"Oh yes I can and there's not a single thing you can do about it. I'm going to install a hitch on my casket and take it with me.” The man wrestled with the knob and continued down the sun-speckled highway with the wipers engaged full blast.
Rodney's impatience with the time it took to change cars at the rental place put him in a spiteful mood. He waited until the driver parked the new rental car in the hospital parking lot before setting the windows in motion again. After he honked the horn and flipped the window washers into action, he noticed a man in a black suit and a round, white collar climb out of an adjacent vehicle. The man tucked a Bible under his arm.
"Maybe this will be my lucky day.” Rodney whistled through his front teeth. “Maybe I can end this stupid game."
The Bible-toting man appeared to be in a hurry. Rodney scrambled out of the back seat and hurried past the rental-car couple who tried to dodge the blue washer-fluid mist falling through the air.
Rodney followed the pastor through the front doors and stood behind him in the lobby. When the elevator doors opened, Rodney moved to the back of the elevator. Two other men joined them and one pushed the button for the fourth floor.
Rodney flicked the brim of one of the men's baseball cap with his index finger. It popped off his head and fell to the floor. The man looked sideways at the pastor before bending to pick it up and place it back on his head.
The pastor continued to stare straight ahead as the elevator made its ascent.
Rodney flicked the brim again sending the hat sailing off the man's head. It landed on the pastor's shoe.
The pastor grasped the Bible tighter and glanced sideways without moving his head.
The man again retrieved his cap and placed it on his head. He glared at the Pastor.
Rodney reached over and pushed the fire alarm, setting off a piercing alarm. An overhead page sounded, indicating a code red in the east lobby elevator. The page was repeated two more times. “That's this elevator,” the Pastor said with a gasp. Three pairs of eyes widened in alarm.
One of the passengers stared at the red button pushed flat against the panel. He tugged on it to dislodge it. Rodney held his finger firmly on the button.
The overhead paging system again indicated code red. As the elevator rose to the fourth floor, the occupants heard static from a walkie-talkie. A voice shouted, “It just got to the fourth floor."
The doors swooshed open. Several nurses and a security guard ran toward them with fire extinguishers aimed at the opening.
"We didn't push the button. I swear,” one of the passengers said. “I tried to make it stop, but it kept ringing."
As they exited the elevator, Rodney reached for the pastor's hand and placed it on the passenger's crotch.
"What the hell?” the man shouted. “What's wrong with you?"
Rodney fell into stride next to the pastor, who had paled. He followed him into a room and stood at the end of the bed while the pastor fought to catch his breath.
"I'm sorry I'm late. It's been quite a morning.” The pastor dabbed at the sweat beading on his face.
The woman smiled. “That's all right. Nothing could dampen my spirits today. The doctor just gave me my biopsy results and it appears the tumor was benign."
The pastor clasped the woman's hands. “Praise the Lord. I knew everything would be all right."
"Sheeeittt,” Rodney moaned. He kicked the air with his foot. “That sucks."
Walking down the corridor, Rodney fell into pace behind a doctor headed for the intensive care unit. The physician held his identification badge over a wall-mounted scanner and the doors retracted.
Rodney stood behind the doctor as the physician pulled up a patient's data on the computer. He leaned against the nursing station and listened to a number of conversations going on around the monitors. What he needed most was to hear about a patient in distress.
When the doctor didn't discuss his patient's condition, Rodney wandered away from the nursing station. He lingered in each doorway, hoping to pick up signs of death.
"Oh, not you,” he whined, noticing Lora sitting with a patient tethered to tubes and monitors. “Just what I need. Something else to ruin my day."
"Go somewhere else, Rodney. I was here first."
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm not going anywhere. I've got just as much right to be here as you do.” Rodney blocked her path when she tried to step around him. “You're not going anywhere either."
Lora slapped at his hand and he grabbed her arm. “I told you not to do that.” He raised his other hand and she cringed.
Rodney's taunting laughter was interrupted by two women and a man who entered the patient's room. They sat in the chairs at the foot of the bed. One of the women said, “What should we do about Mom's dog?"
The man placed a tray on his lap and eyed the food he had selected from the cafeteria. He passed out sandwiches, chips, and sodas to the others before contemplating the question. He took a swig from the soda can. “How old is Ranger?"
"I'd say about twelve or thirteen. Mom already had him when Eric was born and he's eleven now."
A nurse brushed past one of the women and checked the monitor's digital readouts. After checking the catheter bag, she shook her head. “I don't see much output. It looks like they're shutting down again."
Tears welled in one of the women's eyes. “Do you think Mother's in much pain?"
"I doubt it. The doctor increased her pain medication this morning.” The nurse patted the daughter's hand. “I think she's comfortable."
The trio silently dwelled on the years they had spent cradled in their mother's love. The man wadded up what was left of his sandwich and wrapper and tossed it into a wastebasket. “I suppose we need to have Ranger put down. It's the most humane thing we can do. He's got arthritis so bad he can barely walk."
The youngest daughter said, “I don't think anyone else would put up with him. From what I understand from Mom's neighbor, he's been peeing on the carpet.” She began to sob. “Will you take him to the vet? I just can't bring myself to do it."
"I suppose I'll have to,” he said.
Rodney clapped his hands and jumped up in the air, causing Lora to shout out in fear. “Put the old mutt down. Put it out of its misery.” Balling both fists into the air, Rodney shouted, “Yahoo. Why didn't I think of that?"
Lora slipped past Rodney and ran down the hall. She turned the corner and looked back.
Rodney caught up to her. “Didn't you hear what they said? Put the dog out of its misery.” He feigned a pistol shot.
Lora wrenched away and continued down the corridor.
He matched her pace, walking beside her. “Don't you see? That solves everything."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Think about it. Put the old dog out of its misery."
"What do dogs have to do with anything? It doesn't make sense.” She pushed at his stained hand when he reached to grab her.
"Yes, it does. What old dog do you know that should be put out of its misery?"
"No,” Lora said. “You can't do that. Belly hasn't done anything to you."
The panic in Lora's eyes excited Rodney. He backed her against the wall. “You are really dumb, aren't you? It's not that stupid dog. It's Sadie. I'm going to put that old crone out of her misery."
"What,” Lora gasped.
"I've got a rifle hidden in the woods behind Sadie's old fuel tank. Now we don't need to look for someone on the brink. When I finish with Sadie, I'm taking you to the parallel world."
21
Nan closed the folder and tapped her pen against her desk. “Oh, it's you,” she said, a weary sigh escaping her lips. Paul walked toward her through the mortuary lobby.
"I'm glad to see you, too.” Paul embraced Nan from behind and nuzzled his lips against her neck.
She leaned into the embrace. “I'm not enthusiastic about anything, I'm afraid. I have another body to prep. Then I've got a family coming later this afternoon for their first viewing."