Michael Palmer - Silent Treatment

'Maura!' he cried.

The river poured in with force, fillingthe Winnebago in seconds. Still tilted forward, the huge RV glided downward,beneath the surface. Harry, battling the rushing water, the airbag, and thepain in his arm and chest, inhaled deeply and clawed his way toward thedriver's seat, expecting at any moment to connect with Maura's body. The murkyriver pushed him backward toward the sitting area. He kicked off his sneakersand struggled to calm and orient himself. The blackness was total. Wherewere the windows? Below him? Above? Were they still sinking? His breath wasgoing. He kicked and battled to find a way out. Nothing. Water was entering hisnose and mouth. Soon, any second now, he would have to take a breath. He feltthe consuming panic of being trapped in water — panic unlike any he had everknown.

His movements grew weaker, more futile.The pain in his chest grew worse. Water seeped down his throat.

Breathe, his mind cried. You musttake a breath.

Darkness closed in.

Reluctantly, Harry surrendered to it. Hisarms grew heavy. The dreadful ache beneath his breastbone began to fade. Then,at the instant his consciousness vanished, he felt a hand take hold of the backof his shirt.

Harry's first awareness was the smell — the unmistakable amalgam of cleaning solutions, antiseptic, laundry starch, andhuman illness. It was an aroma as familiar to him as his own room. He was in ahospital, cranked up in bed at a forty-five degree angle.

Piece by piece, image by image, thenightmare began returning to him. He was dead. Had to be. The godawfulsensation of muddy river water filling his mouth and lungs — it had to havebeen fatal. Is this Heaven? No, it's Iowa. . He was dead, and itreally wasn't all that bad. He would open his eyes now and there would beclouds billowing about his feet. James Mason would be ushering new recruits tothe celestial escalator that would take them to the next level.

'Dr. Corbett? Dr. Corbett, open youreyes.'

A woman's voice. Harry did not respondimmediately, although he sensed that he would. Instead, he tested his limbs.First his legs, then his left arm, and finally his right. There was no movementthere. The arm was gone! The bullet had severed an artery and the armwas gone. He opened his eyes a slit and peered down at his chest. His arm andhand were there, resting in a loose cloth sling, working exactly as they weresupposed to.

'Maura. .'

He murmured the word, then said it again,louder.

'Who's Maura?' the woman asked.

Harry opened his eyes fully and turned tothe voice. A young woman with short, sandy hair and an attractive, intelligentface looked down at him. She had on a white clinic coat with a blue name tagthat read Carole Zane, M.D. Cardiology.

'Maura Hughes is the woman who was withme,' Harry said, his senses clearing rapidly.

'There was a woman survivor fromthe accident, but I don't know her name. From what I heard, you were in worseshape than she was. I think she was taken to a hospital in Newark.'

Thank God she's alive, was all he could think.

'Do you know anything else about theaccident?' he asked.

'Nothing at all except that you were in acamper and you flew off a thirty-foot cliff into the Hudson.'

'Some camper,' Harry said. 'Where am Inow?'

'You're in the coronary care unit ofUniversity Hospital in Manhattan. I'm Dr. Zane, one of the cardiac fellows. Youwere brought here by chopper last night. Apparently we were the closestfacility to the accident with an available cardiac bed.'

'What day is it?'

'Saturday.'

'The first?'

'The first of September. Yes.'

September first. The end forGramps. The beginning of the end for Dad. Now it's Harry's turn. .

'Have I had a coronary?'

'Maybe. We don't know for sure. Iunderstand you are a physician?'

'A GP, yes.'

'Okay, then. You've been shot through yourupper arm. The humerus has been chipped, but it's intact. They wanted toexplore the wound last night, but they couldn't because your EKG is abnormal.It's showing ST segment changes suggesting acute posterior wall injury. Yourcardiac enzymes are slightly elevated as well, so there definitely has beensome minor cardiac muscle damage already.'

'So I've had a coronary?'

'Not had. The EKG patterns keepchanging. Whatever is going on is still evolving. That means we have a chanceto fix it.'

'With a balloon?'

'Or a bypass.'

'Damn.'

Harry quickly reviewed his family historyand his months of intermittent symptoms. The physician took notes, stopping himfrom time to time to clarify a point. She was quite obviously bright, but moreimportant to Harry, she was also kind, attentive, and careful not to show himhow rushed she was.

'Are you having any pain now?' she asked.

'No. I never have had pain when I'm atrest. Mostly I tend to get it when I run hard or jump.'

'Well, we've decided against bloodthinners and clot dissolvers because of the gunshot wound and the possibilityof internal injuries we don't know about yet. You are on anitroglycerine drip.'

She motioned to the plastic bags draininginto his left hand. The nitro drip was running piggyback through a long,slender needle inserted through the rubber infusion port of the primary line — sugar water, which was keeping the vein open.

'No problem,' Harry said, wondering how hemight best go about finding out where Maura was and how she was doing.

'We'd like to do a cardiac catheterizationon you as soon as possible,' Zane said.

'Do whatever you have to.'

She handed him a clipboard — the operativepermit.

'There are a number of potential problemswith this procedure listed on page two. I am required to inform you of them oneat a time.'

'Don't bother,' Harry said, signing. 'I'vealready been dead once, and it didn't feel all that bad. Do you think I couldmake a phone call or two?'

'First let me listen to your heart andlungs. Then there's someone here to see you.

Curious, Harry let himself be examined.Then Carole Zane promised to meet him in the cardiac cath lab as soon aspossible and turned toward the door. Harry followed her with his eyes. Onlythen did he notice the uniformed policeman seated just across from hisglass-enclosed cubicle, facing him.

'Dr. Zane?'

She turned back.

'Yes?'

'What's that policeman doing here?'

She smiled at him patiently.

'Well, from what I've been told, you areunder arrest. I'll see you downstairs.'

Harry electronically cranked himself upanother few degrees and searched about for a phone. If he was under arrest,then Phil had to be in trouble as well. Undoubtedly the police had alreadytraced the Winnebago to him.

'One call, Corbett. Just like you were injail.'

Albert Dickinson walked into the room andstopped at the foot of the bed. He was wearing his usual suit and smelled as ifhe had just smoked an entire pack of cigarettes at once. Harry felt a mix ofanger and disgust at the sight of him.

'Have you gotten people out to DougAtwater's house?' he asked.

'The New Jersey police are working on it.'

'Maybe you should just wait until someoneburns the place down. Do you know anything about Maura?'

'She's not in the DTs yet, if that's whatyou mean.'

'You snide bastard. Isn't there anykindness inside you at all?'

'Not towards murderers or drunks. No, notmuch.'

'You're going to feel very dumb when thetruth comes out. Now what about Maura?'

'She's in Newark City Hospital. Hurt, butnot badly. From what I hear, she's the one who saved you. Apparently she wentup to the surface, couldn't find you, and then dived back down. The docs tellme you were on your way out when she pulled you to shore. Apparently you werehaving a coronary.'