“I don’t understand,” Vickie said.
The Lady touched her with the stigmata of St. Francis and stepped back, dissolving the infinite plain with a roar. Vickie opened her eyes. She was back in the cave, the rushing water pounding in her ears. Pain like she’d never before known raged deep within her. Dalk and Toyama sat beside her. Mulroney’s body was stretched by the fire, his bare legs and chest exposed, a roasted rat on each thigh and one on his chest, the smoking carcasses bound by golden amulets. Two brightly colored feathers protruded from between the toes of his right foot.
“Help me!” she cried.
“Hang on, Sis,” Dalk said. “The cops’ll be here soon. I can’t give you anything for your pain. If the pain is too great to bear, Toyama can put you to sleep.”
“No,” she said. “I’ve got to stay conscious. I understand the truth now. I received the touch of St. Francis. It’s important. Move me closer to Mulroney, and get me my rosary.”
“Toyama,” Dalk said. “Move your rats.”
“No,” Vickie said. “Leave them--they belong there.”
They positioned her with her head on the great man’s chest next to the roasted rat and put the plastic rosary in her hand. Carefully, she placed the crucifix next to the rat on Mulroney’s chest, over his heart.
“Forgive me, Mulroney,” she said. “I’ve been selfish. My desire to think only of myself has put you in great harm. When I found out I was dying, I thought only of myself. I never even considered what you might be going through. I took your money and your hand in marriage and when you collapsed I was angry--angry at you for taking something away from me. My tears have never been for you--they’ve been only for myself. Mulroney, I am heartily sorry for having offended you by my selfishness, and I ask you to forgive me.”
Vickie began to weep, the tears flowing from the river of pain running through her, dripping from her face onto Mulroney’s chest. The tears dripped over the crucifix, dissolving the bloody tear of the Virgin, creating a water and blood rivulet which crossed over his heart.
“Oh God,” she said. “Give me the compassion I need. Give Mulroney back his life. Take me--not him.”
A blinding light suddenly filled the cave, pouring in from the world outside, fracturing through the waterfall into a thousand colors, transforming the air around them into a heavenly glory.
The helicopter searchlight. Directed to the spot by the cops and dogs outside the cave. A loudspeaker blared above the roar of the waterfall, above the barking of adrenalized dogs, close and eager to charge.
“This is the police,” the echoey voice said. “Come out slowly from the cave. I repeat. Come out slowly from the cave, one at a time, with your hands showing. If you do not come out, we will send in the dogs. I repeat. If you do not come out, we will send in the dogs.”
Dalk removed the revolver from his belt and pointed it toward the mouth of the cave.
“No dog is going to bite my ass,” he said.
A dark, quick movement entered the cave--the hurtling body of an animal.
Dalk fired reflexively--and missed--not a dog--Kilkenney--flushed from hiding by the presence of the dogs, seeking the safety of the cave, his giant body streaking towards Mulroney, landing on his thighs, hysterical from the dogs outside and the gunfire inside, releasing his adrenaline by raising up on his hind legs and tearing into a roasted rat.
A pair of massive, bristling German Shepherds entered the cave in answer to the gunshot. Dalk fell atop Vickie, shielding her. The beasts lunged towards them, fangs spread wide. Kilkenney stood up tall to greet the first dog, the foil-roasted rat falling from his mouth, his paws the size of a man’s hands open, with wicked claws extended--a cornered mini-lion, with no way out, his sincere ferocity giving the first canine pause, and in that pause Kilkenney made his move, with devastating results, sending the dog hurtling back through the falls with thirty pounds of terror ripping up his face.
“Oooos!” Toyama yelled, closing with the second dog. The beast rose confidently to the attack, and in that nanosecond of overconfidence failed to avoid the little sensei’s lightning-fast hammer blow to the ribs, knocking the big dog into the air, the bodies of man and dazed beast coming together like two minor deities in malevolent contention, the beast’s flashing teeth sparkling in the blinding white light from the searchlight as the two rotated across the floor of the cave towards the falls in a surreal ballet, their outburst carrying them, finally, through the curtain of shining waters and into the streambed outside.
“Dalk,” Vickie said.
“I’ll protect you,” he said. “Stay down in case some idiot starts firing.”
“Dalk!”
“Stay down!”
“Dalk! Listen to me! Mulroney’s eyes opened!”
Together, the brother and sister separated and looked into Mulroney’s eyes, where the fire of life was once again burning.
“He’s trying to say something,” Vickie said.
“I can’t hear him,” Dalk said.
Vickie put her ear to her husband’s mouth. “Go ahead, darling,” she said. “I’m listening--I’m here for you, baby. Go ahead. Talk to me.”
From deep within Mulroney’s throat, a harsh whisper issued forth.
“Get ... that ... stinking ... rat ... off ... my ... chest.”
Epilogue
“I’m sorry I took so long to get back to you,” Vickie said. “But I had some things to take care of last week. My husband had a bypass yesterday at UCLA.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dr. Bienenfeld said. “Sometimes it seems like everything happens at once.”
The woman before him seemed changed somehow, he thought. It wasn’t the short hair. No, it was something in her eyes. He realized it was the absence of fear in her face, and a feeling he got from her that was hard to define--she presented a confident connectedness to her surroundings that was a far cry from the angry, unfocused woman who had sat before him only a week ago, dazed and frightened, asking him questions about her dog.
“Was your husband’s bypass successful?”
“They had him up and walking this morning,” Vickie said. “He’s done a lot of griping about the pain, but he’s already admitted to me he feels better than he has in years.”
“They do wonders at UCLA these days,” Bienenfeld said. “Now, with your permission, we’ll begin discussing your options for the treatment of your pancreatic tumor.”
“I’m ready,” Vickie said.
“We’ll start by going down the hall to meet Dr. Wellborn. She’s going to discuss with you your pain management program, and plan a strategy to help you prevent other complications from the cancer. Later, I’ll introduce you to our counselor, Judy Wallace. She’ll introduce you to a wonderful support group. Believe me, a support group can work wonders. It helps take some of the burden off of your closest family members.”
“That’s important to me,” Vickie said. “In fact, the reason I’m here is for my husband.”
“It sounds like you’ve got the best reason in the world to want to get well,” he said.
“I guess so,” Vickie said. “Are we talking about surgery, chemo, radiation, or what?”
“In your case,” he said. “We may start with a small laparoscopic surgery, then move on to radiation, and finally to chemo. I think we’re in time to work towards a complete remission using one or a combination of all of the above. It’s fortunate for us you didn’t take too much time deciding to seek treatment.”
“It wasn’t an easy decision,” Vickie said. “But now that I’ve made it, I feel it’s the right decision.”
“When you first left my office last week,” he said, “I was concerned--but I knew you’d be back. Most people just need a few days to think about it.”
“I did a lot of soul searching last week,” Vickie said.
“As well you should,” the doctor said. “After all--it's no small matter.”
THANK YOU FOR READING!
M. M. Wilshire
&
nbsp; A True Independent Author
[email protected]
Table of Contents
A Small Matter
A Small Matter Page 19
