Mercy

by Rada Jones

  Blood spurted. The pain blinded her. The knife stopped in the ribs.

  Emma tried to push her away. She couldn’t.

  She twisted and rolled over to her left, catching Angel under her.

  She placed her cast over Angel’s throat and pressed. Hard. With all her weight.

  Angel’s beautiful face turned purple.

  The broken knife hit Emma’s back. Searing pain took her breath away.

  She kept the pressure on Angel’s throat. Angel groaned.

  The knife twisted between Emma’s ribs, the broken tip aiming for her lungs.

  She knew exactly when it got there. The pain exploded inside her chest like fireworks, blinding her. Her breath failed. Her strength vanished. Like a butterfly somebody stepped on, she shrunk, coiling into herself.

  She was done. She wished she’d been better. A better person, a better doctor, a better mother. Too late. She felt sorry for all the things she failed to do. Broken glass. Far away.

  Angel rolled over her, smiling.

  “You had to make it hard, didn’t you! You always make it hard for yourself. What’s the good in that?” She lifted the broken knife once more. She lowered it into Emma’s chest.

  The ribs stopped it from reaching the heart.

  She threw it down. She grabbed Emma’s throat. Her thumbs pressed on the carotids.

  Emma’s brain darkened.

  This is it. I’m gone.

  The pain faded into darkness just as the window crashed open.

  The pressure on her throat released. She inhaled. Her brain cleared.

  Angel screamed.

  Emma opened her eyes.

  Guinness, dragging Angel off her by her throat.

  Limp as a rag doll, Angel made no sound.

  Neither did Guinness.

  “Let her go! Let her go!” Emma managed, her voice so strangled she couldn’t understand herself.

  Guinness did.

  She dropped Angel at Emma’s feet like she dropped the frisbee.

  Guinness looked into Emma’s eyes. She licked her face.

  “I told you something was wrong. You shouldn’t have closed the kitchen door.”

  Emma’s tears ran down her cheeks.

  Guinness took care of them.

  84

  The ambulance got there first. The EMTs took in the scene. The first one went to Angel, lying motionless on the floor. The tall one grabbed his radio to ask for reinforcements.

  He kneeled in front of Emma. He frowned.

  “Dr. Steele?”

  “Hi, Joe,” she said, her voice like a coffee grinder.

  His partner, Roy, was checking Angel. He heard and turned around. He recognized her. He gasped.

  Their horrified faces made her laugh. That hurt.

  I must look a sight. Bloody, cut, barely breathing. Nothing like the Dr. Steele they know. I can’t look human, in fact. I don’t feel human, either. But I’m alive. Thanks to you, my friend. She put her good hand on Guinness’s head, lying on her thigh. The dog hadn’t moved since she’d dropped Angel. Emma scratched behind her ears.

  Angel had gone to the angels.

  Don’t think so. She was playing for the other team, poor soul.

  Police arrived. The first policeman, a heavyset man she’d never met, had questions. Emma had trouble answering. She had trouble speaking, in fact. Her lungs were not behaving. Everything hurt, from the top of her head to her toes. She could hardly breathe.

  “She needs to go to the hospital. Now,” Joe said.

  The policeman hesitated.

  The door flew open. Victor burst in.

  “I thought it was a mistake! They said they dispatched an ambulance to this address. I was sure it was a mistake!” He kneeled in front of her, arms open to hug her. He looked at her battered body and didn’t dare hold her. He stroked her cheek.

  “Emma!” he sobbed.

  “She needs to go, Dr. Storm,” Joe said.

  Victor stepped back.

  The door opened. Zagarian burst in.

  “Emma! Are you all right? I heard the radio. They said it was a crime scene! I knew it was a mistake!”

  She hadn’t seen him in weeks. Months ago, they were getting close; then Emma got cold feet and stopped returning his calls. He stopped calling.

  Now there he was, impeccable as ever. His perfect gray suit made Victor look shabby in his jeans and dog-chewed jacket.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Emma said, even though she was anything but.

  “Really?”

  She shrugged. The pain in her back made her groan.

  “I see.” He walked to Angel. He kneeled and felt her neck for a pulse. None.

  “An unwelcome visitor, I take it?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Joe was losing his patience.

  “We need to take her to the hospital. Now.”

  “We’ll block the door when we’re done,” the policeman said. “This is a crime scene, we need to work it up.”

  Emma nodded. The EMTs lifted her on the stretcher. Guinness stood, ready to follow.

  “You can’t come, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Taylor will be back tomorrow.”

  “I’ll take care of her,” Victor said, bending over to kiss Emma’s forehead as he patted Guinness’s head.

  “Thanks.”

  The officer came closer. “The dog comes with us.”

  Victor turned, facing him. “Don’t touch the dog.”

  “This dog has killed a person. He’s going with us.”

  “Don’t touch the dog. She saved my wife’s life.”

  Moving casually, Zagarian came closer.

  “She’s not your wife. Not anymore.”

  Victor looked at him. They’d known each other since February. They worked together to put away a killer, letting Emma off the hook. They stared at each other.

  Victor stepped back.

  “I’ll take the dog.”

  Zagarian nodded.

  “Her name is Guinness,” Emma said, as they wheeled her out.

  85

  Two days later, when she made it home, Taylor looked around in disbelief. Her bedroom looked like a war zone.

  Why?

  She came for the baby.

  That crazy woman came to take her baby. She failed to cut it out of her in the utility room, so she came back looking for her.

  Taylor shivered. Eric put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. His touch gave her strength.

  That was the worst day of my life.

  She had thought that many times before—when her dad left, when she decided to abort, when she found out that Dick had betrayed her, when Eric left.

  Nothing like this.

  Lying down, unable to move, watching that woman bring a scalpel to her baby.

  Nothing. The terror of those moments would follow her to her grave and beyond.

  Knowing she was dying wasn’t fun. Seeing her baby getting killed was beyond any badness she could imagine.

  The last thing she saw, before her mind faded to black, was her mother. Her mother was there. She was going to put it right.

  As always, she had.

  She woke up thinking about the baby. Was it alive? She welcomed the OB with her ultrasound machine. They looked at the baby together. The heart was beating. The baby moved.

  It was alive.

  “Does it look normal?” Taylor asked.

  The OB doc took a long time. “Two arms. Two legs. Hands. Feet. Spine. Brain. To the best that I can say right now, it looks OK. We should test for genetic anomalies. We’ll have another look in a week. For now, I don’t see anything bad.”

  Taylor cried and cried. The OB couldn’t understand why.

  Eric cried with her.

  It was good to be home. With Emma in the hospital, Taylor had the house to herself. The mess that the house was. She had to get it together. Somehow.

  What would Mother do?

  “OK. Let’s get it together. Eric, you go shopping. We need som
ething to eat. I’ll clean.”

  “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  Guinness barked.

  “Alone? What are you talking about? I’m right here!”

  86

  The hospital drove Emma crazy. She drove everybody crazy too. She climbed out of bed to fix the back support.

  A missing screw. She replaced it with a paper clip.

  The door opened.

  “If you were a dog, you’d be a border collie,” Victor said, helping her out from under the bed and handing her an armful of flowers. “You always need something to run after.”

  Emma smiled.

  “If you were a dog, you’d be a Labrador. You haven’t met a sofa you didn’t like.”

  Victor laughed and sat in the chair by the bed.

  “Touché. We should talk to the administrators about the furniture. I could do with a sofa right here. How are you?”

  “I’m OK. They say they’ll let me go tomorrow.”

  “They must be exhausted after caring for you.”

  “They are. Like all doctors, I make an awful patient. How are you?”

  “I’m OK. Taylor’s good too. She told me to tell you: ‘Don’t worry, everything is under control.’”

  Emma shuddered.

  “I know. I looked around; it looked OK though.”

  “Guinness?”

  “She took her back. I wanted to keep her, but she said absolutely not.”

  “For someone who didn’t want a dog, she surely changed her mind.”

  Victor laughed. “She didn’t not want a dog. She wanted you to have more than a dog.”

  “I know.”

  Victor gave her a long look. “And?”

  Emma smiled. “How’s Amber?’

  Victor sighed. “She’s good. Busy as usual with the girls and work and her friends and...”

  “She thinks you’re too busy to spend time with her.”

  “Really? What makes you think so?”

  “She told me. She’d like more time with you. You’re always busy. She worries there may be something else happening. Somebody else.”

  Victor gave her a speculative look.

  Emma recognized it, even though she hadn’t seen it in ten years. It was the signal for foreplay. She laughed.

  “Oh no. Don’t even think about it.”

  He laughed. Sort of.

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “That’s a compliment!”

  “She’s sending her love. She said don’t forget what you discussed, it still stands.”

  Emma laughed. “I won’t.”

  “So…”

  “No. Give Amber my regards.”

  Victor bent over to kiss her.

  The door opened.

  A large bouquet of yellow roses came in, followed by Zagarian.

  The men measured each other.

  “Come in,” Emma said. “Victor was just leaving.”

  Victor nodded and left. Slowly.

  Zagarian took his seat.

  “How are you?”

  “OK. They’re letting me go tomorrow. You?”

  “I’m good.”

  He crossed his legs. He realized he forgot to give her the roses. He lay them on top of her. Emma laughed.

  It’s good I’m not dead, but if I was, this would make a good start…

  He rubbed his chin. “You were right. All the boxes checked. She did murder her father. He was full of morphine. Odd for somebody who refused pain medications. Carlos’s potassium was 11. It was normal only that morning. She must have injected him with potassium. His heart stopped. She couldn’t use fentanyl, since he was already on the vent. Stopping his breathing wouldn’t have done much.”

  “How about my orders?”

  “She logged in the system under your name. For a few bucks, you can buy an RFID copier on Amazon. She copied your ID. That allowed her to document under your signature. Same with Carlos.

  Emma shivered.

  Zagarian continued: “By the way, we checked New Hampshire. She was involved with Umber. She got into a fight with another nurse, Joy. Joy was fired. Faith followed Umber here. She also dragged Carlos. He found out and ditched her. The rest you know.

  Emma nodded.

  “What a tortured mind. She said her men refused to have her children. When she found out Taylor’s baby ’s father was Umber, she lost it. She thought Taylor was having her baby. She decided to take it back.”

  “That’s the most horrific story I’ve ever heard.” Zagarian shuddered. “Thank God you were there.”

  “Yep,” Emma said. She looked at the cast on her right hand, the bandage on her left arm, the bandage over her left chest, where the chest tube used to be. She looked like leftovers.

  “Thank God I was there.”

  She looked him in the eye and asked: “Guinness?”

  He smiled. “She’s OK. We’ll call it ‘justifiable use of force in self-defense.’”

  Emma sighed. “Thanks!”

  “Thank her. Emma, I have two tickets to a jazz concert next Saturday. Want to go?”

  “I...”

  The door opened. A large bouquet of white roses came in, followed shortly by Dr. Roth.

  “May I come in?”

  Emma laughed.

  I wonder if I’d get that many flowers for my funeral. Probably not. Just as well I’m not dead then.

  87

  Guinness

  She’s back. She smells awful. Like hospital crap, and disinfectants, and iodine, and sickness. But… there’s something.

  I check her left pocket. I stick my nose in it.

  She laughs. She takes out a strip of bacon.

  “There. I thought you’d like that better than flowers.”

  Not bad for hospital food. Salty and smoky. Not crispy. Got soggy with sitting in the pocket and whatnot. No crunch, but hey—two out of three ain’t bad. I inhale it. More?

  No more.

  The girl comes out of her bedroom. She looks at her. Her eyes start tearing.

  I growl.

  “She looks like shit, I know, but you don’t need to tell her!”

  She sobs.

  “Come on, girl! She’s home! She’s alive! She brought bacon!”

  She stares at Shaman, her shoulders slumped, her belly sticking out.

  Shaman sits up straight. She hurts. I smell it. There’s a freeze where tears should be. She doesn’t do tears, this one. I won’t tell.

  “Hi Taylor. How are you?”

  “I’m OK. You?”

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  The girl turns around and leaves the room. Like, really?

  Shaman slumps. No more need to save face. Nobody here but me.

  She looks at me. I put my head on her thigh. She tries to scratch me with her right hand. It’s not working. The cast is in the way. The left is better.

  “Thank you, Guinness,” she says.

  I don’t know what to say. I just did my job. That’s what I do. I lick her hand to tell her it’s OK. I look up. Her eyes are suspiciously shiny. Not tears, no, she doesn’t do that. I get up and lick them. She laughs. Good noise. I like that.

  I lay next to her, enjoying the scratching. She’s a good scratcher! No, scratch that! She’s a great scratcher. Maybe the best I’ve ever…

  The door opens. The girl’s back.

  “I got this for you.” She brings a bottle.

  Shaman reads. “Brunello de Montalcino…”

  Her face drops. Tears start running down her cheeks. I get up to lick them. It’s embarrassing. It’s only wine, people! If it’s no good, just open another bottle!

  The girl opens the bottle. She pours a glass. She hands it to Shaman. The girl lifts the bottle. Shaman lifts her glass. They knock.

  Shaman takes a sip. She swishes it around like she’s brushing her teeth. She swallows it and smiles.

  “That’s beautiful, Taylor. Really lovely. Thank you.”

  “Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t f
or you.”

  Shaman shrugs.

  “We already knew that…”

  “I’m serious. Thank you for saving my life. Even more, thank you for saving my baby.”

  “It’s my job, Taylor. I’m here for you.” She smiles. “It was also my pleasure. Well, sort of...”

  She takes another sip.

  “How did you choose this wine? It’s spectacular.”

  Taylor smiles. “I asked Father to get it for you.”

  “Oh.”

  “No worries. He told me. I also spoke to Grandma.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “He said that we all sleep in our beds the way we made them. He made his wrong, but he’ll sleep in it.”

  “Good.”

  “What will you do, Mom?

  “Frankly, I have no idea. But that’s kind of fun for a change. And you? What will you do?”

  “The baby seems all right.”

  “Good.”

  “Dr. Crump said they’d be happy to have it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Eric said it was up to me.”

  “I see.”

  “What do you say?”

  “I say wait and see. You’ve grown like crazy over the last few months. There’s no hurry to make a decision. Wait and see what feels right when the time comes.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “So you ‘re going to change your mind, since I’ve said the same thing?”

  “Maybe. Have we ever agreed before?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  I bark.

  “Enough with this shit. Let’s go for a walk.”

  They stare at me and laugh.

  “Well, maybe about this dog,” Taylor says.

  “You didn’t want a dog.”

  “I didn’t. But I want this one.”

  “You can’t have her. She’s mine.”

  I bark.

  “Get on with it, will you people? I need to shit!”

  “She disagrees. As far as she’s concerned, we’re hers.”

  About the Author

  Rada Jones, M.D. is a real doctor. More so than Dr. Pepper and Dr. Seuss. She’s an Emergency Doc with more than 15 years in the ER.