Jack had written a paper on the symptoms of PTSD in retired US military personnel. Besides various battlefield factors, he also addressed the effects of medication.
The paper received high praise from his beloved Professor Cahill, but then was shelved.
There was no way around it. In this supposedly free country, perhaps there weren't the worries of blocked words, but for a federal employee to sarcastically criticize pharmaceutical interests was a sign of a genuine lack of progress.
While this might seem uncharacteristic and suffocating, like Reacher, another hulking figure yearning for freedom, facing pressure from the military brass, he had no choice but to disband the 110th Special Investigations Unit.
Lone heroes are so because they have nothing to lose but themselves, just like the Punisher, Jack's favorite Marvel hero.
However, despite his admiration, even Reacher hadn't been pushed to that level by the world, let alone Jack. On the contrary, leveraging his understanding of this strange, fused world, he thrived.
Whether it was his own understanding of veteran syndrome, depicted countless times in American television series in his past life, or his current life's training as a psychologist, Jack immediately understood what Brian Palmer's wife was saying.
"Alcoholism, drug addiction, unexplained mania, and depression, right?"
Palmer's wife glanced at Jack with some surprise, then nodded with some difficulty, seeming surprised and somewhat embarrassed by the accuracy of Jack's description.
"I can tell Brian doesn't want to be like this, but sometimes he struggles to control his impulses. He often shuts himself in his room and doesn't talk for days, worried he might hurt me and the kids.
It's terrible, but we're all trying, especially Brian. He's changed a lot since moving out. He's put himself on a strict alcohol plan and thrown away all his painkillers.
I remember the last time we met, he smiled and told me he was feeling much better and we'd be able to soon..."
Palmer's wife struggled to suppress her tears, avoiding the attention of her two children. Just then, a nurse wearing protective clothing, goggles, and a 3M mask approached the room door, interrupting their conversation.
The nurse was there to collect a blood sample, and feeling they couldn't get much more information out of her, Jack and Danny simply took their leave.
During their conversation, Danny had texted Kono, who was back at headquarters, about the Waves Hotel.
So by the time the two drove there, CDC staff had already completed the disinfection and placed red tape on the hotel room door.
It was obvious that this was a small, decent hotel. At least it had a clean-looking public swimming pool, where a CDC worker was collecting water samples.
Danny put on gloves and a mask as he walked. "What do you think about me having Rachel take Grace to the mainland for a few days?"
"Just treat it like a vacation. Don't let them come into contact with too many people along the way. If they really don't have anywhere else to go, consider Los Angeles. I have a lot of friends there who can help take care of them."
Jack didn't think there was anything wrong with that. When Los Angeles was hit by the hemorrhagic fever terrorist attack, the first thing his colleagues at the Wilshire Police Department did was notify their families.
"That's not necessary. I'm planning on having them stay at my parents' house in New Jersey for two days and book flights as soon as possible," Danny said, pulling out his phone and typing away.
Jack pulled out an evidence bag and, after Danny finished sending his message, gestured for him to drop his phone inside. Smallpox is primarily transmitted through contact, making phones a good carrier and easily overlooked.
"Are you sure it's safe for us to go in like this?" Danny said, a timid expression on his face as he reached the door.
Jack sniffed the faint scent of disinfectant that permeated the air and gave him a reassuring look. "Smallpox only infects humans. It can't multiply in the wild, nor can it survive in the air."
As the two spoke, CDC staff had packed up all the clothing and bedding in the room, sealed them in bags marked with the biohazard symbol, and carefully sprayed the mattress with disinfectant.
Smallpox can't survive in the air, but it can remain active in clothing and dry dust for over a year. Those handkerchiefs and blankets used by patients were one of the weapons used to exterminate Native Americans.
"This doesn't look like a dark corner." Danny looked at the two large bags of clothing and bedding that had been taken away, then at the furnishings in the room.
The CDC staff, under instructions, had taken care to ensure the integrity of the scene as much as possible, and the clothing would be thoroughly inspected before being destroyed.
But the room was impeccably clean, unlike the residence of a bachelor. There were no cigarette ashes, empty bottles, or scattered debris.
"12 Steps to Sobriety," Jack pointed to a note taped to the closet. "It looks like, just like his wife said, Palmer has truly made up his mind."
Danny opened the mini-fridge and nodded in agreement, glancing at the dried apples, moldy pumpernickel bread, and jam inside. "He even eats pretty healthy, well, the kind of healthy we used to eat."
After Jack's education, his view of healthy food had completely changed.
Jack checked the bathroom cabinets and, as expected, found no medications. It seemed Palmer was indeed trying to change his ways. So, what was the reason for his sudden disappearance?
"Uh, Jack?" Danny pulled out a plastic box from the bottom of the refrigerator, his hands shaking a little, "Do you think Palmer could have committed suicide?"
"What?" Jack stared at the two small bottles of medicine and several disposable injection needles in the box in his hand in amazement.
-
"I felt like I was holding the launch button of a nuclear weapon just now." Danny rubbed his arms vigorously and urged Jack to pour more disinfectant alcohol on him.
"Doesn't the label on the box say 'Cyclotriptine'? I checked and it's an antidepressant that is in the clinical trial stage."
However, Jack's comfort did not seem to have much effect. Danny looked at a lump that had appeared on his arm at some point, and couldn't help but "turn pale."
"Did you see it? What is this?"
"A mosquito bite." Jack just found out that his cheap "uncle" actually has a talent for comedy.
(End of this chapter)