by S. L. LUCK
Jesse nodded and was gone.
Tenderly, Dan raised Sylvia so that she sat with her back against the wall. He was untangling her IV line when two nurses sped into the room and lifted Sylvia from the floor.
“We’ve got you ma’am,” the nurse with a messy ponytail said. Her hair slid over her eyes as she helped her partner settle Sylvia back onto the bed, and she ineffectually blew upward until her hands were free enough to tuck it back behind her ears. “Now that the circus has departed, I think we’ll all have a better night. Let’s get you checked out. Do you have any pain?”
Sylvia’s bones ached and she rubbed her hip, whimpering when her fingers found painful spots. The nurses tugged at Sylvia’s hospital gown to examine her injuries. The men looked away and Sylvia saw them begin to retreat, but she held up her good arm to stop them.
“I might have died if it weren’t for you two,” she told them. “Thank you, boys, for saving me.”
Her voice crackled and she began to cry. Inside, Pandora laughed, knowing that one flick in the cat’s direction would have flattened it. Of course, Pandora was unaffected. The cat had caused her no pain, no suffering, but Sylvia’s suffering gave her much relief. She felt ten times stronger, exponentially more energetic. With a shaky hand, Sylvia reached out to the men.
Dan strode to the bed and squeezed her fingers. “My pleasure. All those days I ran across the street when I was younger, you probably saved my life at least a hundred times. Might have been flattened if it weren’t for you. And I prefer dogs anyway.” He smiled down at her.
Jesse, too, stepped to Sylvia’s bed. His past experience with the crossing guard had been fleeting, as his mother preferred to drive him to school when he was a boy; but the times he did encounter Sylvia, she had always given him a warm smile and gently guided him and his friends across the street while inquiring about their day. He now regarded her for the first time since arriving at the hospital, her thin hair, her droopy face, her gray eyes, and his outstretched hand snapped back. From inside Jesse arose a warning about the woman. The appreciative, dimpled cheeks that were meant to be kind felt false, so much so that they caused him to flinch. Whether it was the Spirits or his own intuition, he didn’t know, but Jesse sensed a great and terrible evil inside the woman.
Her arm reached further for him, her spindly fingers seeking his own, but Jesse bowed with tight lips. “I’ve got cat pee all over me, sorry,” he said quickly, and slid out of the room.
Well, this is interesting, Pandora thought. Jesse … She reached outward … Cardinal. Jesse Cardinal. Iroquois. Oneida. Son of the Standing Stone. Nature’s own. Strong spirit girdled with human flesh. Definitely a challenge. Was he the cause of her trouble? Did he call the animals to insanity? It wasn’t Pandora, though she did think their frenzy was entertaining, even delicious, but the conduct suggested another power at work. This she couldn’t have. While the nurses worked on Sylvia, Dan excused himself from the room. Then Pandora, too, drifted out the door, down the hallway to the parking lot where the police chief was trying to catch up with Jesse.
“Hold up!” Dan panted after him. “Jesse, wait!”
Jesse opened the door to his van and flung the catch pole inside. He paced, rubbing his temples, smoothing the dark thatch of hair that hung below his neck. His shoulders were tense as he swung to look at Dan.
“Why’d you take off like that?” Dan asked, pressing the stitch from his side.
“That woman’s evil.”
Dan’s frowned. “What are you talking about? She’s probably the sweetest woman in Garrett. It’s been a wild night, Jesse, but I think you should go home and get some rest.”
Jesse shook his head. “I felt it, Dan. I felt it. There’s something not right with her.” He saw the skepticism on Dan’s face and when the other man didn’t speak, Jesse sighed. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the shitstorm that’s got to me. That crash yesterday. The cats today. I mean, you ever see anything like this? Thirty cats just up and decide to attack a hospital? How the fuck did they get up all those floors?” He wiped his forehead. “I’ve been doing this for, what, thirteen, fourteen years now, and I tell you, I’ve never seen anything like it. Johnny said that the ones on the top floor were all fried up like they were electrocuted. Is that right?”
“That’s right,” Dan said quietly.
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“With all that’s happened over the last two days, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jesus brought coffee to the station.”
Jesse’s face flexed with irritation. “You want to tell me what the fuck is going on, Dan? Do you know something? My brother was up there, for God’s sake. What if something happened to him?”
Wind whispered over the men, sweeping cool air up their sleeves, down their collars, over their faces. Darkness overtook the day’s gleam, and little could be seen beyond the bright cones of the lamp posts—but still Dan looked out into the field surrounding the hospital. With a great exhalation of breath, he said, “I don’t know what’s happening, Jesse, honestly I don’t. There’s a situation on the fifth floor that we can’t explain, and I don’t know if it has anything to do with the animals behaving the way they are, but I suspect it might. I can’t tell you why because I don’t know myself. Right now, I have no answers to explain any of it, but I promise you that I’m going to try, and I’ll need your help for that.”
“Go on,” Jesse said.
“Do you have any guesses as to why those cats behaved the way they did?” Dan asked, but Jesse shook his head. “How ‘bout the birds that hit my window this morning? That dog that attacked my car?”
Hair blew over Jesse’s eyes and he raked it back. “Your guess is as good as mine. I checked out the dog like you asked, but, honestly, he was the friendliest thing I’d ever seen. Took some blood, so we’ll see if the vet finds anything there. As for the birds,”—he shrugged— “maybe it’s the weather. I’ve heard that radio signals can mix them up. Hormones can do that too, but we’re talking different species, so I don’t think that’s it. Maybe it’s something in the water? Have you looked into it?”
“Not yet,” Dan admitted. “But I’m going to give Mayor Falconer a call. She might know if there’s been a change in the system. Water, electrical, or otherwise.”
Through his open window, indignant growls stretched into the night, so Jesse got inside and started the van. He rested his elbow on the window frame and said, “I’ll let you know if we find anything with the cats.”
“And I’ll let you know if I find anything through the mayor,” Dan told him. With a double pat on the side of Jesse’s van, Dan stepped back and watched the taillights disappear in the darkness.
For a time, Pandora stayed with Dan, considering. She knew it would be to her benefit if she let him continue his investigation. Hell, he might even figure out her problem before she did, and wouldn’t that be something? Harold would have howled at the idea, and she, too, now chuckled a little. As the police chief found his way back to the hospital, Pandora followed in companionable silence, then returned to her host. They had things to do.
9
The beginning of autumn’s first snowfall floated softly on the other side of Ed Norman’s window. In the morning light, with the awakening sun shining brightly through the trees and the new snow falling like glitter over the empty parking lot, Ed peeked at the healing incision just below his left shoulder. Though his skin was loose—sagging in places, bunched in others—they had done a good job patching him up. Tenderly, he touched the area where they had inserted his pacemaker. He couldn’t feel an electrical pulse there, as they said he likely wouldn’t, but still his fingers fluttered over his sensitive skin.
How close he had been to Bessie just a few days ago. Had the bus accident not happened and the nurses not proceeded to check in on every resident after Jessica Chung’s shocking news broadcast, Ed might have been where he most wanted to be. Instead, he’d woken in Garrett General three days before with mechanical parts and the s
ame debilitating longing that refused to go away. He rolled his shoulders now and lifted himself out of bed, thankful to be back in his own pyjamas, with his own slippers, in his own room at Southbridge.
His robe was where he’d left it hanging behind the bathroom door, and he shuffled slowly that way, taking his time on the toilet, then slipped the familiar comfort on. Ed tied the fleece belt loosely around his waist, splashed water on his cheeks, and smoothed the top of his head. He clicked his tongue at the apparition in the mirror, noting the grey sheen of his skin and the deep cavities under his eyes. He looked like death, wanted to be dead, but was sadly still alive. He sighed and made his way to the kitchen for breakfast.
“Eddie!” Hattie Freemont raised her coffee cup in greeting and slid a chair out for him.
She was sitting with Dorothy Davis and the new resident who had led the impromptu prayer session after the news of the bus crash. Ed didn’t feel up for company, but Hattie was one of the kindest residents at Southbridge, so his guilt led him to the table where the other women shuffled their plates and cups aside to make room for him.
“How are you feeling Eddie?” Hattie put a gentle hand on his shoulder as he sat and hung his new cane against his chair.
“Like a robot,” he said.
“I hear you got a pacemaker,” the new woman said, and she set her fingers over his own. “It’s a bit strange at first, but before long you won’t even know it’s there. Trust me.” With this, she slid aside the collar of her blouse and showed him her own scar.
Ed lifted his eyebrows. “Doesn’t look so bad,” he said, seeking the coffee Hattie was passing him with the hand the other woman had grabbed.
“Of course it’s not bad. There are much worse surgeries to have, Eddie. Do you mind if I call you Eddie, or would you prefer Ed?” She blinked at him through round, thick glasses.
“Ed, Eddie, either works for me,” he said. “But what should I call you?”
“Oh! My manners have gone with the weather, haven’t they? I’m Evelyn, but most people call me Evie.” Her hand went to her mouth as she tittered. “Look at that, Eddie, we rhyme. Isn’t that something?” He felt her inspecting him now, so he looked away and poured cream into his coffee, stirring while they inquired about his surgery.
“Don’t remember it,” Ed said, and that brought a laugh from the women.
“Same with my hip replacement,” Dorothy leaned forward with her cup clutched to her chest. “But I tell you, recovery was hell. Took me almost three months to walk around the block again but after that, I felt better than I did in my thirties. I wouldn’t have been able to do yoga again without it. It’ll take time, Eddie, but I’ll bet you’ll be even better than before.” Coffee spilled against Dorothy’s chest as she spoke, and her eyes swung down to inspect the damage. “Now if only there was a surgery for clumsiness.”
“Sign me up!” Hattie roared and the faces across from Ed became wet with laughter. Ed joined their fun with a chuckle, then excused himself to fill a plate.
“You sit back down, Edward Norman,” Dorothy ordered immediately, snatching his cane from him. “You’ve got three perfectly good women right in front of you. Let us do what we were made to do. Do you see any children around here?” Ed shook his head, uncomprehending. “Then how are we supposed to get all of our mothering out, huh?”
Ed held out his palms. “I’m fully capable. I don’t want to bother you.”
“It will bother us if you don’t let us help you.” Hattie’s hands went to her hips. “Now, what will it be, Eddie? Toast? Eggs? Oatmeal? They got some of those cinnamon buns you like.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” Ed sighed into his chair. “I’m supposed to have toast or oatmeal. Either of those will do.”
“Cinnamon bun it is.” Evie grinned, sweeping away to the serving station on the other side of the room. Ed watched her depart, and that’s when he felt Hattie and Dorothy’s eyes on him.
“What?”
“Lucky you have a pacemaker there, Eddie,” Hattie observed slyly.
“Yes, but only because Chester just showed up.”
From the corridor, Chester Collins strolled toward them, chest high, chin higher, so obviously full of brag that Ed turned, pretending not to see him.
A moment later, Chester was beside their table. “I guess a man’s gotta get a mechanical heart to get a woman around here,” he said, slapping Ed’s back.
“Just a pacemaker,” Ed replied, realizing for the first time that Chester had his jacket on. “Where are you off to so early?”
Evie returned with Ed’s food, but Chester snuck one of the cinnamon buns from the plate before she could protest. “They’re for the patient!” She smacked his hand.
“He should be eating oatmeal anyway,” Chester looked down at Ed and elbowed him, bringing a fresh wave of pain to Ed’s shoulder. “I’m helping him, ain’t that right, Eddie?”
“A regular Mother Teresa.” Ed winced.
As he pried the cinnamon bun open, steam rose from Chester’s hands and he blew at them until he finally popped a piece into his mouth. He chewed, open-mouthed, then said, “Working on the float today. Testing the hydraulics for the dragon’s neck, and if all goes right, we’ve got to start covering the skeleton. We got a lot of work yet. Tons. More than we’ve ever had. After George’s bus—well, you know—Perry said this year’s festival has to be the best or he doesn’t want us around next year. Can you imagine that? Firing volunteers? I mean, he’s gone nutso if you ask me. By the time this is all over I might need a pacemaker too. Maybe then I’ll get the ladies.”
Hattie, Dorothy, and Evie averted their eyes, then Dorothy fingered one of the pearls on her necklace, thinking. “Why so much work? What’s Perry got going on this year?”
“Too damn much, as far as I’m concerned. We’ve got all the usual things, but he wants more of everything. Lights, food, games, events, big enough to make everyone forget for a while, you know? I guess I can’t blame him, but it’s running me ragged. Haven’t had a second to shit. Sorry, ladies, but you know what I mean.”
“Why, we’d be glad to help you.” This came from Evie, who was too new to Southbridge to understand that spending any time with Chester was enough to actually want dementia.
Hattie and Dorothy exchanged nervous looks with Ed, but Chester, oblivious, said, “Yeah?” A speckle of food flew from his mouth onto Ed’s glasses, which he promptly removed and cleaned with a tissue from the pocket of his robe.
“Of course we’ll help,” Evie said for the four of them. “We’ve got nothing better to do today but watch the snow come. I think the fresh air would be good for us. Just a little, though, we don’t want Eddie to overdo it.”
“Fantastic! You’re sure taking a load off my shoulders. You ladies couldn’t be prettier, but I think we need to give Eddie a few minutes to clean himself up. Anyone want more coffee while we wait?”
In his recent condition, Ed felt in no mood to go to the fairgrounds with Chester. His incision was sore, and his heart attack had given him a tiredness that settled in his bones. The day called for watching weather and watching TV. So he opened his mouth to decline but saw new excitement on the women’s faces that caused him to relent. He said, “Give me twenty.” Ed stood and carefully made his way back to his room.
His shower was hot and loosened his joints. He took his time, after a while sitting on the bench and hanging his head to let the water prick the tenderness from the back of his neck. Oh, how he wanted to stay in bed and sleep and never wake up. He figured that’s what the trick was for some residents at Southbridge; by resisting fellowship, they could lie in wait of the Long Sleep, tuck themselves into their bed caskets and hum their requiems until their hearts stopped beating. Bessie wouldn’t have wanted that for him, though. She would have been appalled if Ed succumbed to his own loneliness, so he dried and dressed himself in his warmest flannel shirt. His legs slid into his pants like shriveled beans into windsocks, and the fabric belled against his skin as he r
eturned to the waiting faces of his friends in the foyer. Weak though he was, he felt an unexpected eagerness forming inside him when Evie passed him a tumbler of coffee and hooked her arm under his, lending her strength as they excited the building to Chester’s waiting car. Chester picked his teeth behind the wheel while Hattie opened the front passenger door, gesturing for Ed to sit.
“A man could get mighty lazy being around you three,” Ed said, leaning on his cane as he lowered himself beside Chester in the front.
“He’s just milking it, ladies. Aren’t you Eddie? Pacemaker’s nothing. You want hurt? Try open-heart surgery. They cut me right through my breastbone when I lived in Calgary. See that?” Chester unzipped his jacket and unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt, showing them a long purple scar in the middle of his chest. “Twenty years later and the scar is just as bad, and you know what? When Jeannie was alive, she didn’t do half the fussing over me that you three do over this guy. A little tough love will heal him quicker than you can say boo.” He chewed on his toothpick, watching Dorothy, Hattie, and Evie settle in the back seat, while Ed unrolled the window to free himself of Chester’s bad breath.
Soon they were out of the parking lot, progressing slowly over the newly iced streets. Chester took the long route, avoiding the graffiti-splashed, overdosed length of Mitton and instead proceeded north along Oak Street, between Garrett’s best-kept stretch of heritage homes. All five of them had been in many of the homes they now passed, with the women remarking on the décor they remembered and the men comparing the sturdiness of their frames to the increasing fragility of subsequent development.
They had just turned onto Campbell when a dog ran out in front of them. Chester slammed the brakes to avoid hitting it. Five heads were thrust forward, five heads jerked back and ten hands braced for impact as the wheels slid against the asphalt. Everyone relaxed when the car skidded safely to a stop.
Dorothy’s palm went to her heart. “Oh! That gave me a shock! Good thing you’re watching the road, Chester. You okay, Eddie?” From the back seat, her hand slipped over his shoulder.
