The Bone Triangle (18 page)

Relief flooded over me as I realized the room had a window, an unlocked door, and another tenant. The other guy was an elderly man, and he snored. His IV drip was yellow and his arms were terribly thin. Hopefully, I didn’t look as bad off as that. Next, I looked around for a visitor, but saw no one. It appeared to be after hours, and I consoled myself with the idea I might have been there for days. I couldn’t very well expect people to camp by my side forever.

I groaned in pain and tried to move my limbs. They were heavily bandaged and resisted my attempts to move them with a combination of stiffness and sharp jabs. It felt as though needles were being driven into my flesh.

My movement must have alerted Jacqueline, who made herself visible and stepped near. I saw her ripple out of the air. It was as if I watched her walk through a sheet of water for a moment—then she was hovering over me, looking worried and happy at the same time.

“Are you awake?”

“I think so,” I croaked. “Water?”

She brought a cup with a bent straw to my lips. I sipped and swallowed. My throat felt like it was made of paper.

“Let me guess,” I said. “They tried to throw you out, so you vanished on them.”

“How’d you know?” she asked.

I was glad to see the worry lines ease on her face. It was good to see her happy again. She had the kind of smile that made her cheeks swell. I liked her smile. I almost drifted off again thinking about it. But then I roused myself with a sudden intake of breath.

“How long?” I asked.

“A little more than three days,” she said. “I’ve been here the whole time, waiting for you to wake up.”

She proceeded to explain that we’d come back home in the middle of a highway. I’d switched worlds many times, but that night had to be my worst landing on record. We’d come back to Earth a few miles northwest of my home in Henderson, on a highway known as State Route 146—the St. Rose Parkway. I guess it could have been worse; we could have appeared on Interstate 15 itself and caused a pileup, but it could have been a lot better, too.

The rips often worked that way. When you moved across the surface of a world, then switched to another, you came out where you came out, no promises. It was like tunneling underground and coming up into the unknown, hoping the exit was a safe one. In this case, it hadn’t been.

“They weren’t sure you were going to make it,” she continued. “Heavy blood loss, shock. The doctors were cautioning us not to expect a full recovery. But you are looking dramatically better. There is a lot of scarring—but they can’t believe how much you’ve healed. There’s been talk of bringing in experts to study you.”

I’d heard it all before, and I didn’t feel like explaining anything to the medical crowd.

“No experts. No studies. I’m harder to kill than a city roach; that’s all they have to know.” The trick was my photograph. It was an artifact with very useful properties. I frowned as I thought of it.

“What about my things?” I asked.

“They took them, but I snuck around to find the envelope and…well, I took it. I brought it back here and put it under your sheets.”

As she said those words, I felt something hard and papery up against my left side. I groped for it and found the envelope. I sent Jacqueline to find some surgical tape. The moment she was gone, I tore the envelope open with fumbling fingers and slipped the photo out. I put it under my sheets and pressed it against my chest. It seemed to be working for me through the envelope, but I wanted to be sure. I needed all the healing I could get. When she came back with the tape, I sent her for fresh ice water. While she was gone I taped the picture to my chest.

I wheezed for a while after that, but felt better immediately. Just knowing it was with me helped. I felt a little bad hiding the artifact from Jacqueline. We’d been through so much already, and I did feel I could trust her. But the less she knew about my special items, some part of me said, the better. The photo was an artifact of power, possibly my best one. I’d never learned the origins of it, an unsolved mystery
of my past—one of many. I’d gotten it at some point before I’d lost my memories. The important thing was it promoted very fast healing. Not
miraculous
healing, but better than the human norm. My flesh wouldn’t knit back together as fast as it was being cut. But I knew that after sustaining injuries that would place a normal guy in a hospital for six weeks, I’d spend perhaps six days on my back.

“Has anyone else come after me?” I asked when she came back.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. This is St. Rose Dominican. You’re safe here.”

I wasn’t as certain as she was, but I nodded and tried to smile. “What about him?” I asked, pointing at the old man in the next bed.

“They transferred him in today. He looks pretty harmless. Until now, you were both unconscious. Can I get you anything else?”

“Out of here,” I said.

She shook her head and laughed quietly. “Gilling said you would say that. You can’t leave yet, you’re still a mess.”

“I heal fast.”

She gave me a strange look. She ran a finger over my cheek. “Yes, you do. There were wounds here. Deep ones. Now they’re pink lines. You’ve got something, don’t you? Something that makes you heal fast? Either that, or you are from an alien world yourself.”

“That’s a rude question to ask a rogue.”

“Sorry.”

“Take my hand,” I said, reaching for her.

She took my hand and clasped it in both of hers.

“Make us vanish. I need to get out.”

She came closer, and whispered to me. “You’re worried about another assassin, aren’t you? Relax. I made your wallet
and ID disappear. We gave them a false name. The hospital doesn’t even know who you are.”

I felt fatigue fighting against me. I was going to have to sleep again soon. “Not safe. She’ll find me.”

“That’s why I’m here. I’m your bodyguard.”

“I thought you went blind if you stayed out of sight for too long.”

“Let me worry about that.”

And then, I had to do as she said. I was too tired, too overwhelmed by fatigue. I felt her soft fingers, they pressed against my brow. They felt cool there. I blinked, but I couldn’t see her. She’d faded out of sight.

I didn’t awaken again for some hours. When I did, the room was quiet and still. I sensed it was the deep of the night. I wondered what had awakened me. Without moving anything other than my eyes, I looked around.

The hospital room was dark except for the blue glow of the TV. The big fluorescents on the ceiling had been flipped off. I glanced up at the TV and saw a strange shadow. I squinted in the half-light, trying to focus my eyes.

A shape loomed over my bedside. I saw it clearly now. Pale white skin. Stick-like arms dangling from a cotton hospital gown. The face was slack, expressionless. One arm was raised and took hold of my IV. The ancient hand pulsed closed, forming a fist. The other hand slid forward, seeking my lips.

Adrenaline pumped into my bloodstream, along with a gush of liquid from the IV. He was squeezing it all into me—all at once. I tried to twist away, to cry out, but I was so weak, and he had the strength of a lunatic.

The old man held me down, his leathery fingers clamping my mouth while I tried to get my arms out of the entangling sheets.

I reached first for a low-hanging loop of plastic tubing. I yanked it loose. The IV line was gone, but I didn’t know how much drug I had been injected with—or even what it was. I felt sick and tasted metal in my mouth. My veins were cold with the stuff, whatever it was.

The old man let go of the IV bag and the contents gurgled out on the floor. His hand sought my face again and clamped over my nose, squeezing it. His fingers intertwined themselves and my whistling breath was instantly blocked.

I had my arms free now, and although they didn’t want to obey me, I reached up and latched onto his wrists with my hands. On any other day, I would have tossed him aside. But my injuries hadn’t healed yet, and my arms had taken much of the savage mauling I’d received from the feline witch. On top of that, his strength was hysterical. He’d gladly snap every bone in his hands to suffocate me, I knew.

The TV played quietly in the background as the struggle went on. Bluish light lit up the twin scrims of hair on either side of his bald head. His dark eyes were glassy and reflective, like the black eyes of a doll. They glinted with reflected light from the TV.

Finally, I heaved to the right and rolled away from him, breaking his grasp. I fell onto the floor. The fall was only a few feet, but I landed badly. My face and chest slapped on the hard floor. Groaning, I rose up to all fours. Whatever was in my veins was making me sicker by the moment. I fought the urge to vomit.

Hard, knobby knees drove into my back then. The old man had climbed across the bed and fallen on me. I grunted but managed to stay on my hands and knees. I shook him off,
and he fell with a thumping sound on the floor. I thought I heard bones break. He twisted and heaved, trying to get up, but he was too injured to do so. Silently, he strove to make his broken body obey his compulsions.

The lights bloomed into a white glare.

A nurse stood at the doorway—a large woman who blocked the entrance. But I could see Jacqueline standing behind her. Then Jacqueline vanished.

The nurse gave a sucking gasp of horror at the scene. Blood and fluids were everywhere. I was still on all fours, panting. On the floor beside me was my roommate, who scrabbled determinedly.

“What the—? Mr. Draith, are you two
fighting
?”

“Get help,” I said shakily.

The nurse shook her head. “I
am
help,” she said, and walked into the room. She pressed the call button, then she leaned over the vicious old guy. I’d hoped she would go away, but I could see that wasn’t going to happen.

“Jacqueline,” I said, “take my hand.”

I reached up and felt fingers clasp mine. Our palms locked, and my vision faded. The nurse did another of her whooping gasps. I’d vanished before her eyes. She craned her neck, looking for me, and lost her balance. With huge eyes, she sat down on the floor, hard.

The old man, perhaps frustrated by his failure to end me, took his opportunity to make his feelings known. He bit her wrist. She screamed, and I felt sorry for her.

“Watch out for him, he’s a mean one,” I said.

The nurse escaped the growling thing on the floor and declared an emergency. “It’s that new transfer from Sunset,” she called into the hallway. “He’s gone berserk.”

Sunset
, I thought. She could only mean Sunset Sanatorium, the domain of Dr. Meng. While two orderlies
wrestled with the fanatical old guy, we made our exit. I paused only long enough to gather my envelope full of precious belongings.

“We have to get you some clothes,” Jacqueline whispered in my ear.

“Forget about that. Keep me invisible and get me out of here.”

We were on the third floor of the hospital. I tried not to lean too heavily on Jacqueline as we hugged walls down the corridor toward the back stairs. We had to dodge people who walked right toward us. Apparently, the nurse had summoned every orderly on the floor to my room.

When we reached the emergency exit that led into the stairwell, I felt a surge of relief. We made our way down three flights of stairs and exited onto the parking lot. There were blooming desert plants and the area would have been peaceful if it hadn’t been for the roar of nearby traffic.

Weary, I sat on a metal bench outside. It was cool against my injured flesh and felt good. Soon, I stretched out on it. I didn’t even care if someone came along and sat on me.

“What are we going to do now?” Jacqueline asked, still holding on to my hand. We were both invisible. “I can’t let go of you now, in just a hospital gown. Do you want me to call Gilling?”

“No. I can think of only one person who can safely come and help us now.”

“Who? And
don’t
say McKesson.”

“Your mother.”

Jacqueline wasn’t happy about it, but in the end she gave in and made the call. Her mother was thrilled, but cautious, as she learned more details of the situation. She questioned the need to bring a first-aid kit and a bag of men’s clothing. When Jacqueline specified medium-length, loose-fitting
clothes, I thought she’d blown it. But Jacqueline refused to give her mother the address until she agreed. When Karen realized we wanted to be picked up in front of the hospital, she became more reasonable.

Twenty long minutes later, Jacqueline shook me awake and I got to my feet. We were visible now, and Karen didn’t look very happy. Somehow, Jacqueline talked her into letting us get into the car, saying she could explain everything if we just got moving.

Together, we climbed into the red Mercedes. I had the backseat all to myself. Karen tossed a paper bag of clothing at me and glared at her daughter.

“I can’t believe you’re with this man,” she said. “He’s one step from homeless, you know.”

“I’ll have you know I own an impressive house, madam,” I said from the back.

“He does,” Jacqueline added.

We drove off with excessive acceleration. I groaned, feeling vertigo roll over me. I tugged at the clothing she’d thrown at me, but was too tired to put it on. I draped it over myself instead.