“I’m looking for a patient,” Vince said. “He would have been brought in by paramedics. Big guy, covered with tattoos, black hair. He was hurt… stabbed, I think.”
The black woman shrugged. “Dough’no. We just got an Emergency run ten minutes ago. You family?”
“Yes,” Vince said, the lie springing to his lips easily. “I’m his brother.”
“Lemme see.” The woman ran her finger down a roster, and Vince looked out at the Emergency Room waiting area. It was half-full of the usual—people nursing cuts, broken bones, women consoling children. His mind refused to let what Frank told him die a quiet death. Maybe there was some truth to it, no matter how crazy or how wrong it all was. Vince a half-human, half-demon hybrid? It was absurd. Maybe The Children of the Night believed he was, but it was ridiculous. There was no God? Vince had long believed that, but if there was no God, there couldn’t be an evil creature named Hanbi that was the father of Satan and Pazuzu and all the other demonic creatures that had sprung from the spiritual imaginations of ancient civilizations. There could not be one without the other. However, if millions of people believed in a benevolent God, why not an evil being? It explained some of the imagery from the dreams he’d been having. Especially the one where the hippie tried to kill him. Why else would a burned-out hippie guy try to kill a child? Simple. He’d bought into the idea that Vince was to be the gateway to the emergence of Hanbi, which in a way resembled the emergence of the Christian Anti-Christ. And what if they all believed this so much that it was now permanently embedded in their psyches the same way Christians believed Jesus Christ was the Son of God, the Messiah, their Savior?
Vince shuddered. Why the hell not? It would explain some of the other dreams: the one with the adults wearing those black robes and cowls, chanting in a semi-circle while a toddler-Vince was placed on a raised dais to be worshipped. They had been worshipping him, tripping out, going on with their weird mix of religion and hallucinogens, and it had just gotten scary and dangerous and then his mother had seen it for what it had really been. Something scary, and just plain wrong, and she’d split. But somehow they’d tracked her down, and then found him. Their conviction in him had never wavered; they’d been permanently hard-wired.
A rush of activity interrupted his thoughts, and he turned toward the commotion. A pair of EMT’s was wheeling somebody in and Vince stepped away from the counter to get a better look. “Sir?” the black woman behind the counter said, but Vince wasn’t even listening. He had to see—
He rushed up to the stretcher as an EMT tried to hold him back. “Please step back, sir.”
“Frank!” Vince craned his neck to get a look.
And as the stretcher was whisked passed him, Vince got a quick glimpse of Frank as he was wheeled down the hall to OR. The brief glimpse was all Vince needed to see; Frank was unconscious, pale, and very bloody.
An orderly gripped Vince’s arm to hold him back. “Sir, please…”
“I’m his brother!” Vince said, his voice tinged with anguish.
“Sir?” The orderly had a firm grip in his upper right arm, and now a nurse joined him, one Vince hadn’t noticed before. The nurse was an older woman, in her forties maybe, and together the two escorted Vince to the waiting area. “We’re doing the best we can,” the orderly said. “And the best way you can help us is to remain calm.”
Vince nodded, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill out. He had to be strong, not only for himself but also for Frank.
“What’s your brother’s name?” The orderly was friendly, and had an open face that was sunny even in such dire circumstances.
“Frank,” Vince said, not looking at the orderly. “Frank Black.”
“Is your brother allergic to any medications?”
Vince shook his head. “No. I don’t think so, no.”
“How old is he, sir?” The nurse asked this question; her voice was kind, gentle.
For a moment, Vince didn’t know what to tell her. He had to think about it, add the numbers up in his head. Frank was two years older than he was, that much he knew. “He’s thirty-five,” he said, nodding. He looked at both nurses. “Thirty-five.”
“Do you know if he’s HIV positive?”
“Not that I know of.” How could he know that? He’d only known Frank for a week. Knowing that brought the pain and sorrow to come surging stronger. He sniffed back tears and shook his head. “No,” he said. “He doesn’t have HIV. At least not that I know of.”
Another nurse joined them. She appeared to be Vince’s age and had reddish hair. “If you’ll please come with me, sir, we’ll do the best we can to take care of your brother.”
Vince glanced back once more in the direction Frank had been taken and nodded. He let the redheaded nurse lead him back to the waiting area, feeling a tremendous weight settle on his shoulders. He heard the nurse and orderly that had been questioning him retreat to the OR, presumably to assist in working on Frank. The redheaded nurse had a kind voice. She sat down next to him. “We’re going to do everything we can but you have to be strong for him, okay?”
Vince nodded, not looking at her. He was frightened, and he was scared, and while he knew the nurse picked up on that, she didn’t know that he was frightened and scared for reasons she wouldn’t even be able to understand.
“MR. BLACK?”
At first Vince didn’t look up at the sound of the man’s voice. He was thinking of Frank and the last week or so that they were together. He was thinking of Mike Peterson, and Tracy Harris and his mother, and he was too preoccupied to remember that he’d lied to the admissions people that he was Frank’s brother so he wasn’t even focusing on that when the voice called out again. “Mr. Black?”
Vince looked up and was not too surprised to see that it belonged to a doctor.
He didn’t know how long he’d been in the tiny waiting room by himself. The redheaded nurse had led him there; it was segregated away from the main waiting area, most likely reserved for loved ones of critical patients for their privacy. He’d been sitting by himself in a chair just leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor and thinking when the doctor entered. He glanced at his watch quickly—it was now almost five p.m. How long had he been here?
The doctor was tall, wearing green scrubs, his surgical mask hanging around his neck. He had a dark complexion and a mop of black hair. Vince nodded and stood up. “Frank’s my brother,” he said quickly. “How is he?”
“He’s in very serious condition,” the doctor began. “I’d like to start by saying that—”
“Can I see him?”
“It might not be a good idea for you to see him right now,” the doctor began.
“Please,” Vince said, imploring the physician. “Just for a minute.”
“We’re going to be giving him a stronger tranquilizer,” the doctor said, frowning. “He almost came to while he was in surgery. He’s lost a lot of blood. To be perfectly honest, I’d advise against seeing him now in the condition he’s in—”
“I have to see him!” He had this undying need to learn everything that Frank had gone through the last twenty-four hours.
The outburst of emotion had the right effect. “Only for a minute,” the doctor said. He put his hand on Vince’s shoulder and escorted him down the hall.
Vince tried to control the tears, but it was hard. As he walked with the doctor down the hall, all he could think of was the past week. How Frank had risked his life, as well as the life of his wife and children, to track Vince down and help him get to the bottom of this enigma regarding his mother. The fact that Frank had put so much on the line, even though Vince realized that he had his own personal motives as well, were weighing heavily on him.