“Still with me?” The voice sounded anxious. “They told me you were conscious, to get in here and do the testing. You were talking to a cop. Do you remember that?”
No. She wondered what she’d told them. Had she warned them?
The tech shifted weight impatiently, she could hear the rustle of his lab coat and the soles of his shoes creak. “You’re okay?”
McKenzie started to nod. Her head felt like a bowling ball, her neck too weak to hold it, and she stopped the movement. “Yes,” she said. Her voice did not sound like herself, muffled and weak. She cleared her throat again, and repeated, “Yes,” going for strength.
“Good. Okay, I’ve got you all hooked up. Now what this is,” and she felt an additional weight atop her head as if he’d placed something upon it, “is a helmet, like a motorcycle helmet, with a visor in front, sort of like binoculars. That’s why you can’t see. This is a testing unit. Something new. In a second, I’m going to turn on the program. It’s three-dimensional. You’re going to be looking right into it. What I want you to do is reach for and grip the balls. Use whatever hand is normal and best, okay? See how you do with that and then I’ve got another program to run.”
McKenzie felt as though she were listening, without comprehending. Before she could protest, the helmet buzzed slightly and her eyes ached as a curving screen woke up with light, and then refracted into a projected room which seemed to encompass her entire self, not just her vision. The effect startled her. She was there, and yet not there. The room reminded her of a museum: vast open spaces, columns, and arched doorways. The floor was black and white alternating tiles. Objects slid across the space at her. She stood, frozen, inside the room and watched the animation come at her, reality without being real.
An orange ball swung past her right cheekbone. McKenzie realized she should have reached for it when she heard faintly, “Did you see that?” The tech sounded annoyed.
“I ... saw it. I just forgot.” She braced herself. A lime green beach ball bounced along the marble flooring. She reached for it on the bounce, caught and held it. It dissolved between her hands.
A wall in front of her began to birth bubbles, which solidified slowly. She found no difficulty in reaching out and grasping each one before it disappeared, even when the tempo sped up.
Everything went dark. McKenzie stopped. There was that additional weight on her head again, and she realized the tech must be resting his hand on the helmet.
“Good. Okay. Are you left-handed or right?”
“Right.”
“Okay. Everything green is for the right hand. Everything red is for the left. It won’t be coming at you, you have to go and get it. Okay?”
McKenzie could feel her lip swell between her teeth as she worried at it. Without waiting for her answer, the absurd movie began again. This time she had to reach out and up or down to grasp the object and pull it toward her. The room was filled with red and green geometric shapes.
Then, suddenly, she saw Cody. He came loping across the black and white marbled floor, his magnificent golden coat gleaming with that red overcast. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he leaped at her hands, trying to snatch the balls away. He wanted to play. His soft brown eyes glistened with doggy joy as he jumped and mouthed at her hands. He kept her from going after the shapes, putting himself between her and them. He wiggled with excitement as though knowing she had been gone and now she was back. She fondled his ears and massaged his ruff, scolding him gently for not letting her catch the balls.
Panting, he lay across her feet at McKenzie’s admonishment. Another series began and she put her hands up to reach for them again. Cody got to his feet, stiff-legged, growling. He leaned against her knees, forcing her to back up. He snapped at the shapes bombarding her, his movements growing ever faster and more frantic as if he thought to protect her.
From what?
She kneed him aside. “I have to do this, Cody.”
The dog lay down again, quivering, shuddering with fear. She reached for the objects as they swooped down at her from animated space, without rhyme or reason or menace.
Cody moaned with fear. Then, as another wave began, he stood up. She looked down at him, head aching, eyes unfocusing. Like a tide crashing down on both of them, the ruby stream flooded them. He pressed against her, trembling and whining, forcing her back, back, until she was out of the imaginary hall, and the images were too faint to perceive or catch. She felt the terrible pressure of ... something. Something with a growing awareness of her. Something awakening. Confusion gave way to that gnawing dread which had become familiar over the last few days.
“Where are you?”
She stood in emptiness. Cody made a last, throbbing whine, licked her hand, and disappeared. McKenzie felt his going like a cold chill passing through her. She froze in place, suddenly bereft.
The weight disappeared from her throbbing head. Yellow light glanced across her eyes, and off the hospital bed. She blinked weakly at the sudden flood of sight.
“All done.”
She shook herself mentally. “What are you going to tell them?”
The tech was stripping off her gloves. All she could see were lanky strands of hair across a flat head, colorless strands, and when he looked at her, his face wasn’t much different. He shrugged. “It’s got to be read by the department head. It’s the doc’s program. But, like, there’s no right or wrong answers. It’s all perceptual.”
“It’s all in my mind? What will it show them?” Would it show them the blood? Would they know the state of her sanity?
He stuffed the gloves into the helmet and tucked it under his arm. “Neat, huh. Like the ones in the arcade.”
McKenzie stared dully. The young man’s face wrinkled slightly in disappointment. “Virtual reality,” he said. “Like the arcade games.”
“Oh.” Her voice sounded somewhat muffled to her, as though her ears were stuffed with cotton. “Games.”
“But not this stuff. We can tell brain damage, optic damage, nerve pressures, spatial interpretation, all sorts of things with this little goodie. If the program gets passed, we’re going to be able to diagnose and treat all sorts of crud.” He stroked the helmet. “Sorry I scared you. Listen, there’s forms to sign about doing this, but they won’t be around until after breakfast.” He checked his watch. “I’m early. That’ll be a while.”
“Will you be back?” Unspoken, her fear. Will you tell me what they find ?
“If not me, someone else.” He cracked a grin. “Good thing I’m doing this now. From the looks of that shiner, your eye’ll be too swollen to see from in an hour or so. Well, catch you later.”
The railings on the bed were up. She could see the IV tubing coiled about them and reaching to her arm. Wherever she looked, there were livid bruises on either side of the shunt. She put her right hand to her throat, wondering. Before she could ask, the lab tech disappeared out the curtains.
McKenzie lay back. Her eyes fluttered shut, too heavy to keep open. She had questions. It wasn’t about Cody. But what ... what was it she needed to know ...?
“I think I’d like a look at the other guy,” the nurse said cheerfully as she put the breakfast tray down on the table and swung it efficiently into place.
McKenzie started to shake her head, winced, and stopped. Swelling had nearly closed one eye, and she had an ice pack tied over it now, the soothing coolness making up for the awkwardness of the compact. “No,” she said carefully. “You wouldn’t.”
“Well, he must have looked like something. You were still fighting when the EMTs brought you in last night, they tell me. You nearly knocked out our resident.” The woman stood appraising her. “Still water runs deep, eh? Proves what you can do when you snap.”
“I hit a doctor?” No wonder they had tied her arms down.
The nurse was California tan, with sharp crow’s feet etched at the corner of her neutral blue eyes, her hair streaked with yellow amid the brown and gray. It was pulled back into a cur
ly ponytail, and made her nurses’ cap ride high. She made a face. “Don’t you remember when they brought you in?”
“Not much.”
“Well, you’re our hero, girl. You raised such a fuss in triage, that you brought everybody running. You saved Councilman Walker. He’d come in earlier, been stabilized, no one was even looking in on him. He threw an embolism, went into cardiac arrest. But you, child, had raised Cain and he got noticed. Then you decked one of our more arrogant interns. When you decide to fight back, it’s no holds barred.” She shook her head. “Don’t feel bad. There isn’t a one of us who hasn’t wanted to deck Zucker.”
She found it hard to believe. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”
The nurse grinned cheerfully. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.”
Her jaw had become very sore and stiff. She looked at the breakfast tray and realized she’d be chewing on one side. Her mind felt as swollen as her eye, memories puffed up and inaccessible. She did not remember much except for the fear and the anger and the struggling. Her head ached. As much as she would have liked to lie there all day, the need to get out was like a thorn in her side. “How soon can I leave?”
“Not today, hon.” The nurse paused, straightening her pillows. “You that anxious?”
No, but she felt cornered. And even if she were released, how could she leave her father behind? “I’d like to see my father—”
The nurse scarcely slowed as she bustled to the bed controls and raised her into position. “You need to take care of you, first.” Instead of answering the question, she offered her opinion. “Somebody did a number on you. Too bad you didn’t Bobbitt him,” she offered. “I think I would have used a knife instead of a baseball bat.”
Visions of her old bat flashed through her, its weathered gray wood with the grain standing out like ridges. Sharp stabs chased them from her mind. She put her hand to her brow.
“Am I ... am I safe here?”
The nurse glanced at her so quickly her ponytail bounced. “If I have anything to do about it.” Her elbow bumped a phone receiver tucked into its niche in the railing.
Sarah. She ought to warn Sarah about Jack. “Can I call someone?”
“Not your father, if that’s what you had in mind. There’s no hookup in his ICU. Anyone else, you’ll have to wait until we get the lines open this afternoon. Too many patients, not enough lines.”
Without hesitation the nurse swept the covers off the food platter. “Ever been in a hospital before?”
“Not as a patient.”
“Well, today you get whatever we felt like ordering you. You’ll be in for a couple more days, so you’ll get menus this afternoon, order what you want. Doctor didn’t want anything too chewy, so you’ve got scrambled eggs, oatmeal, toast, and juice.” The nurse stepped back, making sure that McKenzie was up to feeding herself. She eyed her sharply.
McKenzie stared at the utensils, then picked up the fork. Her hand was swollen, tears across the knuckles and bruises dappled the back of her hand. It looked as if someone had stomped her with heavily rippled soles. Transfixed, she looked at herself, and saw, for a moment, the hiking boot coming down viciously on her hand. Darkness slanted the room in night and grays and she tried to hide among the shadows as she pulled herself along the hardwood floor. The boot descended with a smash and ground into bone, tendon, and nerves. The fork trembled in her hand.
“You going to eat, honey? Because you need to.”
Startled, she looked up, found herself in the brightly-lit hospital room, the nurse eyeing her closely. She took a deep breath. “Yes. I ... I was just thinking.” She switched hands and flexed her fingers.
The nurse picked up the chart and flipped through it. “Sore? They x-rayed it last night. Nothing broken. You had some old breaks, though.” Mac could feel the nurse observing her, but she did not let herself react. “Tell you what, after breakfast, I’ll bring you another ice pack, put it on that hand.” She grinned, her crow’s feet breaking new ground, fracturing into her tanned face. “We get the pros in here after a game, sometimes, football players and hockey players. You look like you went up against one of them without the padding.”
“I feel like it.” McKenzie flexed her hand again, decided to eat with her left hand, and awkwardly dug at the scrambled eggs. Whatever warmth they’d had was rapidly fleeing, but they tasted good. She was hungry, she suddenly decided, and it made her feel human.
The nurse slid the chart back into its holder. “My name’s Shannon, and I’ll be in whenever you need someone. We operate on a total care system here, which means we don’t use orderlies unless we have to. I bathe you, mop the floors, change the linens, whatever needs to be done. My shift is over at three, and then you’ll probably have Connie.” She hesitated. “Your doctor won’t be making rounds for another hour or so. You’ll have to save your questions for him.”
Questions. She should have more questions. The enormity of the situation came tumbling down around her like an avalanche. Her breakfast stuck in her throat suddenly. She coughed and then managed to swallow, but the tears couldn’t be dammed back. “Do you know if I can see my father?”
Surprise crossed the woman’s face, then she stepped forward and laid a gentle hand across McKenzie’s back. “Honey, you look like you’ve been thrown up against walls and half-scalped. All I know is what’s on your chart here. The doctor will have to tell you more.” She paused, as something clipped to her lapel chimed. She put a hand to the shoulder pager. “Gotta run. I’ll be back to pick up the tray, and don’t you try to go to the bathroom by yourself yet. Those legs of yours are bound to be wobbly.” She bustled her white-uniformed self out the door and disappeared.
McKenzie managed a nod. She reached for a paper napkin and blew her nose lustily, then sat and looked at the breakfast tray. The oatmeal no longer steamed, it congealed.
She closed her eyes a moment. He’d tried to accost Jack to protect her, hadn’t he? He had never been much of a father before. And had she been much of a daughter? What had she brought home to him? Pain throbbed through her skull with every word and thought until she didn’t think she could bear it. Surely, if something serious had happened, they’d have come and told her.
McKenzie opened her eyes and rubbed at them. She needed to maintain an even keel. There was a little stainless steel pot of hot water for tea along with several packets of flavors. Constant Comment sounded bracing enough. Mac brewed up a cup, and dunked her cold toast in it to soften. She stirred the oatmeal, found some still hot bites on the bottom, and ate a little. Finally, she pushed the tray away. Pain raked across the back of her shoulders as she did.
Was there no place on her body that did not ache?
Mac stared at the closed door. There was an emptiness inside of her that food, hot or cold, could not fill. How safe was safe? Was there anyone she could depend on if she couldn’t depend on herself?
She lowered the railing. The IV tubing caught and tugged a bit. She freed it. Her feet, when they touched the floor, went from pins and needles to icicles in a flash. The cold sent shivers up her body.
Mac clamped her teeth together and slid out of the bed, holding onto the railing as if it were a lifeline. The room swung around her in a blurred circle. She put her head down, to the backs of her hands. Sweat broke out on her forehead despite her chill. She took a deep breath to steady herself. The one hand felt hot and puffy, as though its skin were stretched close to breaking. There was pain, but it was an overall pain. Funny. She hadn’t thought about the different kinds of pain there might be. Throbbing, stabbing, fiery, constant....
McKenzie lifted her head and stood straight. “This is gonna hurt me worse than it’s going to hurt you,” she murmured, and took a sliding step forward.
Her ribs shouted in cramping complaint, but her legs held her. She pulled the IV pole away from the bedside, wheeling it as she took another step. The unwieldy unit, ironically, seemed ten times more stable than she did as she crossed the room. She
pushed it ahead of her into the bathroom and then hung onto the doorway, counting breaths until her head stopped swimming and the roaring pain between her ears subsided.
Using the toilet without help was a major triumph. Afterward, Mac stared at her hands as she washed them, unable to look herself in the face. She did not want to see what damage Jack had done.
She made it back halfway across the room before she collapsed.
McKenzie felt the tape rip from her arm, but the IV stayed in, the tubing stretched to its utmost length. She lay there a moment, tile cool beneath her aching body. She stared at it. Then she closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of it anymore, seeing it slick with blood, Cody’s blood.
All right, Mac, get a grip! She swallowed tightly. Swam like a legless thing, one foot, two feet, closer to the bed. The IV rack reeled and wobbled along with her. Either she’d have to do it on her own, or lie there until the nurse came back with lunch. She wouldn’t be helpless, couldn’t be. Just another wiggle or two and she’d be able to catch hold of the bed railing.
Death Watch Page 10
