The Boy Who Glowed in the Dark by Orest Stelmach Read Free Book Online Page B

you were a congressman or something.”
    “Why, do I look untrustworthy?” Nadia said.
    She glanced at Bobby and nodded. Now she believed him, Bobby thought.
    The driver pulled up to a red light. “You seem a little out of breath. You guys okay?”
    “Yeah,” Bobby said. “We’re okay.”
    “Yeah,” Nadia said. She glanced at Bobby again. “We had to run.”

CHAPTER 8

    L UO DROVE TO a health clinic thirty miles north of Kyiv on Monday morning. The Division of Nervous Pathologies was located on a campus consisting of four multistoried buildings that resembled concrete slabs. It was an abomination only man could have conjured, and a Soviet man at that. The campus was surrounded by a gorgeous forest, a pleasant contrast that reminded Luo of home.
    Luo met with an administrator in a stark office with metal furniture.
    “There were four medical classifications for Chornobyl victims,” the administrator said. “Sufferers, evacuees, cleanup workers, and nuclear plant workers. Our job was to formulate diagnostics, create medical classifications, and prescribe treatments.”
    “Did you find any records for a boy named Tesla?”
    The administrator reached for a manila folder. “I did. There were twenty-eight people named Tesla. Fifteen of them males.”
    “How many would be in their late teens today? Between sixteen and eighteen.”
    “Three. Two were from Kyiv. One was from Korosten. I remember the one from Korosten. His name was Adam. Incredible case.”
    “Why incredible?”
    “He was a stage II sufferer. Physical deformity at the ears. Thyroid problem. Not as bad as the girl.”
    “Girl? What girl?”
    “Adam came for dosimeter updates and treatments with a girl. They lived with the girl’s uncle. What was her name? It began with a vowel. Anna. No. Irina. No. Eva. Yes. That’s it. Eva.”
    “Tell me about them.”
    “They both had the benefit of being serednjaky .”
    Luo frowned.
    “ Serednjak is the Ukrainian word for middle-of-the-road, as in a wheat field. They say it’s best not to be the tallest or the shortest blade of wheat but somewhere in the middle. That way when the combine passes over you, you’re sure to be cut. The blade may mangle the tall wheat and miss the short one, but it’s sure to cut the one of average height. And so it was here, at the Division of Nervous Pathologies.”
    “How so?”
    “The short wheat—those who were not sick enough—might not have gotten any treatment. The tall wheat—those who were very sick—might have been too fragile to survive the treatment. The serednjak had the best chance for survival.”
    “And to your knowledge they survived?”
    “Both of them were stage II sufferers since birth. Their mothers lived in Pripyat in 1986 when the disasters occurred. And they were born in the area. Their symptoms worsened as they aged, which is typical. When the prognosis for Eva’s thyroid condition became grim, she had the requisite surgery. She was fifteen or so at the time. Which would have made Adam fourteen.” The administrator stared into space as though recalling an extraordinary event. “And then it started happening.”
    “What started happening?”
    “The radiation in their bodies began to gradually recede.”
    “What? It went away?”
    “Yes. We asked questions but found nothing in their diets or lifestyles that could explain their steady improvement.” The administrator checked his manila folder. “The last record I have of the boy visiting is approximately two years ago. Nothing since.”
    “Do you have an address? A next of kin?”
    The administrator gave Luo their home address in Korosten. “Eva passed away two years ago. Had an accident that required hospitalization. Died from an infection. Girl overcomes one illness only to succumb to another. What a tragedy.”
    “She’s happier in the spirit world, I am sure,” Luo said.
    The administrator frowned. “What spirit world?”
    “The one beneath the earth.”
    The administrator