An ambulance showed up, but they were carrying a woman. And, a few minutes later, another one, with what appeared to be an injured child.
Then, finally, Dave.
Two ambulance attendants hauled him out of the rear of the vehicle on a stretcher and transferred him to a gurney. A cop climbed out afterward, and they all went inside.
Shel followed.
They wheeled Dave into the reception area and through a pair of swinging doors into a side room. The cop took station beside the swinging doors. Shel sat down where he had some vision into the side room and picked up a battered copy of Sports Illustrated. After about twenty minutes, one of the doors opened, and a doctor spoke to the cop. The cop nodded and followed him back into the room. The door swung shut.
Still holding the magazine, Shel got up, strolled over, and pushed the door ajar. They were taking Dave out another exit. He was connected to a monitoring device and he looked unconscious. A nurse noticed him and frowned. He smiled back, trying to appear casual, and retreated. When she turned away, he hurried through the swinging doors, crossed the room, and went out the other side.
Dave was still on his gurney. Two attendants were moving him down a passageway, while the cop trailed.
They turned off into a connecting corridor, walked past the cafeteria, and stopped in front of a bank of elevators. The attendant pressed the UP button.
The police officer looked his way while they waited. Shel slowed his pace but kept walking. He got there just as the elevator did. When the doors opened, the cop made it clear he wanted no company. Shel kept his eyes averted and walked past. Dave lay supine on the gurney. His breathing seemed shallow.
He heard them get into the elevator. Heard the doors close. He hurried back and pushed the UP button.
Dave’s elevator stopped at the fourth floor. And again at the fifth.
Three women were walking toward him. His elevator arrived, and the women picked up their pace. He got in. One of them called for him to wait for them. He ignored the request and pushed the fourth-floor button, then closed the doors. They shut just before the women arrived.
The elevator went to the second floor. And stopped. The doors opened. A doctor, bald, annoyed, shaking his head, stood just outside talking with an efficient-looking well-dressed brunette. “No, Suze,” he said, “I wish you wouldn’t get us into stuff like that.”
“I’m sorry, Jim, but he asked for you specifically.” Her hand reached in to prevent the door from closing.
“You know what pinochle’s like over there.”
“Jim, I didn’t have much choice. I didn’t want to insult them.”
It went on like that for a full minute before Jim sighed and agreed to go, told Suze she owed him, and came into the elevator. She released her hold, and he pushed the button for the third floor.
The doctor got off there, the doors closed, the elevator went up another level and stopped. Shel stuck his head out and looked both ways. No sign of Dave and his attendants. Two nurses sat at desks in a glass enclosure. He got out and walked toward them.
He needed a few moments to get their attention. “Nurse,” he said, when one finally turned his way, “did somebody just get off here with a man on a gurney?”
The nearer one looked up from a clipboard. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Yes. There were several more floors and they could be anywhere. “They dropped a pen,” he said.
She smiled tolerantly. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
Too time-consuming. He went back to the elevator. It was passing the second floor on the way down. He pushed the button again. Then went back to the nurse. “Miss, is there a stairway?”
She pointed. “At the end of the corridor. Go left. You can’t miss it.” It was too far. He returned to the elevator, and rode it up to the fifth floor. But the corridor was empty. And this time there was no one to ask.
Damn.
He stood frustrated, wondering what to do.
Then he recalled the converter. He set it to take him back five minutes, and was standing well off to one side when the elevator arrived, and Dave and his escort got off.
They walked about halfway down one of the corridors and turned left. By the time Shel reached the intersection, they were at the far end of the passageway, entering a room. The eighth one on the right. The policeman hauled a chair outside the door, set it against the wall, and sat down. Minutes later, the gurney and the attendants reappeared and started back in Shel’s direction. Almost immediately, a doctor arrived, nodded to the cop, and went past him into the room.
Shel pulled back out of sight. Next task was to get past the guard. He set the converter for ten minutes earlier and pushed the black button.
TWO people who’d apparently gotten lost were in the corridor. They looked startled when he appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Shel walked past them while they stared, said hello, asked how they were doing, and kept going. He counted to the eighth room on his right and let himself in. A male patient lay in one of the two beds. An older man, with white hair. Every vein in his arms and neck was visible. He looked languidly at Shel.
“Oops,” said Shel. “Wrong room. Sorry.”
The man saw him but didn’t react.
It was a standard hospital room, with several wooden chairs, a tray table, and a window overlooking a parking lot. It also had, of course, a washroom. The washroom was just inside the entrance, with the door facing away from the patients. Shel slipped into it, hoping the patient hadn’t noticed.
He closed the door as quietly as he could and waited.
A few minutes later, Dave arrived. He heard the gurney, and a woman’s voice. “You’ll be fine, Mr. Dryden. Just need to rest a bit. Dr. Hollis will be in to see you shortly.”
There was no response.
“Okay, Mack,” she said. “On three.”
The voice did the count, and he heard somebody grunt as they lifted Dave into bed. Then a male voice: “I’ll be right back.” Footsteps came toward the washroom. Shel backed up so he’d be behind the door if it opened, and set the converter forward thirty minutes. The knob turned, and he pressed the button. The door swung in as the washroom faded from view.
THE hospital room outside was quiet. Shel opened the door.
Both patients were breathing quietly. But the guy with the veins was lying staring at the ceiling, and he spotted Shel as soon as he came out of the washroom. “You again.”
Shel tried to shush him. “It’s okay,” he said.
“What are you doing in here?” The guy was trying to sit up straight, but he looked close to a stroke.
Dave’s eyes opened, then opened wider. “Shel. How’d you get in?” “You’re not supposed to be here,” said the patient. Then he yelled for the guard.
The door pushed open and the cop strode into the room. “Where the hell’d you come from, mister?”
Shel lobbed the second converter to Dave, who was trying to disconnect himself from the monitoring device. “Just hit the button,” he said. “You’re ready to go.”
He turned back toward the officer and smiled disarmingly. “Who are you?” the guard demanded. “How’d you get in here?”
The aura began to build around Dave. The cop’s eyes swung past Shel and fastened on what was happening in the bed. The guy with the veins stared. “Mother of God.”
Shel hit the button, wondering what the police report would look like.
WHEN they got to the town house, Dave asked whether Shel had seen any sign of his father.
“I was a little busy,” he said. “But no, I didn’t see him anywhere.” He got some ice for Dave to put on his eye. “Did you want to go back and try again?”
Dave needed assistance getting to the sofa. “I can see you’re a bit miffed with me,” he said.
“You dumb son of a bitch.” Now that they were safe, the anger erupted. “You could have gotten us both killed.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry.”
“What else do you want me to say?”
“I mean, it didn’t even make any sense. You knew how that was going to end back there.”
“I knew.”
“And you did it anyhow.”
“I guess.”
“Son of a bitch. You remember the agreement we had? We watch. We do not get involved.”
David tried to stretch out. And winced.
“What’s wrong with your side?”
“Cracked rib.”
“Great.”
“They wrapped it in the hospital.”
“Anything else I should know about?”
He closed his eyes. Opened them again. “Look, Shel. I couldn’t just walk away from those people.”
“I noticed.”
David tried again to adjust his position. The sofa was too small for him. “Maybe you do need a hospital.”
“I’ve already done that. They told me not to move around any more than I have to. Said I’d be okay in a couple of weeks.”
“All right. I guess we were lucky. You should probably get it checked anyhow.”
“I don’t think you need to worry.”
“What were they monitoring?”
“My heart, I guess. I had a coronary.”
“That must have shaken them up. At the police station.”
“I don’t think they believed me.”
“How’d you fool the doctors?”
“Just told them I could feel a weight in my chest. Told them I’d had problems before. I don’t think it occurred to them somebody would lie about something like that.” He sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“School Monday.” Two days away.
“Uh-oh.”
“I can’t very well go like this.”
“Not exactly. You’ll have to take some time off.”
He grumbled something Shel couldn’t make out. “A day or two wouldn’t be a problem. But two weeks? What’s my story? That I got hurt on Bloody Sunday?”
“You might tell them you fell down the stairs. Or maybe you were in a car accident.” Shel took a deep breath. “None of this would have—”
“—I know, Shel. Let it go.”
“Okay.”
“And let’s not do any more of this living history, all right?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be like that.” He was thinking about Monday. “You know, you don’t need to take time off from school if you don’t want to.”
“I can’t go in like this.”
“How about if I take you home? You stay there until you’re okay. Keep away from the school. Take two or three weeks. Whatever you need.”
Dave laughed. “Yeah. Right.”
“You’d better keep your converter.”
“That sounds good. Yeah. I’ll be careful with it.”
Shel nodded. “I know you will.” He cleared his throat. “Your family has a cabin in the Poconos, right?”
“Yes.”
“Would anybody be there right now?”
“At this time of year? No. Not a chance.”
“You could recuperate there.”
“But who’s going to cover my classes?”
“You will, partner. Just leave it to me.”
PART TWO
FOOTPRINTS ON THE SANDS
CHAPTER 15
For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be; Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails, Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales. . . .
—ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, LOCKSLEY HALL
IT was a two-hour drive to the cabin. The last eight miles took him up a single-lane dirt road with a series of hairpin turns. Dave’s father, in his most unflinching style, had picked the highest place in the area for the family cabin. The woods were thick, and the cabin had a magnificent view of Starlight Lake. But the stars were hidden by thick clouds when he arrived. Even the lights along the lakefront were little more than distant smudges.
There were supposed to be bears in the area, but he’d never seen one. All the same, his folks had kept him close when they’d come here during his childhood summers. They’d expected he would love the place, but the problem had been a lack of other kids. The only people close by were the Bakers and the Hertzogs, both of whom were retired couples.
He was near the top of the road when he saw headlights around the curve. He edged cautiously forward, found a space off to one side, and pulled over to make room for the other vehicle. It blinked its lights as it passed.
The cabin was a triple-decker, with living room, kitchen, and veranda at midlevel. His folks still came here every summer, and he usually spent a week or so with them.
He slipped into the driveway, the security lights came on, and he got out. The place had always been too remote for him. But at the moment it was ideal.
He’d brought a few books. And he’d stopped and picked up some groceries and painkillers. He needed two difficult trips up the outside staircase to get everything indoors. It was mid-December, and the cabin was cold. He turned on the lights, and adjusted the thermostat.
He plugged in the refrigerator and put everything away. Then he made a sandwich and topped it off with a rum and Coke. Unsure how the painkillers would interact with the drink, he left them aside, eased himself into an armchair, and put on the TV. One of the cable news shows.
They were still getting fallout from the failure of the Syrian-Iraqi peace effort, but he didn’t care much about politics at the moment. He just wanted voices in the room. Shel had made him promise he’d call when he arrived. So he did, using the landline since he’d left the cell phone, along with his driver’s license, with the Selma police.
Shel asked what he planned to do while he was there.
“I’m just going to hang around here and sleep and read.”
“Good. No hiking, huh?”
“I think I’ll pass on that.”
“Okay. I’ve got an interesting piece of news for you.”
“What’s that?”
“Your sub is here. He came in early this evening, about two hours after you’d left.”
“Okay. That’s good to hear.”
“Yeah. It’s weird. But I thought you’d want to know. As long as everything’s okay. I’m going to head for bed. Been a long couple days. I’ll talk to you later, Dave.”
AFTER he’d gotten past childhood, life at the cabin had been pleasant. It held good memories for him. He’d brought women here from time to time. But it was a long trip, so there had been only a few. Those he’d really liked. One in particular. Erin Stackpole. An odd name for so beautiful a woman. And Katie had been there once.
Erin was the only woman who’d ever really hurt him. They were never formally engaged, but he’d assumed an altar lay in their future. Then one night, with no warning, at least none that he’d picked up, she’d simply told him it was over. That she wouldn’t be able to see him anymore. She’d offered no explanation, no mention of someone else having come into her life. Just the announcement: “I’ve enjoyed it, Dave. But it’s time for both of us to move on.”
Both of us.
He hadn’t questioned her. Too much pride for that. “Okay,” he’d said. “You’re sure?”
She said she was. And Dave had shrugged and walked away.
Looking back now, he suspected he could have held on to her. But he’d never actively pursued her. Never let her know, never told her, how he’d felt. He’d thought she could see what he felt. That it was enough. His feelings were out there, visible to the world.
So she’d said good-bye, and he had simply acquiesced. He’d never called her again. Do that, he’d thought, and she won’t realize what she’d lost. No, it was better to wait for her to signal that she wanted him back. Dumb. But he’d waited for a call. Or a chance meeting that wasn’t really a chance meeting. Or a Christmas card.
Something.
But, of
course, it never happened. And he never saw her again. A year later he’d heard she was getting married.
The conversation on the TV drifted in and out. Scandal in high places. Charges of corruption. A deranged preacher claiming a recent volcanic eruption in Alaska had been a divine reaction to something or other. The lunacy never stopped.
The pain in his ribs drifted in and out, as well. And his legs had stiffened during the long drive. Funny how little of the attack on the bridge he actually remembered. He still didn’t recall precisely what had happened to him. But the doctors had told him that was not unusual. Gradually, they said, it would come back.
THE sofa was too small for him. So he limped upstairs, climbed into bed, shut off the lights, and allowed the darkness to swallow him. The cabin, with its locked doors, and its mountaintop isolation, provided a barricade against the outside world that, at the moment, he needed.
He’d always thought of the present in Henry Thoreau’s terms, as a narrow dividing line between two infinities, the past and the future. But that had changed. If he could go back and visit Galileo, living on the cusp of the Renaissance, then it meant that nothing ever ended. In another place, at this moment, they were still fighting the English Civil War. But no, that was the wrong terminology. Not at this moment. Rather, in some hidden compartment along the timeline, the violence was always there, the killing still going on. Selma was never really over. There was another compartment where Russians were trying to hold on against Napoleon. And still another in which the Inquisition was burning Gior dano Bruno.
Sure, you could argue there was a positive side. Socrates could still be found in the dimensions, discussing faith, beauty, and the good life with his friends. There was still a place where Dave was happily in bed with Erin. But what were the pleasures of ordinary people when measured against the Holocaust? Or the butcheries of a Stalin? Or the African genocides still being carried out in an age that pretended to be enlightened?
Time Travelers Never Die Page 14
