About the Author: ROBERT LOPRESTI is a retired librarian, living in the Pacific Northwest. His eighty-plus stories have won Derringer and Black Orchid Novella Awards, and been reprinted in Best American Mystery Stories. He blogs at SleuthSayers and Little Big Crimes. roblopresti.com
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “There’s no way we can help you.”
Turner sat still, wondering what he was supposed to be feeling. Rage? Disappointment? Despair?
Numb. That’s how he felt. Numb.
He swallowed. “Dr. Madison, from what I hear this experiment—”
“Clinical trial.”
Turner shrugged. “It’s my only hope. Why can’t I get in? I know I don’t have insurance …”
It never seemed necessary. He had expected to die young or spend most of his life in prison, getting any treatment he needed on the government’s dime. “But I’ve got plenty of money.”
Madison shook her head. She was an attractive African-American woman in her forties, with tightly-curled hair cut short. “There would be no cost to participate in the trial, Mr. Kass. You simply don’t qualify.”
“Why? I’m too sick?”
“No, you’re too young.”
Turner blinked. “Excuse me?”
“The protocols for these trials are very precise. They must be in order to get meaningful results. This one is for men between ages forty and fifty. You’re only thirty-eight.”
He felt his pulse pounding in his ears. “You’re saying you won’t help me live longer because I’m dying so young? Seriously?”