Delayed Consequences Poem by David Welch

His name was Alex Bergeron,
grew up west of New Orleans,
from a line of backwoods Cajuns,
went to school to follow his dreams.

He grew to become a doctor,
quickly built a name for himself,
Alex built himself a good life,
with tough cases would always help.

He brought home plenty of money,
and after his own father died,
moved his mother into his house,
she needed help, so he'd provide.

All those years of saving people
caught some eyes at the CDC,
they asked him to consult one day,
so Alex went in happily.

But the eyes that greeted him there
were full of grimness, every one,
the lead said, "We've noticed a trend,
and we fear that it is not done.

"We're seeing middle-aged women
dropping dead at much higher rates,
from heart attacks driven by fright,
from some sort of panic, they say.

"We need a researcher out there
to look into what's causing this,
you come highly recommended,
and we're at the end of our wits."

Alex looked at all their data,
saw no cause uniting the dead,
started his mental gears turning,
he looked up and nodded his head.

"This does seem to be a strange one…
all these woman around seventy,
seems too young to just die these days,
and I do like a mystery.

"I'll request a leave of absence,
a sabbatical, to go ‘round,
look more closely at these cases,
it will take time to run them down."

The CDC thanked him for this,
brought HR in to write a contract,
three weeks later Alex went out
looking to find some cold, hard facts.

But as he went to hospitals,
reviewed coroner records there,
he found very little that matched,
he looked, but there was nothing there.

No common place for exposure,
no pathogens that they all had,
no similarity in genes,
it was enough to drive you mad.

Different women, different backgrounds,
and no common factor for all,
after two months he just felt stuck,
like he'd just run into a wall.

But inspiration soon did come,
and did so from the strangest place,
a shrill protest on the TV,
going on about Roe vs. Wade.

It spurred in him a strange idea,
but he followed it on a whim,
yet as he looked back at the charts
one fact soon became clear to him.

All of the woman who had died
had gone to clinics way back when,
they had been young and got pregnant,
must've been the mid-seventies then.

That was just after Roe vs. Wade,
the coincidence was shocking,
but how could that be connected
to these women up and dying?

He poured over this fact for weeks,
asked others looking for a ‘why, '
pressed by new reports flooding in,
more news of women who had died.

Four months brought no explanation,
and the deaths kept piling up,
the news reported on it now,
things were getting more and more rough.

Middle-aged women lived in fear,
and their families felt the same,
the panic became more widespread
that it put Covid fear to shame.

His hospital gave him more time,
other doctors were brought in quick,
but they found the same as he did,
nothing they tried would do the trick.

Others found the one connection,
the abortions far back in the past,
but none would speak out publicly,
that would end their careers quite fast.

Six months in Alex was watching
cam footage from a woman's home,
she'd been found dead by her front door,
same cause, same connection was known.

It was peering at the footage,
rubbing his dry and bloodshot eyes,
that he saw a tiny blur of light,
shoot for the woman from one side.

It was the shortest of moments,
but clear on the old woman's face,
was a look of abject terror,
then she just slumped down in her place.

Again, on the slightest of whims,
he went back through the files and sought
out footage of their last moments,
on three videos death was caught.

Peering close, he saw on each one,
the small light blur, coming for them,
it was no video artifact,
he had them checked again and again.

Others thought that he was crazy,
they said he'd been working too hard,
the CDC told him to rest,
but he'd already come too far.

He sought for an explanation,
even when he was taken off,
no science seemed to explain it,
never had Alex felt so lost.

But one night when the TV was
on just to provide background noise,
he heard something that caught his ear,
from a junk show they called Ghost Boys.

It was some man talking about
how ghosts screw with electronics,
they can even be caught on camera,
those strange words just made it all click.

He couldn't believe he thought this,
all his training said he was mad,
but folks kept dying, so he felt
he must check all ideas, even bad.

He tracked down people who proclaimed
they investigated such stuff,
they saw the film, and called it ‘ghost, '
though they didn't impress him much.

Most came across as amateurs,
and he almost stopped searching then,
his colleagues would think him insane…
but Alex went back out again.

He remembered his childhood,
Cajun stories of the bayou,
and one of an old witch doctor,
they claimed he still practiced voodoo.

He had seen the man once or twice,
he'd seemed rather old decades back,
but when Alex called some old friends
they said they could show him his track.

He felt crazy when he went out
on an airboat, into the swamp,
a friend brought him to a hummock
where a cabin rose like a lump.

Alex went forwards by himself,
saw a dim glow from the window,
the man was there, even older,
eyes blinded, hair whiter than snow.

Somehow he knew Alex was there,
and stalked carefully to the door,
then said, "Ah yes, you're Aaron's boy,
please, come in, excuse the dirt floor."

Alex walked inside cautiously,
taking the man in as he went,
the figure was skin stretched over bone,
his muscles long flaccid and spent.

He wore a snake around his neck,
which Alex realized was alive,
the man played to stereotypes,
but Alex still did go inside.

"I'll make some coffee, den we talk, "
said the aged man with a grin,
"I hear over da radio
of de trouble dat de world's in."

"Yes, it has been rather stressful, "
said Alex as he took the cup,
"I feel crazy for being here,
but it's not something I can give up."

The old man smiled, "Yes, I've heard
you helped folk de last hurricane.
Good men like you are all dat keep
dis poor world form goin' insane.

"But I talk to de spirit world,
for a man of science like you
to come to me means tings are bad,
at least from your own point-of-view."

Alex just nodded silently,
said, "I've seen things I can't explain,
but what I believe matters not,
there are people out there in pain."

The old man nodded. "You don't know
how true de words dat you speak are,
it's not sickness dat stalks women,
it is vengeance, anger, and scars.

"Dere are tings de spirits tell me,
‘bout a man's soul after it dies,
death is no little thing to those
who have only known sweetest life.

"Dey tell me dat it takes much time,
for dose dat God does not take high,
to understand just what death is,
what you are when you're not alive.

"Dey tell me it takes fifty years
for da dead mind to recollect,
and from da way you lookin' now
dat means something big, I expect."

Alex nodded, his mind quaking,
fifty years now since Roe vs. Wade,
small ghosts on film, women dying,
he knew what the old man would say…

"De people of de modern world
tink dat no rules apply to dem,
dat dey're too advance for such tings,
dat dey will face no consequence.

"But dere's always a price to pay,
nothing in dis world can come free,
dere's sixty million baby souls
who are rising up, and are angry."

Alex fought to breathe at the words,
part of him still claimed this was mad,
he said, "If I believe your words,
how do we prevent something bad? "

The old man's face frowned where he sat,
he shook his head side-to-side,
"When de spirits seek deir vengeance,
it is rare dat dey're ever denied.

"I'd tell dese women dey should pray,
ask God to tell dese babes their regret,
only His power can stop dis,
but most will not hear dis just yet.

"I wish I could tell you good news,
but da pride always leads to a fall,
dese rules were not just suggestions,
now I fear it will claim dem all…"

The old man looked down in his cup,
Alex didn't know what to ask,
but then a thought occurred to him
and he leapt up to his feet fast.

He remembered an old story
that his mother told him one time,
about wild days in college,
and a baby she chose to decline.

His frantic eyes met the old man
who seemed to know just what he feared,
"It's to give you a chance to save her…
dat's why da Big Man send you here."

Alex tore out of the cabin,
saw his friend there on the air boat,
cried, "Billy, turn the motor on!
There's no time now, we've got to go! "