The Greenwood Syndrome

The Greenwood Syndrome

By Theo Plesha

Let me preface this by saying that I spent two tours of duty in Iraq as an Apache gunship weapons officer. We spent most of the war dishing it out but at the base, we got rocketed three times, lost some birds on the ground, and from those explosions, I got a brutal case of tinnitus. I don't know how I did it but after the war and some in between, I found myself picking up a job at a Central Texas school district as the principal of a K through 12. I figured I was going to be the last one picked for the job, mostly on the account of my hearing – or lack of hearing.

Anyway, like I said, I've been to the Sandbox. I've seen a lot of chaotic things. As the weapons officer of a gunship, you have to be careful of those 30mm shells. They spread and they do some strange things once in awhile. You have to take care of the surroundings. At least, I did. I suppose I know some WOS who didn't. Nothing about deciding to shoot or not shoot from a thousand feet up prepared me for 1,500 kids in the same building. Not the mention the pandemic.

We expected a difficult August with COVID. We even expected to have to restart remote learning. We didn't expect what actually happened. I was filing the usual paper work one morning after school wide announcements when I was called down to the east side of the school to a second grade class room.

I met by the 2^(nd) grade home room teacher Mrs. Eddy and much to my surprise, the school's hulking primary nurse Mr. Thor. Mrs. Eddy was clearly in some kind of panic as she was arguing with the Mr. Thor. She explained that in the last half an hour about one third of the girls started to itch and scratch themselves on their arms, shoulders, and back.

I could tell Nurse Thor wasn't sure what she was getting at. He rattled off half a dozen reasons why this might be the case, mosquitoes, other bugs, or the poison oak no one got rid of near the west side entrance, possibly something as innocuous as an outbreak of chicken pox or prickly heat. I peaked through the window on the door into the class and saw twenty worried and distracted faces staring back and about ten scratching themselves with the intensity of flea ridden dog.

Mrs. Eddy threw her hands up at the nurse, turned and then pulled her shirt down and exposed her left shoulder and part of her back. “Look!” she exclaimed, “there are no bugs in the room, I went in through the east side entrance, and I've had the chicken pox! Now what is this? Is this some sort of new covid variant? One that got cooked up in one of the kids?”

The dismissive look on Nurse Thor's face melted into confusion and then worry. I peaked over and saw the beat red raised rash running up across her shoulder, bicep, and back. It was impacted by an unusual pattern of scattered darker red x-like indentations on the flesh. As Eddy shoved the rash towards Thor, he then put up his own hands in a defensive postured and backed away from Eddy.

Inside the class room, we started to hear screams as there was a mad scurry away from two of the kids itching themselves. I instinctively opened the classroom door and went in for a closer look. Nurse Thor was right behind me but Eddy was slow to enter. The two boys revealed bloody fingers and blood damp clothes as they refused to stop itching themselves, inadvertently painting themselves in their own blood.

Thor agreed to take the two bloodied boys to the nurse's office and bring back some cortisone cream for the now twelve others suffering from an intense itching. I told Eddy to stay here and try to keep them calm. Then I got an intercom call from the main office saying I and Thor were needed urgently down on the south wing to a fourth grade class room. I intercommed back that we were on our way and called Ms. Valarie, the nurse's assistant down to Mrs. Eddy's classroom with bandages and cream.

I took a deep breath as I stomped down to the south wing. I was getting my own kind of heat and itch back, feeling like those hours I spent under fire, scurrying from bunker to bunker amid sirens and rocket blasts. My tinnitus was acting up to start the day and it was coming in and out like tidal waves. We got to the fourth grade class room run by Mr. Bodin. He too was posted outside scratching his thick salt and pepper beard as he crowded the window.

“Six of the kids started complaining of having a headache and I was about to send them down to you,” he said gesturing towards Thor, “but then two of them passed out.”

“How are you?”

“I'm fine. At least I think I'm I'm fine.”

I came into the room and sniffed the air as best as I could through the mask which was thoroughly permeated with the odor of my stressed breath. I couldn't smell anything unusual. “Okay,” I asked the class, “how many of you have headaches?” About half of the class rose their hands. “And does anyone have any itching or rashes on your back, shoulders, or arms?” A few of the fourth grades kept their hands up while a few without headaches raised their hands.

“I'm gunna put those two in recover position and ask the new PE teacher for hand getting them to the bed, what's his name again?”

My brain flickered, “Frank Donovan, he's name is Frank Donovan,” I ushered Thor out of the room and started to shut the door behind us but he held he the door open, so instead I quieted by voice, “what the hell do you think is going on?”

Thor wiped his sweaty bald head, “I'm not sure. This could be one thing – something environmental, in the air like an irritant, or maybe multiple things like an allergen in one room and maybe carbon monoxide in this one. I don't think its THE virus, much less, a virus.”

“It is Tuesday,” I said, “Maybe the food delivery guy left his truck running and its coming through the vents. Maybe we should clear out this room and the other, move the kids into the gym and have everyone else open their windows.”

“Yeah, it could be that, or could an industrial accident or train derailment we're down wind of, coming through the vents and opening the windows will make it worse.”

“It could also be the science labs.” I said.

“Do you think we should evacuate?” Thor looked my straight in the eye.

“Like you said,” I reasoned, “this could be inside, outside, or something else entirely, I can't order an evacuation yet but we should get paramedics here for the two fainted kids.”

“If the paramedics can't show, then we'll know better if something else is going on outside.”

“Good point.” I thought about my staff and realized Mrs. White was in today teaching chemistry, I could draft her to check out the labs, I could have the secretary call emergency services and inquire about any local emergencies to the air quality – have her even check the mold and pollen count. “Okay, we got a plan, I'm going to run down to the kitchen dock and see if they left their truck idling next to the vent or something. We've got this.”

I tried to recall my CBRN – chemical biological radiological and nuclear training as I made way down to the first floor north wing. Mustard gasses produced rashes and welts but not for hours after exposure and not without other symptoms. Carbon monoxide made the most sense for the headaches. There were various industrial chemicals that were also chemical weapons or proxy chemical weapons like chlorine, phosgene, and anhydrous ammonia but all of these had terrible smells and would provoke fits of coughing, sneezing, long before headaches and fainting, and none of those wouldn't create rashes or itching. Of course, mold and fungi weapons were rumored to have been tested in Vietnam in the 80s and some of these symptoms matched but rather than a release of such an agent, I wondered if the building had some mold accumulation from last year that went undetected when we reopened. That too was a long shot. None of my basic training was applicable – except to rule out these culprits - as I approached the cafeteria and hoped that there a simple explanation of exhaust fumes.

The cafeteria had glass doors and windows all around like a fish tank. Usually the cafeteria was open in the early hours for school breakfast and morning pre-school daycare but it should have been deserted at this hour save for the cafeteria staff. To my horror I found the cafeteria to be well populated by the few dozen usual students and staff common to earlier in the morning. Everyone was either fixated forward, sitting at the long tables or standing braced against the wall laughing. It was a laughter that was wheezing, howling, hoarse, animalistic, beyond anything I have ever seen. It was a a laughter on the cusp of breathlessness, hysterical tears, and screaming. There was a call and refrain between gasping breaths and pauses on one side of the room that would get inundated by the recovered and renewed wave of laughter coming from the other.

I stood there for five minutes watching this in complete terror. Worse, as I started to come to my senses, the delivery truck was no where to be seen through the cafeteria windows. I dared not enter the lunch room to answer the new frantic intercom call which I at first mistook for more laughter as my tinnitus flared. I went for an abandoned classroom and heard the reports. First, Mrs. White reported no issues with the chemistry laboratories. Next, my secretary Mrs. Goodwin reported nothing unusual when she called for paramedics and reported that the air quality, at least according to the weather report, was fairly normal. The transmission suddenly dropped and I clicked the button a few times to try to get the office back but then it struck me. There was the class bell.

Hundreds of students flooded the corridors in a cacophony of normal talking, laughter, and the opening and slamming of lockers which lined the halls. I couldn't hear anything so I decided since I was on the first floor anyway to get back to the office. I was on my way back trying to get through the crowded rushed corridors when I started hearing louder frightened yelling coming from the grand stairwell. I approached with caution to find multiple students of high school age had fallen on the staircase and were not able to right themselves. Several of the students looked pined to the steps as they struggled to right themselves. They clutched their heads and shut their eyes as they rocked back and forth trying like a inverted turtle, to have their feet reach the ground. Their twisted the wrists and hands about over their heads like they were turn invisible knobs.

With chemical warfare fresh in my mind I held my breath, mortified at what looked like textbook nerve agent spasms yet juxtaposed to these suffering students were completely unaffected students clearing the area panicked but unharmed. I directed the unaffected students to their classes as I tried to help the dozen or so who had collapsed on the steps. Two of them threw up as I tried to support their descent to the bottom of the staircase. When the rest seemed content to brace against the banister running down the center and sides, I decided to leave them, telling them I was going to get help.

I ran into the office and directed Mrs. Goodwin to call for multiple EMS teams. I checked with Thor on the two students who had lost consciousness in Mr. Bodin's room. They had regained consciousness but were now experiencing dizziness, nausea, headaches, and a leg twitch with knee swelling.

“Okay, its not truck exhaust. It's not anything from outside. Think dammit!”

“Maybe something in water. Did you have any coffee this morning?”

“I'm the principal of a K through 12 of course I had coffee this morning!”

“I mean, office coffee. Maybe it's in the water, maybe its local like some kind of designer drug patch one of the high schoolers put into the water tank or other the drinking fountain spigots.”

“That's a very imaginative frat boy prank but I just came from the cafeteria and everyone in there is laughing maniacally back and forth at nothing and kids are stumbling down the steps on the grand staircase – that's a lot of different effects for the same drug – and yes, I'm pretty sure everyone here but you had office coffee.”

“Look, its almost all on the south and east classes which face the cafeteria annex. Maybe its something in that annex.”

“Like what?”

“Well, aren't all the summer camp science projects up on display on the second floor? Maybe something in that stuff is more interesting than it first seemed. Maybe its not chemical or biological maybe its...I don't know.”

It didn't make any more sense than anything thing else but I agreed to go with Thor to the science fair displays after I ordered the class rooms on the east and south side to migrate to the north west gymnasiums for the time being. As an added precaution I ordered all other classrooms to open their windows and keep kids out of the hall for now. I asked Mr. Donavan and Ms. Valarie to help the students on the grand stairwell until the paramedics arrived.

Normally I wouldn't go searching for a hazard like this without protection. But since it wasn't clear what kind of hazard, if one existed at all, I would be facing, I went in with nothing but hope. The summer science fair displays were spread out across the 2^(nd) floor convention center, which was about the same size of the cafeteria. There were two rows of displays against all the walls and center row with displays back to back facing their respective walls. There were well over one hundred fifty different projects ranging from chemistry, biology, engineering, and electricity.. At that point I figured it was the stress that was causing the worst tinnitus I'd ever experienced. It was almost blocking out Thor's voice entirely.

My eyes shifted back and forth on the row I choose. I looked for anything, any overgrown samples in petri dishes, any overflowing test tubes, any devices that could potentially help me explain what had been happening today. My eyes started to water and my nose started to twitch as I came to the middle of the room. I couldn't smell anything and I also couldn't hear anything except that goddamned ringing.

I eventually looped around the other side of the displays and found Thor collapsed in front of one of the displays. Thor was in a riving fetal position on the carpet, clutching his ears. My tinnitus was so bad I couldn't hear myself trying to consul Thor. I promised him I'd go get him help but then I noticed the science fair project he had collapsed in front out of the corner of my eye. The project was called “ghost simulator”. The display said the device, a gray colored box with thick electrical cord coming out of it, could use ultra low frequency sound, electromagnetic, and microwaves to stimulate sensitive organs in the head, specifically the eyes and ears with non-perceived energy to provoke sensations of being watched, dread, and the illusion of orbs in the peripheral vision.

My mind jumped to news reports over the past three or four years of US diplomats being afflicted with strange symptoms – not too dissimilar from those experienced today, because of some sort of Russian sonic or microwave directed energy weapon. I remembered that they called it Havana Syndrome. Could a particularly bright student inadvertently recreate such a device as part of a paranormal debunking project. If so, how come I was so unaffected and I was standing right next to it when it could take down a hulking man to the floor? Maybe I was unaffected because my ears were already messed up with tinnitus, maybe that's why it was so bad right now.

Thor groaned in pain and I immediately grabbed the cord that was snaked behind the display so I could unplug it. And then I was stunned to find it was already unplugged, the cord was otherwise tied up with a twist tie and the plug covered in plastic cap. I picked up the device and I took off the plastic cover to discover the interior was empty. No speakers to pump out infra sound, no microwaves, no coils, no lights, no batteries, just the end of the cable. The display board had a flap on it “What did you experience when I turned it on?” Then it revealed it was all psychological project, nothing was real about it - except what you made of it. Somehow, after reading that, my tinnitus attack began to subside.

Ambulances and EMS teams flooded the school. Air samples, wall culture samples, throat culture samples, covid tests, and gnomic sampling were conducted with haste that afternoon. One by one, the itching kids and Mrs. Eddy, Thor, the laughing staff and students in the cafeteria, the fainters in Bodin's room, and the kids on the stairs made remarkable recoveries almost as quickly as they fell critically ill. Aside from a few confirmed covid cases of unremarkable strain, nothing chemical or biological out of the ordinary was found anywhere in the students, teachers, or school walls that day.

I thought about that science fair project and I thought about these students, well, not all of the afflicted ones, but the student body as a whole. They came in here, as primed as I was, to face down the pandemic after a year and half of being told to stay home, stay apart, or you'll get very sick, strangely sick, and maybe die. And now were all back, almost normal but it was still here.

Maybe it was a case of mass hysteria taking hold as the fear in these kids and this staff, and myself never got a safety valve release or relief but instead we were pushed back to back together and were placed under even more pressure and threat. That's the best explanation I have for it. Its the best explanation anyone has ever given to me. I just know that today was the first day in my civilian life I was faced with losing people I care about, on my watch.