|The Taylight Zone - Anthology Four
07 - The Perfect Drug - Kimberly
"Horrible what happened. you'd think he would have known better. But, you know how those rock and rollers are."
He watched the woman speak. It wasn't his fault. It was Xavier's. He had done this to him. But, he hadn't forced him to the Lab.
The Lab was a complex not that far away from UCLA. It housed laboratories for students who couldn't perform their experiments at the college. He had gone there one day to see about getting a lab for a biology experiment his mother wanted him to complete. It was there that he had met Xavier.
Xavier was tall, dark, but not handsome. His nose was crooked, and his lips were barely more than lines. But, he was kind. Xavier had invited him to use his laboratory, no cost, only, he asked for a small favor in return. He agreed, and set about gathering ingredients for an experiment in oxidation.
When he had finished, Xavier called him over. He took a few steps, then Xavier lunged at him, a syringe in hand. He tried to push away from Xavier, and the gleaming needle, but he succeeded only in tiring himself. He gave up, and felt the needle pierce his flesh. Then, he felt a thick, warm liquid pulse through his veins, but it was not blood. And then he felt happy, serene.
Every day after that, for three months, he returned to the lab for more of whatever had been in the syringe. He hadn't thought it was a drug, mainly because there were no side effects, and it worked the first time, but, stupid him, it was definately a drug. He hadn't lost weight, or sleep, and he hadn't gotten moody or anything, and he had always felt that little buzz, that high. Until the day that Xavier was not there.
He arrived, and went to lab #114. The door was closed. He asked around what had happened to Xavier, but he got no answers. He got only sympathetic glances, confused stares, and disgusted glares. He couldn't figure out what was going on, but he soon found out.
A week later, he noticed dark circles forming under his eyes, and red marks on his back. Then, his hair began to fall out in clumps, and his fingernails became brittle. His skin became very dry, and he began to bruise very easily. Then came the seizure.
Afterwards, he was confined to a hospital, and finally, someone explained about Xavier. Xavier was a student majoring in serology, the science of serums. Through his experiments, he developed a serum that, if injected, would act as the perfect drug. It supposedly had all of the good aspects of drugs, but none of the bad. Except for the withdrawl. After a period of time, the withdrawl was much worse than with the usual drugs. The body was severely damaged, and the brain wasn't much better.
Xavier had been arrested for marketing the drug, and was being held on many accounts. There was murder. There was assault and battery. There was possesion of a firearm without proper permits. There was practicing to medicine without the proper license. As well as a host of other charges in addition to sale of an illegal drug.
He soon got over the withdrawl. But, the media had long since known of everything that had happened. And so, the day he was released from the hospital was a living hell. The media were greedy vultures circling him, and not even waiting for him to die to eat him. But, they weren't the worst. His friends and family cast scornful glares at him. Almost everyone did. The lone exceptions were the people who didn't know, the people who didn't care, and the druggies of the town.
He, Taylor Hanson, was a laughingstock because he had unknowingly been a test subject. Xavier had done this, and now they were all on his side. They were all against him. So, he did what needed to be done.
First, some harmless Benedryl. Damn it! Only four left. He swallowed them dry. The taste nauseated him, so he got a glass of water. Now, the aspirin. Only nine left in the bottle. He downed them three at a time with a few sips of water. He almost passed by the ibuprofen. But he read the words on the label. Do not take more than one tablet per twenty-four (24) hour period. He grabbed the bottle, and pried it open. There were at least 20, most likely more. He downed them as well, and began to feel a bit woozy. He grabbed a final bottle, codiene, and downed the tiny caplets. He didn't bother counting them as he slid to the floor, and relaxed into oblivion.
He didn't survive. He was found too late. All because of a drug that wasn't so perfect after all.