docsavage
07-29-03, 05:16 PM
Hi All - In an effort to stimulate sales of my novel, i offer here the first half of the first chapter of Doc Randall's Revenge. The second half of Chapter One will appear in the next thread While the second chapter is the better teaser, I offer this up to set the stage and will post Chapter Two in the near future. Comments can be sent to docsavagemedwrtr@hotmail.com and you can purchase the book at www.bn.com and www.amazon.com. I am fresh out of personal copies. Anybody know anyone in Hollywood - I think this is a unique story that could be told on film to a limited audience
Chapter One
September 1997
W illiam Ranger Randall, Ph.D. was somewhere between awake and asleep when he heard Steppenwolf urging him to "Get his motor running, head out on the highway" in the distance. For a few precious seconds, he could not quite comprehend exactly why it was playing. He then realized that it was his clock radio signaling the beginning of a new workday and in this particular case, a fresh school year. In general, it was an unusual method for him to be awakened. While he always set the alarm at bedtime, it seldom actually sounded at the prescribed time. The three glorious years in the Corps had resulted in a built in wake-up call. It rarely mattered what time he went to bed or how much he drank the night before, his world blinked on at 6:15 a.m. Since the alarm was set for 6:30, he most often shut it off before it had an opportunity to execute its wake-up option. However, in a few scattered instances, as was the case today, he did not automatically awaken and the alarm clock served its function.
As he reached over to terminate Born to be Wild, he squinted at the bursting red digits and drew back. Instead of the 6:30 numerals he anticipated, the numbers 5 - 0 flashed incessantly on the dial. Again, Will required a few seconds to collect his thoughts. Of course, it was his birthday, his fiftieth birthday. His not yet determined spirit level plunged. He never thought much about his previous landmark birthdays, thirty or forty, but fifty - this was a different story. The realization of the day impacted negatively on his fragile psyche. Fifty actually sounded old! To make matters worse, this birthday coincided with another annual event that he also dreaded, the first day of classes.
Will had been teaching "Experimental Theory in Medicine" for twelve years at the Ohio State University College of Medicine and he could not recall a pleasant, positive first day of classes. He had fought long and hard to get this course approved and mandatory to the first year student's curriculum, but approached teaching it with great trepidation.
Instead of turning the alarm off as he originally intended, Will activated the snooze alarm, which similarly ended Steppenwolfs' suggestions. Will lay in bed for a few moments and reflected on the events of the forthcoming day. He decided there was little he could do about them and as such, he should explore and embrace the mysteries the day might unlock.
As was customary to his arising, Will brought his legs forward in a tucked position and pivoted on his rear end to the right to allow his now extending legs access to the floor on his side of the bed. Once his feet were firmly planted on the carpet, he slowly straightened his aging frame and began the trek to the bathroom. These first few steps in the morning were becoming more and more painful. The daily running at lunch coupled with the herniated disc he experienced several years prior contributed to this daily dose of morning agony. While this pain was usually alleviated with gentle twisting and stretching and a warm shower, it nevertheless was a constant reminder that his body was succumbing to the relentless process of aging.
Will lumbered into the bathroom, quietly pulling the contemporary hidden door from its pocket to avoid disturbing his sleeping wife. Sleeping was one of Sarah's joys and he did not want to adversely affect this simple life pleasure as he prepared for his truly unique day. The Corps had made him a morning person, but Sarah remained a late, but light sleeper even after their ten years of marriage. She was entitled to as much sleep as she could possibly achieve. In a very short time she would be sparring with their two kids, attempting to ready them for school.
Will peered into the mirror to assess the damage at fifty. His face appeared to droop more than usual and his jowls made him think of Richard M. Nixon. He was never happy with his body and smiled as he thought of a recent quip by a professional athlete who was similarly unimpressed with his physical stature. When asked about his stature, the athlete responded, "This is not an impressive body. It's a cruel family joke." Will tried to keep his weight down and his heart healthy by his daily exercise routine. He worked out religiously and didn't smoke, but he was fond of beer and was partial to junk foods, although he had recently lost his desire for the greasy cheeseburger complimented by a large order of fries and coca-cola. No wonder the fat seemed to hang around his belt area in the form of those truly unattractive "love handles." He began a diet every year on the first of January and lost in the range of fifteen to twenty-one pounds before summer beckoned and his eating habits again suffered. He smiled as he reflected on how hard it was to top a cold beer after a long, hot run in the sizzling Midwest summers. Still, he thought, as he continued to evaluate his appearance, he didn't look all that bad for fifty. Several of his friends had not lived long enough to see this age. Many of those were acquaintances he had made during his three years in the Corps who had been killed in their late teens or early twenties. Conversely, those that survived the war and were often times featured on the evening news about Vietnam Veterans looked terribly old. Although it was twenty-five to thirty years after the conflict, Will was always shocked at how his veteran peers currently looked. He always asked Sarah if he looked that old. Sarah, who was thirteen years junior to Will, always responded in the negative. This morning, the thought of her canned response was not very reassuring as he began to run the hot water.
Will routinely brushed his teeth with hot or warming water. After all, it had to warm up before he showered and if he used cold water to brush his teeth, then all the shower water that he ran before it warmed would be wasted. This way, he put it to good use and quite frankly, he believed that hot water was better to brush one's teeth with than cold water although the scientific proof to this hypothesis was sorely lacking. "Scientific proof," Will thought he must be readying himself for his introductory lecture later this morning.
Following his shower, Will began to prepare for the new class that he would meet for the first time en masse today. The primary preparation involved the selection of a tie appropriate for the occasion. Will's choice was the green Mickey Mouse tie to go with his freshly laundered and starched white dress shirt. Will seldom wore a tie or for that matter a shirt with a button down collar. His traditional attire was a polo shirt and Dockers when the chairman was on campus and a polo shirt and blue jeans when she was out of town. As he searched through the ties, he realized she would not approve of his Mickey Mouse selection and thus he hunted for a more traditional entry. Setting his wardrobe to her presence or absence was especially troublesome to Will. After all, this was a research department. The primary functions of such a department were research and teaching, not sucking up and looking for the next butt to kiss. The chairman, however, was quite proficient at both. Will gave her the benefit of a doubt as he thought that his career might not have been quite so successful without her strategically placed lips. Conversely, he argued to himself that he might have been more successful at this juncture in his career had she allowed him the academic freedom found in most of the other departments in the medical school. Will believed that she wanted to be a dean. If you could help her achieve that goal, then she was with you. If you would hamper or impede her progress, then it was your head that got handed to you, not hers. While her scientific career was non-existent (Will could not identify her last first- authored research publication), her politics and position in the medical school seemed beyond question. While this was quite peculiar to Will, he summarized it internally by suggesting that she possessed serious, sensitive information on some prestigious member of the medical school. This assured her position as department head and also provided a path to more significant posts, namely deanships, within the school when they became available.
Will selected a reddish brown tie to go with his starched white shirt and relatively formal brown trousers. He made a mental note to wear a lab coat to today's lecture to impress the first year students.
Will had spent the last three weeks diligently preparing for today's lecture. This was often the problem with Will. He spent considerable, if not excessive time on the first lecture and immediately fell behind in preparations for subsequent lectures.
Chapter One
September 1997
W illiam Ranger Randall, Ph.D. was somewhere between awake and asleep when he heard Steppenwolf urging him to "Get his motor running, head out on the highway" in the distance. For a few precious seconds, he could not quite comprehend exactly why it was playing. He then realized that it was his clock radio signaling the beginning of a new workday and in this particular case, a fresh school year. In general, it was an unusual method for him to be awakened. While he always set the alarm at bedtime, it seldom actually sounded at the prescribed time. The three glorious years in the Corps had resulted in a built in wake-up call. It rarely mattered what time he went to bed or how much he drank the night before, his world blinked on at 6:15 a.m. Since the alarm was set for 6:30, he most often shut it off before it had an opportunity to execute its wake-up option. However, in a few scattered instances, as was the case today, he did not automatically awaken and the alarm clock served its function.
As he reached over to terminate Born to be Wild, he squinted at the bursting red digits and drew back. Instead of the 6:30 numerals he anticipated, the numbers 5 - 0 flashed incessantly on the dial. Again, Will required a few seconds to collect his thoughts. Of course, it was his birthday, his fiftieth birthday. His not yet determined spirit level plunged. He never thought much about his previous landmark birthdays, thirty or forty, but fifty - this was a different story. The realization of the day impacted negatively on his fragile psyche. Fifty actually sounded old! To make matters worse, this birthday coincided with another annual event that he also dreaded, the first day of classes.
Will had been teaching "Experimental Theory in Medicine" for twelve years at the Ohio State University College of Medicine and he could not recall a pleasant, positive first day of classes. He had fought long and hard to get this course approved and mandatory to the first year student's curriculum, but approached teaching it with great trepidation.
Instead of turning the alarm off as he originally intended, Will activated the snooze alarm, which similarly ended Steppenwolfs' suggestions. Will lay in bed for a few moments and reflected on the events of the forthcoming day. He decided there was little he could do about them and as such, he should explore and embrace the mysteries the day might unlock.
As was customary to his arising, Will brought his legs forward in a tucked position and pivoted on his rear end to the right to allow his now extending legs access to the floor on his side of the bed. Once his feet were firmly planted on the carpet, he slowly straightened his aging frame and began the trek to the bathroom. These first few steps in the morning were becoming more and more painful. The daily running at lunch coupled with the herniated disc he experienced several years prior contributed to this daily dose of morning agony. While this pain was usually alleviated with gentle twisting and stretching and a warm shower, it nevertheless was a constant reminder that his body was succumbing to the relentless process of aging.
Will lumbered into the bathroom, quietly pulling the contemporary hidden door from its pocket to avoid disturbing his sleeping wife. Sleeping was one of Sarah's joys and he did not want to adversely affect this simple life pleasure as he prepared for his truly unique day. The Corps had made him a morning person, but Sarah remained a late, but light sleeper even after their ten years of marriage. She was entitled to as much sleep as she could possibly achieve. In a very short time she would be sparring with their two kids, attempting to ready them for school.
Will peered into the mirror to assess the damage at fifty. His face appeared to droop more than usual and his jowls made him think of Richard M. Nixon. He was never happy with his body and smiled as he thought of a recent quip by a professional athlete who was similarly unimpressed with his physical stature. When asked about his stature, the athlete responded, "This is not an impressive body. It's a cruel family joke." Will tried to keep his weight down and his heart healthy by his daily exercise routine. He worked out religiously and didn't smoke, but he was fond of beer and was partial to junk foods, although he had recently lost his desire for the greasy cheeseburger complimented by a large order of fries and coca-cola. No wonder the fat seemed to hang around his belt area in the form of those truly unattractive "love handles." He began a diet every year on the first of January and lost in the range of fifteen to twenty-one pounds before summer beckoned and his eating habits again suffered. He smiled as he reflected on how hard it was to top a cold beer after a long, hot run in the sizzling Midwest summers. Still, he thought, as he continued to evaluate his appearance, he didn't look all that bad for fifty. Several of his friends had not lived long enough to see this age. Many of those were acquaintances he had made during his three years in the Corps who had been killed in their late teens or early twenties. Conversely, those that survived the war and were often times featured on the evening news about Vietnam Veterans looked terribly old. Although it was twenty-five to thirty years after the conflict, Will was always shocked at how his veteran peers currently looked. He always asked Sarah if he looked that old. Sarah, who was thirteen years junior to Will, always responded in the negative. This morning, the thought of her canned response was not very reassuring as he began to run the hot water.
Will routinely brushed his teeth with hot or warming water. After all, it had to warm up before he showered and if he used cold water to brush his teeth, then all the shower water that he ran before it warmed would be wasted. This way, he put it to good use and quite frankly, he believed that hot water was better to brush one's teeth with than cold water although the scientific proof to this hypothesis was sorely lacking. "Scientific proof," Will thought he must be readying himself for his introductory lecture later this morning.
Following his shower, Will began to prepare for the new class that he would meet for the first time en masse today. The primary preparation involved the selection of a tie appropriate for the occasion. Will's choice was the green Mickey Mouse tie to go with his freshly laundered and starched white dress shirt. Will seldom wore a tie or for that matter a shirt with a button down collar. His traditional attire was a polo shirt and Dockers when the chairman was on campus and a polo shirt and blue jeans when she was out of town. As he searched through the ties, he realized she would not approve of his Mickey Mouse selection and thus he hunted for a more traditional entry. Setting his wardrobe to her presence or absence was especially troublesome to Will. After all, this was a research department. The primary functions of such a department were research and teaching, not sucking up and looking for the next butt to kiss. The chairman, however, was quite proficient at both. Will gave her the benefit of a doubt as he thought that his career might not have been quite so successful without her strategically placed lips. Conversely, he argued to himself that he might have been more successful at this juncture in his career had she allowed him the academic freedom found in most of the other departments in the medical school. Will believed that she wanted to be a dean. If you could help her achieve that goal, then she was with you. If you would hamper or impede her progress, then it was your head that got handed to you, not hers. While her scientific career was non-existent (Will could not identify her last first- authored research publication), her politics and position in the medical school seemed beyond question. While this was quite peculiar to Will, he summarized it internally by suggesting that she possessed serious, sensitive information on some prestigious member of the medical school. This assured her position as department head and also provided a path to more significant posts, namely deanships, within the school when they became available.
Will selected a reddish brown tie to go with his starched white shirt and relatively formal brown trousers. He made a mental note to wear a lab coat to today's lecture to impress the first year students.
Will had spent the last three weeks diligently preparing for today's lecture. This was often the problem with Will. He spent considerable, if not excessive time on the first lecture and immediately fell behind in preparations for subsequent lectures.