C.E. Murphy - Thunderbird Falls

Morrison grunted. “Hospital?”

“That’s what I was just trying to tell you,” I snapped, not at all fairly. Refuge in anger. Good, Jo. I watched the indecipherable thing go out of Morrison’s expression, to be replaced by far more familiar irritation. Unexpected regret lanced through the general nausea in my stomach, turning my voice even more acid. “My friend Gary had a heart attack last night. What do they want to talk to me for?” I addressed the last to Billy, who thrust the sticky note at me.

“You’re down as next of kin, I guess. Insurance wants you to sign off on his physical therapy stuff.”

I reached for the note with a hand gone so numb I couldn’t feel the paper. It stuck to Billy’s fingers as he tried to let go, and the edge sliced a thin gash in my index finger. I stared at the blood welling up, waiting for the sting of pain. “Next of kin?”

“That’s what the lady said. You and the old man didn’t get hitched, did you?”

I didn’t trust myself to look at either of them, especially Morrison. “No.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Billy wince as his joke fell flat. “Thanks for taking the message.” My voice was too hoarse. “I’ll call the hospital and see if I can get over there tonight.”

“Take half an hour if they need it right now,” Morrison said, more gracefully than I deserved after snarling at him. “Otherwise, get back to work.” That, too, sounded more like sympathy than an order, though he turned a scowl on Billy. “You, too, Holliday. I’m not running a messenger service here.”

Billy said, “Yessir,” as we both watched Morrison stomp down the hallway. Then Billy turned to me, squinting. “Did I interrupt something there?”

Sometimes it was nice to have friends who demonstrated more sensitivity than the average male was reputed to. Other times, not so much. I said, “No,” because there was no other answer I could reasonably give, and Billy didn’t look like he believed it for a minute. “Thanks for the message.”

I went out into the June sunshine to get my phone and call the hospital.

Saturday, June 18, 10:18p.m.

“Officer Walker?” A young man’s surprised voice sounded in my ear, welcome distraction from the eye-crossing insurance paperwork I was trying to fill out. I looked up, catching a glimpse of myself in a window reflection. My hair had wilted from the cute spikes it’d dried in after my shower. A boy who looked vaguely familiar was also dimly reflected in the window, standing behind my chair. I twisted around to frown up at him.

“Garth,” he said. “Garth Johannsen. From the coven?”

“Oh!” I blinked at him, my frown getting deeper. “Hi, Garth. What’re you doing here?” I hadn’t even changed out of uniform before coming to the hospital. The nurse I’d talked to said I didn’t need to come during work, but if I could come immediately after that would be great. I’d picked up the paperwork and visited with Gary until he started dozing off, then retreated to the lobby to go through it. It was after ten now and I was sticky and uncomfortable.

“You weren’t at the meeting tonight.” He came around to sit one chair over from me, leaving an empty space between us. I was grateful on a variety of levels, the most basic of which being that I was too damned hot to want to deal with someone’s body next to mine. “We were worried,” he added.

“And so you what,” I said, “hunted me down at the hospital? How’d you do that, magic?” I set my teeth together and flopped my head against the padded plastic chair back. The kid was earnest and polite and didn’t deserve to be the victim of my sarcasm. “Sorry,” I muttered, then straightened up, convincing myself that I would be more gracious from here on out. “I forgot about the meeting.”

“You forgot?” All the injury and dismay in the whole world were conveyed in those two words. “But this is very important .”

“Garth,” I said in what I felt was a reasonable tone, “a very close friend of mine had a heart attack last night while I was chasing down your goddamn Virissong. Forgive me if your priorities are not my priorities.” So much for courtesy.

“Oh.” Garth’s voice went all hollow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a jerk.”

I had meant to be a jerk, and now I felt like even more of one. Venting at Garth struck me as being on about the same level as kicking puppies. I was going to have to consider the possibility that it’d be better if I never spoke to anyone again as long as I lived. “It’s not your fault. Sorry I snarled.”

“You didn’t,” he assured me hastily, which was nice, if blatantly untrue. “Is your friend going to be okay?”

I sighed and looked down at the paperwork. “Yeah, if I can get all this stuff filled out so they’ll put him in PT.” I shuffled the stack, then shook my head. “Did you really magic up my location?”

Garth looked guilty. “No.”

I frowned up at him. “Then what’re you doing here?”

Garth brightened a little. “Visiting somebody. Come on.”

I eyed my paperwork, then groaned and stood up. “Anything for a break.”

The sordid truth was I expected Garth to lead me through the hospital to meet some handsome, starry-eyed young intern who he would euphemistically introduce as “my friend.” Instead he took my hand and tugged me up to the cancer ward, where we stopped at the reception area and Garth leaned on the desk without letting go of my hand. “We’re here to see Colin.”

The man behind the desk waved us on without looking up, then followed us with, “He’ll be glad to see you, Garth.”

“You come here a lot?” I asked. Garth nodded, knocked on a room door, then pushed it open. Despite the hour, the young man in the bed sat up and smiled wearily as we stepped inside.

“Garth, man, who’s this? You didn’t tell me you were dating an Amazon.” His voice was thin, rising and falling on shallow breaths. He was good-looking, even through the bloat of weight that cancer treatments had put on him. His eyes were hazel and cheerful, and the handshake he offered was full of concentrated strength. “I’m Colin,” he said. “Garth’s my big brother.”

It wasn’t quite full light when I left the cancer ward with Garth. The sky was hazy and light gray, a promise of another beautiful day to come. The air was cool for the first time in forever, although I privately admitted I wasn’t usually up at five-thirty, the past few days notwithstanding. Possibly it was always perfect at this hour on a summer morning. Garth walked out onto the medical center steps with me, hands jammed in his pockets and head lowered. Neither of us had spoken since we left Colin’s room.

“So what’s the deal?” I finally asked. We’d stayed in Colin’s room most of the night, both of them offering up absurd answers to questions on the insurance forms, Garth watching his brother when he slept. Between naps and paperwork, I tried to convince Colin that I was neither an Amazon nor Garth’s girlfriend. He cheerfully refused to believe either.

Garth sat on the steps, not looking at me as he answered. “He’s had leukemia his whole life, pretty much. Since he was eight. We thought he had it beat, but then a few months ago it came back, and he’s been pretty sick since.”

“How old is he?”

“Seventeen.”

I blinked. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

I didn’t say he seemed younger. “I just want him to be okay,” Garth said, without noticing my lack of input. “I tried praying for a long time, and when Colin was getting better I thought it was working, but then he got sick again and God doesn’t seem to care.”