WISHBONE II: ...Some Wishes Should Never Be Made

by Brooklyn Hudson

  “Belt’s on!” Lily ordered from the front seat. “Your brother’s strapped in his booster?” She found Christopher in the rearview mirror.

  “Yesss,” her middle child groaned.

  “Okay, change of plans, boys,” she pulled away from the curb, “I’m taking you to Grandma’s…”

  The boys broke into loud complaints.

  “Hey, hey…no guff… Something’s come up and I have to take care of it. Something very important.”

  Nicholas whined, “But Daddy…? We’re supposed to Skype with Daddy tonight.”

  “Daddy is…busy tonight. He said to tell you he’ll Skype with you tomorrow.” Lily bit her lip as her mind wandered. On autopilot, she stopped at a red light.

  Matthew asked, “What time tonight?”

  “Time?” Lily looked at him in the mirror.

  “What time are you coming to get us?”

  “I packed an overnight bag for you and your brothers. You’ll spend the night with...”

  Collectively, they began to whine and argue, drowning her out.

  The door creaked open and Matt looked at him lying, motionless, on the bed. His first reaction was to quietly walk away, leaving the unfortunate soul, lying there, clearly unwell, at peace; but the person didn’t move and a rush of considerations flashed through his mind, as he took in the scene. Taken aback, curiosity kept him standing there, while denial continued to urge him to retreat. He scanned the room, then looked back over the unmoving body on the bed. He realized the person had both legs encased in some sort of metal bracing. Compelled, he took a step closer. Steel screws and girders, appeared to be surgically attached to his legs, protruding from bloated and discolored flesh. Matt winced, disgusted and empathetic. A drainage tube leaked a pinkish fluid into a bag taped to his side. The man’s upper torso, blackened by bruises, as if something very heavy had come down on his chest. One hand splinted and a large cotton pad, soaked with blood, seeping from his collar. Matt knew he was alive, by the faint rattling sound of his breathing; though the patient’s face was turned away.

  Matt took a step back and tried to reason, this is a very small, bumfuck town in the mountains…maybe this is their idea of a hospital?

  The scene seemed so wrong to him, but he wasn’t in the city any longer.

  Matt, people do shit differently in towns like this.

  He paused to think again, glancing back into the hall.

  Fuck it! Just get out of here and leave before the girl comes back. You have to go to the police. You can’t sit here until dark. If Julien and Rachael don’t return, you’ll be stuck in this place over night. Just get out of here.

  Matt turned to leave the room. The patient coughed then gasped and coughed again. Matt stepped out into the hallway, without looking back, but as he reached the window at the top of the steps, he spotted the girl closing the barn doors. She held something white in one hand, dangling, limp at her side.

  The patient continued to cough and choke.

  Matt watched the girl take her time as he listened to the man struggle in the room behind him. He wanted to run out after the girl and hurry her back to help him, but she stopped to kneel on the bridge, peering down at something on the ice. Matt looked back to the bedroom. The coughing ceased and he heard the man moan.

  Matt stood listening to him; all expression drained from his face as he realized, the man in the bed was Julien.

  Matt bolted through the bedroom door and raced around the bed. He looked down at Julien’s battered face, hardly recognizable.

  Julien didn’t open his eyes or acknowledge him at all.

  What the fuck…? Oh, no, no…this can’t be, Matt stood over him, stunned, but now sure.

  Matt knelt down beside the bed. He didn’t want to startle him, but he wanted to let him know he was there. He hovered a hand over him, unable to locate a safe place to touch him.

  “Julien, it’s me, it’s Matt. Wake up, Jules…”

  Julien turned away from him.

  “Wake up, Julien. Talk to me. Tell me what happened, man. What happened to you? Who did this to you?” Matt rambled question after question, but Julien didn’t respond.

  “Fuck, man…what do I do?” Matt stood up and paced a few times. He reached into his pocket and took out his cell phone. He dialed; 9-1-…

  Sarah walked into the room; a hen hanging dead, at her side.

  Matt stopped dialing. He looked at her, ready to demand answers, but something was different about her now. Her impassive stare, now veiled by an eerie glint.

  Matt stammered, “He…he was choking. I heard him choking and rushed in to help.”

  Sarah took a step toward the bed and paused again.

  “Is he alright? Is there a doctor? Lind? Where is this…Dr. Lind?” Matt remembered the name from the prescription pads in the closet and hoped the familiarity would aid their communication.

  Sarah took another step closer to the bed.

  Immediately, Matt knew he had crossed a line by entering the room. She wasn’t happy to find him there; Julien, in need of help or otherwise.

  “Look, I’m sorry…you left and I heard him choking,” he began to apologize, but a wave of anger came over him, “What happened here? What happened to him?”

  Sarah stared down at Julien from the foot of the bed. Matt heard a thud as the chicken dropped from her grip, to the floor below the bed.

  “Say something, for fuck sake!” he demanded.

  “Cannot speak…” Julien said, his voice barely audible.

  Matt leaned down beside him, “Jules, hey, I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

  Julien didn’t open his eyes, “You…should not…”

  “I’m calling an ambulance.” Matt stood up; his phone still in his hand, he looked down at the screen.

  “…be here.” Julien finished.

  Sarah stepped around to Julien’s side of the bed.

  Matt tried to keep an eye on the girl as he dialed.

  Sarah checked the pleural tap syphoning fluid from Julien’s lungs. Without missing a beat, she raised her hand and grabbed the phone from Matt, hurling it across the room, against the brick fireplace, without ever looking up.

  “Hey! What the fuck?” Matt rushed to collect the broken pieces. He picked them up and examined them for any chance of repair.

  Angry, Matt returned to her side, “What is going on here?” he demanded.

  Sarah didn’t respond.

  Matt looked over her shoulder at Julien, trying to monitor what she was doing.

  Sarah continued to work. She sat down on the bed, ignoring Matt and prepping items on a tray. She poured a brown liquid into a small vessel and dipped a swab.

  Matt watched for any indication that Julien wanted the girl to stop what she was doing, but he only lay there, taking fast, shallow gulps of air.

  “What is this?” Matt looked back and forth from the girl to Julien, “Jules, is this some sort of medical facility? What’s going on here? You need to be in a real hospital...”

  Sarah dabbed at the screws poking through the skin on Julien’s legs. She worked silent and meticulously, seeming to know what she was doing and confusing Matt all the more.

  Julien, his mouth dry, parted his lips to speak. He cleared his throat and spoke slowly, “She will not let me die.”

  Matt stood there looking down at him, wondering how he could be so confident in the strange girl’s capabilities.

  He snapped, demanding a clearer explanation. “Julien, hey, you have to wake up. Talk to me…” He bent down over him again and turned Julien’s face in his direction, “Open your eyes, Bud. Look at me and tell me you’re okay here. That you want to be here. I don’t know what to do.”

  Julien opened his eyes only briefly then gave up.

  Matt shook his head, “Julien, this is bad. This is really, really bad. We need to get you to a hospital.”

  Julien cleared his throat and whispered, “She’ll kill you now.”

  Sarah stopped dabbing at the
screws and froze still. She raised her eyes to peek at Matt from under her brow then quickly returned to work.

  A nervous laugh escaped Matt, “Who? This one?” he thumbed in Sarah’s direction, “Nell, over here?” he laughed again, eyeing her tiny frame, and then knelt down beside the bed.

  He spoke softly, “Jules, what happened to you? Were you in an accident? Where are the girls?”

  Julien tried to open his eyes again, but drifted off quickly.

  Matt repeated, “Where is Rachael? …Jessica?”

  Julien winced at the sound of their names. He whimpered and turned away; a tear ran down his cheek and Matt leaned back.

  “No…” he shook his head in disbelief. “Did something…?” He fell back, sitting on the floor beside the bed, devastated.

  Sarah continued to work.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Lily sat alone in a small room, sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup. She checked her phone again; still no call from Matt, confirming, unquestionably, that she had made the right decision.

  A detective entered the room and sat down across from her.

  “Is there anything else we can get for you, Mrs. Dwyer?”

  Lily shook her head and took another sip.

  “Okay, well, Schoharie Country police located your husband’s rental car, parked at the base of the mountain leading up to the address you gave us from the email.”

  “Rental car? What about Matt? Did you find Matt?”

  The detective shook his head.

  “Oh my God,” her eyes glazed over, “why would he just…just leave the car?”

  “We’re pretty sure he walked up the mountain. They found some tracks in the snow, but the conditions are rough. It’s not impossible; not the most dense area of woods, but we’re told the hillside is fairly steep. Since we don’t know what we’re going to find at that house, we’re bringing in a larger vehicle to plow the road, so we can get more men up there at one time, in the event of some sort of standoff. I can’t just send three or four guys, from some small town police department, in, without giving them enough man power.”

  Lily shook her head, “How long? How long will this take? What if they’re being held hostage or hurt?”

  “I hear you, Mrs. Dwyer. Believe me, we’re taking all of this into consideration, but we can’t protect your husband if our guys are overpowered. I’ve contacted the Schenectady police force and made arrangements. They’re involved now and Albany is sending a special unit, trained for hostage situations,” he paused, “I have to ask you again, why are you so sure the Grenier’s were being held hostage?”

  Lily placed the Styrofoam cup down on the table, “Because Julien Grenier would never hurt his family. Someone kidnapped that little girl and Julien went after them, and now he’s in trouble. Matt and Rachael are caught up in it now, too.” She stopped shook her head, unable to fathom the thought, “You have to get your men up there.”

  “We’re working on it now, Mrs. Dwyer. Sit tight. I’m going to send an officer in to sit with you. She’ll keep you posted as we proceed.”

  “Hey, easy… You’re hurting him,” Matt snapped at Sarah.

  She ignored him and continued helping Julien to sit up in the bed.

  The room light was dimming as the sun began to go down. Julien had slept for hours; Matt refusing to leave and at a loss for what to do. Now, with Julien more alert, he hoped he could get more information out of him and possibly convince him to, somehow, get him out of here.

  Sarah placed a marble notebook on Julien’s stomach. She pointed at the book and muttered to him as she replaced a vial of Atropine on the tray. Matt marveled at Julien’s ability to communicate with the girl.

  “Another time, another place, Sarah,” Julien said.

  Matt caught her name.

  Sarah ran her fingers through Julien’s hair then placed a hand on his chest. Her garbled banter sounded more passive and comforting now.

  Matt, sitting with his back against the nightstand, reached out and took the notebook.

  Sarah’s head spun in his direction, but Matt held the book out of her reach and gave her a warning glare. He opened the book and flipped, quickly through the pages of clippings.

  “Yeah, it feels like another time and place alright,” he scoffed, “Julien, we can be back there in a few hours…if I can just get you down this mountain. Or, at least to Albany…or Schenectady…they have real hospitals. That’s like an hour or so away, right?”

  Julien looked over at Matt, “You should not have come here.”

  “Julien, you up and disappeared, in the middle of an investigation for your missing…” Matt stopped himself.

  Sarah slid off the foot of the bed. She picked up the feathered carcass from the floor and left the bedroom.

  Matt seized the opportunity and jumped up to sit beside Julien.

  “Talk to me, Brother…I need you to tell me what’s really going on here.”

  “I can’t…Matt, upstairs…the roof... She is busy for now... You have to…” Julien broke into a coughing spell.

  Matt watched as more fluid sprayed into the plastic bag taped to his side. He placed a hand on Julien’s chest in an effort to help.

  Julien moved his hand away. The coughing subsided and he continued, “There is not much…time. She may come after you.”

  “Julien, she weighs ninety-pounds, soaking wet…”

  Julien shook his head and struggled to speak again, “You must believe me. The roof…from the widow’s walk…you can climb…jump to the ground. Hide for the night, or go now…down to the road.”

  Matt shook his head, “I’m not leaving you like this. Not with her.”

  “This is punishment… She will not let me die.”

  “Did you have an accident? What happened to you…and where is this, Dr. Lind?”

  “I do not know. He is gone. I have not seen him. I have not seen anyone. I think she got rid of them.”

  “Julien? I can’t…I just can’t get my head around this…”

  “Stop trying. Do what I say and maybe you will make it home to your family.”

  “I’m not leaving you.” He sat staring at him in disbelief; his mind racing for a solution, “Maybe I can…?” Matt stopped in mid-sentence, realizing he was about to suggest something foolish.

  Julien managed a halfhearted smile for the first time in days, “What? Carry me? The two of us walk out of the front doors together,” Julien nearly laughed, but winced and settled down. “Matthew, I do not know how you find me here and we do not have time for you to share the stories with me.”

  Matt could see the old Julien, somewhere beneath the drug induced haze. The same glint of pride he would get when Matt sealed a deal with a client or gave an outstanding presentation. He wasn’t angry with him for coming, only worried for him, in doing so.

  Julien coughed again then cleared his throat, “Please, get away. This will make me very happy. I will be here with her and she will also be happy. I have nothing to go home to, Matthew. She will not keep me this way forever. It will get better. But you…you need to get away and go home to be with your family.”

  Matt shifted back. He didn’t want to hear it. He looked at Julien, astonished and knowing he wasn’t thinking clearly.

  “So, you had some sort of accident and this kid… The girl, here… Sarah… She had some country bumpkin doc put you back together with crap from the fucking Dark Ages, and now she’s playing Florence Nightingale?” Matt grabbed Julien’s cigarettes from the nightstand and lit one.

  Julien’s burst of energy was fast depleting. He couldn’t explain or argue, regardless of the importance.

  Matt could see he was growing weaker and declining again, fast.

  “What can I do? How can I help?” Matt awkwardly attempted to cover him with the blankets. “Maybe, if you get some sleep tonight, you’ll feel differently in the morning? I can go, when the sun comes up, for help?”

  Julien gave a subtle shake of his head and closed his eyes.<
br />
  Matt kept trying, “What about another phone? I saw your cell phone and another one with it downstairs, in that room off the kitchen.”

  Julien struggled to lift a finger and motion to the widow’s walk.

  Matt looked at the stairs leading up to the roof.

  “Julien, I’m not leaving you here,” he said definitively. “Over my dead body, Brother…end of story.”

  Sarah stood beside the sink carving the roast. She removed the wishbone and placed it on the side of a serving tray. Propped up against the toaster oven, a magazine sat, open to a photo of a pretty red haired girl. Carefree and well-dressed, grinning and frozen in mid-motion, the model stepped out of a cab with her golden retriever pulling her onto a bustling street in New York City. Sarah hummed to herself whimsically as she spooned crisp potatoes onto the tray around the bird and glanced at the photo intermittently. The window over the sink vibrated and she paused, startled by the sound. She scooped up a few more potatoes and the window vibrated again. She dropped the serving spoon into the roasting pan and stepped to the side to peer out over the property. The sun had dipped down behind the trees, blanketing the property in a dusky shadow. The window vibrated again and the grill of a large city plow appeared at the mouth of the driveway.

  Sarah had seen this before, followed by an unwanted visit from Ed Bale. She grunted and mumbled wildly, slamming her palms down, angrily against the sink’s edge and arguing with herself.

  The plow began traveling around the circular driveway. Sarah ducked down below the sink. She peeked up over the windowsill and watched it pass right by her. Movement at the tree line caught her eye again and she watched as a car appeared, followed by another, and another, and one more.

  An unmarked car and three police vehicles drove in a procession around the driveway loop. Sarah dropped back down on the floor and squealed with frustration. She stood up and looked out at the vehicles again, traveling halfway across the property. She raised her hand into the air and the plow and four cars stopped dead. She reached out and snatched the magazine and then the wishbone. Crawling low to the ground, she scurried to the doorway then hopped up and took the stairs, two at a time.