“Have you called a doctor?”
Luke shrugged. “Nah, it’s just the poison they feed us. We’ll live.”
“Are you sure?” For pity’s sake, the whole point of the test was to use chemicals in doses far beyond rationality.
A man sprawled on the sofa lifted a cloth that had been shielding his eyes. She remembered calling him Princeton because of the snazzy coat he wore. He didn’t look snazzy tonight. “I think they’re feeding us Rough on Rats,” he said. “I call it Rough on All of Humanity.”
There was some snickering, but it was half-hearted. The man who had opened the door introduced himself as Big Rollins. He claimed not to be suffering from the food, but his brother was among the test subjects getting the chemicals, and Little Rollins didn’t even bother to wave at her from his position on the floor.
She turned back to Luke. “I’m sending for a doctor. What about the man running the experiment? At the very least, he should see exactly what you all are suffering.”
“Good point,” Big Rollins said. “We planned on waiting until morning, but he should probably see them now.”
Luke nodded. “Fine, but I don’t want Marianne being out this late. Send St. Louis to get him.”
A tall, gangly man sprang to his feet. “I’ll run the entire way,” he vowed.
After he left, Marianne grabbed a footstool and sat beside Luke. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
“A new head?”
Her heart turned over. Even miserable, he didn’t lose his sense of humor. He told her that all the men had been feeling poorly for a few days, but something changed this morning. The headaches got so bad it was hard to focus on anything. They were dizzy and listless. Luke and two others had ringing in their ears that wouldn’t stop.
“Do you know what chemical was used?”
Luke gave a single shake of his head, as though any greater movement would cause too much pain. “What brings you here tonight?” he asked. “I thought you were supposed to be in Baltimore all week.”
Energy drained from her at the memory of Bandit. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the arm of the chair.
“Marianne? What’s wrong?” Luke’s hand was gentle as he stroked the back of her head. “Tell me. Don’t be miserable alone.”
She lay there for a few moments, savoring the gentle touch of his fingers stroking her hair and wishing it could continue forever. It wasn’t fair to seek comfort from him when he was so sick, but she needed this simple touch.
She took a deep breath and sat up. “My brother killed Sam’s dog. Bandit. The one you saved from the ice.”
Luke’s face morphed from astonishment to anger, and then to heartbreaking sympathy for her. “Oh, Marianne, I’m so sorry. I know what that dog meant to you.”
“It’s still hard to believe, but he admitted it.”
Luke leaned forward to give her a hug but immediately listed to the side. She rushed to help him back into the chair, stunned to see this normally vibrant man laid so low.
It seemed to take forever for the doctor to arrive, but at eleven o’clock, heavy treads were heard outside, and a man Luke said was Dr. Wiley entered. He was tall and broad, with widely spaced eyes and a grim manner as he entered the parlor, huffing and out of breath. The doctor seemed alarmed as he surveyed the men sprawled all over the furniture like wet rags.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“You’ve poisoned us,” Princeton said. “I can’t even think straight.”
“You could never think straight,” Little Rollins said. “I’m sicker than he is. He’s too dizzy to walk down the stairs, but I can’t even walk across the room without bumping into the walls.”
“All right, let’s get you on your feet,” Dr. Wiley said, helping Princeton stand. “I’m going to examine each of you individually in the dining room. Then I’ll decide what is to be done.”
It didn’t take long. Dr. Wiley only examined two men before heading back into the main room, his face resolved.
“Line up, everyone. Syrup of ipecac for the lot of you.”
There were groans all around, as the syrup was used to induce vomiting, but Dr. Wiley announced the test on salicylic acid was officially over. All men would be given a reprieve for the next week as the poison was cleared from their systems, but he wanted their stomachs completely purged immediately.
“I’ve been heaving my guts all night,” Princeton said.
“When was the last time you heaved?” the doctor asked.
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Then you’ve still got more inside. Come on men, snap to it.” Dr. Wiley held a dark brown bottle and a spoon. Despite his militant tone, Marianne spotted the worry in his eyes. What happened here tonight had badly rattled him.
It rattled her too. He’d mentioned salicylic acid, which was one of the preservatives Andrew used in their cans of creamed chipped beef. She’d never heard any complaints about their chipped beef, but they surely used it differently than what these men had consumed.
Luke sent her an exhausted, miserable smile. “Time for me to take more bad medicine.”
She squeezed his hand. “Maybe you’ll feel better soon.”
He shambled toward the doctor and waited his turn. Each time they were together, she marveled anew at his endless good nature. He hadn’t complained, hadn’t resisted. He simply saddled up and got the job done.
Over the next hour Marianne helped bring fresh water and clean linens, and tried to put a positive face on things, but it was a long night. The good news was that by fully purging their stomachs, at least the men would be able to sleep without dashing for the facilities all night long.
At midnight Dr. Wiley was closing up his medical bag when she pulled him aside to press him for details about the salicylic acid. He initially refused to divulge anything, but the moment she said that her father was Clyde Magruder, there was a shift in his attitude.
“The Magruders are one of the biggest offenders when it comes to petrifying their food with chemicals.”
Her first instinct was to leap to her family’s defense, but it was more important to gather information. “I’d like to know exactly how much preservative caused these men to get so sick tonight. Since you will be discontinuing the experiment, there’s no harm in telling me, is there?”
He took her back to the kitchen to show her the notebook he kept locked in a cabinet. The men had been eating food preserved with salicylic acid all week, but that morning he tripled the dosage.
“Good heavens, why?”
“Because I can’t test these men for the next twenty or thirty years. Using an elevated dose is an attempt to judge what long-term exposure might do to them.” He wrote some equations on a slip of paper and gave them to her. “That’s the ratio of chemical the men received today. I would give my eyeteeth to know the ratio used at Magruder Food.”
She raised her chin. “Dr. Wiley, I truly don’t want your eyeteeth.”
“Do you want to do what’s right?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “What are you suggesting?”
“I want the recipes your family uses. They’ve never revealed them, so it’s impossible to know what they are releasing into the American food supply.” He glanced down the hallway at the men sprawled in the parlor. “All of them are showing neurological confusion and mobility difficulties. I want to know how much salicylic acid is used in Magruder products.”