“Hello,” she said. It seemed absurd, but what else could she say?
The boy jerked around, somehow propelled himself away from her and onto his feet, reminding her of a wild cat she’d seen late one night when she was supposed to be in bed but couldn’t sleep because the moon was so bright it made her want things she couldn’t name. She’d come on the cat while it was tearing at a rabbit’s carcass. It had leaped up like the boy, put distance between them, then waited to see what she would do, unwilling to abandon the rabbit unless it had to.
The boy’s face changed when he recognized her and saw her injuries. “They got you too?” His voice was mushy, lisping, his arms up tight against his ribs again, an automatic movement dictated by pain.
“Little over an hour ago.” She walked slowly to the man’s body, stood looking down at it, then lifted her head and looked at the boy. “What are you going to do?”
He turned his head, with a farouche look, but he said nothing.
She glanced at her watch. The cab wouldn’t wait, she had to get downstairs. She dug into her purse, brought out her spare keys, held them out, said, “Look, I don’t know you, nor you me, and I’ve got no right to tell you what to do and maybe you already know what to do, but I suggest you get the hell out of here. Leave your friend. You can’t do anything for him now. Those shitbags who did this, they’ll call the police on you. This isn’t a time when you could get anything like a fair trial. You probably wouldn’t even survive long enough to have a trial.” She jangled her keys. “Take these. If you want, you can go to ground a little while in my apartment. Think things out. Be out of the way if the police do come. I’ll be back… um… in a couple of hours probably, going to see my doctor.” She smiled, winced as the cut in her lip pulled. “Look, I’ve got to go. Make up your mind.”
He gazed at her a moment longer. “You sure you want to do this? Could make trouble for you. More trouble.”
“Hnh! More trouble than I got already? You notice they had keys? The police come down on me, you won’t make more hassle for me. I’ve got a feeling…” She touched her ribs then her cut lip. “I wouldn’t last longer than you.” He gaped at her. “Purveyor of filth,” she said. “I’m a writer.” She looked at her watch. “Last time-you want the keys or not. I’m going.”
His face went drawn and bleak, gaining ten years in that moment, and he came to her, taking the keys. “Thanks. Mind if I pack some things and shift them over?”
She started for the door. “Whatever you want. Better keep it light, but you know better than I do how much you can shift and keep easy on your feet. And remember the guard downstairs; you’ll have to get past him.”
She heard a soft clearing of his throat, smiled a little and went out to tackle the stairs.
The sun was brilliant, the sky cloudless. She blinked as she stepped outside. She’d known it was still early, she’d looked at her watch again and again, yet the brightness and calm of the afternoon startled her. The street was empty. Perhaps the blackshirts hadn’t called the police about the dead man, perhaps they were expecting the boy to do himself in by trying to rid himself of the body, perhaps they were just making sure of alibis before they acted.
The cab was a few minutes late, giving her time to catch her breath. The boxy blue vehicle stopped in the middle of the street. The driver thumbed a button and the passenger door hummed open, then he sat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as she walked slowly across and with some difficulty climbed into the back.
“Where to?” The driver’s voice, tinny and harsh, crackled through the cheap speaker.
She opened her mouth, shut it again. As bad as phoning. She ran her tongue over her lips, tasted the slight saltiness of blood. The cut had opened when she was talking to the boy. She tried to think. “Evenger building,” she said finally.
“Right.”
As the cab ground off, she pressed her hand hard against her mouth as some of the strain left her. She was on her way to help at last. Evenger building was across the square from the Medical Center where Dr. James Alexander Norris had his office. Her friend, her doctor. He’d spent time and patience on her, filling in and signing the interminable forms that the office snowed on her and had looked into private charities for her. This was the end of all that struggle. She probably shouldn’t be going to see him now, but she had no real choice. She pushed the dark glasses back up her nose. I’d better phone from the Evenger, she thought. Let him know what to expect. She sighed. Let him decide if he wants to see me.
She lowered herself into the chair as the nurse went briskly out. Her head was swimming; she felt nauseated and worn to a thread.
A hand touched her shoulder. “Julia?”
She lifted her head. For a moment she couldn’t speak, then she grunted with pain as the cracked rib shifted and bruised muscles protested. She reached up, pulled off the dark glasses.
He came round in front of her, a slight dark man, grave now, his usual quick nervous smile suppressed, his dark eyes troubled. He leaned closer, his fingers gentle on the swellings under her eyes. “Blackshirts did this?”
“That and a lot more. Five of them. They came for my books and manuscripts. I made the mistake of slapping one of them.” She spoke wearily, dropped her head against the back of the chair, closed her eyes. “They raped me. Anything that’s started I want stopped. Off the pill. You know. No lover. Me over forty. You warned me. God, I couldn’t stand… couldn’t stand it. Pregnant by one of those… those neanderthals.” She sighed, opened her eyes. “Jim, I’m poison. Guilt by association. That the way their minds work, those lumps of gristle they call minds. I’m afraid I’ve already made trouble for you. Your name on all those papers…”
“Let’s get you on the table.” He took her hand and helped her to stand. “Technically the nurse should be here but I thought you’d rather not. How long ago did all this happen?”
“You’re right as usual.” She grunted as she eased onto the slick white paper. “I got home a little before two. By the way, I didn’t tell you. One of them kicked me in the head and I was out until just about three. No double vision but one hell of a throb.”
His hands moved quickly over her, producing assorted grunts, gasps and groans that he listened to with a combination of detached interest and anxiety. “And how are you feeling right now?”
“Sore. She tried to laugh but couldn’t. “Angry. Frightened. But you don’t want to hear that. Nauseated. But not to the point of having to vomit. Kind of sick all over. There was some dizziness but that hasn’t come back for a while now, aaah-unh! One of the boots must’ve got me there. Most of all tired. So tired, it takes all I have to move, you know, like trying to run against water.”
“Mmm. X-ray first, then some more tests. I’ve got things set up so they’ll take you now, no questions.”
“I… I can’t pay for them.”
“Don’t worry about that, Julia. Forget about everything and let me take care of you.”
When tests and treatment were done, he walked with her down to the basement carpark, meaning to take her home before he went out to the safer suburbs and the family he kept resolutely separate from his practice. They walked down the gritty oily metal ramp, their footsteps booming and scraping, the sounds broken into incoherence, echoing and re-echoing until there seemed an army marching heavy-footed down into the cavernous basement. He dipped his head close to hers. “I can’t live with what’s happening here, Julia,” he said. “Police and others have been at me for weeks to open my records. I won’t do that, burn them first. I’ve been making arrangements to go north. There’s a medical group in Caledron willing to take me in.” He hesitated. She felt his uncertainty, felt the resolution grow in him. “You can’t stay here. Come up with us.”