Fook (32 page)

His original plan, while likely to bypass
the line, was also likely to land him in a hospital bed, hooked up
to every machine available and surrounded by doctors and nurses,
eager to correct his fabricated ailment. He needed to find Mrs.
Tillmore, if she was still there, and if she wasn’t, he needed to
find something with an address on it so he could find her before
Jason did. Having half of the E.R. staff standing over him,
shoveling aspirin down his throat and hooking him up to I.V. drips
seemed counterproductive to his cause. Instead he’d taken a seat in
the far corner of the room, next to a mother who was tending to a
nine year old soccer player while her two year old daughter watched
from a stroller beside them.

“Boo boo,” the little girl pointed at the
large gash on her brother’s knee as her mother pulled the makeshift
bandage away from his leg.

Normally the sight of such an injury would
have made Derek cringe but given the past twenty-four hours, he
figured it would take a lot more than a sports injury to make him
squirm.

“It hurts, it hurts,” the boy cried as his
mother looked around the room in frustration.

It was obvious that they’d been there for a
while. The sun had been down for about an hour already. The boy’s
soccer game had likely ended hours ago. His bedtime had probably
come and gone and his mother was clearly at her wits end; made even
more evident as she eyed the nurse’s station and mumbled something
on the lines of “un-fucking-believable.”

“Story,” the little girl suddenly held up a
book from the stroller.

“Not now, sweetie,” mom took the book from
her daughter’s hand and laid it back down on the tiny, built in
tray next to her sippy cup. “I’m going to find out how much longer
this is going to take,” she turned back to her son, who continued
to wince in pain as he held the paper-towel bandage over his knee.
“Keep an eye on your sister. I’ll be right back.” Almost tripping
over the massive purse/baby bag next to the stroller, mom weaved
her way through the crowd toward the busy nurse.

“There’s no hope”, Derek thought. He’d have
to saw off his own arm if he had any hope of getting back there and
even then he’d still probably be sitting around for hours.

Turning his attention from the departing
woman, his eyes locked with the two year old beside him, who was
staring at him with an inquisitive gaze as if to say, “so, what’s
wrong with you?”

Derek smiled, then looked over at the little
girl’s brother, who traded tension for a zen like approach to pain
management as he leaned back in his chair, head tilted back and
eyes closed. Turning back to the little girl he was met with a
giggling smile as if he’d done something to amuse the toddler,
though he didn’t know what. Over the giggles she grabbed her cup,
and tilting back in the stroller, began sipping at the drink as a
trickle of the red juice slipped from the corner of her mouth, down
her chin and onto her tiny dress.

The sight of the juice gave him an idea.
Glancing over at the nine year old Buddha again, then up at the
impatient mother who was still at least three people deep in line,
he leaned over and began feeling around inside the large baby bag.
The little girl’s puzzled look returned as she looked down at his
hand buried deep inside her mother’s property. Feeling something
soft, he pulled a white cloth from the bag.

“Perfect.”

Seeing his pleased smile, the little girl
reciprocated with one of her own.

Checking the boy and the mother again, Derek
pointed to the cup in the little girl’s hand.

Confused, the little girl just stared at his
outstretched finger, then up at his face.

Raising his brow, he reemphasized his
request with a shake of his finger at the cup.

Again the little girl looked at his hand,
though this time seemed to put the silent request together as her
eyes wandered toward her cup. Looking up again, then back at the
cup she finally realized what he was asking, and held her cup up
for him to take.

With a smile, Derek took the cup and began
dripping the deep red juice onto the white cloth as the girl
watched confused. Once he was satisfied with the stain, he held the
cup back out for her to take and mouthed the words, “thank you,”
which drew a big smile and a few bounces from the excited little
girl as he got to his feet and wandered toward the check-in station
with the freshly soiled towel around his hand.

“Excuse me,” Derek pushed through the people
waiting in line to yell at the obviously stressed young woman
behind the counter.

“Where are you go—?” the little girl’s
mother started to protest Derek’s cutting until she noticed the red
stained cloth wrapped around his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized to the group of
frustrated patients and parents as he approached the counter.

“Sir, you’re going to have to—,” Noticing
the red towel. “Oh, my.”

“Yeah,” Derek looked down at his hand as he
placed the other one over it and pulled it to his chest for fear
that, if anyone got a good whiff of it, they’d notice its fruity
nature. “The other girl checked me in already,” Derek lied, hoping
that there really was another girl, which given the woman’s lack of
protest, he figured there probably was. “I was just wondering if I
could go back and get a new bandage while I wait to be seen.”

“Let me get a nurse. That looks pretty bad,”
the young woman insisted.

“No,” Derek motioned for her to sit back
down. “It’s not that bad, really. You’re very busy with these
people.” He glanced over his shoulder at the crowd who apparently
shared in the woman’s concern as he noticed a distinct separation
between himself and the next person in line. “I just need a bandage
and if you could point me in the direction of the bathroom that
would be great,” he smiled, wincing a bit to make it more
believable.

Returning to her seat, she pointed to the
double doors over her left shoulder, at the end of the short hall.
“You can go right through those doors over there. Just let them
know that Jessica sent you back for a bandage.”

“Thank you Jessica,” Derek smiled, drawing a
smile in return.

“Even with a cherry flavored, blood soaked
hand he still had it,” he thought as he headed for the indicated
doors.

“Oh! The bathrooms are just to the left of
the doors!” Jessica stood again to shout the forgotten
directions.

“Thanks again!” Derek turned as they
exchanged another smile and he watched the momentarily distracted,
angry mob swarm Jessica’s counter again.

Carefully pushing through the doors, still
clutching the red rag in the event that he had to offer someone on
the other side an explanation, the explanation for the long wait
came into view as he saw busy nurses darting from one room to the
next and stressed and tired looking doctors wandering from patient
to patient, doing all they could to get ahead of the insane,
emergency rush.

Clearly unnoticed, he breathed a sigh of
relief as he ditched the cloth in a nearby trash can before making
his way to the nurse’s station. The pace behind the counter wasn’t
any slower than in front of it as nurses came and went, picking up
charts and dropping off charts, all while the overwhelmed redhead
behind the counter struggled to keep the mountain of paperwork
beside her from toppling over while typing information into the
computer.

“Excuse me,” Derek greeted the overweight
nurse behind the counter.

“Yes,” she responded without looking up as
her fingers continued to fly across the keyboard

“Hi, yeah, the girl out front, Jessica, told
me that my sister was back here and I was wondering if you could
point me to the right room,” he looked around, feigning
confusion.

“What’s your sister’s name?”

“Tillmore, Tabitha Tillmore.”

“Tillmore, Tillmore, Tillmore,” the woman’s
fingers stopped as she closed her eyes and thought for a moment.
“Yeah, Mrs. Tillmore was discharged hours ago.”

“Are you sure?” Derek asked, frustrated.

“Yes I’m sure,” the woman responded with an
exasperated sigh. “I just did the paperwork ten minutes ago,” she
glanced over at the neatly stacked files on the other side of the
keyboard. “Now is there anything else that I can help you with?”
she asked in a dismissive tone, however before Derek could answer,
a loud crash drew the heavy woman from her chair. “Debby! Really?!”
she cried out at a young girl who’d just dropped an entire tray of
urine samples all over the hall.

Without so much as another glance, the woman
made her way around the counter and over to the seventeen year old
girl who’d already begun to cry as she hesitantly attempted to
pluck each of the scattered containers from the yellow puddle
surrounding her feet.

Finally managing to pull his attention away
from the chaos taking place all around him, Derek returned his gaze
to the stack of completed paperwork beside the computer. Looking
around, he cautiously made his way behind the nurse’s station, and
ducking below the counter, he removed the stack of files from the
desk and began flipping through them. Between the stack in his hand
and the pile of unaddressed charts on the other side of the
computer he wondered what the hell was going on that day or was
this just a typical day in a Boston city hospital?

Johnson, Gilbert, Murray
, he riffled
through the names at the tops of the forms.

Perez, Michaels, Tillmore.

“What are you doing!?”

Looking up, Derek spotted the redheaded
nurse standing on the other side of the counter looking down at
him. He didn’t have an answer, so he did the only thing he could
think of. Pulling Tabitha’s file from the stack, he threw the other
files at the angry nurse as he leapt over the counter and bolted
for the doors.

“Security!” the woman yelled as she tried to
grab Derek as he passed, but failed as he contorted his body to
stay just out of reach.

Somehow forgetting about the lake of urine,
and young Debby still trying to salvage what she could from it, his
foot hit the puddle as he began sliding down the hall, doing
everything in his power to maintain his balance as his feet kicked
the scattered cups even further from the girl’s desperate
reach.

Clear of the yellow ocean, he managed to
regain his balance and burst through the doors, back into the
waiting room where Jessica was still pleading with the angry crowd
in front of her.

Running past her, “Thanks again, Jessica!”
he yelled as he spotted a security guard emerging from another
hallway.

“You! Stop!”

“You're welcome,” Jessica, along with the
rest of the waiting room, stood in shock as Derek nearly crashed
through the automated glass doors, out onto the street.

Though glad to be out of the building, he
knew that it was only a matter of time before the police showed up
and with nowhere to run, he didn’t know where he should go.

“Get in the car!” a voice suddenly called
out to his left.

Turning, Sarah came into view behind the
wheel of a car as she pulled alongside the curb.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked, both
surprised to see her and by her impeccable timing.

“Hey!” the security guard emerged from the
building as Derek opened the car door and dropped into the
passenger seat.

“Go! Go! Go!”

With the tires squealing, the car lurched
forward just as the guard’s hand smacked against the window.

“What the hell was that?” Sarah questioned,
her adrenaline pumping as she weaved the car along the street,
around the corner and out of sight of the hospital.

“I told them about the future thing and they
tried to lock me up,” Derek joked.

“See. I told you.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“Something told me you might get yourself
into trouble. I came back to stop you but I guess I was too late
and now the cops are going to be looking for me too.”

“I doubt they got a good look at you or your
plates and you guys don’t have traffic cameras or iPhones yet so I
think we’re fine.

Sarah just looked at him with a puzzled
look. “What’s an iPhone?”

Holding Tabitha Tillmore’s stolen file up,
“It’s not important. I’ve got the address but we need to get some
proof first. Head south.”

Doing as instructed, Sarah took the on-ramp
for I-93 South as she sniffed at the air. “Did you pee
yourself?”

THIRTY-FOUR

“Here you go, Daddy,” Katie entered the living room
with a beer by her side and a bottle opener in her other,
outstretched hand. “Can you give me hand with this? I can never get
these things open when I want one,” she smiled, unable to hold a
straight face.

“Funny,” Phil grinned as she lowered the
bottle opener and handed him the beer.

“Who’s winning?” Katie asked as she curled
up on the couch beside her father’s Lazy Boy recliner.

“Not the Sox,” Phil huffed.

“White Sox?”

“Red Sox sweetie,” Phil glanced over at his
daughter, confused by the fact that they’d lived in Massachusetts
her entire life, yet when it came to sports she still didn’t know
who the local teams were. Even if she
could
name the Boston
teams she’d probably tell you that the Patriots played basketball,
the Bruins played football, the Celtics played baseball and the Red
Sox played hockey, even though they were currently standing in the
middle of Fenway as shown by the new, twenty-six inch television in
the corner.

“The picture looks really good.”

“It does,” Phil smiled proudly. He’d been
talking about getting this TV for weeks, ever since they’d seen it
at their local Bradlees a month earlier.

Tired of hearing her father talking about
the television and how much he hated the old fifteen inch he’d been
watching games on for the past six or seven years, she’d finally
had enough and snapped at him during one of his rants the previous
week. She’d blamed it on hormones at the time, which seemed to pass
as a reasonable excuse and would be making its way into regular
rotation. Really though, she was just tired of hearing about the
television. He used to do the same thing with her mother. He’d see
something he wanted but out of a sense of responsibility, would
decide that it wasn’t needed. For the next few weeks, all he’d do
is talk about the item relentlessly until, just as she had done,
her mother would finally snap.