New Title 1

by Essig, Robert

I brought the flame closer, watching as his expression grew from worry and sadness to something bright and endearing like that of a child given an ice cream cone.

  “You like the fire?” I asked.

  Nodding, he hissed something close to an affirmation.

  I placed the flame close to his face, but not close enough to bother him if indeed I had been misinterpreting his intentions, but there was no mistaking the calm that came over him as the flame neared. His body relaxed beneath the blanket. He let out a breath, a sigh of relief.

  Then the flame went out, probably from a gust of his breath I had it so close to his face. He groaned out a word that sounded like “again,” repeating it over and over.

  “You like the warmth, is that it?”

  He nodded.

  I struck another match, but this time I lit a number of fat candles that had been collected in a bin on the floor. I slid the stationary desk next to his bed and placed the glowing candles atop, as close as I could to him without creating a fire hazard. He seemed to luxuriate in their glow, for what reason I couldn’t understand. He was far too hot to want more heat, or at least it seemed that way to me.

  I checked his vitals. Nothing had changed. Everything about this patient defied the logistics of a healthy human being.

  “You’ve managed to speak a few words,” I said. “Would you like to try to speak some more? Could you tell me your name?”

  He growled and hissed and said something that sounded like “rum ale.”

  “Rum ale,” I repeated, to which he shook his head.

  “No,” he roared. “Rum Hail!”

  It sounded to me like something was obstructing his vocal box. I didn’t want to cause him to become upset, so I asked if he needed anything, not that I thought he would be able to make a proper request.

  “Hot!”

  “You would like a fire, wouldn’t you? Something to heat the room up.”

  He nodded then plopped his head onto the pillow with a heavy, exasperated sigh.

  It made no sense that someone with such severe fever would request heat, but I was becoming accustomed to the unusual. There was no wood for the hearth, so I made a note to remind me to address the issue with Mister Adler. I couldn’t be sure he would be of any help considering his troublesome demeanor, but I would make my requests under the strict insistence that without the items on my list I would not be able to properly care for his patient.

  After a moment of silence, I decided to ask him one more question. It was a preposterous query, something I’d never before asked a patient under my care, but I had to know, and now that it was clear he could understand me, I wouldn’t be able to rest my head without asking.

  “Maybe you cannot tell me where you are from, but I want to know, are you from…Earth?”

  Our eyes locked and I felt so damn stupid for asking such a ridiculous question. I could only imagine what any one of my ex-colleagues would have said had they heard me utter such an absurdity.

  The thing on the bed held my gaze, my eyes burning yet unable to close. He nodded, closed his eyes, and again rested his head on the pillow.

  It was late. I realized that when I asked, I didn’t think I would get the response he had given me.

  I left the candles lit, suspecting that he would have protested were I to snuff them out. Before I walked out of the room, I said, “Goodnight, Salpsan.”

  I left his door ajar so I would be able to hear if he needed me. Uncertain of whether I should try the hallway door again, I retreated to my room, famished and ready for some much earned rest. After entering, I left my door ajar wondering if I should have snuffed out the hallway sconces. Having never experienced a life lived by candlelight, I had no idea how long the candles would burn, and it certainly seemed like a fire hazard, even if the walls and floors were stone. It was kind of unsettling to go to sleep with candles burning like that.

  It felt so good to finally sit down. I could have died for a bath, but was too tired to bother. As I disrobed I heard a startling noise. The stillness in the house was almost maddening for someone like myself who was accustomed to the din of a television on almost all the time.

  Breathing, low and hard, somewhere in the room. A small room with little hiding space, but dark from the low flickering candlelight.

  Then I saw Blake, crouched in a corner, cloaked in darkness. His eyes gleamed, teeth bared causing him to look like someone who’d gone over the brink.

  “What are you doing in my room?” I demanded.

  It was absurd, him being there, and the last thing I would have expected.

  Blake stood, eyes never shifting from mine. “It gets lonely out here. Are you lonely?”

  My nerves jumped. He advanced on me, hands poised, fingers dancing as if looking to cop a feel, a wet grin on his face that made me sick to my stomach.

  “Stay away from me,” I said. “I swear I’ll scream.”

  He cornered me, so close I could smell the liquor on his breath. Visions of ripping his eyes out with my fingernails taunted me, but I remained calm.

  “Is that what you want, for me to scream? What will Mister Adler think about all this?”

  He licked his lips, bright red glistening lips like strips of fresh cut sirloin. “I don’t discriminate. Age doesn’t matter to me. If you’re ever feeling lonely…”

  My heart beat so rapidly I could feel a throbbing pulse in the back of my head. “I came here to help Mister Adler’s patient. That’s all. If you would please leave my room, I would like to get some sleep.”

  The feverish lust in Blake’s eyes dissipated. I feared that it would be replaced with anger, but to my surprise he turned and left my room without another word, as if a switch had been flicked that radically changed his psychotic demeanor.

  After pacing the floor for a solid hour, I felt calm enough to attempt sleep. There was so much on my mind, so many questions to which I feared would never be answered. I hadn’t felt so confused in such a long time. I lay down to bed, and when I closed my eyes I saw a maelstrom of images from what proved to be quite a tumultuous day. As I drifted into sleep, there was one word on my mind, or rather a solitary name: Salpsan.

  Chapter Four

  Day Two

  Awaking in a strange house can be unsettling, especially when I slept as deeply as I did on my first night at the Adler house. It must have been a result of my sheer exhaustion combined with jetlag. I was refreshed, all things considered; however, I didn’t know what to expect, which was disconcerting.

  The house was dreadfully cold. I hadn’t packed slippers, so I decided to wear the thickest socks in my suitcase to walk through the hall toward the bathroom without numbing my feet into frostbite. The toilet was fastened to the wall and had a lever that dangled overhead. I’d never seen anything like this in the States. I was pleased that I wouldn’t have to use an outhouse. I let the water in the small pedestal sink run over the filthy soap I’d dumped there the day before and washed my hands.

  Before returning to my room I stopped to check on my patient. He was asleep; however, he appeared to be in pain. The look on his face, the rictus of agony. I could only imagine how his muscles ached having been restricted all night long in one position, and how was he relieving himself? I didn’t see a bedpan.

  I wanted to allow him to get up and walk, but was wary. I felt some sort of connection with Salpsan last night, something that caused me to feel compassion for him, but he was restrained for a reason. I would have to speak with Mister Adler in more civil terms, careful not to flick his switch. I’d made the decision to remain here for the duration of Salpsan’s recovery anyway, so I figured I might as well play my cards right and get as much information out of Adler as I could.

  Salpsan suddenly erupted into a violent fit of shivers. I went into action, fearing that some kind of sickness had seeped in overnight. I was given a start when I placed my hand on his head to feel his temperature. I’d expected a fever, but it was cold and clammy. He opened his eyes. They were weak, sad, t
he color of melted butter. Groaning and coughing, thick phlegm coated his mouth.

  “So cold,” he said.

  “You’re cold?”

  “Need…hot.”

  After placing a thermometer under his tongue I searched the room for something I could use to create heat. The candles would only do so much. There was no wood to start a fire in the hearth. I left the room momentarily, grabbed the sheets from my bed and returned, placing them over Salpsan. It wasn’t much—may not even make a difference—but it was the best I could do until I could procure firewood.

  I pulled the thermometer from his mouth and almost dropped it when I saw that his temperature was 78 degrees. The room was much colder, but I had never seen anyone survive with a temperature so low. His heartbeat was irregular, as was his pulse, and with the abnormal temperature I just didn’t know how to care for him. That frustration I felt yesterday returned.

  Salpsan needed a doctor, plain and simple.

  “I’ll be back shortly,” I said before rushing down the hall.

  The door to the sitting room just off the hallway was, thankfully, open. Last night must have been a fluke. I rushed through, glancing up at the decorative iron of the spiral staircase, but I couldn’t see past the landing where a door was closed. I couldn’t help but assume that door led to Adler’s room.

  Blake was in the kitchen. He froze as I entered, my stare relentless and strong. I would not let this pig belittle me. “I need to speak with Mister Adler,” I said. My words were ice.

  “He hasn’t woken up yet.”

  “I need to speak with him now. He hired me to care for his patient. I cannot do this job if he doesn’t provide me the supplies I need. Do you understand me?”

  “I understand; however, I cannot wake Terrance. He would be very upset with me.”

  I sighed. I knew I could grind this weasel down. “I think he would be more upset with you if I told him what you did last night, don’t you?”

  His mouth dropped, like a boy who had been whipped for sticking his finger inside a fresh baked pie, but no words came forth.

  “If you don’t get him right now, I will have no other choice than to tell him.”

  Blake had been mixing something in a large bowl, what could have been some variety of batter or dough for all I knew. Right now I had a lot more on my mind than breakfast.

  “I don’t have time to waste,” I said.

  Just then Mister Adler stepped into the kitchen dressed in a pair of black pants and a black button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone, hair disheveled in a way that may have been fashionable in a young crowd, a five o’clock shadow that was more derelict than GQ. His eyes were red as if he had just woken up or perhaps hadn’t slept so well last night.

  “No time to waste, I hear,” he said.

  “No. You have a sick patient in there. Very sick. I have decided that I am going to stay here and nurse him back to health, if I can even do that, and let me tell you, I’m not sure I can.”

  “Oh, so you are going to stay?”

  “But I have to have things my way. If not, then I’m not so sure there’s any reason to have me here.”

  “Well, well, I’m so glad to hear that we’re on the same page.”

  “First and foremost, I need a fire on the hearth. Salpsan is terribly cold, deathly chilled, in fact. It’s quite astonishing that his body is not breaking down, and for all I know it very well may be. He needs a doctor, Mister Adler.”

  Adler crossed the kitchen, zeroing in on a fancy cappuccino maker. For a moment, I thought he hadn’t been listening to me, that his arrogance was so deep-seeded he thought he could slink around like the master of his domain without speaking to me about the very purpose I was to serve. Then he spoke.

  “Salpsan, you say?”

  I had been holding quite a domineering posture since waking, but now it was my turn to be taken aback. It wasn’t until he said the name back to me that I realized how unbelievable it was that I knew my patient’s name, or that I had created a name to fill that void in my mind.

  “I…” I didn’t know what to say.

  “You’ve spoken with him?”

  The excitement in Mister Adler’s eyes drew forth something from him I had yet to see—passion that overshadowed his gait of certainty and cockiness—but something else in that gleam caused me reservation.

  What were his motivations?

  “Yes. He’s spoken a few words. I can go over all of that with you, but—”

  “But nothing. I want to see him.”

  Adler disregarded his cappuccino and promptly exited the kitchen. I found this to be startling, reassuring me that his intentions weren’t guided by emotional connection. I had to wonder whether Salpsan was a relative who had been severely disfigured, but that gleam in Adler’s eyes was something more like victory—the wrong kind of victory.

  I started after Mister Adler and then stopped just outside the door.

  “Don’t bother him, please!”

  Adler didn’t listen to me. Not that I expected him to.

  Turning toward Blake I said, “Gather some wood for the hearth. I need a fire in Salpsan’s room, post haste.”

  Blake hesitated, even opened his mouth to protest but must have thought better of it. I glared at him as if staring down an angry pitbull until he set off for the wood.

  I heard the commotion before I made it to Salpsan’s room. Adler stood over him, domineering, scolding him like a child, a peasant. “Speak to me, dammit! Speak to me! Where did you come from? Can’t you tell me that? Huh? Can’t you?”

  Salpsan thrashed in his bed, fighting the restraints, gnashing his teeth, groaning and growling. Many of the sounds I heard as I entered the room were defensive, angry, bitter, and then there was something desperate, almost frightened that sunk my heart.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, shocked at Adler’s rough treatment of my patient. “Can’t you see he’s sick? You’re frightening him!”

  Adler backed up a few paces looking almost shocked, perhaps at my intrusion or the sheer anger and frustration in my voice. Maybe he was ashamed of his actions.

  “Mister Adler, if you would like me to care for Salpsan I must have your complete cooperation. You flew me out here for a reason, am I correct?”

  He never stopped looking at Salpsan, but answered, “Yes.”

  “Yesterday I thought for sure that I was going to leave. I don’t have anything here in Spain, not a dime to my name or plane ticket to fly home on, but I was going to leave because I couldn’t believe the bizarre circumstances you brought me into. I have since decided that it is my duty to care for Salpsan, as much I possibly can, but I cannot have you coming in here bullying him like this.”

  Blake entered the room with the wood and prepared a fire in the hearth without direction. Adler began to speak, but I cut him off, determined to finish my statement.

  “I need electricity, I need clean running water, and I have a list of other items that should be able to be found in the nearest city. What I need most of all is a peaceful environment for Salpsan. If you want recovery—if you want him brought back to health—then you had better meet my requests. Really, it’s very little to ask for.”

  I was out of breath, but it felt good to get it all off of my chest.

  “Very well,” said Adler. His voice was calm and cold, clearly upset with my somewhat demanding and completely uncharacteristic outburst. “I will see that you have access to electricity and water. I’ll send Blake to gather what you need.”

  He glared at Salpsan one final time before leaving the room. As he passed, he didn’t so much as look me in the eyes.

  It hadn’t been my intention to upset Adler, though, in that moment, I had become so enraged at his treatment of my patient that I could not allow myself to remain as calm and collected as I normally would have. In my book, people should treat all living things with, at the very least, a shred of decency, particularly the young, sick, and infirmed.

 
A moment later Blake had a fire going. I asked him to stock some wood, that way I could maintain the fire without assistance. I didn’t like the smirk on his face. He’d heard what I said to Adler and perhaps he could tell from Adler’s response that he was upset with me. Really, I didn’t give a damn.

  Once Blake was gone, I took the stationary chair from my room and brought it into Salpsan’s room where I placed it close to his bed. I had been fighting a terrible onslaught of arthritis and achy joints since touching down in Spain. It had been so cold, particularly in the morning in this stone domain. The fire felt heavenly, and there wasn’t anything I could do from my room anyhow. After what he’d been through, I felt that Salpsan could use my company.

  “If you would like to talk to me, feel free to do so,” I said. I certainly could have used someone to talk to just then, and if he felt obliged, I may have been able to learn more about his condition if I could learn more about his origins.

  However, the time for words seemed to have perished somewhere in the melee Adler created when he rushed the room, yelling and taunting like a madman.

  After a while I checked Salpsan’s temperature. It was low, but rising as the room warmed. I placed my hand on his head like I had last night to see if he felt any warmer, but also to see if I would feel the same electricity. It was hard to explain, but something tingled my senses, gave me that stomach-dropping feeling that a roller coaster could elicit, the butterflies in the gut feeling of new love, a warm, fresh resurgence within that I hadn’t felt in years.

  Eyes closed, palm on his forehead, I relished as the aches and pains dissolved from my hand and through my arm all the way to my feet. Salpsan sighed loudly, and with that sigh he made me feel young again. His cold, clammy skin warmed with my touch and I felt as if we were becoming one, like lovers intertwined at the height of copulation. My flesh tingled and crawled when something dark penetrated my mind, something foreign, out of place. With the dark intrusion was a luxurious, inviting warmth.

  “Miss Fleisher,” came a voice that sounded so distant, almost ghostly. I opened my mouth to answer, but my senses had become so dulled that I must have looked a fool. My name was uttered again. Only then was I pulled from the trance, my hand removed from Salpsan’s head. Blake stood there before the hearth, a pile of firewood at his feet, his massive unibrow raised and that filthy grin spread across his face.