by Don Zelma
Chapter Forty-six
Mini’s bark penetrated his dream. He listened to her quiet panting and slowly opened his eyes. The room was lit by morning slat light and he saw her staring at him from the floor.
Ned was gone. He reached down, opened the flow metre of his oxygen bottle and took several long breaths. His head rested back against the couch and he stared at the ceiling, thinking about the hospice.
There was a rap on the laundry glass and he slowly turned his head. Ruth was outside on the lawn, looking in through the window, her eyes very red. He had become a bit of a stranger to her and she now didn’t know what to do. He knew she had checked on him during the night and probably seen Ned Col, indicating he had reengaged with the men and broken his promise.
The front gate squeaked, she glanced away and slowly stepped from the window. He saw several figures, probably the ambulance crew, pass along the slats, heading towards the paling gate. He looked down at the floor and prepared to face the hangman.
Mini turned, barked at the door and footsteps quietly entered the room.
‘Hello, Danny,’ said a gentle voice.
A powerfully-built silhouette wandered in and moved between the posts.
‘Joe?’ he whispered. He began inhaling noisily through his nostrils.
‘Amos!’ someone shouted, then Ned Col walked in through the door. He seemed eager to see Dan, as if they hadn’t met in months.
‘I am glad to see you both,’ Dan said quietly. They were sons – there was no doubt now.
Ned pulled up beside the couch, wearing his denim biker’s vest. ‘How are ya, Danny?’ he asked. He reached out and, almost affectionately, squeezed Dan’s shoulder.
Dan looked down at himself. ‘I’m pretty much finished,’ he said. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, looked tardy and felt his eyes starting to grow moist.
I must fight, he thought, like Ned and Joe would fight.
He took a deep breath, put his palms to the couch, and pushed. He started wheezing and steadied himself on the couch.
‘I thought you’d be upstairs,’ Joe said, ‘packing.’
‘What?’ Dan said, a little irritated. ‘The bloody hospice thing? I haven’t given it a second thought.’
‘When are they here, Danny?’ Ned asked. ‘We saw Ruth waiting out front.’
Dan fell silent and looked down – he had heard Ned OK but was struggling with the hospice thing. It would end in a few short months. He remembered his God but the only reassuring force in the room at that time was Ned and Joe.
He looked up through the posts at the open garage door and saw an ambulance reversing down the drive. An ambulance officer in a white collared shirt opened the tailgate, another appeared and together they pulled the gurney free. Ruth and the two strangers walked into the garage, passing through the slat light. The gurney was noisy and eventually they pulled up, not far away.
Dan glanced at his watch. ‘You’re fifteen minutes late, boys,’ he said, and waved his hand at the gurney. ‘Right, let’s get this over and done with.’ He glanced down at the television on the removal box. ‘I’ll pack this away when I get back.’
An officer stepped forward. ‘We’ll give you a new bottle, Mr. Amos,’ he said with an optimistic note. ‘A better one than that little fella.’ The man reached out. ‘Come this way, Reverend.’
Ruth turned and strolled back towards the slats. She stopped in the bars of light and her shoulders starting bouncing. It seemed she was laughing but she made no sound.
Ned reached out. ‘We’ll give you a hand, Danny,’ he said, ‘alright?’
He stared at him. ‘Sure, it’s alright.’
Ned leaned in and gently wrapped his arm around him and Dan rested his buttocks on the mattress. He carefully laid his head onto the pillow and the officers lifted his feet.
‘Are those tubes rubbing behind your ears?’ an officer said. ‘I’ll give you an oxygen mask. Is that all right?’
Dan smelt his aftershave. ‘Of course,’ he said calmly. ‘You know what to do. You are well-trained and I trust you.’
The officer gently fitted the mask and tightened the elastic strap. For a moment, Dan reckoned it felt like a muzzle and he glanced at Ned alarmingly.
Dan looked up and stared at the ceiling. He saw numbers on the beams, written in chalk by the carpenter when the house was built. It was the floor he had struck with the broom so many times. He remembered how Ruth had always called down from the window.
‘Danny,’ Ned said, ‘we’ll come and see you soon, OK?’
He turned and looked at him. The wheels started to roll and the gurney began shaking. He lost sight of Ned and began gliding through the posts. He was leaving the house for the last time.
The stretcher rose, slid along the ambulance floor and he heard an officer climb inside. He saw Ruth at the tailgate with the car keys in her hand. The first door closed and he lost sight of her. The second closed and blocked out the light. She appeared in the window and her face was wet.
‘You’ll be OK,’ she mouthed behind the glass then wiped her cheeks.
Dan heard the second officer get in then begin to reassure him. The engine started and seconds later the house in the window started drifting away.
Dan was rolling head first down a corridor. He heard the nurse’s sneakers on the linoleum and saw the officer from the ambulance pushing the gurney. They turned, the corridor narrowed and two male orderlies appeared alongside them.
‘Hello, Mr. Amos,’ someone said.
‘Hello,’ Dan muffled into his mask. They seemed like fine men. ‘So, how far are we going?’
‘Not far now, Mr. Amos,’ an orderly said.
He closed his eyes and remembered tonight he would be sleeping alone. He thought about Joe on the steps then sitting with Ned under the house. He recalled their stories no one knew. He lifted his head and looked down the corridor.
The nurse glanced down at him. ‘You OK, Reverend?’ she asked.
He searched her eyes. He could not explain his feelings and she would never know the true extent of his fear.
We are so, so fallible.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Thank you, my dear.’ He looked up at the ceiling. The white fluorescent light tubes flashed by, one by one, like centre lines on a highway. ‘O my God, I trust in thee,’ he whispered. ‘Let not mine enemies triumph over me. My fortress and my shield, and in whom I trust. Soon, I will hear Your voice and the plan for my escape.’
He opened his eyes and the gurney rolled into a small quaint room. He felt tense, gripping the mattress beside his leg.
‘Where are Ned and Joe,’ he asked.
‘I’m sure they’ll come soon,’ the nurse said.
‘We’ll get you into bed, Mr. Amos,’ an orderly said. ‘Alright?’
The nurse touched his arm. ‘Do you need to go to the toilet?’
‘A toilet?’ he said.
‘Let me know and I’ll help you go.’
He swallowed, looking up at the ceiling. Like hell she would.
Everyone grabbed a limb and he gripped the mattress. ‘Three, two, one…’
Dan rose up and, torn from every security he knew, stiffened like being electrocuted. ‘Right!’ he shouted. ‘Let me go!’
‘Now, now, calm down, mate,’ someone said.
He rocked from side to side. ‘Don’t touch me!’ he said. ‘Leave me alone, you fuckers!’ It was the voice of another man – perhaps, Jay himself.
They gently laid him on the mattress and he slid to the head of the bed, rearing up on his knees and raising a fist. ‘Fucking come on!’ he shouted.
‘Hey, relax, Mr. Amos,’ another orderly said.
A tear popped from his eye. He leaned forward, threateningly.
‘I’m serious!’ he said. He really didn’t think he would, but suddenly swung out with his fist, trying to hit a man’s face.
The team stepped back. ‘Hey, hey, Reverend… Calm down!’
He started wheezing, holding his chest. He
tore the mask from his face, rolled off the bed and onto the floor. The door was in sight and he began crawling towards it. ‘I’ll drag myself home if I have to!’ he shouted. ‘Leave me alone!’
But they grabbed him. ‘You’re not going anywhere, Mr. Amos.’
Dan rolled onto his back and could not stop the tears. He kicked out with his shoes, fighting like Jay would fight. But his legs fell heavy and his head hit the floor. He looked at the ceiling, his face streaked with tears.
Beat up and broken, he thought, remembering Jay’s words. Beat up and broken. You’re damned right, Jay. We’re a mess, a hell of a mess. We’re human and imperfect. We can’t get a damn thing right.
The orderlies carefully lifted him up onto the bed. He could not move, being totally starved of energy, and knew he was done. The he knew it – there was nothing more to do but wait for the axe to fall.