Chapter 23 - The Yellow Tablets
Edward remembered them.
Yellow chewable tablets.
Orange flavored.
Free.
The factory distributed them through an employee wellness program.
“Everyone took them,” he said.
Thomas shook his head.
“Not everyone.”
Only employees with children received them.
Marketing language claimed factory workers exposed to metals might benefit from nutritional support for their families.
No prescription.
No medical supervision.
Just bottles sent home every month.
Thomas took them from age seven to fifteen.
Edward from age four to eleven.
Thomas developed weakness.
Edward did not—at least not then.
Helen obtained one old bottle from Thomas after Briarwood.
Ward 47.
NR-2 appeared in the tablets.
“What is NR-2?” Ethan asked.
Leah searched.
No modern pharmaceutical listing.
Thomas explained.
An experimental chelating additive.
Designed to bind trace metals.
Never approved as a medication.
The factory’s consulting physician believed tiny doses might reduce secondary household exposure carried home on workers’ clothing.
Good intention.
Terrible process.
No trial.
No informed consent.
No proper follow-up.
Thomas became the first child whose neurological symptoms raised questions.
But there was a problem.
The tablets did not explain everyone.
Some children took them and remained healthy.
Some symptomatic adults never took them.
Some later Meridian workers developed similar weakness after completely different exposures.
“Then NR-2 isn't the answer,” Ethan said.
Thomas nodded.
“Correct.”
Ethan almost laughed.
Of course.
Another tempting single cause.
Another vial.
Another magic explanation.
No.
Leah reviewed Thomas’s old bloodwork.
NR-2 might have worsened symptoms in susceptible individuals.
Perhaps by altering mineral balance.
Perhaps through an interaction with another exposure.
No certainty.
“What does this have to do with Olivia?” Ethan asked.
Thomas looked at him.
“The school site.”
Historical maps revealed something strange.
Cole Industrial Ceramics had not manufactured NR-2.
The vitamin contractor did.
A small company called Aster Nutritional Research.
Its pilot plant occupied the land now beneath Olivia’s athletic field.
KX-4 came from the neighboring factory.
NR-2 waste potentially came from Aster.
Two contamination histories overlapped.
That was why Thomas appeared outside school.
He had been watching environmental contractors drill test wells.
Not Olivia.
But why request her Meridian file?
Thomas denied doing it.
Ethan looked at Leah.
“The authorization came from the original principal investigator.”
“Helen,” Leah said.
“Helen is dead.”
Thomas’s face changed.
“What request?”
They showed him.
The access credential used Helen’s original principal-investigator certificate.
Thomas stared at the timestamp.
“That credential was revoked.”
“When?”
“Thirty years ago.”
“Then how is it working?”
Thomas knew exactly where the original credential had been stored.
With Helen’s pre-Meridian archive.
Not hospital records.
Physical archive.
A small safe at the former Aster site.
The site beneath Olivia’s school.
Ethan felt cold.
“Someone found it during construction.”
Thomas nodded.
That explained the access.
Not Helen alive.
Not supernatural.
A physical token recovered from old buried records.
Someone used it.
Who?
The school contractor provided surveillance footage.
Two weeks earlier, workers uncovered a sealed metal box during excavation.
The foreman opened it.
Inside were paper files, two sample bottles and an old security token.
Before authorities arrived, one consultant photographed everything.
Then took the token.
Name:
Dr. Adrian Vale.
Environmental toxicologist.
Leah recognized him.
“He’s on the Meridian independent review panel.”
Ethan stared.
The same panel created after settlement.
One of the experts entrusted to untangle history.
Vale admitted taking the token when police contacted him.
He claimed he feared the evidence would be mishandled.
He used it to access Olivia’s file.
“Why her?” Ethan demanded.
Vale’s answer was calm.
“Because her annual screens are the cleanest control we have.”
Ethan nearly crossed the room.
“My daughter is not your control.”
Vale raised both hands.
“I didn't enroll her.”
“You accessed her records.”
“Yes.”
“Without permission.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Vale hesitated.
That was enough to make Ethan afraid.
Leah stepped in.
“Say it.”
Vale had compared Olivia’s normal neurological screenings with three other descendants of Cole Industrial workers.
Two showed early abnormalities.
One was eleven.
One fourteen.
No symptoms yet.
He feared current environmental exposure at the school could complicate interpretation.
“Are children being exposed now?”
“We don't know.”
“Then why did you secretly access records?”
“Because if I raised an alarm without evidence, the district would shut everything down, families would panic and contaminated-site litigation would begin before we even knew whether there was a current risk.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
Thomas closed his eyes.
Helen’s mistake.
Again.
Protect people from uncertainty by hiding uncertainty.
Vale looked ashamed.
“I thought I could verify quietly.”
Ethan said:
“You don't get to decide quietly.”
Before police escorted Vale out, he handed Leah one result.
The soil testing had returned.
NR-2 itself was not present.
It degraded decades ago.
But one by-product remained.
Not considered highly toxic.
Not enough to explain historic disease.
Ethan exhaled.
Then Leah noticed the appendix.
A groundwater sample contained something else.
A naturally occurring mineral at unusually high concentration.
Manganese.
Thomas leaned closer.
His face changed.
“No.”
“What?”
He looked at Ethan.
“We tested for that in 1974.”
“And?”
“It was high then too.”
Leah frowned.
“High manganese exposure can affect the nervous system, but the patterns depend on dose and route. It still doesn't automatically explain your family.”
Thomas nodded.
“I know.”
“Then why are you scared?”
Thomas pointed at the old yellow-tablet formula.
NR-2 was designed to bind metals.
But one unpublished animal study suggested it could alter manganese absorption unpredictably.
Ethan understood.
Not one cause.
An interaction.
Factory dust.
Groundwater.
A badly designed supplement.
Genetic susceptibility possibly layered underneath.
Thomas whispered:
“Helen didn't hide one disease.”
“She hid the fact that nobody ever knew which part of the environment, medicine and family biology mattered most.”
Then Olivia spoke from the doorway.
May you like
“I drank from the school fountains for six years.”
Nobody answered.
