Sealed With Anguish

         Declan Adaire stared at the endless pile of bills and orders covering his desk. He held each one numerous times, reading each carefully as if the details would magically change from when he last read it. He owned the only blood and anatomy pharmacy for miles. How could he tell his friends and neighbors that he cannot afford to stay open anymore? Just as he felt tempted to set fire to his problem, there was a knock at the door.

         A young girl with rusty curls sparkling in the sunlight entered, clutching her Raggedy Ann doll. Failing to grab her father’s attention at once, she sauntered to his side. “Daddy?” She said with a tug of his shirt.

         “Deliah, not now. Daddy’s busy.”

         “Momma wanted me to tell you Mr. Nos has to talk to you.”

         “Tell Mommy I’ll be there in a minute,” he said. Declan waited for his only daughter to leave before tossing the papers aside for another day. He stopped at the door, breathing one last puff of sorrow before putting on his merchant smile. “Mr. Nos, I hear you need to speak with me.”

         “I was wondering if this new blood pill has any side effects. I don’t want to be struck with a bout of drowsiness while dismembering a client. You know how I am,” he said, tugging on his charcoal jacket.

         “This medication won’t make you drowsy. It’s only side effect is increased appetite. You’re to take it twice a day before meals,” he said. “We received a shipment of your favorite brand of white strips yesterday.”

         “Really? That is marvelous. The generic product you carry did not give me the sparkling white I am accustomed to.”

         As the two men went on to discuss the usual neighborhood gossip, Mrs. Adaire retrieved the item from the storeroom. “I did hear about the new member of our community,” Declan said. “Just because he chooses not to attend our annual block party doesn’t mean he hates us. Maybe he has a good reason. I mean is it really our place to force newcomers to participate in our activities if they don’t want to.”

         “My, my Declan. You are getting soft in your old age. I do not agree with having THOSE kinds of people in our neighborhood but as long as we are allowing them to be here, they could at least be hospitable.”

         “Those kinds of people? They’re not the most sanitized bunch but werewolves are hardly troublemakers,” he said.

         “You must be joking. Howling all hours of the night, shedding their fur everywhere and that is not even the worst of it,” Mr. Nos said. “Our neighborhood would be better off without THOSE people.”

         “Stop exaggerating. It’s not that bad.”

         “What’s not that bad?” Mrs. Adaire asked, placing the item before them.

         “Nothing, honey. Will that be all, Mr. Nos?”

         He shifted as he searched the displays on the counter for anything he might need or want. “I guess not. Just put it on my tab.”

         “Mr. Nos, your tab reached the fifty dollar limit last week,” Declan said, using his stained handkerchief to dab sweat from his brow.

         “So what are you saying exactly?”

         Mrs. Adaire gave her husband a slight nudge. With a sigh, he replied, “Uh…I’m saying you need to either…uh…pay your bill or your purchase. It’s store policy. You understand, right?”

         “I understand being your most loyal customer means absolutely nothing to you. I have been doing business with you for fifteen years. When have I ever not paid my bill?” he asked, raising his needle nose in to the air. Before Declan could reply, Mr. Nos continued, “Never. I have always handled my debts in a timely manner because that is what gentlemen do.” He retrieved his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket.

         Declan smoothed his greasy, slate hair as Mr. Nos fumbled through his pockets, pulling out a gold money clip. “I truly appreciate your business after all this time. I really do, but you must understand. I have my own bills to pay.”

         “And I am a man on a budget. You know I was not as lucky as ‘some’ people were with the new tax breaks. Cannibals are the last ones to benefit from anything despite the public service we perform.” He snatched his purchase from the counter, replacing it with cash. With an eye roll, he headed towards the door. “I hope my contribution helps you with that so called debt problem,” he replied, disappearing out on to the street.

         Declan felt his wife’s hand rest on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. He’ll get over it,” she said. “Mr. Nos is stubborn but a reasonable man. You’ll see. Tomorrow, he’ll be back chatting your ear off about something else.”

         He sighed. Declan added the money to the sparse cash drawer and went back to his office of debt horrors. “Honey, can you flip the sign and lock the door before you leave?”

         “You’re not coming home?”

         “No, I have to pay some bills.”

         “How bad are we doing? I can go back to work at the Blood Bank if we really need the money,” she said, pulling on her plaid overcoat.

         Declan joined his concerned wife in the doorway. Taking her hands into his, he looked in to her ice blue eyes. “We’re fine, okay? The whole point of you quitting your job was so you could spend more time with the kids,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of everything.”

         “Liar,” she said with a slight smile. “I’ll spank you later. Your dinner will be in the microwave. Please don’t be too late.”

         “I won’t. Love you,” he said. They shared a kiss. He watched her sashay to the entrance. Her walk still brought warmth to his cold heart. Declan couldn’t tell her the truth. He didn’t need her to worry. The bell over the front door rang, signaling her final exit and his need to return to financial hopelessness.

         Before he had a chance to re-examine the damage, a knick emanated  from the storefront. I wonder who that could be. He cautiously stepped out from behind his desk. Everyone knew he was closed at this hour. Declan stopped and peeked around the doorway. A clean-shaven man stood outside dressed in a black suit, chatting on his cell phone.

         He was the kind of man you turn your lights off and hide behind a sofa from. The man continued to tap on the glass as Declan ducked from his eyesight. He didn’t need anymore bad news. The stranger remained focused on his phone conversation. The business talk ended a few seconds later. He checked his watch and leaned in for a closer look. It was Declan’s misfortune to be directly in his line of sight.

         “Hello? Mr. Adaire? I’m from Bleed Dry Pharmaceuticals. Your wife said you were here,” he said. “Can I have a moment of your time?”

         Declan hesitated, trying to pretend he didn’t hear the salesman, but persistence was the man’s middle name. He continued to call out for him. Might as well get this over with. Declan acknowledged him with a wave as he made his way to the door.

         “I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a proposition for you,” the man said.

         I bet you do. Declan fidgeted with his keys, delaying the encounter further. “Come in, Mr….?”

         “Theodore Dracul but all my friends call me Ted. I have a feeling you and I are going to be good friends,” he said with a smile Jaws would be proud of and the foul breath to match.

         “Friends, huh? You’re jumping the gun a little bit, don’t you think? I mean we just met,” he said. “I haven’t decided whether or not to let you in.”

         “Whoa Declan. May I call you Declan?” Declan shook his head as he folded his arms across his chest. “Okay…Mr. Adaire. I’m only here to help you. All I ask is for a chance to plead my case.” He stared at Mr. Dracul, weighing his options. “It’ll only take a few minutes. What’s the worst that can happen?”

         Against his better judgment, Declan stepped aside, inviting Mr. Dracul to his office. Couldn’t hurt to listen to what the leech has to say. He won’t leave otherwise.

         “I want to thank you, Mr. Adaire. I promise it won’t take long,” Mr. Dracul said, as they sat across from one another.

         “Good because I don’t have time to waste on this nonsense.”

         “I see you’re going to be a tough skull to crack but that’s okay. You’re a hardworking man. I respect that,” he said, placing his briefcase on a nearby chair. “I understand you own the only blood and anatomy pharmacy in this part of the city.”

         “That’s correct,” he said, trying to quiet his trembling hands. Declan concealed his weakness in his lap from Dracul.

         “I’m sure you have the loyalty and respect of all your customers, but from the looks of that stack of bills, not much else.”

         Declan quickly relocated the papers into an open drawer. “My business is doing just fine, Mr. Dracul. As a matter of fact, I was in the middle of paying bills when you showed up.”

         Dracul revealed his snake side with the mere mention of the word. “You’re the kind of proprietor who would allow a customer short on cash to pay on their next visit. It makes you a good guy with customers, but not with the creditors.”

         “Mr. Dracul, everyone around here is hardworking people. The cost of living increases every year, making it a bit more impossible to survive off what little some jobs pay. I don’t make it a habit of taking advantage of my neighbors unlike some people.”

         Dracul ignored his comment. “Nice family you have there,” he replied, pointing at a photo on the desk. “It’s an honorable thing you’re doing here, Mr. Adaire. But why should you suffer from financial burden while tending to the needs of this community?”

         Declan knew he was right. He wanted to help the community but his own family would soon be starving. Suddenly, Mr. Dracul’s snake oil was churning into gold, drop by drop.

         “You’re not going to be able to help these people if you can’t even afford to feed your own family. I can help you keep your doors open to the public and food on your table,” he said.

         Declan felt the overwhelming need to toss Dracul out as soon as possible, but became paralyzed by desperation. A bitter taste developed in his mouth. His stomach gargled with disapproval.

         “What do you say, Mr. Adaire?” he said. “Are you willing to see what Bleed Dry Pharmaceuticals can do for you?”

         His eyes bounced from the papers peeking from the drawer and the picture of his family. He had no other options. “Okay, Mr. Dracul. What do you have to offer?”

         Mr. Dracul opened his briefcase, reeling in his fish. Declan spent the next hour or so listening to his master plan. It couldn’t be as easy as he claimed it to be. “So, you’re saying your company would be willing to provide my store with medical supplies no cost to me. Sounds a little too good to be true,” he said. “What’s the catch?”

         “All that is asked of you is a customer list: names, addresses and past prescriptions,” he said. “One tiny thing to save money. What do you have to lose?”

         “Let me get this straight. You want me to drop my medical supplier. The one I’ve used for twenty years and has always been good to me. All in exchange for free medical supplies and my customers personal information. Give me one good reason why I should.”

         “Because if you don’t, your business will go bankrupt. Because the nearest pharmacy is 60 miles down the road and charge twice what you do. You and your family could end up on the streets, starving. Your friends in a similar boat. Do you really want that?”

         It was the last thing he wanted. “No, I don’t,” he said.

         “So sign with Bleed Dry. Let us help you help others,” he said, placing the contract before Declan.

         Declan gazed at the document and the foreign legalese. His lunch knew attempted reappearance. Mr. Dracul was right. “Before I decide whether or not to sign this, I need to know what you’re planning to do with the information.”

         “It’ll only be used for promotions, letters, flyers, samples. That kind of thing. It’s all there in the contract,” he replied. “So, do we have a deal?”

         Part of him knew Mr. Dracul was lying but had no choice. He picked up his lucky pen his father gave him and signed his name on the appropriate areas. For seconds, Declan firmly rested his pen on the papers. He wasn’t ready for it to be a done deal, but Mr. Dracul tugged on them until they were free.

         “You won’t regret this, Mr. Adaire,” he said. “I promise.”

         “Yes I will.” Declan looked on while Mr. Dracul eagerly stuffed his briefcase and flashed yet another smile.

         “We’ll need that list by the end of next week. You can fax it here,” he said, handing Declan his business card. “Once we receive it, your first shipment will arrive in a few weeks. If you have any questions, feel free to call the number on the card. Customer service will help you with anything you need. Pleasure doing business with you.” He was gone as quickly as he came, leaving a sleazy film behind.

         Declan’s head collapsed in to his hands. “Oh my God. What have I done?”

         Declan drove home in a trance. Everything about their apartment was as he left it. The pictures hung on the pale green walls. Toys scattered across the living room floor. His dinner was in the microwave they received as a wedding gift. The same “would do anything for anyone” Declan wouldn’t be eating it, not that he was hungry anyways. As he shuffled to his bedroom he shared with his wife for twenty-two years, Declan stopped in front of his kid’s room.

         Pushing the door open, dim light from the hallway illuminated their slumber. “I did the right thing. I know I did,” he whispered, examining every facial feature. With one final sigh, he pulled the door to and joined his sleeping wife.

         Declan handed over the customer list to Mr. Dracul the next day and the first shipment of supplies was delivered as promised. After the deliverymen left, he stared at the boxes cluttering his storeroom, the Bleed Dry label staring back at him. He knew as soon as he opened one that the deal was final. There was no going back. He sucked in one final breath of his old life and retrieved a box cutter from his pocket. A familiar ringing sound and the call of his wife jarred him back in to reality. He could no longer put it off. Declan thrust the sharp blade through the tape as a bead of his sweat fell on to the tainted cardboard.

         Weeks went by and the complex knot in his stomach slowly untwined. Business continued as if the dirty deal had never taken place. A customer would comment about some drug sample making its way onto their doorstep. Declan nodded and made some dismissive remark as if it wasn’t important though his face became paler than usual from every encounter. He hoped nothing would ever come out of such incidents. After a few months of silence, he calmed himself down and continued as if it never happened. The little voice plaguing his mind would always remain.

         One warm July day, the nightmare began. Declan gathered some last minute donations while his wife finished cleaning up the pharmacy . Just as they were heading out, Mr. Nos, along with a few other citizens, rushed to the site of the party. He slowed his pace long enough to relay the news to a curious Declan. “Something is wrong with the Mirks. They collapsed outside their building.”

         The Adaires ran with the crowd to the scene. As they grew closer, a crowd grew before them. They attached themselves to the mass and listened in on to their whispers.

         “Such a shame. I heard Ricky poisoned his family. Then killed himself,” a woman to his right said. “You know he lost his job yesterday, right?”

         “I heard that too, but I don’t think he’s homicidal much less suicidal. Emilia said they took some drug they got in the mail,” her female comrade replied.

         “Really? Well….Emilia would know. Everyone has been getting these free drug samples in the mail. I know I have but I didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to actually take them.”

         They avoided the advances of the drooling zombie twins and moved closer to center stage. Declan left his wife, staying close to their side. He feared his worst nightmare had come true.

         “Ricky and Darlene can’t afford the meds they need any more. I know Declan tries but even his prices are too steep for some of us. A company sending the exact drugs we need for free doesn’t sound too bad of an idea.”

         “I know but these days you pay a price for free. Besides, drugs in the mail scream dangerous.”

         Talk from others confirmed what the women were saying. A lethal amount of silver found its way into some of the medications floating around the community. The Mirks were the few who weren’t so lucky. He knew they wouldn’t be the only ones. Others would be sacrificed because of his pact. He wanted to take responsibility for it all, but after looking in to the eyes of his true love, he said nothing.