Meds Page 13

  He shook his head.

  “You are a good man,” she told him. “I've been able to see that. Maybe your goodness is an obstacle.”

  “I need a cigarette.”

  “I'll join you.”

  As they got to their feet, she picked up the two whiskey glasses and carried them to the door. Once they were outside, she held the glasses and watched as Carmichael lit his cigarette. He took a long drag and then breathed the smoke out.

  “I'd give you time to consider your answer,” Kirsten said finally, “but time is the one thing that neither of us has. There's a clock ticking.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  “Your work is important. It can help people. If it goes to plan, you'll be a hero.”

  “That's not why I want to do it.”

  “You want to do it for Sabrina.”

  He turned to her. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” She paused. “If you can find a way to deal with pain, that's something that interests me. Do you think your ideas might even work for people who are in constant, excruciating pain? People who are in such agony, they feel as if their bodies are burning up from the inside?”

  He paused, spotting a thick scar on the back of her neck.

  “Do you know someone like that?” he asked finally.

  She nodded, before reaching over and taking his cigarette without asking. She tried it briefly, before handing it back.

  “It'll work,” he told her. “Everything I outlined in my proposal has been gone over a thousand times. I just need a chance to prove it all.”

  “And I'm offering you that chance. Be brave enough to take it.”

  He continued to smoke his cigarette for a couple of minutes. Lost in thought, he was aware that she was waiting for him to give an answer, and he also knew deep down that he'd already made up his mind. Still, he didn't want to seem too eager, so he waited a while longer. “Okay,” he said finally.

  She smiled. “We have a deal?”

  “We have a deal,” he replied as they shook hands. “Tell me one thing, though. Why are you so interested in pain management? It can't be a patient and I don't think it's as abstract as you're making out. It must be something more personal. Do you know someone who's in extreme pain?”

  She paused, and her smile flickered briefly before she turned and looking out across the bright parking lot.

  “Let's not get maudlin,” she told him. “Focus on your work. It's Friday. Do you think you'll be able to start at Middleford Cross on Monday?”

  He nodded.

  “Excellent,” she replied. “Then we can begin. I think we're going to enjoy working together a great deal, Jonathan. I think we're going to achieve extraordinary things.”

  Part Four

  True Pain

  Chapter Fifteen

  Today

  “Okay,” the lab tech muttered as she grabbed her coat and headed to the door, “I'm outta here. Seeya tomorrow.”

  “What about this one?” her assistant asked, holding up a package.

  She turned. “What about it?”

  “It's the blood sample that came in from Middleford Cross a few days ago. Don't you think we should run it before it degrades?”

  “Is it marked to be expedited?”

  “No, but -”

  “Shove it in the machine and I'll check the results tomorrow.”

  “It's some guy named Thomas Clay Lacy,” the assistant replied, reading the label. “Maybe -”

  “I don't need to know this information,” the lab tech replied, “just shove it in the machine and I'll check the results tomorrow. I'm sure it's not urgent.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Lacy,” the assistant muttered, as his boss left the room, “you're not exactly high priority.” Taking the vial of blood out of the package, he gave it a shake and then placed it in the machine, so it could be processed during the night. “Don't worry,” he added. “We'll get to you eventually.”

  ***

  “Bonnie?” Marty called out from the porch. “Bonnie, what are you doing? Get back in here.”

  He waited for a moment, sniffing the night air. There were flies all about, and the neighbor's dog was barking as usual, and someone was arguing with someone in the distance. There were noises from the forest at the foot of the garden, too, but he'd learned over the years to ignore those sounds. Leaning against the door jamb, he looked out at the backyard and frowned as he realized his granddaughter was nowhere to be seen. If she'd climbed over the fence again and gone off to meet her friends, he'd be livid.

  “Girl, are you out here or not?”

  Sighing, he was about to head back inside when he realized he could hear a faint rattling sound nearby. He looked around, frowning, before making his way down the steps and across the grass. Heading around the side of the woodshed, he finally saw Bonnie curled up in the corner, with tears streaming down her face as she trembled violently.

  “Bonnie?” he asked, stepping closer. “What's wrong?”

  ***

  “She was tall,” she stammered a few minutes later, once he'd taken her into the kitchen and put a blanket around her shoulders. Wide-eyed and clearly terrified, she was still shaking. “Taller than you, and with bare feet.”

  Sighing, Marty wiped sweat from his forehead. “Listen -”

  “I'm not lying,” she said, turning to him with wide-eyed horror. “Don't tell me I'm lying 'cause I'm not!”

  “Okay,” he replied, “calm down.”

  “I'm not lying! I saw her!”

  “And she was in my yard?” he asked. “What the hell was some woman doing in my yard?”

  Bonnie paused for a moment, staring straight ahead as if she was reliving the moment.

  “Walk this thing back a little,” Marty continued. “Start from the beginning, 'cause girl, you've lost me.”

  “I went out to smoke,” she explained, still trembling so hard that her teeth were chattering. “I know you don't like it if I smoke in the house, so I thought I'd do it out the back there.”

  He waited for her to continue. “And?”

  “It was dark. I didn't have the porch light on. I liked it out there, I could hear the wind rustling the grass and then...”

  He waited for her to continue, but she seemed to be losing focus every few seconds, as if she was being drawn back into her thoughts.

  “And then what?” he asked, starting to become impatient. “Bonnie, did something happen? Do I need to call the cops?”

  “I heard her before I saw her,” she replied. “I heard someone moving about out there, down at the bottom of the garden. You know how that path runs just past your fence? She was right out there, like she was coming down from the field and heading to the forest.”

  “So she wasn't actually in the garden?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, that's a relief,” he muttered, before seeing fresh tears starting to run down her cheeks. “So you saw some woman out there, heading into the forest,” he continued cautiously. “That's not something to get all worked up about, is it?”

  She turned and looked at the window, almost as if she expected to see the man again.

  “Jesus Christ,” Marty added with a sigh, “you had me worried for a moment. What's all this fuss about, huh? I thought -”

  “She only had half a face,” she stammered. The words seemed to bring even more tears to her eyes.

  “I...” He stared at her. “She what?”

  “As soon as I saw her, I knew something wasn't right. Just from the way she was walking, the way she was limping toward the forest. Her clothes were tattered and I could see something, like, almost glowing.” She paused. “It was her bones. I could see her ribs in the moonlight.”

  “Bonnie...”

  “I could see them,” she said firmly, as if she was angered by the suggestion that she might be wrong. “It was like the moonlight was making her bones glow.” She put a hand on her right shoulder. “Here too. Part of her wa
s hacked away, like someone had been at her with an ax or -”

  “Come on,” Marty said with a sigh, “let's not get into that sorta thing. You've been watching too many crazy TV shows.”

  “I'm telling you what I saw,” she continued. “I know how it sounds, but at first I wasn't even scared. I just wanted to see her properly, so I went down to the fence to get a better look. She was walking slow, heading toward the forest like she was just passing through.” She paused. “That's when I saw the baby.”

  “The -” He froze, waiting for her to finish.

  “Just nestled in her arms,” she told him, her eyes starting to fill with tears. “There was this little baby, no more than a month or two old. It was dead too. She was still holding him, though, like she didn't want to ever let him go.”

  “Listen, Bonnie...”

  “And she just kept on walking,” she continued, her eyes widening with horror at the memory of the moment, “Heading off into the forest, going to wherever she was going, taking her baby with her. She didn't look at me, she didn't even seem to notice I was there, like I was completely unimportant. I swear, I don't even know how I know it, but I swear she was going somewhere real important. There was something almost noble about it, like even though she was dead, she still wasn't gonna let anyone stop her.”

  Marty stared at her for a moment, finally realizing that whatever he might know to be true about the world, his granddaughter certainly seemed to believe that she'd seen what she was describing. Leaning closer, he sniffed the air around her, but there was no smell of weed, and besides, he knew Bonnie was a straight-thinking girl, even if she could be a little wild sometimes.

  “Do ghosts have to haunt a specific place?” she asked. “Or... Can they, like, move around?”

  “Jesus Christ, I don't know, you're talking about -”

  “She sure seemed like she had somewhere to be,” she replied, interrupting him. “Like she was in a hurry, you know? I just watched her limp off into the forest, and she was walking in the straightest line I ever saw anyone walk. On her way to some place.”

  “Well...” Marty paused, before putting a hand on her shoulder. “That's better than having her hang around here, I guess.”

  Staring at the window, she began to wipe tears from her face. “I saw her,” she whispered finally. “Think what you want, I don't care, but I saw her. I saw a dead woman walking in the forest, a woman who'd been cut up real bad.” She paused for a moment, before turning to her grandfather again. “When you go to church on Sunday, can I come with you this time?”

  “You -” He paused, shocked at the change in her. “Sure you can. I've been asking you for years.”

  “I want to go,” she continued, shivering slightly as she turned to look back out the window. “I want to start going every week.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “You,” Thomas Clay Lacy said as he examined the suitcase, “are an angel, girl. A real live angel.”

  “It was nothing,” Elly replied, even though her arms were aching after lugging the case all the way to the hospital on the bus. The only reward she needed was to see the old man's happiness, and that was plainly evident. “Anything to help.”

  Running his fingers around the edges of the case, he seemed to be examining it closely. After a moment, Elly realized what he was doing.

  “I didn't open it,” she told him. “If you're looking for some sign that I tried to look inside, I promise I didn't. You asked me not to.”

  “That's good,” he replied, frowning a little before turning to her and remembering to smile. With one side of his body still mostly paralyzed, his voice was slurred. “I knew you wouldn't. I trust you. I'm a good judge of a person's character, and I can tell that you're an honest person, honest to the core. I'm not saying the others who work here aren't honest, but you stand out. You're different.” He paused for a moment. “It's just that this thing is full of old photos, that's why it's so heavy. The only reason I didn't want you opening it is, well, the photos in this case are very personal to me, and some of them are extremely fragile. Do you understand?”

  “Of course.”

  “When a man gets to my age,” he continued, “he needs to start reminding himself of his own life. I remember when I was young, younger than you, I thought I'd never forget a thing. Everything seemed so vivid, I didn't understand how anyone could forget anything that ever happened to them. But now? Now I have to really concentrate sometimes, really focus to try to remember certain things. Names, faces, events, they all seem to mix together and I really have to concentrate. Sounds nuts, I guess, but it's true.”

  “I should leave you to get on with things,” she told him. “I've got a long night shift ahead of me.”

  “I'll be fine here,” he replied, as he began to enter the combination on the lock. After a moment, he paused again, as if he didn't want to open the case while she was still in the room.

  “Okay,” she said uneasily, before heading to the door. Stopping just before she went out into the corridor, she paused before looking back at him and seeing that he'd begun to open the case and was peering inside. “I didn't see Pearl,” she told him.

  “Huh?”

  “I didn't see Pearl.”

  He turned to her with a frown. “Who?”

  “Your cat.”

  “Oh.” He smiled, but it seemed forced and rehearsed. “Well, she'll be about somewhere. She doesn't like strangers.”

  “There was no bowl down for her, so I had to take one from the cupboard.”

  “That's fine. She'll take it when she's hungry enough.”

  “I figured I could go back in a week and -”

  “No, she'll be fine,” he replied, as if the discussion bored him. “If I'm gonna be in here for a while, she'll need to learn to survive on her own. There's a hole in the bathroom wall, she can get out through there, and one of the others'll take her in. Thank you for your kind offer, but there's really no need to fuss.”

  “I also spoke to one of your neighbors.”

  At this, Mr. Lacy seemed to bristle slightly. “You did, huh?” he muttered. “Well, I hope that went okay. There are some real crazies living up there on my floor.”

  “There was a woman in the next apartment,” she replied, “and she...” She paused again, trying to work out how much to tell him. “Well, she said... I mean, she...”

  “Let me guess,” he said after a moment, with a faint sigh. “She hopes I'm dead, right?”

  “Well...”

  “That's Audrey Cecil,” he continued. “The meanest, most vindictive old cow I ever met in my life. The kind of woman who sours the air around her. She and I haven't been on good terms since the day I moved into that apartment, she took an instant dislike to me. You should've knocked on some of the other doors and asked them what they think of her. She's at war with everyone in the building, each for a completely different reason. Arguing with people is her only entertainment.” He looked into the case for a moment. “I don't make a habit of talking bad about people, I figure everyone has their reason for who they are, but Audrey Cecil? Closest I ever came to telling a woman to her face to go to hell.”

  “I should get back to work,” Elly replied, feeling distinctly uneasy. There was a part of her that wanted to tell him about the other neighbor, the one who'd only dared to whisper through the door, but she felt like he'd probably have an explanation for that too.

  She waited for a moment, but Mr. Lacy was already reaching into the suitcase. Whatever was in there, it had clearly distracted him.

  ***

  “Why are you worrying about stuff like that, girl?” Sharon asked, frowning as she and Elly made up a bed in one of the other rooms. “You got nothing more important to be fussing over?”

  “Of course, I just...” Although she realized she was probably fretting about nothing, Elly still couldn't stop thinking about her trip to Mr. Lacy's apartment. She hadn't told Sharon about any of that, of course, but she felt like she had to talk to someone. “Hav
e you ever formed an opinion of someone and then started to think that maybe you were way, way off?”

  “You talking about me?” Sharon asked with a smile. “What's wrong, are you starting to think I'm a bitch?”

  “No,” Elly replied, “no, of course not. I just...”

  She paused, as Sharon smoothed the sheet down. “I guess I'm being dumb. I barely even know him, I just thought I was a good judge of character.”

  “Who are you talking about?” Sharon asked. “Someone I know?”

  She shook her head.

  “You sure about that?”

  “I'm sure,” Elly lied, not wanting to go into detail, “I just...”

  Her voice trailed off for a moment.

  “You know,” Sharon said, as she set a pillow on the bed, “you need to learn the art of detachment.”

  “I do?”

  “You do. At any one time, we usually have between twelve and fifteen patients on this ward. That's a whole bunch of people, men and women, young and old, each of them with their own problems, their own issues, their own sob stories that they're only too willing to share. If you let each of 'em get to you like this, you're gonna end up drained. You've gotta learn to care and not care at the same time.”

  “How does that work?” Elly asked cautiously.

  “Like, you go into a room and one of the patients starts jabbering on, right? You care about what they're saying while you're in there with 'em, but as soon as you walk out the door, you cut it off cold. I don't mean you forget what they said, 'cause it's useful to know what's up with 'em all, but you sure as hell don't worry about it in your own time. Do you think I go home after a shift and think about the patients and their problems? Hell no. I go home and I stick on Fallout or Grand Theft or whatever, and I zone out completely.” She made her way around the bed and checked the chart hanging on the end. “Maybe video games aren't your thing, but you need something to keep your mind occupied after hours.”