Skin : the X-files by Ben Mezrich Read Free Book Online Page A

medically abnormal about Stanton—and nothing that he thought would have provoked a psychotic episode. But something I’ve learned working homicide in New York for the past twenty years—people crack for no good reason.”
    The chart was six pages long, full of scrawled medical descriptions and evaluations. Stanton had arrived at Jamaica’s emergency room with a full-thickness third-degree steam burn on his right thigh. He had also been complaining of difficulty breathing, and had been given IV Solumedol, a strong steroid. After his breathing had stabilized, he had been prepped and wheeled into an operating room. Dr. Bernstein had performed an escharotomy—cutting away the damaged skin around 48

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    the burn to prepare it for transplant—and had then attached a section of donor skin over the burn site.
    The procedure had gone off without a snag; Stanton had awakened in the recovery room, complaining only of mild discomfort. If all had gone well, the temporary graft would have remained over the area of the burn for two weeks, at which time Stanton would have received a permanent matched graft from another part of his body, most likely his lower back.
    Although Scully wasn’t a plastic surgeon, there didn’t seem to be anything about the transplant procedure itself that would have caused Stanton’s violent reaction. But there was something in the chart that struck Scully as a possible explanation.
    She moved next to Mulder and showed him the indication on the chart. “Stanton was given a fairly large dose of Solumedol, Mulder. It’s an extremely potent steroid. There have been numerous documented cases of patients reacting violently to steroids—sort of an allergic neurological response. Rare, but definitely not unique.” Mulder looked at the IV rack bisecting the air between them. “Steroidal rage? Scully, he was given the Solumedol before the transplant procedure—but didn’t explode until hours later.”
    Scully shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be an immediate reaction. The neurotransmitters build up in the nervous system. The procedure itself could have aggravated his body’s reaction—and when the anesthesia from the operation wore off, his psychosis detonated.” 49

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    Mulder looked skeptical. “Wouldn’t Dr. Bernstein have mentioned the possibility to Detective Barrett?” Barrett was watching them from the window, her arms still crossed against her chest. She coughed, letting Scully and Mulder know she was still in the room. “I’m sure I would have remembered if he had. He’s performing a laser surgery at the moment—but you can interview him again when he’s finished.” Scully nodded. Mulder seemed dissatisfied with Scully’s quick answer to Stanton’s psychosis. As Scully watched, he pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his jacket pocket and slipped them over his fingers. Then he placed both hands gingerly against the IV rack. Barrett watched him with a smirk on her oversized lips.
    “It’s in pretty good. I tried for twenty minutes. I doubt you’ll be able to do any better.” Mulder smiled at the challenge, then leaned back, using his weight against the rack. The muscles of his arms worked beneath his dark suit, and his face grew taut, sweat beading above his eyebrows. He tried for a full minute, then gasped, giving up. “I guess neither of us gets to be king.”
    There was a brief pause, then Barrett laughed. The sound was somewhere between a diesel engine and a death rattle. Scully was glad that Mulder’s charm had broken through some of Barrett’s hostility. As long as they were going to have to work together, it would help if they could interact in a civil manner. Scully cleared her throat. “As long as we’re waiting for Dr. Bernstein—you 50

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    mentioned Stanton’s daughter? Perhaps she can bring us up to speed on Professor Stanton.” Barrett nodded. “Out in the hallway. The pretty thing with the finger paint all over her shirt. She’s been here