Double Dose, page 9
“I think I’m going to need a flashlight to read your notes.”
With Pard leaning against the sink counter as he had before, she retrieved her keychain with its mini Maglite from the hook on the wall, then pulled the door open. A hoodied figure stepped in and went straight to the kitchen table but didn’t sit.
“How are you doing?”
“Betterrr.”
The word was soft, rough, faint, but definitely a word
“Ohmygod! Ohmygod, you spoke! You can speak?”
Daley’s throat tightened.
“Very little, but…” And then he sobbed. “But…yesss.”
He’d sobbed once Sunday night too, but that had been full of anguish. This sound was full of hope. Daley tried to hold back a sob of her own but it broke free.
“Oh, God, that’s wonderful!”
(“We did it, Daley,”) Pard said softly. (“He’s on his way.”)
Note Man started scribbling. Daley lit up the note.
You sound surprised
“I…I’m still new at this. Shouldn’t you keep using your voice?”
Hurts
Then fades out
A new note…
But better
than yesterday
…quickly followed by another.
And still better
Tomorrow
“That’s the spirit!”
She bit her lip to keep herself from breaking down and totally bawling. To do this for someone, to…to change their life for the better like this…it felt so damn good.
Another note.
Give me flash?
Show you something?
“Sure.”
She laid it on the table; he did something with his sleeve, then picked up the light and turned it on, illuminating his forearm. His skin looked like it had felt to her when she’d taken his hands Sunday night: like peeling tree bark. But there in the crook of his elbow…a clear patch. She reached out and touched it with a fingertip.
“This is new?”
“Yesss.”
“That’s just super.”
“It continues?”
What do I tell him?
(“Tell him yes. But as I said on Sunday, I might need to go back in for a second round to clean up.”)
“It should continue clearing but I may have to give you a second treatment to finish the job.”
Another sob as he handed her the light.
“Owe you. Whatever you want.”
“You mean money?” She shook her head. “Oh, no, your money’s no good here. I want to see the rest of that film. That’s my fee: Part Deux.”
“Working on—” His voice cracked and he started scribbling again.
Working on it
Need 1-2 days
“Okay,” Daley said. “I’m going to trust you.”
Have wonders to show you
“What wonders?”
Two notes fell in rapid succession.
Must prepare the way
Be ready to walk
Thursday night
“Thursday night? Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Date?”
How old are you?
(“He’s got a point.”)
I blame the old Irish lady who raised me through high school.
“Ancient, I guess. You should know a woman never tells her age.”
The next note hit her like a punch in the gut.
Never been on a “date”
Daley’s throat tightened again. Damn! What was happening to her?
She swallowed and said, “Well, it’s about time you went. Thursday night. It’s a date.”
See you then
He gathered up his notes but paused as he opened the door.
“Good night.”
And then he was gone.
(“‘Have wonders to show you’…sounds interesting.”)
“But he said I should be ready to walk. That means the wonders are close by. I can’t think of anything even remotely ‘wonderful’ in Nespodee Springs.”
(“Except for me.”)
“Riiiiight.”
WEDNESDAY—March 11
24
“How do I look?” Daley said, checking herself in the rearview mirror.
(“You may perceive me here in the passenger seat,”) Pard said in his Do-I-have-to-explain-this-again? tone, (“but I’m really in your head and can see only what you’re looking at.”)
“Okay, I know that. But I see you sitting there and the question pops out.”
She’d driven down to Calexico early so she could enter the surgical supply shop as soon as it opened. She remembered the nurse she’d seen in the hospital hallway on Monday had worn dark-blue scrubs so she bought herself a set in the closest matching blue they had. Then she added a surgical mask and a flowered surgical scrub hat. She found a Dollar Tree just up the street where she bought a pair of glasses with the thickest rims and the weakest lenses available, and added a plastic clipboard as her pièce de résistance.
She’d changed in a Calexico McDonald’s, then drove to El Centro. She parked in ECRMC’s visitor’s lot where she tucked all her hair up inside the surgical scrub cap.
(“Make sure you cover your ears as well,”) Pard said.
Daley pulled the cap lower and checked the result. “That looks dumb.”
(“I’ve read that ear biometrics surpass facial features when it comes to identifying people. Not that I believe you’ll ever be the subject of facial-recognition software, but—”)
“And you were calling me paranoid yesterday?”
(“I always say: Anything worth doing is worth doing well.”)
“You don’t always say that. In fact you’ve never said that.”
(“Well, I’m saying it now.”)
Daley left her ears covered, then tied the surgical mask around her neck so it dangled between her breasts.
(“Once you put on those awful glasses I think we can safely assume that you’ll have erased the Daley we know and love, and adopted an entirely new persona.”)
“Let’s hope so.”
(“I sense your anxiety.”)
“Well…it’s a small hospital. Like a hundred beds or so. All the staff will know one another.”
(“Like any hospital, it’s got multiple shifts. Nobody can know everybody. Let’s go. Get in, get out, get home.”)
“I’m all for that.”
Pard winked out as she grabbed her clipboard and put on her glasses. The lenses were weak enough that they didn’t affect her depth perception and made the world look only slightly distorted. She pulled out a pen as she quick-walked to and through the emergency exit with her head down, jotting some random squiggles on the paper on her clipboard. She continued straight down the hall toward the surgery section but took the stairs up just before she reached it.
She tied the surgical mask over her face on the stairs and emerged onto the second-floor hallway with her head down, still studying the clipboard. She passed two nurse’s aides along the way to Timothy Blaine’s old room but they were both staring at their phones and didn’t even register her.
In Blaine’s former room she spotted another unconscious male in his bed. Since horrors patients didn’t get meals and visiting hours didn’t start till noon, she was the only conscious occupant. Daley stepped between the beds and went to the closest. A very dark-skinned Hispanic man lay flat on his back, hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor. She pulled the curtain to shield her from the door.
(“Quick now. Grab his hand.”)
How do we know these are horrors patients?
(“They keep them together and I recognize this guy. He was Blaine’s roommate on Monday.”)
Daley wrapped her fingers around his wrist. If anyone spotted her, she hoped they’d think she was taking his pulse, although why she’d bother with that when the monitor screen was displaying his heart rate as it registered his EKG.
Okay. Quick now.
(“If he’s anything like Blaine, I know exactly where I’m going in there.”)
Daley maintained her grip. She could feel her palm moistening against the patient’s skin as she stood and listened for the sound of approaching footsteps. With most of the staff wearing sneakers, she doubted she’d hear a thing until someone stepped into the room, which only increased her anxiety.
After a couple of forevers, Pard’s head popped out of the guy’s chest, startling her.
(“Okay, I’m out. Quick to the next.”)
Jesus, don’t do that! What’s the matter with you?
He reappeared on the other side of the bed. (“I know you enjoyed Alien so—”)
So you thought you’d pop out of this guy’s chest?
(“Well…”)
Alien scared the crap out of me and you nearly did the same. Did you finish up in there?
(“Yep. He had the same neural pathway as Blaine. Now…grab the new guy.”)
She stepped over to the window bed and held his wrist, again trying to look like she was taking a pulse. Pard merged and in no time was out again, visible this time in his Dr. Pard lab coat.
(“Cheers for us. I think we just cured two more victims.”)
But they don’t look any different. Last time Timothy was starting to—
(“Go-go-go! Time to get out of here.”)
Daley wasn’t going to argue that. She quick-stepped toward the door, then eased out into the hall as she jotted on her clipboard. The coast was clear so she retraced her steps to the stairs.
But—
(“Blaine was getting light on sedation when we saw him,”) Pard told her as she hurried down the stairs. (“From what I could tell, these two received their morning dose not too long ago, so it’ll be a while before they start showing signs of recovery.”)
Out of the stairwell she headed straight down the hall toward the Emergency Room, but skidded to a halt.
Crap!
(“Yes, I see him.”)
Deputy Alvarez was filling out a form at the Emergency Room front desk.
He must have come in with an emergency. Can’t let him see me.
She did a quick about face and followed the hallways to the main entrance where she exited to the front parking lot. She was now on the opposite side of the building from her car, so she walked around the south side, past the ambulance entrance, and into the rear lot. No one gave her a second look.
When she reached her car she dropped behind the steering wheel and closed her eyes.
“Made it!”
Pard appeared in the passenger seat, sans lab coat. (“That was close. If Alvarez had seen you—”)
“It would have blown everything.”
(“It’s those unpredictable variables that screw up the best plans. But I’ve got to hand it to you, Daley, that was one efficient mission. Your disguise was perfect. No one raised an eyebrow. You might as well have been invisible.”)
“Well, thank you, Pard, but your quickness was a big factor. The longer we stayed in that room, the greater the chance of discovery.”
(“Do you think we’ve stroked each other enough?”)
“I think so. It’s beginning to make me feel a little nauseous. Would that be an indicator?”
(“‘Nauseated’ would be the more correct term.”)
Well, damn. The tight ass strikes again.
“Had to go and ruin it, didn’t you,” she said as she started the car. “We had a nice mutual admiration society started there but you had to go and pull your Grammar Nazi schtick.”
(“It’s not a schtick! There’s proper usage and improper usage.”)
She knew she shouldn’t let him aggravate her. He couldn’t help being a perfectionist. She steered out of the lot and got them headed north on Imperial Avenue.
“Whatever,” she said finally. “When do we find out if this worked?”
(“The sedation should wear off in four to six hours, I should think. We’ll have to keep a close eye on the TV.”)
“Well, since the shop has no TV, we’ll have to make do with updates on my phone. I want to be very visible in Healerina today. Too bad I can’t have you watch the TV upstairs while I’m in the shop.”
(“That would be quite the trick, wouldn’t it.”)
25
This time Jeffrey didn’t jump when Jimmy Fries knocked on his window. He was already awake, but the blanket was so warm, he’d remained lying down on the front seat. He sat up to see Jimmy’s grinning face on the other side of the glass.
“Coffee time!”
Jeffrey turned on the ignition and lowered the window.
“Thanks for the blanket.”
Last night he’d walked out into the desert to relive himself and when he got back a neatly folded blanket was waiting on the hood of his pickup with a note: You might have use for this.
So Jeffrey had used it.
“Just being neighborly.” Jimmy handed the coffee through the window. “The days ain’t bad, but winter nights can get cold out here.”
“You need it back?”
“I got a couple so I can spare you one. Just bring it back when the weather starts heating up.”
Jeffrey wasn’t used to kindness. Made him kinda suspicious.
“What’s your story, Jimmy? What you do with yourself all day?”
“Mostly I read. We got ourselfs a library here in the Slabs. Plus I got my own books. And I walk into town a few times a week. Buy some groceries.”
“You walk? To Niland? Gotta be ten miles round trip.”
“Yep. Thereabouts.”
Jeffrey pointed to the battered Mitsubishi by Jimmy’s camper. “Don’t your car work?”
“Yeah, but exercise is good for you.”
Jeffrey sipped his coffee and thought about exercise. He hadn’t worked any weights since Saturday. He’d be getting flabby soon.
Jimmy dipped into a purple bag he’d been holding in his free hand, came out with a reddish tube that he bit into with a crunch.
“What’s that?”
He held up the bag. “Fuegos. Takis Fuegos. Little rolled tortillas coated with pepper. Want one?”
“Hot stuff for breakfast? Not my thing.”
“I’m addicted to the little fuckers. The store in Niland stocks ’em in for me. They don’t worry about not selling ’em ’cause I buy ’em all. What you do with your day, Jeffrey?”
“Right now, I’m taking inventory. I fucked up royally and I’m figuring out where I go from here.”
“Yeah, most of us out here have fucked up one way or another. I won’t ask about your fuck-up if you don’t ask about mine.”
“Fair enough.” He didn’t give a shit about Jimmy’s fuck-up and no way in hell he was talking about his. “I wound up with a second chance. Just need to figure how to make the best use of it.”
“Cool. You ever wanna talk about it, I’m always around. And when you’re not taking inventory, you might try a little reading.” He pulled a battered paperback from a back pocket and handed it through the window. “I’ve read this at least a dozen times.”
Jeffrey stared at the cover in disbelief. “What the fuck? Tarzan?”
“Tarzan of the Apes. Great book. All about learning who you are and finding your place in the world.”
Oh, yeah, right, like he was going to waste his time with this kinda shit. He’d seen bits and pieces of the movies. Some asshole swinging through the trees on a vine and yodeling at the top of his lungs. No way. Was this some kinda joke? Did Jimmy think he was too dumb to read a real book? Oughta grab him by the neck shove his fucking piece of shit book down his—
No. No-no-no. That was Karma talking. He was Jeffrey now, and Jeffrey didn’t do shit like that.
He forced calm and said, “Hey, thanks. Ain’t much of a reader but I’ll give it a try.”
Yeah. He might take a look at it. A man could do only so much inventorying in a day. After that it got boring as shit out here.
26
Despite rushing back from El Centro, Daley had been a little late opening Healerina. She wondered why she’d bothered. The morning had been dead and the afternoon’s prospects weren’t looking much better. Lucky for her Jason had given her the first five months here rent free.
Shortly after one p.m. Daley’s Feedly app broke the news that two more horrors victims had spontaneously recovered.
She pumped her fist. “Yes!”
(“‘Spontaneous’?”) Pard said from his perch by the window. (“I beg to differ.”)
Some medical commentators were saying that maybe the horrors was a self-limiting condition, while others were questioning why, with horrors victims all over Southern California, ECRMC patients were the only ones coming out of it.
One was quoted as saying, “What are those El Centro docs doing that no one else is?”
(“What indeed?”)
“So, Doctor Pard, have you proved your theory?”
(“Yes. I have no doubt now that horrors sufferers are predisposed to the condition due to a neural pathway from the pineal to the amygdala. Blocking that removes their susceptibility. The downside is that it’s not an anatomical neuronal bundle, merely a pathway. Which means unless you’re tuned into their brains, there’s no way to detect it. Which, in turn, means only we can cure them.”)
“Well, damn, that’s not good. There’s hundreds and hundreds of cases from Baja to LA. Are we their only hope?”
The weight of the responsibility pressed on her.
(“We are until someone figures out where those images are originating and cuts them off at the source.”)
“Any ideas on that?”
(“If I could stay inside one of these victims long enough, I might get a clue.”)
“Meanwhile there’s scads of horrors victims out there and we’re all they’ve got. Don’t you find that majorly scary?”
(“I would have characterized it as ‘daunting,’ but ‘majorly scary’ captures it well enough.”)
“Putting all your condescension aside—and I realize it’s a heavy load—do you think—”
Pard disappeared from the window and reappeared beside her. (“Sorry-sorry-sorry! I’ve been sentient only three weeks. I’ve still a lot to learn about the nuances of communication.”)
“Like tone?”
(“Yes, tone is something I need to work on. Don’t hate me.”)
“Well, considering how seventy-two hours ago I was lying on the kitchen floor upstairs with a knife in my heart, and now, because of you, I’m down here managing my shop, it’s hard to truly hate you.”
