Countdown
Part Two
By Scott J. Welles
scottjwelles@yahoo.com

DISCLAIMERS: Okay, here we are again.  First, the usual jazz. Sing along if you know the words...

ER and all related characters are the property of Warner Bros., ConstantC Productions, and Amblin Entertainment Television, a bunch of really swell, understanding guys who won't sue me if I mention that the aforementioned characters and institutions are being used without their permission, but only for entertainment purposes, and that no form of profit is being made on this work, especially if I remind them that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Yeah, they'll buy that...

Rate this one PG-13 for subject material.

The time-frame on this one is as current as you can get. Last episode seen was "Great Expectations," and there are probably 6th Season spoilers, accordingly. (I'll try to keep them to a minimum, though.)

One more thing. This is the most intense, serious story I've written yet. There may be parts that could be disturbing, chilling, or downright tragic. Some seriously bad things will probably happen to our heroes before we're through. Expect the worst. However, by way of reassurance, I ask you to recall the ad campaign for 'The Princess Bride': "She gets captured, he gets killed...but it all turns out okay." If you're still game, with all that in mind, let's get to it...

(1:04 p.m., December 31st, 1999...)

Ten hours and fifty-six minutes before the end of the world, Dr. John Carter entered an exam room and stopped short in surprise. The family of five - father, mother, and two boys and a girl - looked perfectly ordinary and middle-class, but it was the father's face that made him look twice.

"I'm not him," the father said, and his voice shattered the illusion.

"No, uh, of course not," Carter said, finding his voice somewhat abashedly. "Good afternoon, I'm Doctor Carter. I'm sorry for staring, it's just that you look exactly like..."

"So I've been told." The man's voice was high and raspy, in contrast to the expectations raised by his face.

"Yeah, I'm sure you have. Anyway, I understand you're all having some stomach problems...?"

The mother, a blond woman in her late forties, explained that everyone in the family had been nauseous, with recurring stomach cramps, and that Michael, their younger boy, had thrown up twice. Carter asked them a few more questions, and while he was taking notes, the older boy bent over and heaved his guts onto the tile floor. The mother apologized, but Carter told them it was quite all right (he'd managed to avoid it, this time). Conni volunteered to go ask maintenance to clean it up.

The problem was quickly traced back to the family's morning breakfast, and all agreed that it was shortly after that meal that the various symptoms began appearing. "It sounds like a mild case of food poisoning," Carter said.

"I thought so," the father with the familiar face said, "but Maureen insisted that it couldn't be."

"I never insisted that," his wife put in, a little defensively, "I just said that I was sure it was a fresh batch."

"Probably nothing to worry too much about," Carter went on, ignoring the squabble, "but it would help to know what you had, so we can be certain-"

"Yeah, I figured," the father put in, presenting him with a sealed Tupperware container, "So I brought a sample."

Carter took the container and burped the lid, to look inside. What he saw looked like an outtake from 'Starship Troopers' or 'Temple of Doom' and he quickly pressed it shut again. "What, ah, what is it?" he asked, somewhat taken aback.

"It's an international selection of insects," the mother said, as brightly as Martha Stewart or Kathie Lee, "Japanese beetles, South African grubs, Brazilian centipedes..."

Carter looked up at them, wondering if he was on 'Candid Camera' or something. He received five perfectly bland, if slightly ill, looks in return. Dead bugs for breakfast?

"They're an excellent source of nutrition," the father informed him. "It's possible to maintain a perfectly balanced diet on nothing but insects."

The young resident looked at the children. "And...you guys had this for breakfast, too?"

"We always eat 'em," the older boy replied, the implied 'duh' remaining unspoken.

"We've been reading for years about the trends in meat and grain production vs. global population growth," the father added, warming to his subject, "and it seems clear that, aside from the development of artificial food sources, the most plentiful, readily available staple available for the future of the human race is crawling directly under our feet." He seemed pleased to have someone else to espouse this philosophy to.

"Uh-huh..." Carter replied, less than convinced.

"Then, when you consider the recent outbreaks of Mad Cow Disease..."

He was interrupted as Conni entered, informing them that a janitor would be able to come clean up the mess on the floor in a few minutes. As she left, however, Yosh Takata appeared in the doorway, with a star-struck look on his face. "I don't believe it, it's you!" he exclaimed.

The father looked a little pained.

"Yosh, he's not-" Carter began.

"I'm very sorry to bother you with this, and I know it's terribly unprofessional of me," the nurse babbled, "but I'm a huge, HUGE fan, and I've followed your work for years, and...I was wondering if you could take a moment to..." He held out a pamphlet on urinary infections - the first thing he'd grabbed off the front desk - and a pen.

The father looked for a moment like he was about to say something, which Carter knew would crush Yosh's enthusiasm immediately...but then he smiled and took the pen and pamphlet.

"I'm afraid Luciano can't talk right now," the mother jumped in with a smile, lying smoothly, "He's got a touch of laryngitis." Carter suspected that they had used this tactic in the past.

The children were rolling their eyes, but Yosh didn't notice. He smiled gratefully as the father scrawled a 'Best Wishes...' greeting on the pamphlet and handed it back.

"Thank you so much," Yosh said, "It was a great honor, Mr. Pavarotti. I hope your voice returns soon, I've got season tickets!"  He shook the father's hand, and then left politely.

Carter watched him go, then turned back to the family and said, "Sorry about that, but it was nice of you to give him an autograph, anyway."

The father shrugged. "Yeah, well some people, you just can't stand to let 'em down. I've just about got the signature perfect by now."

"I'm just glad he didn't ask Artie to sing," the mother added. "You'd be surprised at how often..."

"Well, you made him happy," Carter said, picking up the Tupperware carton full of bugs again. "I'm going to take this to the lab, to make sure there's nothing too serious. I'll be back in a bit..."

(1:17 p.m., December 31st, 1999...)

Kerry stopped at the desk and asked, "Jerry, did I leave my glasses here?"

The big clerk made a fast sweep of the desk and came up with them. "Yeah, here you go, Dr. Weaver," he said, handing them to her.

"Thanks..." She took the glasses absently and put them on.

"Are you all right, Dr. Weaver?"

She looked at Jerry Markovic and said, "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you seem kinda distracted. I've never seen you leave anything here by accident, 'specially something like your glasses..."

"Nobody's perfect, Jerry," she replied, curtly. Then she pointed to the paper sack on the desk at his elbow and said, "What's this?"

"Oh, I packed a late lunch, in case it gets busy and I need to work through dinner. You know, tonight being the big night and all, I figured..."

"Mmm, good thinking, but I don't think that's the best place to keep it, do you?"

"Okay," he said, taking the hint, and took the sack into the lounge.

Kerry looked at the chart in her hands again and tried to focus. Jerry was right; leaving her glasses at the desk was uncharacteristically absent-minded and sloppy. That mysterious vision she had experienced earlier was still on her mind. It didn't fit the pattern of any kind of daydream she'd ever had. It was too clear and distinct to be some sort of psychotic episode...wasn't it? And she'd never taken psychedelic drugs, so it couldn't be a flashback...

"You know anything about entymology, Dr. Weaver?" Carter asked, appearing by her side.

"Hmm?" Kerry shook her head, clearing it. "I'm sorry, John, what...?"

"Hey, you all right?  You seem..."

"What were you asking, Carter?" she cut him off, irritably. If one more person asked her if she was all right...

"I was just wondering if you knew, is it possible to get food poisoning from eating bugs? I've got this family in Two, and you're not gonna believe this..." Carter outlined the situation briefly.

Kerry nodded. "I'm not surprised. Run it by the lab, but it sounds like you're on the right track."

"Okay, thanks. Can you imagine a steady diet of bugs? Ecchh."

She looked at him seriously. "You know, in many countries, it's a perfectly common practice. Entire cultures eat insects daily, just like we eat mammals, fish, and fowl."

"I've read that, but..."

"Carter, you've got to get out more. I've lived in places where they eat cockroaches like popcorn."

He looked at her in amusement. "Did you eat 'em that way, while you were there?"

"Of course."

He opened the tupperware. "Want a snack?"

"Oh, jeez, Carter, get that off the desk!" Kerry snapped. "I never said I liked it! Honestly, ecchh!" 

Jerry returned to the desk, accompanied by Chuni Marquez. He asked, "Dr. Weaver, is that your patient in Exam One?"

"Elise Browden? Yes, why?"

"You know who that is?" he said, clearly excited.

"I'm telling you, it's not her," Chuni said.

"Is so! That's Kitty Claws, the por-uh, adult film star!"

"What...?" Some days Kerry just couldn't believe her ears in this place.

Carter said, "What is this, Celebrity Sightings Day?"

"Not HER, Jerry," Chuni sing-songed.

Jerry looked at her and pointed to the computer terminal. "Check it out, look at the picture on her website, www.prettykitty.com, and tell me that's not her!" He turned to Kerry and said, "There's one way to tell for sure; she's got a birthmark, looks like Australia, right on her..."

He trailed off under Kerry's glare, looking suddenly embarrassed. 

"Please tell me you've got something better to do?" she asked him, pointedly.

"I'll find something."

"You do that." Kerry walked away, followed by Chuni.

Jerry looked at Carter, who had observed the whole exchange with amusement. "Carter, you're a guy, you know who I'm talking about, right?"

"Get a life, Jerry." Carter grabbed his box of bugs and departed.

(1:39 p.m., December 31st, 1999...)

Kerry entered the examination room, along with Chuni, and addressed her patient. "Ms. Browden, it looks like a mild infection, but there doesn't seem to be cause for alarm."

"Okay," the raven-haired woman said, a little blankly. Looking at her, Kerry had a moment of curiosity, based on Jerry's claim. She was certainly a striking woman, with a voluptuous body, and she exuded a kind of sensuality, even in a hospital gown. But beneath the pose, there was something a little empty in her voice.

"We can give you a general antibiotic, and that should clear it up in a day or so..."

"No, you don't understand," she said, "I really need it to go away by tonight. You see, I'm in...well, I'm kinda in the performing arts..."

"I see."

"Yeah, and I'm doing a performance tonight, and I'm supposed to be, uh..."

"Baring your 'Claws'?" Kerry filled in.

The woman brightened. "Oh, you recognized me? Yeah, we're making a feature. Straight to video, but it's shot on film, so the picture quality will be good..."

"And you're, ah, doing a nude scene?" Kerry asked, wanting to circumvent the issue.

"Honey, I do nothing but nude scenes. Trouble is, I'm not gonna be too much of a turn-on when they do the close-ups and I've got THIS on my ass." Elise Browden rolled over and pulled open the gown. The infection in question was readily apparent, marring the attractive golden-bronze tan of her hindquarters. "And that's where all my fans're gonna be looking, 'cause of my birthmark." Indeed, that too was clearly visible.

"Why is it essential that you film this...performance tonight?" Kerry asked, wishing the woman would show a little modesty and cover herself again.

"You're kidding, right? Tonight, of all nights? That's the whole point, the film's called 'Dropping the Ball', and yeah, I know it's a dumb name, I'm hoping they'll change it, but the thing is, in the centerpiece of the film, I'm supposed to be, y'know, 'doing it' right at the stroke of midnight. Sort of start the new Millennium..."

(Please don't say it, Kerry thought.)

"...with a bang."

(She said it.)

"Why can't they just film it later, then edit in footage and claim you did it at midnight?" Chuni asked her.

Browden dropped the gown closed and looked at the nurse, coldly. "I wouldn't be a part of this project if I didn't have faith in its artistic integrity," she said.

There was a knock at the door, and Jerry poked his head in. "Excuse me, Dr. Weaver, but..."

"Jerry, we have a disrobed patient in here."

"I know, but Ms. Claw-uh, Ms. Browden forgot to fill in part of her insurance form, and..." His eagerness to come in and meet the actress was obvious and palpable.

"I think that can wait a few minutes, don't you?" Kerry said, exasperated.

"Oh, c'mere," Browden said, waving him in. She offered Jerry a practiced smile, a moment of rehearsed seduction (like she'd done a thousand other times, Kerry figured), and filled out the rest of the form.

Chuni looked at Jerry over Browden's shoulder, raised her eyebrows, and mouthed the word 'Australia!'

"Thanks," Jerry said, beaming, as he took back the clipboard.

"Thank you, Jerry," Kerry said, clearly meaning get out, Jerry.

"Uh, Ms. Claws, can I just ask you one question?"

She gave him some more of the tolerant smile, and said, "Sure."

He screwed up his nerve, and said, "How often do you have to fake it?"

"JERRY, WILL YOU GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE?!"

He got the hell out of there.

Kerry pinched the bridge of her nose, then said, "I apologize for his behavior, Ms. Browden..."

"You can call me Kitty, everyone does," she said, clearly attaching no significance to the event. She hadn't seemed to notice that, while Jerry was in the room, she wore only a loose-fitting hospital gown, which appeared to be slipping off her shoulders. Then again, she was probably accustomed to wearing less, in front of more. "So what do you say, can you help me get rid of this by tonight?"

Kerry admitted that there was a way to drain the pockets of infected fluid, and at least reduce the swelling, while the discoloration could probably be covered by makeup on the film set. She performed the procedure with Chuni's help, while Browden remained stoic, uncomfortable though the experience must have been.

"I appreciate it, honey," Browden told her later, while dressing. "I know my job probably seems kinda slimy to you, but..."

"Not at all," Kerry told her, civilly, as she marked a few things on the patient's chart, "We each have our talents, after all."

"Yeah. I know they say it's really degrading to women and all that, but it's really about female empowerment. It's about being in control of the fantasy..."

"Um, Kitty," Kerry broke in, trying to avoid the discussion, "I really have no strong opinions on pornography, one way or the other. Provided it involves consenting adults who practice safe sex, I have no objections to people making it, distributing it, or viewing it." In an effort to be diplomatic, she added, "Actually, I think it's an excellent form of fantasy-realization for the public."

"Great, me too!" Browden said with a friendly smile. She finished dressing, then ran an eye over Kerry and said, "You know, if you don't mind my saying so, you might think about trying it.  It's good money..."

Kerry's writing hand froze. She took a breath and said, "I don't think so," as politely as she could.

"Hey, there's a lot more market for the skinny ones than you'd think. Not all guys like the busty blondes. So you're a little short and pale. With the hair, it works."

"No, I REALLY don't think so." Kerry began counting to ten in her head.

"If you're worried about the limp, they can film around that. Maybe you could be, like, a role model for handicapped in the industry, you know? Be a positive figure..."

"You know, as flattering as THAT is," she interrupted, her anger rising, "I'm really going to have to ask you to drop the subject."

The actress shrugged and left without another word, and when she was alone, Kerry didn't know whether to be mildly flattered or deeply disgusted.

Okay, let's recap, she thought, so far today I've been offered jobs as a porn actress and an astronaut, and been invited to eat a bug.

And the day's still young.

(2:21 p.m., December 31st, 1999...)