Blood Brothers (Part I)

[florida20]

[COLOR=silver]The first thing I saw was Casey?s hat fly into his own lunch. The first thing I heard was laughter. Casey?s head was completely bald. He didn?t even have eyebrows. Apparently that was funny to the two fifth graders standing behind us in the cafeteria. There was no confrontation; the two abusers just went along their way.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]When I turned back to Casey, his normally pale face was a deep red and I could see the swelling purple veins at his temple. He said nothing, simply swallowed what he was already chewing before he took his soggy and corn-covered baseball cap out off his tray and began a mostly vain effort to clean if off with a napkin. [/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I didn?t know what went on in his head and years later I would still think back to that moment, wondering why I did nothing about it. There were other moments I saw him tormented, I?m sure, but they have since faded into the glass haze of the past. Those few seconds, however, were somehow chosen by my brain to represent all the bullying and indifference a child went through when he was dying of leukemia. [/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?He?s very sick? my mother told me months earlier when I complained that Casey wasn?t playing mini-mite football with me that season. I put the pads on my shoulder and fastened them while my mom held the practice jersey.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?When will he get better,? I had asked. My mother looked at me with an expression I would later register as both adoring and sad. I didn?t know then how close Casey came to dying that fall. I knew what leukemia was but only in those partial truths which populated the world of a nine year old boy. It made you tired, it made you pale, and it made you lose your hair. But, like any cold or flu, I assumed you woke up one morning feeling better.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?Hopefully soon,? she said in reply then put my jersey on the bed next to me and walked away.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]Casey and I had been friends since birth, a result of a close friendship our respective mothers had shared since they were in college. We were both active kids and my memory is speckled with bike rides through clay gorges and romps through tangled woods that our mothers would condemn and our fathers would applaud. I was always a little faster, a little taller. We were always on the same teams when we got old enough to start the annual round-robin of sports a kid is encouraged to play. Flag (then tackle) football in the fall; baseball in the spring; soccer in the summer. Juvenile athletics seemed specifically geared to ensure a snotty-nosed brat was exhausted by nightfall. The fact that their parents had the rare chance to communicate with an adult other than their spouse seemed to be a nice touch as well.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]Nine year olds base their reality on a limited and narrow history, and that history told me that Casey should be carpooling to practice today. It wasn?t until his hair began to fall out and he started feeling tired all the time that the seriousness of the situation began to register. Another sharp memory from that time put Casey and I in the backyard while our mothers sat on the back porch. I remember Jeannine, Casey?s mom, starting to cry and was quickly mimicked by my mother. Very few things affect me stronger than seeing my mother cry. A flash of anger swept through my body as I tried to listen to why my friend?s mom was making mine upset.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?Casey,? I said sternly as I caught a word in their conversation. ?What does terminal mean??[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]Casey stopped what he was doing and looked up at me from beneath a bare brow and scalp. There was a sly twinkle in his eye that later made me wonder what he knew of his future. ?It means I?m getting on a train,? he said with a smile. I took it at face value.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]On the way home my mother told me they were taking Casey to a special clinic in Jacksonville. It didn?t go over well. I don?t remember much about the weeks leading up to his move but I remember him saying ?see ya later? as he walked into his parents? house on the way home from school. There was no clich? wave through the window from the back of the minivan as I chased his car down the street. Just a ?see ya later? we weren?t sure was true.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I lost contact with Casey but my mom would give me periodic updates she garnered from his mom. He was going through some very experimental chemotherapy on his blood. Neither of us knew much of what that entailed or meant but it didn?t sound like Casey and his family knew either. ?But what?s important is that he?s alive,? she said cheerfully a few months after he left, which was the summer after fourth grade.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]A few months later my mom came in with a huge smile on her face. ?He?s cured,? she said excitedly.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I felt profound relief but could only ask when he was coming home. Her face dropped slightly before saying, ?They?re going to keep him at Mayo for some tests. He didn?t respond to the tests exactly as expected.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?What does that mean?? I asked.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]She never answered. I?m pretty sure she didn?t know.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]My life moved on. Fifth grade started and ended. I went through middle school and grew into a young adult. At some point I realized I was athletic and got really into sports. At another point I realized I was good looking and got really into girls. It was the summer before ninth grade that I started lifting weights and was excited how well my body took to them. After a few months of using my dad?s basement equipment I developed a nice little six pack and had a nice bounce to my pecs. Little did I know then that it took more than pushups, and sit-ups, and some curls to go through a full body workout. But when your body comes from nothing, it responds to everything.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]By the time I started ninth grade, I was a mid-level stud. Nothing too special but I had a good enough mix of looks, athletics, and social stamina to made me popular enough. I played freshman football and learned what real weight training was like. The defensive coordinator, Coach Rodriguez (or Coach Rod) saw my interest in weights and took me under his wing. The team called him Coach Roid behind his back in part because of his sporadic tendency to go ballistic on a player doing something he considered brainless and also because he was 250 pounds of iron-hard muscle. ?Just wait until football season is over, boy,? he said with a mischievous grin. ?That?s when the real training begins.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I was excited and I looked forward to the beginning of the spring semester like it was Christmas. That didn?t mean I was stagnant through the first half of my freshman year. That first semester of high school I went from 140 to 150 and kept that six pack I was so proud of. [/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]One afternoon in mid-December, I came home after school and opened the door to find my mom sitting with Jeanette at the kitchen table. The two of them stopped their conversation and both turned to me.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?Oh my, how you?ve grown,? Jeanette said with a wide smile. She got up and went over to hug me; I returned the favor. ?Why you?re as tall as me now and it looks like you?ve been getting some exercise in too.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I was suddenly very conscious of the too tight shirt I was wearing. I liked the stares it got in high school hallways but it was kind of embarrassing when family and other adults noticed. ?Casey will be going to school with you next semester. You think you could show him around? It?s been so long since he?s been here.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]A flood of questions wanted to erupt from my mouth but seemed to be jammed in my throat. ?Sure? was all that could escape.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?Great,? she said and I suddenly noticed touch of sadness entering her eyes, and something else. The woman was exhausted. ?He?ll be so glad to hear that. Maybe he could come by tomorrow??[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I nodded, unsure why I was having trouble speaking.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]She nodded back and looked to my mom. ?Well, Debra, we?ll have plenty of time to catch up later. It?s so good to see you again.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]My mom said something similar and led her out. Once the two of them were alone, she came to the living room where I was sitting on the couch flipping channels.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?Kind of a lot to take in, huh?? she said at my back.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I shrugged in the way which infuriates adults trying to get information from their children. ?I guess so,? I said back, not turning around.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]Mom sighed, forever patient, and sat next to me, then took the remote from my hand and turned off the TV. ?We need to talk about Casey, sweetheart.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I turned, eyebrows raised. She took it as acquiescence. ?He?s still very weak,? she said sadly. ?Whatever they did to him cured his cancer but has severely limited his strength and endurance. It sounds like he really needs a friend right now. I?m hoping you could be that friend.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I thought of the hat being knocked off Casey?s head and into his lunch; how I had done nothing while my friend?s emotions boiled. Something inside of me resisted getting to know Casey again; I had a life and was really enjoying it. Did I want a sickly former friend fallowing me around? The shock that cold final thought sent through me forced the words out of my mouth. ?Of course.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]Our parents wasted no time: the doorbell rang the following afternoon. I was working out in the basement, dressed in a ribbed tank top and gym shorts. Standing on the other side of the door as I opened it was Casey. I recognized his face immediately but that was pretty much it.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]Although I knew Casey for eight years before he got sick, I remembered him only the way he looked those last six months. His dark blond hair had returned and he wore it like a mop on his head. What I remembered as grey eyes were now blue. He was tall, taller than me I was surprised to find out. He?d always been the shorter between us, if not by much. He was slim but not sickly as I?d imagined. He actually looked healthy.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?Hey, man,? he said, one side of his mouth rising in a grin.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?Hey,? I said back. We both stood there for a moment, shuffling feet. Then Casey said something that probably set the rest of their lives on the path it did.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?Nothing like having our moms set us up like we were going on a date, huh??[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I laughed genuinely and suddenly felt like everything was back to a normal too long ago to remember clearly. ?I know. My mom acted like she was asking me to take the ugly girl to the prom.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]The other side of Casey?s mouth finally completed the smile. ?Awe, at least she?d put out,? he said, neither one of them really knowing exactly what that meant.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?Come in,? I said, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders that I didn?t even know was there.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?You working out?? he asked, his eyes shining.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I looked down, realizing the colder air of the first floor had covered me in sweat. ?Yeah,? I said. ?Football season just ended and I?m trying to pack on some weight for next year.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?Still play football?? he asked, genuinely interested.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I nodded as he followed me down the stairs to the basement. ?Yeah, they want to send me to varsity next year but Coach Rod says he wants me at least 170 when the season starts.? We made it to my dungeon of a basement. My dad?s ?gym? consisted of a weight bench, a bowflex, and an EZ curl bar with some plates?none of which my dad used. My mom was just happy to see the ?rusty metal get some dusting.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I started putting some weights away, suddenly very conscious of what my mom told me yesterday. I looked at him standing tall and lanky surrounded by a room full of iron. Sometimes boyish impertinence overcomes social expectations: ?You don?t look sick,? I said bluntly.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?I don?t feel sick,? he replied just as bluntly. A pause. ?I?m not sick.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?Mom says you can?t do any activity,? I retorted.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]He shrugged. ?Not supposed to. My body can?t take it.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?What did they do to you?? I asked softly.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]He sat down on the bench, brushing hair from his eyes with his hand, eyes looking inward. ?I don?t remember much,? he said finally. ?I recall what they said they were going to do but I don?t remember when they actually did it. They put me in a cold coma and circulated blood from my body into some sort of machine that introduced an enzyme which was supposed to kill the cancerous cells.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?I guess it worked,? I said simply.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]He looked at me patiently. ?They said I had days left to live. That the cancer had metastasized to my organs and bones. There was no hope,? he said calmly. ?I was prepared to die.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]Not a fan of dark moods, I said what came naturally. ?Sorry the docs let you down, buddy,? I chuckled and quickly changed the direction of the conversation. ?But why were you gone for so long??[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]Casey sighed. ?I was cured within six months but apparently I was reacting to the treatment strangely. That?s the part I don?t remember very well. I thought I handled all those stress tests fine; I felt better than ever. I was gaining weight back and everything. But the doctors told me that I failed them and that I had to minimize any activity.? He reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie with some pills. ?I have to take these three times a day and avoid any physical exertion.? He smiled. ?They taste like death.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?What do they do?? I asked.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?They supposedly keep my body from falling apart. Exercise in a bottle my doctor said.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I was intrigued. ?Do they work?? I asked and Casey surprised me by taking off his shirt, revealing the body of a healthy teenager. He was by no means as built as I was. Although couple of inches taller than my 5?7? I probably still outweighed him by a few pounds. But for someone who apparently never exercised, he looked pretty good. [/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]?You been cheating, Casey?? I asked with a grin.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]My friend shook his head. ?No. I haven?t had a chance to. I?ve been on ?round the clock surveillance for years. In fact, this is the first time I can remember being away from doctors and parents at the same time.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]I looked at the pills in his hand. ?Um, Casey,? I began nervously. ?What would those pills do to someone like me? Someone who works out??[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]My friend shrugged nervously and looked at the baggy. ?I don?t know,? he said simply. ?They never told me what they are.? He paused and looked at me seriously. ?Not sure if I like where this is going.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]Damn, I thought. ?Dude, just one. You take them three times a day, every day. What would one do? It?s not like it?ll kill me. I?ll take one, you can help me finish my workout, and we?ll do something else.?[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]Casey looked back at the pills and then proved many parents right when it comes to estimating the decision-making skills of their young teen. ?All right,? he said and threw me one from his bag. My heart was fluttering in my chest. If this did what I wanted it to, I thought, Casey might have to tell his mom he lost his bottle.[/COLOR]
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[COLOR=silver]Casey helped me rack my weights and we began what was supposed to be the final thirty minutes of today?s workout.[/COLOR]
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[arpeejay]

Great (if somewhat melancholy) start -- looking forward to more!

xoxo

Richard

[GTlifter]

Nice a little gloomy but for the most part a nice setup and every interesting to what could happen to our two main characters

[TemptationIV]

omg can't wait for more!!!

[aiden831]

A bit gloomy, but sometimes gloom is a good thing. I'm looking forward to reading more, this has got my curiosity seriously going.

[nnnrg]

Only two things. One is technical. The other is exploring the story.

Leukemia doesn't normally metastasize as such. It's cancer of the white blood cells or of the marrow where those cells are generated.

Metastasizing is when a tissue cancer, which starts in one location and grows as a mass, breaks loose of the surrounding tissue and some of the cells go wandering. It spreads in the bloodstream and lymphatic system, attaching to suitable spots where it takes root (literally by talking the surrounding tissue into growing capillaries etc into it to feed it) and then just grows.

Leukemia in general isn't a tissue-cancer because white cells don't group together, even in the marrow. White cells are part of blood, and are already spread through the body. While they don't form tissue masses (from what I've been able to find in quick lookups), they kill by doing other stupid things - basically, too many white cells, that don't properly communicate with the immune system, crowd out other cells (bad in the marrow!) or attack and destroy other cells and organs because they misfire.

Basically white cells are like the armed forces of the body, and leukemia is like your body has turned into a third-world country with no functioning government and some selfish rebel leader taking half the army and attacking against the rest with no desire to make anything better, just for personal gain. Then everything dies.

HOWEVER. If this isn't a normal leukemia, if it's a new or very different kind, then yeah, it could be acting abnormally, making tissue, which would be freaky and weird.
OR, it could just be the easiest way to explain the leukemia in marrow cells becoming invasive. His mom could also have gotten the terms wrong. Not like I've never seen an otherwise reasonable intelligent adult get the detailed information about a disease completely sideways.

Here's the story exploration.

The leukemia was days from killing him. It had attacked and destroyed other cells and organs, they did a treatment, which by the way is very similar to one that was done to my mom's third husband (before they married) when he had leukemia - for him it was a whole-blood replacement and a form of early chemo, since it was in the late 1960s.
The filter-and-enzyme procedure is consistent with the cancer starting in the marrow, they would have tried to do a marrow replacement but that's always dependent on finding a donor or being able to get enough "good" marrow and bank it while keeping the bad stuff suppressed, to do the work with (yeah, I have a friend who has THAT cancer, too...)

So if he's on the filter, then they may be adding something more than an enzyme - some kinds of T-cell cancer are due to a virus that makes them immortal, the inverse of AIDS. They're not supposed to keep reproducing but they do.
I am going to speculate a hack to the virus to affect ALL his cells, to make them equivalently immortal and to down-regulate their reproduction to keep them from going crazy, and to change the cancerous white cells to behave in line with the body instead of attacking it.

But if they're doing that then they're messing with a necessary system that keeps things in balance.

Sure, the pills could be the ones that say "GROW" because his body could be trying to kill itself. OR, they could be the ones that say "Die now" because his body would be trying to just grow too much. (And there's probably more than one kind of pill, given at different times, plus a shot or two.)

They gave him something that 'tastes like death', which poetically could mean 'suppress his growth." Or they could do exactly what they told him: keep his cells from going prematurely.

It would be BAD for our unnamed hero to take pills that tell his cells to die.
It would be WORSE if those pills were there to keep his cells from dying from an over-active immune system telling cells that they should die... because that normally happens when cells are damaged, or cancerous.

This is not going to work the way our unnamed narrator wants it to work, I suspect.
I am looking forward to the story