The Distant Home

by Morphett, Tony

  Mrs Webster, still moving at full speed, two-stepped like a footballer dodging a tackler and raced to Sally’s side, dropped to one knee, and then did something very strange.

  Her sweet face was suddenly distorted with rage. Swiftly she lifted her weed killer like a shooter looking for a target; in this case the target was the speeding blue car which was even then turning a corner out of Middle Street and thus out of sight.

  Whatever it was Mrs Webster was intending she now put to one side as she laid down her weeder and checked Sally’s condition.

  By this time, Jim, Maria and Bobby had recovered themselves enough to run over. They found Mrs Webster kneeling by Sally, checking vital signs, but in strange places. She was taking a pulse at the ankle, looking at the skin color on the inside of the arm, feeling each side of the chest. ‘She’s going to be all right,’ Mrs Webster said. ‘We’ll get her into my place!’

  ‘No!’ Jim countermanded. ‘We can’t move her till the ambulance gets here.’

  ‘I’ll ring them,’ shouted a neighbour who had come running, and she moved off to do so.

  Maria was kneeling by Sally, checking her throat pulse, moaning, ‘Sally! Sally!’

  ‘Is she going to be all right?’ Bobby said, and then looked off in the direction the hit-run driver took. ‘Didn’t even stop!’

  ‘I’ve got stuff in the house,’ Mrs Webster said to Jim.

  He shook his head savagely. ‘No one moves our daughter till the ambulance gets here! Understand?’

  ‘I can’t feel her heart!’ Maria cried.

  Mrs Webster was touching both sides of Sally’s rib cage. ‘It’s okay, I’ve got a strong pulse,’ she said, her voiced pitched to soothe.

  ‘But there’s no heartbeat!’ Maria said, feeling for it on the left side of Sally’s chest.

  ‘Further down, Maria. I promise you she’s going to be all right.’

  Maria ran her hand down to where Mrs Webster was touching the side of Sally’s rib cage, and looked at Mrs Webster, her anguish for a moment replaced by amazement.

  ‘She’s going to be okay,’ Mrs Webster again said calmly, and then looked up the street. ‘Is that the ambulance coming?’

  Jim and Maria looked in the direction Mrs Webster indicated so they did not see her stick something that looked like a small, circular, flesh-coloured sticking plaster under Sally’s hair.

  But Bobby saw. Mrs Webster looked up at that moment, caught Bobby’s puzzled expression, and put her finger to her lips.

  It was then that Bobby knew something very weird was going to happen.

  chapter eleven

  It was like a politician’s motorcade. First came the ambulance, siren going, with Maria and the unconscious Sally in the back with one of the paramedics, followed by Jim and Bobby in the family station wagon, and then, following them in the same little beat-up car in which she had arrived twelve years ago (and about which the neighbours had been saying ever since, ‘Where does she get spare parts for that ancient thing?’) was Mrs Webster.

  If the whole thing had not been so desperate, Bobby would have enjoyed it. As it was, all he could think of or see, like flashes from a movie, was Sally looking up in horror as the car bore down on her and then Sally falling and the car driving away.

  He felt furious at himself for having crossed the street with Sally, wondering if it had been his fault, whether she had been following his lead or whether, as they so often did, they had simply acted in unison.

  And on top of all that he felt an anger such as he had never felt before. This anger, this blinding rage that made him wish to do things he knew he should not even think about, was for the driver of the blue car, the human blur behind the steering wheel of the machine which had so brutally cut down his twin sister. But this last anger was powerless, it had nowhere to go, because the whole thing had happened so fast that no one had managed to get the licence number. No description, no number, no chance to find the perpetrator unless the police who came to the accident scene could track the car down in some other way.

  The young constable had said that the blue car might have to go in for repair, that it might have been stolen and when recovered might have fingerprints which might be in the files. Might, might, might. As soon as Bobby’s anger reached out for some target, it slipped away, concealed under a cloud of ‘mights’.

  And all the time he was thinking this, the ambulance sped along in front of him, its two-toned siren going ‘Sal-ly, Sal-ly’ like some mocking robot voice in his brain.

  In the back of the ambulance, Sally lay unconscious. Maria sat by her, silently praying, stroking Sally’s hand as the paramedic worked on her.

  ‘Is she going to be all right?’ asked Maria, desperately wanting to hear ‘yes, she’s going to be fine’, but knowing that no one yet knew.

  ‘She’s breathing but I can’t find a pulse.’ The paramedic was puzzled, concerned.

  ‘Mrs Webster was feeling the side of her chest. Down here.’ Maria put her hand to where Mrs Webster had found the heartbeat.

  ‘Got it,’ said the paramedic, obviously puzzled.

  ‘And here,’ said Maria, touching the other side of Sally’s rib cage.

  The paramedic reached over and put his hand where indicated. Now he was more than puzzled, more like astounded. ‘Two heartbeats?’

  ‘I’ve always sort of been aware of it, and it always seemed odd, but she’s been the healthiest child I’ve ever known,’ said Maria.

  ‘Like an echo,’ muttered the paramedic. He looked up at Maria. ‘No doctor ever found this?’

  ‘She’s never been to a doctor,’ Maria said.

  ‘Never?’

  ‘Never.’

  The small circular patch that Mrs Webster had placed beneath Sally’s hair was picking up every word and transmitting it back to Mrs Webster in her little car.

  When Mrs Webster was alone and unobserved, she was somehow different. She still had the outward appearance of a little old lady, but it was as if there was someone different living inside her body, someone tougher, steelier, the sort of person who could vault fences, run like the wind, and order removal men around like a drill sergeant. It was this Mrs Webster who was listening to Maria’s conversation with the paramedic, coming through loud and clear on her hearing aid.

  Maria went on. ‘She’s never been sick in her life.’

  The paramedic was sceptical. ‘Come on. Colds? Flu?’

  ‘Never.’

  For Mrs Webster, the conversation had reached dangerous ground, but the concern on her face was not the motherly concern of a sweet little old lady. It was more the concern of an officer for green troops under fire, of a coach sending her inexperienced team in against hardened professionals. Mrs Webster looked as if she knew there was worse to come.

  It was the same hospital where the twins were born. The ambulance drove in through the gates, its siren dying off as it reached the entrance to the emergency ward. It came to a halt, the driver jumped out and ran back to help. The Harrison family car and Mrs Webster’s car pulled up. Bobby and Jim and Mrs Webster were all getting out and moving to the ambulance, where the paramedics were rolling out the folding trolley on which a very pale Sally lay.

  They were moving fast, pushing the trolley into the emergency section even as Maria climbed out of the rear of the ambulance. The family followed the paramedics in a rush.

  ‘The ambulance man seemed puzzled about the two heartbeats, Jim,’ Maria was saying as they reached the entrance.

  ‘Never had anything wrong in her life!’ Jim said sharply as they entered.

  Hannah Rosen, the emergency intern on duty, fell into step alongside Sally’s trolley as they moved her toward one of the treatment rooms.

  ‘Weird one, Doctor Rosen,’ the paramedic was saying. ‘Two heartbeats, and I coulda sworn to a fracture of the left leg, tib and fib, now I’m not so sure.’

  ‘Let’s get her to X-ray,’ Rosen said. She was abrupt for two good reasons. The first was that she had been on dut
y for twelve hours and this looked like making it sixteen. The second was that, more than anything else about this job, she hated accidents involving young people.

  Bobby saw Sally being whisked away, and wanted to follow, but Mrs Webster laid a light but, as always, strong hand on his arm. ‘I can hear what’s happening,’ she murmured to him.

  ‘That thing you put in Sail’s hair?’ he whispered and she nodded. The strange thing was that he accepted this sort of thing from Mrs Webster. She was unlike any other adult he knew. If Mrs Webster stuck something in Sally’s hair and then said she could hear what was going on, then you accepted it was really happening. She was that kind of person.

  Mrs Webster stood there, one hand to her hearing aid. She was hearing Rosen saying ‘I want a full body scan.’ By that simple statement Mrs Webster knew that the whole situation was pickling and pickling fast. She needed to get back to her communication equipment at home and talk to her superiors as soon as possible. But first she had to organize Sally’s escape.

  As Jim and Maria headed for the desk, Mrs Webster turned and moved Bobby a short distance away from the others. ‘We’ve got to get Sally out of here,’ she told him.

  Bobby stared at her. ‘Out of here? Why?’

  ‘She’s in danger, and it’s up to you to get her out.’

  He stared at her, but did not dispute what she said. It was like the transmitter she had planted in Sally’s hair. When Mrs Webster did or said something, you accepted it.

  ‘There’s things about Sally that people mustn’t know,’ Mrs Webster went on. ‘Remember the game I gave you last Christmas? Castle Of Zahan? It’s that situation.’

  Even Bobby had pause at this. ‘But this is a hospital,’ he said. He knew he would be running full-tilt into every kind of adult authority if he tried to get Sally out of here.

  Mrs Webster brushed that small problem aside as if it didn’t exist. ‘Think Castle of Zahan. When you get her out of here, bring her to my place.’

  ‘To your place?’ Bobby asked. ‘Not home?’

  ‘My place. The back way, we’ve got to keep her under cover.’

  Bobby nodded. When Mrs Webster gave you orders, she really gave you orders. ‘Your place. Got it.’

  As he moved away, Mrs Webster was already heading over to Jim and Maria, suddenly every inch a sweet little old lady again. ‘I think I’m probably in the way,’ she quavered, and by the tone of her voice, she sounded very fragile and old, ‘I’ll just go home now and you can tell me when you know something?’

  Jim nodded, understanding that Mrs Webster had been having a very stressful day for someone her age. ‘Sure, Mrs Webster. Where’s Bobby?’

  ‘Went to take a leak, I think,’ she said, and then recovered her old lady act just in time, and said, her voice quivering with fatigue, ‘Bye bye.’ She gave them a little finger wave and tottered away toward the exit.

  ‘Thanks for everything,’ Maria called after her, and Mrs Webster lifted her walking cane in response without looking around. Maria watched her leave the building, and then looked at Jim. ‘I still can’t get over the way she jumped the fence.’

  Jim shrugged. ‘Crisis situation, sudden burst of energy. I read about it in a magazine one time. There was a case where a very small woman actually lifted a truck off her child. Without the emergency situation, she couldn’t have done it.’ He paused. ‘She’s paying for it now, poor old thing.’

  So intent were they watching Mrs Webster’s exit, that neither Maria nor Jim noticed Bobby heading along the corridor where the medical staff had taken Sally.

  Mrs Webster continued her tottering gait all the way out of the entrance to the emergency ward, but as soon as she was out of sight, she strode, taking long paces, half-running to her little car. She leapt in and took off like a Formula One driver with an arch-rival close behind, a world championship to win and nothing left to lose. Her engine’s roar lifted in tone as she shifted into top gear, and then she was gone.

  chapter twelve

  Bobby was warily moving along a corridor in the hospital. He knew he had to obey Mrs Webster’s orders and get Sally out of this place. He also knew that the full wrath of the adult world would descend on him if he got caught doing it. Indeed, if it had been anyone but Mrs Webster telling him to do this, he would never have made the attempt.

  But here he was, slipping along the hospital corridor, his joggers squeaking on the polished floor, his eyes roving, checking for danger. In this case danger meant any other human being. He knew they would try to stop him and that explaining about Mrs Webster would get him nowhere.

  A nurse appeared at the other end of the corridor, heading toward him with a trolley! There was no side corridor to dodge into, just a door. He opened the door, stepped inside and closed it after him.

  He found himself in the dark, but that was not a big deal. Bobby went everywhere prepared for everything. In his pocket, alongside a Swiss Army knife and a length of cord was a small flashlight. He drew the flashlight from his pocket and twisted the head of it to switch it on.

  The light revealed the interior of a cleaner’s cupboard. There were brooms, mops and, best of all, a white dustcoat hanging on a hook. Mrs Webster had said Castle of Zahan and she had been right. One of the keys to winning the Castle of Zahan game was disguising yourself as the enemy. Here was his disguise.

  Swiftly Bobby took down the white dustcoat and put it on. The sleeves were too long, drooping down over his hands, so he rolled them up to wrist length, then buttoned the coat. It was kind of loose, but it would have to do. There were plenty of small grown-ups in the world, why shouldn’t one of them work at the hospital?

  Now he looked around for a weapon. When you disguised yourself in Castle of Zahan, a weapon always came with it. What kind of weapon would a cleaner use? And there it was! A floor mop. The flashlight beam was showing him a floor mop with a broad hinged head like a pair of jaws. It was perfect. It gave him a reason for walking along any corridor in the hospital.

  A moment later, a figure in a loose dustcoat stepped out of the cupboard and began pushing a mop along the floor of the corridor. As he made his way along the corridor, he would stop, stand on tiptoe and peer through the observation window of each door he came to.

  Meanwhile, in the X-ray department, a radiologist and a senior nursing sister were sliding Sally into the central chamber of a huge X-ray machine for a full body scan. Dr Rosen stood by, clipboard in hand, watching as Sally’s seemingly unconscious body entered the machine.

  What none of them knew was that Sally was wide awake. She had woken from what seemed like a deep sleep as she was rolled along the corridor toward X-ray. She remembered turning and seeing the blue car heading for her, she remembered the instant of impact, and then there was nothing until she saw the ceiling of the hospital corridor unreeling before her eyes.

  No one had noticed her eyes open for that moment, no one had seen them close. Some instinct had told Sally that she should stay ‘unconscious’ until she found out more about what was happening to her.

  Sally was an intelligent girl, and one who liked to think things through before making decisions. The impulsive one in the family was Bobby; sometimes his impulses got him out of trouble, but more often they got him into it. Sally was just the opposite: think first, then act.

  So, having regained consciousness, she did not speak, but closed her eyes and took stock of things. One arm hurt between elbow and shoulder, and one leg hurt between knee and ankle. She had studied pictures of human anatomy, and she knew that the arm bone was the humerus and that there were two bones between knee and ankle, the tibia and fibula. Maybe she had a broken arm and leg, but they did not hurt as much as her friend Megan said her leg hurt when she broke it playing basketball. And the pain in both arm and leg seemed to be diminishing.

  As the machine began to hum, she lay there, trying to work it all out. She knew from a magazine article she had once read that most people don’t actually remember the moment of an accident, that the mi
nd erases that from the memory. But she could remember it quite clearly, and she wondered why.

  For as long as she could remember, she had always felt different, and perhaps remembering the detail of the accident was part of her difference. She knew she could remember things way back, further back than other kids at school could remember. She could remember, for instance, being in her first cradle. No one else she knew could remember that, in fact she had stopped saying she could because no one believed her.

  While Sally lay there in the X-ray machine, Dr Rosen and the radiologist and the nursing sister were staring at the screen in disbelief. What they were seeing was beyond their experience. It was impossible. If they had not been seeing it, they would not have believed it.

  The skeleton was human, and as far as they could tell, perfectly normal. It was the internal organs that they were staring at. There were two hearts, one each side, both working, four small lungs, four kidneys.

  Rosen just stood there, eyes locked onto the screen. ‘She’s got two hearts!’

  The radiologist had seen the insides of thousands of people but he had never seen anything like this one. ‘Everything’s duplicated. Lungs, kidneys.’

  ‘All working,’ said Rosen.

  Sally could hear them, hear the amazement in their voices, but also something beyond amazement. She could hear scientific interest. Now, scientific interest, that overwhelming curiosity to find out how things worked and why, was something that Sally knew a lot about, because she had it herself in abundance. She knew how strong it was. She knew it was this curiosity that allowed her to watch frogs being cut up in science classes long after other kids had turned away in disgust.

  When she heard that curiosity in Dr Rosen’s voice, Sally felt her first tremor of fear. She knew she would not be getting out of here in a hurry. She would be here until Dr Rosen and the others knew how she worked and why.

  The conversation between Rosen and the radiologist had also been heard by Mrs Webster as she drove toward Middle Street. The transmission device she had stuck beneath Sally’s hair was still doing its job.