Fernando got up from the table, threw away the trash from his lunch, and signaled Frank to walk with him as he headed off towards the West wing. That was it? Frank thought. He’d just told Fernando that the old guy he’d always thought was so wonderful might have actually been a psycho and that he may have been responsible for dozens of murders — well beyond the total of eleven bodies they’d actually found (minus a few limbs, of course). And yet, Fernando seemed like he’d just heard something insignificant — that he’d be serving baked potatoes instead of mashed potatoes tomorrow or that the cooks would be getting new hairnets next week. Frank couldn’t believe it — Didn’t he understand what he’d just been told?
His feelings must have shown on his face because Fernando took one glance and reacted. He spoke low, still moving.
“What? Frank you gotta lighten up. He’s dead. He may have been a sicko but he’s history. And if he did anything bad, that’s history too. Not much we can do about it now, right? ‘les you wanna tell the police..?”
Frank didn’t respond. What would the police do? Fernando was right — This was ancient history... Still — Fernando’s lack of a reaction bugged him… Fernando misunderstood Frank’s silence.
“You let it get to you, man.” Fernando continued, trying to be calming. “Somebody dies in front of you and it’s weird. You find out their past was shaky and it’s even weirder. You don’t know what to feel so you freak. Just forget it, man, fuck it.”
They’d passed several rooms as Fernando talked and Frank noticed that many were empty, the beds being changed, the belongings removed.
“What’s going on, where is everybody?” He asked, concerned.
Fernando tried to sound unaffected.
“It’s a convalescent hospital, Frank. The turn-over’s pretty brutal. People die.”
“How many since I was last here?”
Fernando winced but didn’t slow down.
“Wild Bill, Larry the screamer, Arnold on the other side. Three. Rachel’s about to go too, got real sick just after you left. Place’s become a real bummer…”
Frank frowned. Something’s wrong…! Every instinct was screaming it — Something’s wrong here! He spun on his heel and headed for Rachel’s room — Fernando hustled after him and put a restraining hand on his arm.
“This isn’t cool, Frank, she needs her sleep.”
Frank shook him off and kept going. That alarm was still peeling in his head — Something’s wrong — Something’s wrong! He side-stepped around Lidia who was blocking their way in her wheelchair, repeating her phrase over and over as always:
“…Pick me up at ten o’clock. Pick me up at ten o’clock. Pick me up at ten o’clock. Frank. Pick me up at ten o’clock…”
Frank slammed to a halt and spun back on her. He crouched before her wheelchair.
“What, Lidia? What did you say?”
Her eyes were wild, darting right and left.
“…Pick me up at ten o’clock. Help. Pick me up at ten o’clock. Pick me up at ten o’clock…”
“What is it, Lidia!?!” He asked urgently. “What are you trying to say?!?”
Her expression became even more twitchy and agitated. Her breathing came in sharp bursts and rattled its way out of her fragile chest. She began speaking her phrase faster and faster, eyes flared wide.
“…Pick me up at ten o’clock — Pick me up at ten o’clock — Pick me up at ten o’clock. Pick me up at ten o’clock…”
Frank waited but there were no more words inserted into her mantra—just the same phrase, over and over — frustrating — maddening — He shook her wheelchair forcefully.
“What is it, Lidia?!? Tell me!” He demanded.
Her phrase continued even more rapidly, her breathing erratic. Fernando pulled him away and to his feet.
“Leave her, Frank! Can’t you see she’s upset?”
Frank didn’t want to leave. There was something here — She knew something… She seemed to be staring towards Rachel’s room for a split second longer than anywhere else before her crazy eyes darted in another direction.
He knelt again before her.
“Is it something to do with Rachel, Lidia? Tell me.”
He watched her carefully. Yes, her eyes were wild but they definitely paused in that direction. Definitely something to do with Rachel.
Lidia was struggling for air, almost convulsing. Frank knew he should get the nurse but Fernando was there — He could take care of her.
He dashed off down the hall for Rachel’s room and got there in seconds. He knew there was imminent danger here — that urgent sensation was almost making his ears ring. He whipped open her door —
Rachel lay in bed, gasping for breath, a huge mangy black dog crouched on her chest.
Frank froze — What the —?!?
The dog turned and glared at Frank, long teeth bared, foamy white saliva running in gooey streams onto the bed sheets. Its haunches quivered, a low rumbling growl building in its throat as it readied to spring.
Red-hot anger instantly overcame reason — How dare you! Frank thought. How dare you be here! He rushed the creature without further consideration for his own safety — reflex, protectiveness, primal instincts taking over.
The beast was startled and also reacting according to instinct, took flight, leaping across the room in one agile bound and flying directly at the dressing mirror in the corner.
The moment was stretched — that graceful leap seeming to take minutes — until there was a flash and a ripple of blue light and the dog disappeared into the mirror as smoothly as water flows into a stream.
Frank stared, mind not able to grasp what he’d seen. Impossible! That was simply impossible!
He hurried to Rachel who was rolling her head from side to side, eyes bulging with fear. She clutched his arm and tried desperately to speak — finally managing a frantic whisper as she trembled violently.
“Frank… Frank…” She said, voice a frail rasp.
Her eyes slowly cleared and she looked at him in startled recognition.
“Frank!”
He leaned closer, tried to comfort her.
“Relax, Rachel… Take it easy…”
She struggled against him, quaked more visibly.
“Frank! Frank!”
Her fearful expression grew and she arched her neck, veins standing out… She tried to speak further but the effort was too much. Her strength began to fade and he leaned ever closer to her trembling mouth.
“Tell me, Rachel. Tell me…” He urged softly.
He strained to hear, poised an inch above her. He waited motionless, finally sure it would never come.
“Frank… Frank… He… knows… about you… you and… your… your —”
Her head started to fall back towards the pillow, eyes aflutter. She had to finish — Your what?!? Your WHAT? And WHO knows?
He lowered down further, almost touching her wrinkled mouth with his ear. He slipped his other hand under her neck and gave it a slight prodding squeeze. She groaned, air escaping from deep inside her — Sorry, Rachel… Sorry… But it had the desired effect —
“…Your… your… ”
She took a deep gulp of air and then — finally:
“…Wife…”
His blood froze and she finally finished, her teeth clicking after every clearly enunciated syllable for emphasis:
“…Jac-quel-ine…”
And she was unconscious.
He felt the blood drain from his skin. His muscles locked. Impossible. Impossible! Who knows? Who? It couldn’t be! Impossible! He shook her again but her eyes remained closed. Rachel, wake up, Goddamnit — Tell me what I need to know! He squeezed her neck again, harder this time — maybe too hard. The flesh compressed easily against the bone but she still didn’t move. Goddamnit! God-Damn-it!
He stared at her without seeing, mind racing — The dog that leapt through the mirror — He knew that dog — It seemed like a disheveled version of Blackie! Impossible! IMPOSSIBLE! She said “he�
�� knows — present tense — She could only mean — IMPOSSIBLE! The dead don’t come back! The dead DON’T come back! But think of what he’d just seen with his own eyes!!!
There was movement behind him — Fernando was entering the room. Frank slipped his hand out from under Rachel, unseen. That wouldn’t look good — Fernando could get the wrong idea…
Frank turned and faced him. Fernando nervously fingered the silver cross at his neck, trying to take in the situation.
“What’s goin’ on here, Frank?”
Frank got up from the bed, head still spinning. How could he explain anything to Fernando? He was the only one that had seen anything — Him and an old dying woman. Fernando wouldn’t believe him — No one would. He still wasn’t sure he believed it himself…
He moved past Fernando out the door, itching his stomach. Better to stay silent. Better to say nothing. He didn’t realize it until he’d pushed out the front doors — the sticky brown stain had permeated his shirt again…
CHAPTER 15 – The Nail
The harsh fluorescent light was blinding and he was a little nervous about the procedure. But the whole time Frank lay on the operating table, he kept himself distracted by thinking about what he’d learned since Eli’s death — what he’d seen, how it all fit together, and how it could’ve happened.
He was a rational, educated man, he told himself. These things did not exist — he must’ve been tired and in a very suggestible state… Between not sleeping well and this infection on his stomach…
Doctor Turner, a mild mannered man in standard white coat and thick glasses (and an occasionally droll sense of humor), touched Frank’s wound gently and Frank flinched. There was still sharp jolt there even though the doctor had slid a very long hypodermic needle into the area to deaden the pain some time ago. The injection had almost been worse than the angry gnawing of the infection itself — a sharp pinch that made Frank’s intestines seize up and his forehead break out in glistening beads of sweat. Then it had slowly receded and Frank had thought that would be the end of it.
“The anesthetic should’ve taken effect by now — I can give you another injection to be sure, if you like..?” Doctor Turner asked.
“If you like?” Frank thought. What a ridiculous way to end that sentence. Just what he needed after his long and most bizarre day—A painful injection and a doctor with a way with words.
Frank shook his head.
“No, no — I think it’s starting to feel numb now — Yes, I’m sure of it.” He quickly added.
“Let’s check again, shall we.”
Frank looked away and felt nothing. Thank God.
He heard the clanking of the instruments against the tray as the doctor searched for the right tools for the job. Why was it that they always made so much noise in their selection? Frank thought. It was almost as bad as when he’d brandished that huge needle — Couldn’t he have kept it hidden out of sight?
“Now you may feel a twinge or two.” The doctor said. “Not to worry, this shouldn’t take long.”
Shut up. Frank grumbled in his mind. Shut up and get on with it — I don’t need to hear every damn detail or have the idea of pain planted firmly in my head.
The doctor hunched over him after donning his mask and an odd magnifying headgear that made him look like a mad scientist from a crazy science-fiction film. Frank again tried to think of something else — anything else. Like a boomerang, his mind kept returning to the events of the day and then of the weeks before — No not that, I’m trying to relax, I don’t want to think about THAT right now.
The doctor straightened up before Frank could protest any further. He held something small and dark in his tweezers.
“Well, here’s your problem, Frank. Want to have a look?”
Frank could almost see the outline of the self-satisfied smile under Doctor Turner’s mask. What could he possibly be smiling about?
He brought the object right up to Frank’s face and showed it to him at close range. It was an odd half-moon shaped piece of material, almost black, and very sharp at one edge. Frank couldn’t help a reaction of disgust. That was in me! Inside me! Yuck!
“What is it?” He asked, a bit horrified.
The doctor dropped it into a small container with a ping!, turned back and lowered his mask.
“Well, off hand I’d say a short, very sharp and very dirty fingernail.” Here he paused and actually chuckled. “Excuse the bedside humor; off-hand.”
Frank was anything but amused but the doctor continued with a smirk.
“I’d either stop scratching myself or get my wife to wash up before getting carried away, if you catch my meaning...”
How annoying that this obviously socially retarded person would mock him in this situation? Frank thought, anger building. Then he had one of those impulsive notions—the type he knew everyone had but didn’t act on — The things I could do to this “doctor” with all those sharp instruments on the tray... I doubt he’d be laughing with a scalpel sticking out of his eyeball or a hypodermic shoved in his gut to the hilt.
His anger ebbed and the violent impulse faded away as quickly as it had come. He knew he needed to calm down… This doctor had no idea how un-funny he was. He hadn’t really meant any offense — He had no idea what Frank had been through in the last few days and weeks...
His mind slowly returned to the matter-at-hand — and that’s exactly how he thought of it — the pun insinuating itself without effort — The matter-at-hand.
The nail.
How had it really gotten there?
There seemed one clear explanation but there must be another...
He was simply not about to accept that explanation…
***
She was sitting just a foot away from him across the dinner table and Frank knew he should come clean — tell her everything — but she was so calm, so peaceful — how could he upend her with what? — inconclusive bizzarities? Malformed guesses?
They quietly ate the Chinese food he’d picked up for them from their favorite low-budget take-out joint. She’d worked hard this week and had been so patient — she hadn’t even bothered him about his progress — she deserved this small treat and a whole lot more. She was tired but happy — Her account was going well. She’d just told him that today her boss, Mr. Richards (she didn’t know his first name and he seemed to want to keep everything in the office formal), had really taken notice of her ideas for the dishwashing company slogan. If he used it, she might get a bonus or even another promotion. And now she was munching contently on her favorite Chinese food… Relaxed, happy to be home with him.
But he had to tell her something didn’t he? Especially since he’d already talked Fernando into meeting him back at the hospital after hours and he needed to leave soon. It hadn’t been easy. He’d had to tell Fernando more half-lies to get him to agree. He’d told him that Rachel had heard a lot of disturbing things at night — that she even thought someone had come into her room. What could Frank really say to get him to agree? He knew it was a justification but he honestly couldn’t mention the dog, could he? — Fernando would think he was nuts. I guess it was true, what they say, Frank thought, feeling pretty miserable and ashamed about the whole thing and his own behavior lately especially. One lie begets another.
But he was in it now… It was already done.
Jackie glanced up at him, noodles hanging off her chopsticks.
“What? You look like you want to tell me something…?” She asked.
She was so intuitive it was scary. Now was the moment of truth. He had to tell her at least part of it.
Soft peddle, he thought. Don’t tell her too much until you know more for certain. Right now you’ll sound like a fool or worse — Soft-peddle.
He opted to partially catch her up — More half-truths. Fuck! It was like quicksand — once you started sinking, you just kept going. He told her about the people in the hospital that had died or were now on the verge. He told her about Eli passing away
but left out that it was almost immediately following his imposed promise to return. He told her about the funeral and Burt, the strange attendee, but skipped the visit to Burt’s house and the enfolding story he had told. He skipped finding the ring in Eli’s room (there was no point without Burt’s story) and decided to include the part about finding Rachel with a dog perched on her chest but obviously excluded the part where it leapt into and through a mirror in a flash of light. He was getting good at this fluid inclusion and exclusion of facts — So good he was scaring himself!
He finished by explaining that the patients that he had come to know were acting weird and that he and Fernando had agreed to check it out. Here he let dramatic license flow. He made it sound like it was a possibly nefarious mystery that they needed to solve. But even with his heightened delivery and flair for embellishment, her first reaction was logical and to the point.
“Why don’t you just report it? I’m sure it’s not exactly to code to have animals lurking around the hospital assaulting the patients. And if it’s something else… Why should you have to deal with it?”
His response was immediate and unrehearsed. Again, easy free-flow.
“They don’t care and they wouldn’t do anything anyway.” He replied.
And it was true. They wouldn’t care if there were a dinosaur on the loose, as long as they got their money every month. Besides, he thought. He was the only one that saw it — that’s why he was bringing Fernando. He was hoping for corroboration — He couldn’t exactly count on the word of the elderly patients to back him up…
She knew he was hedging — He could see that penetrating look on her face.
“I think this is a mistake”, she said, pushing the food away and folding her arms. “You shouldn’t get involved, it’s not your business. You don’t even work there anymore.”
She was absolutely right based on what he’d told her and there was nothing more he could say without getting into the whole damn thing.
He got up from the table and threw the food containers and fortune cookie wrappers in the kitchen trash and pulled out two flashlights from a nearby drawer.
After Death Page 12
