After Death (17 page)

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.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He said flatly.

She could see his mind was made up and softened. It was another of her many characteristics that he adored so much; she hated to part on a negative note — even if it was his fault.

“How’s the sore on your stomach?” She asked, changing the subject and making a move to lift up his shirt. He danced away and made for the front door, forced to lie —
Again
.

“It’s fine — I have to go. Fernando’s waiting.”

Of course, it wasn’t fine — Doctor Turner’s shot had helped but it still stung when he moved and the odd wound hadn’t scabbed over. He paused and looked back at her.
Whoever created guilt was killing him
, he thought.

“Just bear with me, alright?”

She nodded and held his gaze.

“Always.”

He couldn’t resist. Her face, her behavior was so… so…
magnificent
. He raced back to her and kissed her deeply.
So many marital problems in the world and he had the best wife in the world!

He turned away finally and stepped into the night knowing that whatever happened, she would support him. The thought warmed and comforted him — She had his back — always had, always would.

***

Frank tucked his VW into a narrow parking spot on a Hollywood side-street, headlights illuminating three or four used condoms in the gutter.

He got out of the car and several punks loitering on the steps of the apartment building stared at him as he checked the address on the slip of paper in his hand.
Yep, this was the place — top-notch,
he thought
. How could Fernando live here?

He had to squeeze past the group that looked like they were straight out of the eighties punk scene — One even had a spiked up Mohawk and another wore black leather head to toe, with fingerless gloves. They made no effort to clear the way as he skirted around them and they followed his every move with obvious contempt. One of them in tri-tone hair (dark blue, purple, and red) spat something nasty on the building wall and made a comment after him that caused the others to snicker. When he reached the security door to the complex, he was about to look for Fernando’s apartment number on the small board hanging nearby to get buzzed in — but instead noticed that the door was ajar.
Nothing like tight security in such a safe area
, he thought with a sarcastic edge.

He slipped inside, hurried up the three flights of open stairs and followed the faded numbers and arrows on the walls until he found apartment 311.

Even before he knocked, he could hear the sound of thumps and moans from inside and recognized Fernando’s impassioned voice saying something low in Spanish and a woman’s voice in even lower, huskier tones responding.

He hesitated — and was lost. Once the woman’s orgasm started, he felt he had to wait until it finished or he’d appear to have been listening at the door the whole time (which he was).

The screams went on for several minutes and Frank grew increasingly uncomfortable.
What if someone saw him there? — He’d look like a voyeur! And what if Fernando heard about it — how would that look?

The screams finally subsided and now there were only occasional thumps and soft moans.
Finally
, he thought. He knocked on the peeling door —
He couldn’t wait forever, what if they started again?

Fernando opened the door, hair in a disheveled pile, clothes partially dragged on, an equally rumpled woman half draped over the sofa behind him.

It was a long moment before he spoke and Frank could almost see his pupils slowly losing their dilation from his previous arousal. A wipe at them with his hand and it was gone.