by L. E. French
“What kind of tools do you need to take care of Phantom?” mohawk guy asked.
I flinched, startled out of my thoughts. After a few moments of collecting my wits, I rattled off a list. At this point, Phantom needed a transfusion and stitches. Some internal work would speed his recovery, but he was young. He’d be better off without my stupid hands groping his kidney. “Whatever kind of pain medication you can get your hands on is a good idea,” I said to finish of my list.
Thinking about what I’d done and seen with Phantom let me focus on something concrete that I understood. My grip on the armrest eased and I stopped waiting for the mohawk guy to whip around and slap me for daring to touch Phantom. I wished Delusion would let go of me so I couldn’t be accused of anything untoward regarding him.
“I’m Hideo. May I know your name, please?”
Mohawk guy glanced back at me with a raised eyebrow. “Call me Monster. This is Wraith.” he gestured to the driver.
I thought about commenting on the silly names. Wraith’s huge paws on the steering wheel reminded me how easily I could be pummeled to death. He could probably do it by accident.
Manners, I heard my father’s voice say in my head. Never underestimate the power of good manners. “Nice to meet you both.”
Monster chuckled. “What’re you doing in DeeSeat?”
The subtext of his question—why would someone like me be down here?—landed like a bag of bricks. Wraith pulled into a small, gravel parking lot while I thought about how to answer. We parked in a spot near the door of a long, low brick building painted black, with no markings besides the street number. Other old cars similar to ours sat in six of the ten spaces. Windows covered by dark curtains from the inside dotted the wall.
“Stumbling around,” I finally said as we all stepped out of the vehicle. Delusion slid out behind me, still refusing to let go and trailing me like a lost puppy.
Wraith hurried to the black metal front door and opened it while Monster carried Phantom. “What do you want to be doing in DeeSeat, Hideo?” Monster asked as I followed him inside.
“I want to be a doctor again,” I blurted.
Monster grunted. We plunged into a dim hallway with industrial carpet, bland, white walls, and faux wood doors marked with cheap plastic numbers. The place felt like a crappy apartment building or motel. Wraith stopped at door number nine and knocked. The hallway ended at door number ten.
The middle-aged woman who opened the door had dirty blonde hair held back by VR goggles perched on her head. Without the puckered scar cutting across the left side of her face and down her neck, she would’ve been a knockout. My gaze dipped to her ample breasts, covered by skin-tight VR bodysuit. Ai had one, as did several of her friends. My colleagues and I didn’t have time for that kind of crap. This woman’s electric blue and black suit had several small, discolored patches. She could afford to have one, but not to repair it.
“Take him to his room.” She stood aside to let Monster through, snapping my attention back to her face. The concern in her hazel eyes hadn’t been echoed in her voice. Delusion dragged me inside.
“This is the doctor who saved his life,” Delusion gushed. “Hideo.”
We walked into a living room with an open kitchen and a hall leading deeper into the apartment. Her VR console projected a black circle with white crosshairs onto the dull beige carpet between two couches. Monster carried Phantom down the hall and out of sight.
“Is that so?” The woman bore a superficial resemblance to Delusion, mostly around her mouth and chin. She snatched my arm with a gloved hand, forcing me to stop only two steps inside.
I looked into her hard eyes and thought she could skin me if she didn’t like my answer. “I did what I could. He still needs care. Monster has a shopping list.”
She arched an eyebrow. “And who are you?”
“Doctor Hideo Tsukuda.” I bowed to her like I’d trained myself to do with patients and their families. It was polite.
“Really.” She snorted and her lips curled into a smirk. “You look more like a drunk.”
I hadn’t even noticed her checking me over. Heat flushed my cheeks. I never should’ve gone to that bar. Or the three before it. Not that things would be better. Probably, things would be worse. “It’s…a long story.”
Monster returned, headed for the door. “I’ll be back with the doc’s supplies in a few.” With a tip of an imaginary hat, he hurried out. Wraith followed him, which felt like I’d been dismissed as a threat. I had no idea how to interpret that.
“Sit down, Dr. Tsukuda,” the woman ordered. I complied without thinking. Ai had that effect on me too. So did my mother. “I see you follow instructions. That’s good. Delusion, go sit with your brother.”
I cleared my throat and summoned as much boldness as I could muster under the circumstances. “It would be good remove his wet clothes and wrap him in a blanket. Come get me if he develops a fever.”
Delusion bobbed his head and dashed down the hall.
“So, Doctor Tsukuda, we have some time. Tell me your long story.” She gave the impression of a spider in her web, trying to lure the fly closer.
I took a deep breath and hoped I didn’t step in anything sticky.
Chapter 4
“The short version is my wife threw me out because she’s an uptight bitch and my boss fired me because he’s an asshole.” I noticed my hands shaking again and laced my fingers in my lap to make them stop. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear your name?”
“Misery.” She stepped into the kitchen and fetched a plastic cup from a cabinet.
“You all have unusual names here.”
Misery laughed, the sound grating and harsh. “Don’t you watch the holos, Dr. Tsukuda?”
“Not really. I work too much. My wife is a fan of some and prattles about them all the time. I can’t say I’ve ever paid much attention.”
She filled the cup with water from a pitcher in the fridge and brought it to me. “And she’s an uptight bitch, right?” she mocked.
I scowled and took the cup, then checked it for dissolving drugs. “That’s not the point.”
“Sure.” She dropped onto the couch across from me and kept smirking. “We use handles here. To protect ourselves from the cops and other authorities. If you plan to stick around in DeeSeat, you should consider using one too.”
Without my implant, I saw little danger of people using my real name. The cops only came to DeeSeat to pick up bodies and rescue people who called for help. On the other hand, one less way for them to find me seemed wise. No trail of people mentioning Dr. Tsukuda meant less chances for the police to wind up at my door.
I bowed my head. “I honor your experience and expertise.”
“You’re way too polite for DeeSeat. The people here will eat you alive. But never mind that. You’ll learn. About that story? I didn’t ask for the short version.”
So much for deflecting her. I sipped the water and groped for how to begin. “I lost a patient on the table.” The weight of that single moment settled on my shoulders, heavy enough to bow my spine. The memory of spurting blood filled my vision. Red covered my white latex gloves in thick, gushing splashes.
“That’s an even shorter version, Dr. Tsukuda.”
Jolted to the present, I saw Misery smirking at me again. My father’s words surged out of my mouth and I bowed to her again. “My apologies, madam. I don’t think I’m able to discuss this presently.”
“I got that impression, so let’s talk about Phantom instead. What’s my son’s condition? Monster told me he seems like he’ll be fine, but you’re the doctor.”
I fished the spent bullet out of my pocket and handed it to her. “He should be fine once he’s stitched up, so long as the wound is kept clean. The biggest concern is infection.” That wasn’t strictly true, but in my experience, most patients and their families only wanted to know the thing most likely to happen. Detailing all the potential issues tended to distract or upset people. Besides, telling
Misery—a woman who commanded the loyalty of Monster and Wraith, and who knew how many others—I’d dug around inside her son’s kidney with grease-stained pliers and my own dirty fingers seemed excessively stupid.
She jabbed a finger at me. “Just so we’re clear, if he dies, so do you.”
I froze, certain I’d misheard her. “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s called an incentive.”
“That’s…” My mouth went dry and hung open.
“How things work in DeeSeat,” she finished for me. “I’ll have a room made up for you.” She leaned forward, snagged my left wrist, and slapped a strip of metal around it before I could resist.
A tiny red light winked on the black metal strip and I squealed as it heated enough to burn my flesh. “What did you do?” I shrieked, tugging my hand to get it out of her grip.
“You’re my guest until I say you can leave.” She let go with a smug smirk.
I fell against the couch, cradling my wrist against my chest. Poking at the band proved fruitless. The metal had fused to my flesh. “This was unnecessary,” I gasped, still reeling from the pain.
“This is called insurance.”
Surviving this woman and her gang had suddenly become much more complicated. “How does it work?”
Misery held up a black, oblong controller with only one button. It fit into the palm of her hand with her thumb resting over the silvery button. She pressed it. Agony jolted my arm, then my spine, making me scream and crumple to the floor. The torture ended only a second after it had begun but still left me panting on my hands and knees.
“That’s how it works, Dr. Tsukuda. Don’t give me a reason and I won’t use it.”
I’d discovered how she earned her name, at least. I sat up and rubbed my face. The red light taunted me. Searching for words to fling in her face, I came up with only two, and they disappointed me. “I understand.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Monster breezed back inside, saving me from this situation. He carried a bulging plastic bag. “Everything you asked for, Doc.”
Eager to be away from Misery, I stood and bowed to her. Without a word, I took the bag and almost fell over from the weight.
Taking it back, Monster chuckled. “I’ll carry it, Doc.”
Still unable to come up with anything to say, I fled for the hallway. Four crappy plastic doors stood open, and I poked my head into a beige and green bathroom before turning to see Monster pointing into Phantom’s bedroom.
In my daughter’s room, screens covered the walls. She interacted with them through her implant and by touch. Miko favored bright colors, balloons, and friendly animals. Soft fiber optic filaments made up her carpet so she could change the color whenever she wanted. Smooth, rounded corners and soft, plush toys surrounded her.
Phantom’s room felt like someone had made an effort to be Miko’s exact opposite. With all the sharp edges and open knife worship, I wondered how Phantom didn’t stab himself routinely. Dark curtains blocked all but a sliver of the harsh streetlight outside. Delusion’s coat lay in a crumpled heap on the bland carpet.
“Delusion,” Monster barked from behind me, making me jump. “Go to your mom. Now.”
I skittered inside as the boy stood from his brother’s bedside. “It wasn’t our fault,” Delusion whined.
“I don’t care.” Monster set his meaty hand on the top of Delusion’s head and used it to shove him into the hallway. “Tell her.” He watched with a stern scowl while Delusion slumped his shoulders and shuffled away. “Do you need an assistant, Doc?”
The dynamics of this family didn’t concern me. So long as Misery didn’t beat her boys, her approach to discipline was none of my business. They had concerns I didn’t understand, and teaching them how to handle a rough life seemed like a valuable lesson. If I told myself this enough times, I could forget about the leash on my wrist.
“Are these your sons?” I can’t explain what made me ask. Neither boy resembled Monster in any way, and Misery hadn’t behaved like a lover toward him. The arrangement here seemed important for my survival, I suppose.
Monster smirked at me. “Not in the way you mean. Their father is dead. I watch out for them, though, so kind of, yeah.”
Nodding, I unbuttoned my shirt sleeves and rolled them up. “I could use another pair of hands, yes. You don’t mind the sight of blood, I hope?”
He laugh as he knelt and emptied the shopping bag. “I’m fine, Doc. I see you’re going to be our guest. I’ll find some clothes in your size.”
“Thank you.” Picking up a box of latex gloves bolstered my confidence in this strange place.
“What’s this for?” Monster held up a plastic shower curtain liner in an unopened package.
“Open it up and we’ll get it under Phantom. To protect him from the bed and the bed from him.”
Monster chuckled. “We have tarps big enough for that.”
I wondered if he knew that because they often wrapped up dead bodies. “This one is as sterile as something like that can be.”
He grunted and ripped the package open. I used more restraint to open the box in my hands and snapped on latex gloves. Setting the box aside, I peered at everything else he’d bought for me. A small vial of clear liquid caught my eye and I crouched to pick it up. Reading the label sent my brow climbing up my forehead.
“Where did you get morphine?” My hospital hadn’t used morphine in at least two decades. They’d been phasing it out of texts when I started medical school. I didn’t even know someone still made and packaged it.
“Corner drugstore.” Monster picked Phantom up and I rushed to arrange the shower curtain under him.
“You’re joking. Right?”
“No, probably just using the term differently than you do.” He set Phantom down so I had easy access to his injury.
I pictured a boarded-up building with a hidden entrance in the back and a hunched old man tending dozens of shelves of drugs. A single, old fashioned light bulb dangled bare in the center and he used a hand-held flashlight to check the labels. This man muttered to himself for some reason.
“Are you sure this is what it says?”
“I asked my guy for a high-caliber painkiller. That bottle is what he gave me. He doesn’t fuck around with me, if that’s what you’re worried about. It might not actually be what it says, but it’s not poison or anything.”
The bottle had an intact seal, and the date stamped on the side—marking it as expired twelve years ago—had what looked like a proper lot number. With no discoloration in the liquid, I felt confident it wouldn’t harm Phantom. Whether it had enough efficacy left to help was questionable, but it would be better than nothing. With no injector gun in sight, I found a sterile syringe and used it to inject Phantom with what I estimated to be a proper dose of the drug.
“You want me to rip off this tape?”
I had a feeling Monster subscribed to the tough-it-out school of recovery. Unfortunately, his idea would probably be enough additional trauma to send Phantom into shock. “Give the drug a few minutes first.” Snapping the cap over the syringe, I dropped it into the now-empty bag and arranged the supplies on Phantom’s bedside table.
“Are you going to toss that needle?”
“Yes, of course. It’s used.” Though I hadn’t used a syringe more than a few times since medical school, I knew that much.
“I’ll take care of it.”
For a moment, I thought nothing of Monster’s statement. Then I noticed him pluck the needle out of the bag and turn to leave. He also picked up the half-full bottle of morphine.
I gulped, afraid of the answer, but had to ask anyway. “Where are you taking that?”
“Not your concern, Doc. I’ll be back in a few.” He left too fast for me to stop him.
“Sterilize the needle!” I called after him.
Chapter 5
By the time Monster returned, I had the duct tape pried off Phantom’s skin. Lucky for him, it hadn’t stuck well and
only a few spots needed care in removal. I did my best to ignore Monster as anything other than an assistant while I cleaned the wound with rubbing alcohol and stitched it shut. My hands shook anyway.
“I thought all you fancy doctors had rock-steady hands,” Monster said as I tied off the last stitch. He traded me a pair of scissors for the needle.
Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself before cutting the thread. “I apologize for being nervous under your scrutiny.”
Monster chuckled. “Don’t worry, Doc. You’re part of the family now.”
“I already have a family.” Except I didn’t. I set the scissors aside and taped gauze over the wound site. All business. No feelings. “This bandage needs to be kept on and dry for the next twenty-four hours. After that—”
“You can tell him tomorrow,” Monster said, waving me off. He wrestled with his latex gloves while I peeled mine off with ease. “I’ll show you to your room now, unless you’d rather have dinner with us.”
Frowning at his interruption, I wondered if I had the option to eat by myself. I decided not to ask. Until I knew these people better, I had no idea what would annoy them. They all struck me as people not to annoy. “Dinner would be appreciated.”
We picked up all the supplies together and rolled Phantom off the shower curtain. Monster wrapped him in a clean blanket and shooed me out of the room.
“Doc,” he said as he shut Phantom’s door. “What’s your ’link code?”
I rattled it off without thinking and immediately regretted it. “It doesn’t work, though.” When Monster raised an eyebrow at me, I sighed. “My implant was disabled.”
“How interesting,” Misery said. She sat on the couch in the living room with a glass goblet of dark liquid, now wearing a blue shirt and jeans. “That makes you fairly useless, doesn’t it? I don’t even know where to get a handheld ’link, and I can get my hands on a carburetor for a ’67 Chevy.”
Somehow, I doubted things labeled “useless” survived for long around her. I bowed to her, scrambling for some way to justify myself lest she decide to jolt me again. “It wasn’t damaged or removed, only disabled. I’m sure it can be switched on again, I just don’t know anyone who can do that.”
