dim lights hung from the ceiling. Every move I made was being recorded. In the middle of the room was a large stainless-steel table. Underneath the table were three cabinets housing medical supplies. The item on top of the table was the most important to me.

I watched the baby lying there. His death sentence had been decided long before his birth. He was unaware of his circumstances. I knew them. I was sad for him. He had no name officially, but Caleb is what I imagined his name would be if I were his mother. If only I could be a mother. I felt a physical pain over my despair of longing for a baby. It would never happen for me. His arms moved wildly, as unswaddled babies often move them. I could hear the sound of his numbered breaths taken in through his nose. I began to picture him as a little blond five-year-old boy energetically playing on the playground with his friends. What would he be like if he could live that long?

CHAPTER 1

B ut I’ve jumped ahead of myself. Let me tell you how I ended up in that room. My story begins when I was barely sixteen years old. I remember the smell of cinnamon. We were sitting in Dr. Cleburne’s small office in a couple of brown leather chairs. Dr. Cleburne’s smile was infectious and filled the room as he sat behind his mahogany desk, with his stethoscope draped around his neck. His light blue shirt and black tie peeked out from under his white coat.

Sharon, I assure you that your cancer is treatable. Stage two. There will be surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy required, but this is not life threatening. Before you know it, you’ll be on your next family vacation in the Bahamas, sipping mai tais on the beach.

That was when we first received the dreadful diagnosis of cervical cancer. It only took a few short months for my mother, Sharon, and me to lose confidence in Dr. Cleburne’s sunny predictions. I watched her illness advance and consume her until she was hospitalized and finally isolated from life in the lonely ICU, despite the doctor’s adamant claims that she would recover. I loved that woman dearly, and I have never felt so much pain. Helplessly I watched her shrink into a smaller woman, who was ever more ill.

My father’s affairs over the years were usually the products of his drunken episodes at the local bar. My parents tried to keep their secrets, but everyone in our small New York town knew. Eventually he gave my mother something that penicillin wouldn’t kill—HPV. Years went by. She never saw a doctor and didn’t know that the virus was morphing her own cells into her executioner. I still can’t fathom how an invisible particle can turn into a killer with no apparent symptoms, but it happened with time.

She is getting stronger and will recover, Dr. Cleburne advised us repeatedly. I was always distracted by the loud crinkling of the white paper covering the patient bed as my mother squirmed anxiously. I could hardly stand listening to him. The contradicting evidence, my mother, fragile and frail, was right in front of our eyes as he spoke his blasphemy.

Her blood tests today show remarkable improvement, was his standard response, day after day, but no improvement occurred.

Eventually I couldn’t bear to watch her endure treatments any longer in the hospital. With my head held high, I walked right up to Dr. Cleburne and curtly informed him, I’m taking her home today.

You can’t. You’re just a child. There is no way that you could make a responsible decision for her. Your mother is very sick and needs to remain hospitalized, he lectured, staring down at me with an adamant, hardened expression. He wouldn’t budge, but I wasn’t intimidated. My mother needed a protector. The doctor meant well, but he was wrong.

Dr. Cleburne, with all due respect, my mother is dying. She doesn’t eat. She doesn’t speak. Her bleeding hasn’t stopped, and you are unable to control her pain. She isn’t going to make it through this. She wants to die in the comfort of her own home. If you do not release her, I am going to make it my life mission to sue you for everything I can. I meant it, mostly, but I really wanted him to be scared. I was strong then. Losing my mother changed me. It was going to take a long time for me to find that strength inside of me again.

But I’m still getting ahead of myself. Dr. Cleburne stormed out of the ICU, the doors swinging in his angry wake. I overheard him consulting with his colleagues outside the door. Their whispering voices were hushed, and I didn’t like their tone. They were discussing the details of my mother’s deteriorating condition. The tubes and machines dripped and beeped for what seemed like hours as I sat in the small chair next to her bed, waiting, with the overpowering smell of disinfectants giving me a headache. I held her weak hand. Dr. Cleburne returned without one word. He disdainfully handed me the signed hospital discharge papers and walked away, disappearing behind the doors. That was on Tuesday.

My mother, Sharon Taylor, died on Wednesday at 7:24 a.m.

CHAPTER 2

S ix years later I sat in my living room on the ridiculously flowered couch that I’d snagged for twenty bucks at a garage sale. I scooped a bite of low-fat vanilla yogurt into my mouth, being careful not to touch my freshly painted fingernails on the spoon. My cell phone startled me, vibrating in my pocket. Meticulously I set the yogurt on the coffee table in front of me and tried carefully pushing the phone out of my pocket, clumsily smearing the bright coral-colored polish on my new jeans. I hit the answer button, frowning.

Hello? I didn’t recognize the number and made no effort to hide my annoyance.

Is this Kimber Taylor? the woman’s voice inquired with a professional tone.

Yes, ma’am. I sighed.

I reviewed your application for a nursing position in the psychiatric department at Jefferson County Hospital. Would you be available for an interview on Friday at 9:00 a.m.? This was my dream.

Absolutely! I replied, elated and no longer concerned about my ruined jeans. I wrote down the hospital’s information and hung up.

There were two more days until Friday. I spent my time preparing for the interview with a swarm of butterflies swimming in my stomach. I’d never been interviewed for a nursing position before. Diligently I researched all kinds of interview questions and appropriate responses. I overanalyzed everything that could happen, and I couldn’t sleep.

I was incredibly excited. It had been a long road. I’d spent years working through school for this. I needed this break. I remember thinking that if I could only get this job, I would never want anything else, but of course, I didn’t know what my future held.

CHAPTER 3

L ooking into my rearview mirror, I applied a coat of mascara. It was the last touch I needed to make before my interview. My eyes seemed exceptionally blue this morning in the sunlight. I noticed how small my features were in comparison to my eyes, which were big and bright. My long blonde hair was styled perfectly this morning, with a few curls dangling around my shoulders at the ends of my hair. I felt confident until I clumsily climbed out of my beat-up old red Honda and tripped.

I walked through the hospital’s entrance and into what I hoped would be my future. As I looked around the waiting room, I noticed that everything was brand new. The walls were covered with modern art, meticulously placed, and the room was painted in monochromatic blue hues. There were beige concrete columns large enough that my arms wouldn’t fit around them. The windows covered one whole wall, allowing the warm morning sun to flood the room with its splendor. The patients bathed in it from their seats, and it left its glimmer on their faces. It reminded me of hope. A teenage girl leaned against her mother, who lovingly patted her head, consoling her fears. I remembered those fears. I wanted to help them and to be there for them. I felt a sense of belonging already.

I approached the front desk in the waiting area of this gigantic building. A beautiful woman stood behind the counter, wearing much-too-high heels. Her hair was the same color as mine. She wore a knee-length gray pencil skirt and a crisp white button-down shirt, neatly tied together with a thin black belt, which was so shiny I could see my reflection.

Good morning! I’m Kimber Taylor. I’m here for my interview. I approached the desk, trying to conceal my nerves, which crept unwelcomely into my voice. Suddenly I felt underdressed. I had chosen a comfortable pair of black pants, a long-sleeved baby-blue T-shirt, and some simple gray flats (now scuffed from my altercation with the cement). My outfit did nothing to increase my height or hide my slight frame. I felt very small.

Good morning, Kimber. Follow me. She smiled warmly and got up from the desk. Walking to the back, she waved her badge in front of a sensor. Double doors opened into the area of the hospital marked Authorized Personnel Only in red capital letters.

Your interview will be right this way with Dr. Williams. My name is Maggi. I spoke with you on the phone. Can I get you anything while you wait? Maggi turned, making eye contact with me as she walked down the hallway. Hair neatly tied back in a bun and librarian glasses added to her professional demeanor.

She was sweet, and I liked her right away. There was something attractive about her personality. As we walked through the hall, I could tell that I wasn’t the only one who thought so, because everyone smiled and greeted her as we passed. She was the kind of person who put everyone at ease, completely comfortable with herself, like she had never experienced an awkward moment in her life.

I’ll have a bottle of water, please. My mouth had dried up like the desert. Nerves.

This office is lovely. It looks so modern, I observed.

We’ve only been open six months, and we’re going to be one of the top facilities in the world. Everything is state of the art: fifty thousand square feet of modern technology and the best doctors. Maggi opened a door and stood holding it, waiting while I entered the room. I’ll get you that water, and Dr. Williams will be in shortly. Maggi closed the door behind her.

I sat in what looked like a conference room, taking a deep, relaxing breath through my nose. New. That was the smell of everything new. I was at the end of a long table that took up most of the room. The black leather chairs were comfortable and looked like they could be adjusted in any imaginable way. I wished I had one of them in my apartment instead of my collection of hand-me-downs. I fiddled with the levers and knobs, playing with the chair’s positions. The room had all sorts of electronic equipment around the walls, as well as a projector and speakers hanging from the ceiling. This room was important. I imagined pharmaceutical sales, presentations, and doctors collaborating on treatments as I rubbed my hands across the table’s smooth, shiny surface. I looked out the huge windows covering the exterior wall.

Below the conference room was a pond. Mossy turtles swam across the shallow water; a wake of bubbles trailed them. Massive weeping willows lined the pond, their peaceful foliage swaying in the fall breeze.

Abruptly a man opened the door and stepped in. Judging by his authoritative demeanor, this was Dr. Williams. He was handsome, tall, muscular, and undoubtedly intelligent. As soon as he stepped in the room, I felt myself start to sweat, and I was glad I wore my deodorant. His hair was dark brown and almost curly, and it fell effortlessly into place across his forehead. He stood there studying me for a moment with piercing green eyes then began looking over my résumé, rubbing his angular chin with his right hand. I waited for him to address me, but when he remained silent, I decided to take my future into my own hands. I didn’t have the luxury of waiting for someone else to make my dreams come true.

Good morning, Dr. Williams. My name is Kimber Taylor. I would love an opportunity to work for you. This hospital is amazing! I promise you won’t be disappointed with me. Would you like to hear why I think I’m qualified for this position? I walked over to him, reaching out my hand to shake his. He shook my hand cautiously and slowly.

Good morning, Kimber. We’re looking for some nurses with young, open minds for our facility here. Judging by your appearance and résumé, you are exactly what I want. You’re hired. He handed my résumé back.

Don’t you want to hear why I want to work here? I asked, confused.

No. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to work here, and people never tell the truth in interviews. I read your résumé. You’ll be on a three-month probation period in case I’m wrong about you. So, this is the part where you tell me thank you for giving you the best job opportunity you’ve ever had. A smile bloomed across his flawless face.

Okay. Thank you for the opportunity. I smiled back and felt my cheeks burn red. I looked away, unable to hold his intense gaze.

Great. See Maggi on your way out for drug testing, and we’ll get you started after that. Apparently Dr. Williams was decisive. He strolled out the open door down the hallway, whistling a tune I didn’t know.

I was stunned. That was not at all how I thought my interview would go. All of that studying I had done to prepare seemed like wasted time in hindsight. Getting my dream job was much easier than I’d thought it would be. I stopped to see Maggi on my way out.

Is he always that short with people? I half-whispered to her. I hope he spends more time with his patients!

Sweetie, Dr. Williams knows exactly what he wants and how to get it, Maggi explained, gathering my drug-test materials. She led me to one of the bathrooms. All of his interviews have gone that way. He makes an immediate decision. He’s a busy man and doesn’t like wasting time. He’s absolutely determined that this place will be the best treatment facility in the country. He’s also on the board of the hospital and involved in medical research projects and volunteer work. If you ask me, I think he’s obsessed with money, but what do I know?

I was suddenly jealous of her. She was so nice and perfect without even trying. I was always trying, but I always seemed to be socially awkward and never felt like I fit in anywhere. Making friends and understanding people was a huge struggle for me. No one had ever confided in me about anything. They usually just looked at me like I was odd. I wanted the social ease that she had. I didn’t have a lot of hope to make another friend, though. So, I tried to ignore my jealousy.

She handed me the small plastic cup and a black marker to write my name; she then instructed me not to flush or wash my hands when I was done, because people try to cheat on drug tests. How could anyone be stupid enough to become a drug addict? Drug addicts were wasted lives, if you asked me.

I finished, thanked Maggi for her time, and went out for a nice lunch. I was still shocked that I was hired, and I wondered how I would fit in with the other nurses. I was so plain and boring compared to the ones I’d seen there.

CHAPTER 4

M onday morning at six o’clock, I began my employment at the Jefferson County Hospital as a psychiatric nurse. I was so proud. Everything was new, everyone was so nice, and I loved it.

Want something for lunch? I’m going out with Dr. Williams, Maggi asked, passing me in the hall. It was my first day.

No, thanks, I replied automatically, but as I walked away, I realized that I was my own worst enemy. I never gave anyone a chance. I was the reason that I was lonely. I wasn’t trying to make friends. I remembered the girls in grade school making fun of me whispering, like I couldn’t hear them at the same table. She’s antisocial. They would laugh. I wasn’t antisocial. I just wasn’t good at being social, but I was the only one who could make it different.

Hey, on second thought, mind if I come along? I asked nervously.

Not at all! We would love the company! Maggi’s sweet smile and enthusiasm lit up the hall, making me feel welcome. We were going to be great friends. I could feel it.

They took me to a place called the Tasty Tavern, which was within walking distance to both the hospital and my apartment. This hole-in-the-wall had a small, wooden stage, and posters advertising the live band playing this weekend. The bar looked understocked, but then again, I hadn’t spent much time in bars. It had a musty smell. The white walls were dingy and needed a new coat of paint, but it gave the place a familiar feel, like a worn-in pair of old jeans. I saw several familiar faces from the hospital as Maggi, Dr. Williams, and I took our seats. I liked the place immediately; it was my style, and the atmosphere was laid-back.

What are we having today, ladies? Dr. Williams asked as the waitress approached our table.

A house salad with ranch and a water, I ordered.

I’ll have the burger. Well-done. Cheddar cheese and a bottled water, Dr. Williams ordered.

And for you? the waitress asked Maggi.

The same. I love your haircut by the way! Supercute, and it suits you.

Thanks! You are so sweet! the waitress said, touching her chin-length, newly cut and bleached hair. She glowed at Maggi. I was immediately envious at the ease with which Maggi made friends. We hadn’t been here five minutes. Why could I never pull that off? I could barely bring myself to go out for lunch when I was invited. If I had said the same thing, it would have sounded creepy, I’m sure.

The waitress returned a few minutes later with steaming cheesy bread and free strawberry lemonades for us.

On the house! she said, grinning from ear to ear as she set them on the table.

I was so jealous of Maggi, even though mine was free too. Why was everyone so nice to her all the time? People were never that nice to me. I didn’t get it. I snatched a roll, stuffing almost the whole thing in my mouth in one bite, while Maggi started telling us all of the gossip about the hospital. The gift of gab. Is it really a gift to be able to talk about nothing continually? If so, this woman was exceptionally blessed. For some puzzling reason, I still wanted to be her friend, even though I was insanely jealous.

One of the nurses from the hospital, I didn’t remember her name, approached our table. Chloe, maybe?

I didn’t know you guys were coming here too! Come sit with us! She was a thin woman with long brown wavy hair. She looked like one of those all-natural hippie types. Then we can all get to know Kimber too, she said, nodding sweetly at me.

Sure, Dr. Williams said. Maggi stood up, gathering items off the table to move. Chloe and I grabbed the drinks. Dr. Williams didn’t grab anything.

They probably invited Maggi everywhere. I wondered how many more things I would get invited to. I’d never even been invited to a birthday party.

Hi, I’m Angie! I’m a nurse at the hospital too. I don’t believe we’ve met. What’s your name? another woman asked me as I set down my glass at the new table. She was beautiful too. They all were. I felt self-conscious about my own plain appearance.

I’m Kimber. Nice to meet you. I picked out a chair.

You look fantastic, Angie, Dr. Williams said, and she blushed.

So, Ang, how is life with the new baby? Maggi asked, sitting down. New baby? There is no way a woman that thin just had a baby.

It’s magical, she sighed. I’ve never loved anyone so much. You have this little tiny person, who depends on you for everything, so full of life and potential. I get to help shape his future. It’s overwhelming, really, and I love every second. The only bad part was dropping him off at the day care yesterday for the first time. He broke my heart. They really don’t give you enough time for maternity leave. Angie smiled.

Aw, did you cry? Maggi prompted. How was she able to relate to people with experiences she hadn’t even had? Maggi didn’t have kids. Why did people share everything with her but never with me?

Trying to hide my sulking, I stuffed my mouth full of my fourth piece of bread.

Yes, of course! He’s so tiny! I wish that I could sneak him to work with me in my purse! she said, pointing to her oversize bag and laughing.

You should! I would love to see the little bug again! Maggi laughed.

No, you shouldn’t, Dr. Williams admonished with a playful scowl.

Wanna babysit? Angie teased.

Anytime! Maggi agreed.

Well, we like him too much to share right now, but I’ll probably take you up on that when he turns two and starts tearing up my house! Angie pinched a small piece of cheesy bread off the top of her biscuit and ate it, leaving the rest of the bread untouched on her plate.

Listening to Angie talk about how wonderful it was to be a mother made me realize that I really wanted a family. I wanted to be connected to someone like that again. I was glad to be making friends finally, but it was different from that comfortable connection I had with my family. God, I missed them. I shared so many special moments with my mother as I was growing up. I couldn’t wait to have that mother-child bond again. Sleepless nights and diaper changes would all be worth it for the unconditional love.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as our lunch came to an end. Angie and Chloe had talked the whole time, which made it easier for me. I didn’t like to talk much about anything, especially not about myself. Dr. Williams seemed amused by their chatter, and Maggi was always talking or asking someone all the right questions. Within the hour I was completely current on everyone’s lives. I agreed to join them again for lunch the next day, and eventually, to my surprise, daily lunch with them was a regular event. Over the next few months, I got to know my colleagues fairly well, and I really enjoyed working with them in my new job.

CHAPTER 5

A s a cold front moved through the state, everyone, including myself, seemed melancholy from the continuous gray skies and gloomy weather.

My head is killing me, I told Maggi and Dr. Williams.

I can get you something for that, you know. After all, we are working in a hospital, Maggi said with a persuasive smile. She and Dr. Williams exchanged glances.

Isn’t that illegal? I whispered, looking around the hall suspiciously. We were at the nurses’ station, and I was waiting for Maggi to finish her entries into the patient files on the computer. Dr. Williams was reviewing a patient’s chart.

Who’s going to know? Besides, you look pale. Maggi looked me over and then turned back to her files.

I looked at Dr. Williams, who said nothing.

You know, I think it’s a migraine, but I’m not really comfortable with taking hospital meds. I’ve been getting these for years. It seems to happen more when I don’t get enough sleep, but I don’t know for sure. It could be the weather or these crazy shifts. I gently rubbed my temples. Do you have any big plans for your weekend? I tried to change the subject.

No, Maggi said as she pulled an oval white pill out of the front pocket of her scrubs. She held it in her palm and opened her hand up toward me. Take this; you’ll feel better, she suggested. Her tone seemed to imply that this little pill could solve all of the world’s problems, not just mine. Dr. Williams looked at me expectantly.

I hesitated. I’d never taken anything stronger than Advil and occasionally too much champagne on New Year’s Eve. I felt like it was wrong, but I wanted to trust them. I felt pressure to make the decision they wanted. And there were the incessant, throbbing pulses inside my skull. Maybe this wasn’t a big deal. Maybe this was one of those rules that everybody knows but nobody follows, like speed limits. The way Maggi talked, it seemed as though hospital employees took advantage of their access to medications all the time. They were required to keep a regular count of certain medications, but that was easy to circumvent with so many patients.

Go on; take it. Make yourself feel better. Maggi pushed her palm and the pill closer. I could smell the scent of her vanilla lotion. I’m not going to stand here all day holding this thing. Maggi’s impatience was beginning to show.

I grabbed the little pill and walked over to the water fountain. I hesitated. For a moment I thought I was going to hide it in my pocket and tell them I took it, but I didn’t. It tasted bad, like medicines do, leaving its chemical residue lingering on my tongue. Gross.

Half an hour passed, then an hour; my headache transformed into a memory, but the pill left me slightly groggy, and my mind became sluggish. That, however, was much easier to deal with than that awful, miserable headache. I continued with my afternoon patients, relaxed and pain-free. Treating mental patients was a depressing job. Surprisingly, the medicine’s effects made it easier to be the happy, empathetic woman I wanted to be.

CHAPTER 6

W hat was in that pill? I inquired after work at the Tasty Tavern as Maggi and I sipped our drinks waiting for the appetizers. The restaurant was dimly lit for the evening crowd, and Toby Keith sang, I love This Bar," in the background, courtesy of the jukebox in the corner.

Vicodin. Maggi pulled out her cell phone and checked her text messages. It’s no big deal. People take it all the time. It’s the most commonly prescribed pain medicine.

Where’d you get it? It felt like a miracle. My headache was completely gone. I sipped my margarita, licking a tiny bit of the salt off the rim.

Mr. Banks or one of the other patients. I don’t remember. Sometimes they don’t want all of the medicine prescribed for them. Mr. Banks hates painkillers. He says they give him nausea. It’s really the chemo, but he won’t believe me; grumpy old man. So I mark it down in his chart and put the ones he won’t take in my pocket. You should see how many I’ve collected. I feel badly for the patients. You know, a lot of them aren’t going to make it, and they’re suffering. Vicodin just helps with pain. It doesn’t cure anything. So, I’m not going to force it on anybody, Maggi explained with a distant look in her eyes, staring away from the table.

It almost sounds like charity work when I say it like that! Maggi laughed and looked at me.

Aren’t you worried you’ll get caught?

No. The waiter brought the cheese sticks and fries and set them on the old wobbly table. "Everyone that knows takes them, and Dr. Williams will write you