Three-Legged Race

by Чарльз П. Кроуфорд

  "No way. We're this far. I can't go back now without checking."

  They moved down the hallway until they stood just outside the swinging doors. The sirens continued, and now Amy and Kirk heard the sound of running footsteps and crying and moans and doors slamming.

  Kirk pushed against the right of the two doors, swinging it slightly open. He and Amy leaned forward to look.

  They squinted from the brightness of the glare.

  The scene through the door was horrible. Slumped bodies were in every free chair. Kids leaned against the walls. Nurses and doctors and residents in white rushed from person to person. Heads were bandaged, blood ran down cheeks, two boys lay writhing on the floor. Amy saw a piece of bone sticking through the skin of a young girl's arm.

  "More help here," one doctor yelled, and a nurse rushed from one bleeding teenager to another.

  The outside doors of the emergency ward opened and the sound of the sirens swept loudly into the room. Four more teenagers entered, three of them helping the fourth to walk. Two ambulance attendants carried a stretcher with a sixteen-year-old girl on it. She was unconscious.

  Amy turned away from the door and looked into the dimness of the long hallway that stretched away from her in the opposite direction from the emergency ward.

  "God, Kirk, what's going on?" she asked.

  "I don't know. It's crazy. I'm going in to find out."

  Amy turned to grab his arm. "No, don't."

  "I want to. No one will notice one more kid in there. Stay here."

  Kirk pushed through the door and it swung shut behind him. Amy stood alone in the hall. She couldn't block out the sound of the sirens and the moaning and crying, although she tried covering her ears with her hands.

  She pushed the door open and followed.

  Kirk was standing, leaning on his crutches just inside the door. Amy stood beside him. If anything, the scene was even worse now they had entered into it.

  "God, let's do something! We can't just stand here and not help," Amy said.

  "We can't do anything," Kirk said.

  A girl Amy's age was standing against the far wall screaming. A doctor stuck her with a needle and she seemed to crumple almost immediately. The doctor moved on to a boy whose shirt was covered with blood. A nurse stopped and straightened the fallen girl's legs.

  There must have been thirty kids in there, all of them bleeding, all of them hurt.

  Near where Kirk and Amy were standing, a young girl was sitting in a chair. She leaned forward and held her head in her arms. There were cuts above her elbow, but they were bandaged already. Blood was seeping through the gauze.

  Amy went over to her and squatted down next to the chair.

  "What happened?" she asked. Kirk moved over and stood behind Amy.

  "Oh, God. I don't know. The bus turned over."

  "What bus? Where were you going?" Kirk asked.

  "On a trip, a trip to a concert from church. The bus went over the side of the road and flipped. God, the glass flew all over. John had his arm through a window. All the bodies crashed down." The girl started to cry.

  Amy reached out and put her arm around the girl's shoulders.

  "It was so dark. It was all black. I couldn't find the way out. It was so awful. I kept cutting myself. I don't remember..."

  "It's all right now," Amy said. "It's all over. Everyone will be all right. Everybody's being taken care of."

  "Oh, God," the girl sighed. "I don't know..."

  "It's okay. Look, everybody's getting their cuts all fixed up."

  The doctors and nurses still rushed like mad people from patient to patient. There was blood on the chairs and blood on the floor.

  Amy dabbed at the blood leaking from under the bandage on the girl's arm. Then she noticed a small trickle of thick, half-congealed blood flowing slowly down the girl's hair, along her neck. Amy reached her Kleenex up and tried to wipe that away too.

  "It's so stupid, so awful..." the girl said and began to cry again.

  Amy started to cry too. She looked up and saw the chaotic rush of doctors and nurses, the hurt and crying kids, the bloodstained bandages.

  Kirk put a hand on Amy's shoulder. "Let's go," he said.

  Amy looked up at him. Tears were still running down her cheeks, although she made no noise. Kirk was pale.

  "Let's go," he said. "We can't do anything here. We'll get in the way. The doctors will do just fine without us."

  Amy turned back to the sobbing teenage girl and put a hand out. Kirk tugged persistently at Amy's shoulder.

  Amy gazed again across the room. "I'm going to stay. Maybe I can do something."

  "We've got to forget it, Amy. There's nothing we can do. No one's hurt bad here. They'll be fine."

  He pulled at the sleeve of her bathrobe. Amy gave in and Kirk maneuvered her through the swinging doors. They were silent all the way up in the elevator and down the hall to the room.

  The television was off. Brent had put away his sketching materials and was reading again. He looked up when they entered the room. Amy's eyes were red and puffy. Brent could tell immediately that she was upset.

  "What was it?" he asked.

  "Wouldn't you know, it was a real mess down there," Kirk replied. "Some bus with a bunch of kids going to a concert turned over. There must have been thirty of forty of them, all cut up. It was a real horror scene all right."

  "Oh, it was awful, Brent," Amy said. "I felt so sorry for them all. The doctors couldn't seem to get to everybody fast enough. I just felt I wanted to do something to help. There was blood all over and everybody was crying and all. I should have stayed. I could have helped out the nurses or something."

  "Right. Just like Scarlett O'Hara during the siege of Atlanta. Listen, Amy, don't let it shake you up. They'll all be fine. We couldn't have done anything much. We just would have been in the way."

  Amy turned on him. "You just don't care is all, Kirk. You just close it all out of your safe little world and say, 'No sweat.' I don't care what you say, we should have stayed. Sometimes I wonder whether you'd help anybody, you're so wrapped up in yourself."

  "Listen, Amy..." Brent began. He didn't like to hear them fighting. It gave him a weird feeling.

  "No, it's all right," Kirk said. "Let her think what she wants. Amy, those kids down there are probably a hell of a lot better off right now than any of us up here, and that's no crap. So don't come on righteous and Florence Nightingale with me. We have enough problems of our own without getting tied in with a lot of cuts and bruises downstairs. The whole thing gave me the crawls."

  "Yeah, okay, Kirk. I'm sorry I blew up at you. But I still think we should have stayed."

  "No way. You don't need that kind of hassle and neither do I. The screwed-up world out there can go to hell in a bucket for all I care. There's no way we're going to stop it single-handed."

  Amy turned to Brent. "Tell me, Brent. Is the world always like that out there? It seems so far away sometimes, I forget, I guess."

  "No, Amy," Brent said. "It's not all bad."

  "Sometimes it seems safer here with you and Kirk. Sometimes I almost don't want to think about leaving."

  "I know what you mean, Amy," Brent said, and he did know what she meant. He almost felt like crying when he thought of leaving Amy and Kirk behind when he went back outside to the other world.

  Kirk climbed into bed. The room was silent.

  "Well, we missed the end of the movie, I guess," Kirk said. "Tell us, Brent. What happened?"

  "People died," Brent said. He picked up his book again and began to read. He didn't look up when Amy said good night.

  Chapter Seven

  Kirk rolled up another Kleenex and heaved it at the bedpan on the other side of the room. He missed. Brent laughed quietly.

  "If you hang around here long enough, you'll have the singular honor of watching me go out of my tree. I tell you, one more day of this crap and I'll go looney. They'll have to tie me up in my sheet and cart me off to the bananas
ward," Kirk said.

  Amy sat in the easy chair curling and uncurling her toes.

  Brent was staring at the ceiling, making designs in his head from the cracks that ran through the plaster.

  "I believe you," Brent said. "You aren't the most stable person I've ever met in my life to begin with."

  "Very funny. More jokes like that and I'll never be bored again."

  "It would be fun to do something exciting," Amy said. "I'm a little rammy myself. It's tough to be cooped up in one place for so long."

  "Look, Brent, you haven't been here as long as Amy and I have, so maybe you don't feel it so bad. Besides, it looks like you'll be going in a few days. Listen, would you mind if Amy and I pulled something off on our own even though we usually do everything together, the three of us?"

  "What do you have in mind?" Amy asked.

  "No, it doesn't bother me," Brent said.

  "I don't mean to cut you out or anything, but you've got to admit, you're not the most mobile person I've ever met."

  "No, seriously. I mean it. If you and Amy can think of something fun to do, don't let me stop you. Really, I don't want you to worry about me holding you back."

  "Amy, what's the last time that you take your medicines each day?"

  "Before dinner."

  "Yeah, that's what I thought. No, forget it. It's a lousy idea."

  "No, tell us," Amy said. "I'm excited already."

  "That's what I mean. It's no good. You look like you've been feeling pretty bad the last few days. It's a poor idea. Just forget it."

  "Listen, Kirk, you don't think you can get away with mentioning an idea and then not telling us about it. I'm all right. You let me decide. It's like saying you know this really great dirty joke and then saying that you won't tell it."

  "We can just skip it, is all. It was a stupid idea anyway. I thought you and I might sneak out of here for an evening, you know, go to a movie or something. It was stupid. Forget it."

  "Forget it, nothing. I think it's a great idea," Amy said.

  "So do I," Brent said. "You can tell me all about the movie when you get back."

  "Amy, the doc says you're supposed to take it easy. I don't think it's such a good idea anymore."

  "What, sitting in a movie? That's a strain? After dinner the nurse never checks on me unless I ring for her. And Brent could cover for you here if anyone noticed that you were gone. I think it's a great idea. I just wish Brent could go along too. It doesn't seem right to be doing something without you, Brent."

  "Really, I don't mind at all. I'd be mad if you let me stop you. Besides, I've got some painting I want to do. Why don't you do it tonight? No one will ever know that you're gone," Brent said.

  "I don't know," Kirk said. "You haven't been feeling so hot, Amy."

  "Well, I need to get out of here just as much as you do, Kirkus Hughes. If you don't ask me for a date for this very evening, I just may be forced to go out with that orderly who's been looking me over lately."

  "All right. If you think you're up to it. Miss Amy, would you be so kind as to accompany me to a flick tonight? I understand one of considerable merit is playing at the local cinema."

  "Why, Mr.Hughes, I thought you'd never ask. I would be delighted to accompany you. Would you call for me at eight thirty?"

  "Of course. Eight thirty it is. Seriously, we should be able to sneak out pretty easily then. Visiting hours are over just then, and we can wander out with the crowd."

  "That's great," Brent said. "I wish I were going with you." Brent hoped he didn't sound too disappointed. He couldn't help envying them their time together. After being used to being so self-sufficient before the accident, Brent didn't know why he dreaded those few hours alone so much.

  "It would look a little suspicious rolling you around town in a bed. Besides, I'm not sure they'd sell you a ticket for the movie. Beds always block the aisles," Kirk said. "Besides, three's a crowd, you know. Forget it, I didn't mean that. I was just trying to be funny."

  "I know," Brent said. "You should have a great time."

  At eight-thirty Kirk climbed into his wheelchair.

  "It'll be easier than using my crutches and trying to clomp all over town," he said to Brent.

  "Never take a girl out without a set of wheels," Brent said. "Too bad you don't have a sidecar."

  "Or at least a motor. You'd think that with modern technology, every one of these things would have four on the floor."

  "Be back before midnight, Kirk," Brent said.

  "Don't wait up, Mother," Kirk replied. He wheeled himself out of the room. Brent put his book down and stared at the ceiling.

  Amy was ready. She looked very pretty. It was the first time they had seen each other out of pajamas and bathrobe. Her brown hair was tied back and hung down behind her.

  "Do you think I need a sweater?" she asked.

  "Nah, the news said it was warm out. It's over seventy, still."

  "Okay. Here's the way I figure we can work it. I'll push your wheelchair out of here. Once we're off this hall everyone will just think we're outpatients or visitors or something."

  "Are you sure that you feel up to it?" Kirk asked.

  "Yes, I feel just fine. You can't let me down now after I've spent all afternoon looking forward to it. There's no problem."

  They left the room, Amy pushing Kirk in his wheelchair.

  "We have a small detour to make," Amy said.

  She pushed the wheelchair back into Brent and Kirk's room.

  "Hi," Amy said to Brent. "I couldn't take off without saying good night."

  "Night," Brent said and smiled. "Have a good time."

  "We will," Amy said. "It doesn't feel right without you, though. This is one of the few nights all three of us haven't been together since you got here three weeks ago. Well, we won't be gone long."

  "See you later," Kirk said. "Stay cool."

  Amy and Kirk left the room and turned down the hall out of view.

  All of a sudden Brent felt empty. Loneliness was something he had never minded before. He smiled over letting this one evening without Kirk and Amy get to him.

  He reached over to his bedside cabinet and took out his watercolor pad and his brushes. He opened the pad to the painting he was working on. It was a picture of Amy, Kirk and himself. The painting was going fairly well, although he found it hard to paint a self-portrait even with a mirror handy.

  I just can't walk out of here in a day or two and not leave anything behind, he had thought. He was going to give the picture to Amy. He was afraid it might seem too funny and sentimental to do one for Kirk. Maybe I'll do one at home and mail it to him later, Brent thought. Anyway, he hoped to get this one done in time.

  The picture showed the three of them in muted colors. They were held together by a tangle of greenery and the swirling brown of Amy's hair. Brent liked the effect, and the likenesses were pretty good. He hadn't wanted to show it to Kirk and Amy until he left. He had been working on it in secret.

  Maybe I can finish it tonight before they get back, he thought. Then I'll keep it tucked away until I have to leave.

  He dipped the brush in water and began to paint.

  Amy pushed Kirk's wheelchair to the elevator. The doors opened and they went inside. There were two people standing against the back wall, one of them a resident in his white uniform.

  "It sure is good to see Johnny looking better," Kirk said. "It looks like he'll be back at the swim club in another week or so."

  "I hope so," replied Amy. "It's so good to see color back in his cheeks. That operation must not have been much fun, I'll tell you that."

  "A brain transplant," Kirk said to the resident.

  The resident smiled at them.

  They left the elevator on the ground floor and maneuvered casually to the main exit. Out the front doors they went, and down the hospital driveway to the street.

  "God, I don't believe it," Kirk shouted. "We're free at last!" He spun his chair around three times.

  T
he hospital was just a block from the center of town. The night air was warm and smelled delicious. Amy pushed Kirk along the sidewalk. He spun the wheels of the chair to help out. They passed the old houses around the hospital grounds that had been converted into doctors' offices. They passed a school and a library and a small park.

  The light from the streetlamps sifted through the leaves of the overhanging trees and made small pools on the sidewalk. The air was soft, and dust particles drifted in the lamplight. Fireflies blinked and glittered above their heads. Moths fluttered and clustered about the streetlights. Amy's shoes made soft tapping sounds on the pavement. Kirk's wheelchair hummed in the summer air.

  When they reached the main intersection of the suburban town, they wheeled left down the shopping street. Just half a block away was a movie theater. It generally showed art films and catered to the two colleges nearby.

  The marquee said: The Ravished.

  "It's not what I might have chosen if I'd had the choice," Kirk said.

  "I don't care a bit. A movie's a movie and I'm starved for one. Besides, Time said it was great. It's the only one in wheeling distance, so to speak."

  "What's it about?" Kirk asked.

  "I don't know. It's foreign."

  "Just my luck. Let's go."

  They arrived at the box office and Kirk paid the three dollars apiece for the tickets out of the money his father had left him.

  "What's the deal?" he asked the ticket seller who sat in her glass booth snapping her gum. "Is the popcorn gold or something?"

  The movie had already started.

  "You can't be too picky when you're escaping," Amy said. "We can sit through the beginning later if we want. It's freezing in here. Why do they always have the air conditioning down to below thirty in movie theaters in the summer?"

  "Would you like some popcorn or candy?" Kirk asked.

  "Oh, I'd love some. I haven't tasted popcorn in weeks. Make mine with butter if you don't mind."

  "Right," Kirk said. He wheeled himself to the refreshment stand. The woman behind the counter was immense. The maroon blazer didn't help.

  "Two popcorns," he said. "Lots of butter. Pretend you're a cow."