Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3 (13 page)

I sat in the back, not making stupid comments like some people, just taking it all in. I held my breath during the most harrowing turns, but otherwise, I didn’t let myself get rattled at all. For the most part, I kept my gaze on Gordy. It would have been hard not to, considering he was right there, his head on the blanket on my lap. His wrinkled, dirty hands were pulled up to his whiskered chin. His mouth was slack, revealing two missing teeth. The teeth he still had were ragged and yellowed, probably from cigarettes. An acrid stink of smoke wafted off of him, reminding me of the overflowing ashtray in my great-aunt Trudy’s car. I also got a whiff of the smell of burning rubber.

Gordy grunted occasionally like he was in pain, and I uttered things like, “Hang in there, sir,” and “We’ll be there soon.” I’m not sure it helped, but it was the best I could do.

When we finally arrived at the entrance of the emergency room, I cracked open a window to air out the car. That burning odor was really getting to me.

Mallory threw the car into park, and she and Jameson ran inside to get help.

“We’re here now, at the hospital,” I said to Gordy, running a hand over his arm in a tentative show of compassion. I’d been wary of touching him, because I was afraid of hurting him and also because it’s weird to be in such close contact with a complete stranger. Uncomfortably intimate. I was glad trained medical professionals would take over from here. I looked out the car window for signs that help was coming.

“Son?”

Startled, I looked down. “Yes?”

The old man’s eyes were wide open now and he looked alert. I watched as he swallowed; his tongue flicked out over his cracked lips, as if to wet them, but it didn’t seem to help. “I tried so hard to get you back. So, so hard…”

“Are you talking to me?”

“I’m sorry I failed. So sorry.”

“Mr. Gordy? Sir…I’m afraid I don’t understand. What are you sorry for?”

Now his eyes narrowed, like he was trying to focus. “No, not you.” Gordy exhaled and turned his head, mumbling. “I got confused. I meant the other one.”

“What other one?”

“You look like him.”

“Who?”

“My son.”

His son? He was clearly delusional. Any son he had would have been at least fifty. I wouldn’t be arriving at that age for a long, long time. “Do you want me to call your son?” I asked. “And let him know you’re at the hospital?”

Gordy’s forehead furrowed in thought. “No, not my son. My grandson. I’m so confused…” His eyes rolled as if he had no control over them. “But you can’t call him. He’s locked up—a prisoner. They have him.” His hand flapped over the side of his pants. “Take it out of my pocket. You’ll need it.”

I wasn’t following him at all. “Maybe if you tell me where he’s a prisoner, I could contact him for you?”

“There’s no time.” His fingers trembled as he motioned to his pocket. “Get it out of my pocket.”

I looked at the hospital, wondering what was taking them so long. Why did they have to leave me here with this mixed-up old man? “Maybe you should just hang on to it for now,” I said. “When you’re better, you’ll need it.” I patted his arm in what I hoped was a comforting way, but he shook off my touch.

“Take it,” he said, this time his voice louder. “It will help you.” His breathing was labored now. “He’s still out there.”

Oh, jeez. How could I not do what he asked, even if it didn’t make sense? It was obviously important to him. Too bad it involved sticking my hand in his pants. There’s sort of an unspoken rule that a guy never puts his hand in another guy’s pocket. It’s bad enough when I spot a dude making suspicious motions in his
own
pocket, much less me maneuvering in someone else’s. I did a quick check out the window to make sure no one would see and think I was either robbing Gordy or making some perv move, and then I stuck my fingers in his pocket but felt nothing. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s nothing in your pocket.”

“Not that one.” He grunted and grabbed my hand, forcing it to the seam alongside his thigh. “It’s hidden, so they wouldn’t find it.”

I patted where he indicated and felt something below the surface of the cloth. I could see the stitching where the fabric came together. I couldn’t see a pocket, and yet… I leaned over to inspect it, and then pulled at the seam. It came apart with the ripping sound of Velcro. The old man was right; he did have a hidden pocket.

I pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it in front of his face. “Is this what you want me to have?” It was thick, like it was wrapped around something. The whole wad was held together with a rubber band.

Gordy nodded and closed his eyes. A thin string of spittle formed on his lower lip, grossing me out a little bit. I wasn’t cut out for dealing with sick people. He croaked out a few words. “Always carry it with you.”

“Sure, I will,” I said, patting his arm. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

“Don’t tell anybody,” he said. “You must keep it a secret.” This last line came out in a wheeze. He was having trouble getting the words out. “You must find him.”

“I promise.”

I had started to unfold the paper when I noticed movement outside the car—Mallory and Jameson (finally!) rushing through the opening of the glass doors. Behind them, two men in scrubs pushed a gurney as big as a twin bed. “Here we go,” I said to no one in particular. I slid out from under Gordy, making sure not to jolt his head as I left the car, then stuck the folded up wad of paper into my jeans pocket. The hospital attendants quickly went to work, wheeling him through the double doors with the three of us trailing behind.

The woman at the reception desk stopped Mallory by holding up a clipboard and saying they needed information about the patient. Jameson stayed glued to her side, but I kept going right behind Gordy and the two men. Someone buzzed us through a set of doors, and they picked up the pace until we were nearly running. Other people joined us as we moved down a corridor, a man and a woman, both wearing white jackets, their collars looped by stethoscopes. Doctors, I assumed.

After they wheeled the bed into a room shaped like a large curtained cubicle, the men in scrubs stepped away. The woman, who seemed to be a doctor, leaned over Gordy and clasped his arm. “Sir, you’re at Mercy Hospital. Can you tell me if you’re in any pain?” Gordy moaned, but didn’t answer. She looked at me. “What’s his name?”

“Gordy.”

“Gordy,” she said, this time more loudly. “We want to help you, but first we need some information.” Other people had gathered behind us, and she rattled off commands for an EKG and blood to be drawn. “Have you taken any medication today, sir?”

“No.” Forcing the word out clearly took great effort.

She put the buds of her stethoscope in her ears and leaned over to listen to his heart. “Erratic heartbeat. Let’s get moving with that EKG!”

Like a well-designed machine, the team sprang to action, one woman attaching a blood pressure cuff, another clipping what looked like a clothespin to his finger. A third unbuttoned Gordy’s shirt, then unpeeled adhesive backings off electrodes and fastened them to his chest. I walked around to the foot of the bed to get out of their way.

“Did he fall?”

I was studying the bottom of Gordy’s shoes and didn’t realize the doctor was talking to me until she snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Was he injured? Did he fall? Did he complain of pain?”

“He was shocked.” I pointed to the soles of his feet. Each one had a quarter-sized hole rimmed in charred black. Electricity had surged through his body and out his feet, melting a hole in his shoes. “With electricity. Shocked.”

She came over to look where I was pointing. “Are you sure?”

I gulped and nodded.

“How did it happen?”

“I don’t know,” I said, and it was the truth. I didn’t know
how
it happened, but I knew in my heart that he’d been shocked and I sensed it was on
purpose
. Even in the car I had somehow known this, but it took the scorched holes in his shoes to confirm it. Someone had done this to him.

But why?

They hustled me out of the room so quickly I couldn’t even look back. A heavyset young woman escorted me to a waiting area, which wasn’t much more than a few padded chairs in a corner. “Someone will come and let you know how your grandfather is doing,” she said. I didn’t contradict her on the grandfather thing; it was easier that way. I sat down, unsure what to do next now that I was apart from the others. After seeing the blackened holes in the soles of Gordy’s shoes, I wasn’t about to look at what he’d given me out in public. I decided to wait a few minutes before I texted Mallory to see what she thought we should do next.

The TV suspended in the corner was on mute, which was just as well. They never had the right channels on in waiting rooms. Down the hall, I heard the sounds of controlled  chaos: the squeaky wheels of carts being moved quickly, voices volleying back and forth, the electric beeps of machines monitoring vitals and keeping people alive. The ER had a slightly antiseptic odor, but above it I still smelled the smoke that had emanated from Gordy. It was in my nostrils now; I couldn’t get away from it.

How excruciating would it be to have electricity surge through your body strong enough to shoot holes through the bottoms of your shoes? It had to have been horrible. He was a tough old geezer, still conscious and talking, even if he was confused. Soon enough we could ask him what had happened. Another piece of a puzzle that needed to be solved. I never asked to be part of this, but I was in too deep to turn back now.

I leaned my head back against the wall. What a night. What a week. Until recently, all I worried about was getting a good night’s sleep and making it through sophomore year. Next summer I’d be sixteen, and that meant driving and a job and money. Now I had other things on my mind. Why would someone shoot at me? Who would electrocute an old man? And less important, but still puzzling—why would Mallory bring Jameson along on what was supposed to be our evening? I leaned forward and rested my head in my hands, suddenly tired.

I closed my eyes, but wasn’t sleeping. Not even close. I still heard all the hospital noises. My eyelids couldn’t quite shut out the fluorescent lights. Suddenly, I found that if I concentrated I could feel the electricity all around me, like being in the middle of a hot tub and knowing where the jets are located by feel. I felt it in every one of the millions of cells of my body, and I also felt it outside of my body too, as it coursed through the building. It was absolutely, mind-blowingly amazing. Like discovering I had picked up an extra sense somewhere along the way. Even with my eyes closed, I could visualize the electricity in the walls, the way it flowed through wires to outlets and then poured from the outlets into electrical cords, activating machines and powering lights. Somehow, crazy as it sounds, I understood that the electricity and I were one and the same. I almost had a handle on how that could be when I heard my name being called. “Russ!” I looked up to see Mallory and Jameson jogging down the hall toward me.

I stood up to meet them halfway. “Can you feel it?” I asked when we were close. I held out my hands and whispered, “It just happened suddenly. I can source the electricity. I’m not sure how, but I can just feel it all around me.”

Jameson said, “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” He sounded irritated.

“My phone didn’t go off.”

“We have to leave right away,” Mallory said.

I looked down the hall to where I’d left Gordy. “Can’t we wait to see how he does?”

“We should have left already,” she hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me down the hallway. Jameson walked behind us, like he was her backup.

We passed the cubicle where the staff still hovered over Gordy. I paused. “Shouldn’t we—”

Both of them said, “No!” in slightly hushed tones, and I let it go.

Mallory steered me down a hallway I hadn’t seen before. I was sure she was turned around, so I said, pointing, “I think the way out is that way.”

She didn’t even pause, but just said, “We’re using another way out.”

When we got to the end of the corridor, Jameson hit a button to open the door. The sign said, “Caution, Door Swings Toward You,” so we stood back, and when the door began opening, Mallory, still pulling me along, wasted no time, but slid through the opening, followed by Jameson, who was so close behind us he actually stepped on my heel as we exited the hospital on the side of the building.

“What’s going on?” I asked as we made our way through row after row of parked vehicles. “Where’s the car?”

“I moved it over here,” Mallory said, not slowing down at all. When we got to her vehicle, she unlocked the doors with a beep and slid into the front seat. Jameson and I quickly got into our respective spots, and she was zooming out of the lot before I even had the chance to put my seat belt on.

“Good grief, was that close,” she said as we turned onto the road and sped away. I glanced back and saw the hospital getting smaller through the rear window. “I just about had a heart attack when I saw those men come in. I was afraid they were going to see us.”

“What men?” I asked, but my words were drowned out by Jameson, who had his hands raised in the air like he was on a roller coaster. “That was wild!” he yelled, stretching the word “wild” so it went on and on. “I can’t believe we did that! I can’t believe how you messed with that nurse’s mind. And did you see how I made that cart tip over? We rule!” He paused to punch Mallory’s shoulder. “Woo-hoo! I’ve never had a feeling like that before. That was awesome.”

Mallory gave him a sideways glance. “Awesome, but very scary.”

“What happened?” I asked.

Jameson turned completely around to tell me the story and narrated using his hands for emphasis. I’d never seen the guy so hyped before. It was like someone reanimated a corpse. The way he told the story involved telling me every detail, complimenting himself on his quick thinking and his use of telekinesis as a distraction.