S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11)

by Tanpepper, Saul

  The head of the bed was raised, and a pillow was tucked under his head. An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. An intravenous line snaked from a bag of clear fluid and disappeared beneath a bandage in the crook of his arm.

  Jessie moved closer to the head of the bed and looked down at his face. A whole range of feelings roiled inside of her: fear, sorrow, guilt, worry, pain. A sense of blame so strong that she felt crushed by it. Her knees weakened and she trembled. She wished this nightmare would just end.

  His skin was surprisingly warm to the touch. She didn’t know why she’d expected it not to be.

  “I’ll fix this,” she promised. “Kelly will fix this.”

  The smell of medicine and antiseptic clung to Reggie. A bag dangled by Jessie’s ankles, partially filled with golden liquid. Memories stirred inside of her, images she’d much rather have forgotten forever: the makeshift hospital room inside the old terminal at LaGuardia, her pulling out her own urinary catheter.

  She shuddered at the visceral memory, at the rancid taste of the rubber catheter on her tongue as she bit through it to deflate the balloon anchoring it inside of her body. The desperate terror she’d felt. The need to try and escape.

  The movie slipped forward: flashes of the fight with Nurse Mabel, bashing her head into the floor. The blood. So much blood everywhere.

  The woman’s broken body lifting itself from the floor.

  “Reggie,” Jessie moaned.

  There was a plastic chair at the head of the bed, and she sat down in it. The cushion wheezed asthmatically. Reggie slowly inhaled and exhaled. The shallow depth and slow rhythm felt almost suffocating to her. What dark visions was he having now? Where was his mind? Was it trapped inside the Player?

  She took his hand in her own and rested her head on his knuckles. She closed her eyes and tried to empty both her mind and her heart of all those distracting things so she could focus only on him. But the nightmare images would not leave her alone.

  After a few minutes, she stood up and walked out into the hallway. Only now did she become aware of how dimly lit the ward was. And quiet. Too quiet. The only sounds were the chorus of beeps and farts, soft footsteps, voices. The place felt like a wake. She passed a room where the television was on and she heard voices, the sudden loud bray of canned laughter. At least it wasn’t on the Entertainment Stream showing reruns of Survivalist.

  She could see her brother sitting alone under the bright lights of the reception area down the hall past the nursing station. He was sipping from a cup of coffee, probably from the vending machine she’d noticed in the elevator lobby on their way in. His eyes were cast down as he checked his Link. The remaining chairs were empty.

  As she drew closer, a hallway opened up to her left and she heard the sharp, raspy sounds of a whispered argument. In the darkened window of an empty room, she could see Kelly’s reflection, his back toward her. The other person was out of sight. Kelly kept pushing himself away from the wall he was leaning on. He’d gesture agitatedly with his hands as he spoke, then lean back while the other person replied. The whispers rose and fell, sounding like old, dead leaves tossed against the curb by the autumn winds.

  Jessie hugged the wall. She approached the corner slowly, fully aware that the nurses in the station up ahead would see her if they stepped out. They’d wonder why she was acting so suspiciously. Thankfully, nobody did.

  Kelly was speaking: “ . . . told me she couldn’t! Well, she did!”

  “Shh! Keep your voice down.” A female speaker, one Jessie didn’t recognize. She sounded angry, too. Jessie only caught a few words: “ . . . unlock . . . destroy . . . .”

  She crouched down and leaned close to the corner, edging her way forward. A Link pinged in the nurse’s station and her heart jumped; she could hear the low murmur of someone talking, but no one entered the hallway.

  The woman: “ . . . everything, honey.”

  Honey?

  Kelly: “I said no more secrets!”

  Secrets? Is Kelly having an affair?

  Kelly: “I have to tell her the truth! She deser—”

  Woman: “The truth? And what, sweetie, do you think is the truth exactly?”

  Silence.

  Jessie frowned reflexively. She didn’t like the way this woman was talking to Kelly. She didn’t like her calling him sweetie or honey. But even more, she didn’t like the condescending tone of her voice.

  Woman: “Look, I know you’re scared. You should be. If this gets out, then we could lose everything, and—”

  Kelly: “I told you no more. I want to end this. Look at me. I’m a hypocrite. You made me this way!”

  Woman: “Shh! Listen, honey—”

  Kelly: “Stop calling me that!”

  A soft cough. Rustling of fabric. The sound of shuffling feet.

  Woman: “I need you to talk to her. Find out exactly what happened today. Can you do that?”

  What the hell is going on?

  Kelly: “No. I’m going to tell her everything.”

  Woman: “Kelly, wait.”

  Kelly: “No, I said I’m done! That’s it!”

  Woman: “Think about what you’re doing!”

  Jessie sucked in her breath and pressed herself tight against the wall just as Kelly emerged from the hallway. He rounded the corner going the other way and headed toward the waiting area. He didn’t look behind him, didn’t see Jessie. The woman was leaving, too, but her footsteps receded down the hall in the opposite direction.

  Jessie slipped around the corner and spotted her as she disappeared into a stairwell at the far end of the corridor. As quietly as she could, Jessie hurried after the woman and caught the door before it latched shut.

  The woman went down to the third floor and exited. Jessie tiptoed down the stairs, hitting the landing as the fire door slammed shut with a bang below her. The echo ricocheted off the walls. She waited a moment before pulling it open and sticking her head out. The woman was only a few yards away, using a passkey to enter another room. Jessie quickly ducked back.

  Kelly’s involved with someone who works here?

  She leaned her head against the cool concrete wall and closed her eyes.

  Could this day get any worse?

  When she had asked him who he was speaking to the other day after school, he told her it was the hospital. Jessie had sensed the lie; it had bothered her until that evening. Until she’d pinged that number on his Link. But now she knew that the truth of his explanation had disguised a lie.

  She just never thought it would be another woman.

  One by one, she ticked through her list of options. There didn’t seem to be very many. And none of them was very appealing at all.

  ‡ ‡ ‡

  Chapter 27

  The sign on the door read: ANNE WHITE, M.D.

  Jessie knocked.

  “Yes?” came the reply.

  Jessie took a deep breath and released it. She dropped her hand slowly to her side and forced her knuckles to uncurl. She tried to stay calm, reminding herself that she was just here to talk.

  The pounding of her heart echoed the sound of her knocks.

  What are you doing? What do you hope to accomplish by confronting this woman?

  I need—

  What? Closure? Revenge? What was she doing wasting her time here?

  An explanation. Why is Kelly doing this to me? Does the file on my Link have something to do with it?

  And who the hell is this bitch?

  “Hello?” Doctor White called. “Is someone there?”

  “It’s Jessica Daniels,” she croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again: “I think you know why I’m here.”

  Nothing but silence for several seconds. Then a chair squeaked. The door beeped, and the latch clicked open. “Come in.”

  Jessie’s first thought upon pushing the door open and looking in was: She’s so old.

  Doctor White appeared to be in her mid-forties. Her once-blond hair was now mostly gray and it had started to
thin out on top. Jessie could see the paleness of her scalp where she parted it. Deep lines on her face converged at the corners of her mouth and eyes— laugh lines, except there was something about her, an air of sadness which suggested that she didn’t laugh very much. Her eyes were shiny green, sparkling. Her lips had been painted a modest dark red.

  Jessie’s second thought was: Old, but still pretty.

  There was an air of dignity about her which Jessie immediately resented.

  The woman shifted slightly in her seat, then stood up. Her gaze swept past her to the door, which Jessie had left open. After Gameland, she didn’t like being in tight places with strangers and no easy exit.

  “Would you like some tea? Coffee?” She gestured at one of the two chairs in front of the desk.

  Jessie shook her head, though she very nearly sat down.

  The encounter wasn’t going as she’d expected. She’d come in here as the woman’s challenger, to accuse her of having an affair with her husband. (In some faraway recess of her mind, she heard herself thinking this and almost laughed at the absurdity, the frivolousness of such a thing in light of the seriousness of everything else going on.) And this woman was supposed to be shocked and embarrassed at having been found out. She should be panicking, defensive. Instead, she just seemed resigned, as if she’d been preparing for this encounter for a long time.

  Maybe she has.

  Doctor White stepped away from her chair and skimmed the corner of the desk. She moved surprisingly fast, while not appearing to be in any hurry. As she brushed past Jessie, the displaced air slipped its cold fingers over the back of her neck. With it came a trace of perfume, overwhelmed by the sharp tang of antiseptic. She heard the door handle rattle and a bubble of panic rose inside of her.

  She’s running!

  But Doctor White was still there, staring as Jessie turned. She quickly averted her gaze and returned to her chair. The soft shush of her shoes on the carpet and the quiet whisper of her lab coat swishing were the only sounds she made.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, clearing her throat. “It’s best if we have this conversation in private.”

  Jessie watched her, resisting the urge to put her hand up to the back of her own neck, to hide the bandage that she remembered wasn’t there on the exposed skin that hadn’t been violated by a scalpel earlier that day. The room suddenly felt too small.

  “Kelly warned me that you knew. How much did he tell you?”

  “He told me nothing!”

  “Then how did you figure it out?”

  Jessie didn’t answer.

  “He begged me for permission to tell you sooner.” White shook her head. “I tried to impress upon him that sharing this knowledge with anyone could be disastrous. Especially to you. But I’m afraid my attempts to impress upon him the gravity of this matter fell mostly on deaf ears. I couldn’t give him the openness he wanted, so I had to limit what he knew. He doesn’t realize how much is at stake.”

  “You’re the one who doesn’t know how much is at stake!”

  “I do.” It wasn’t a challenge. It was simply a statement of fact.

  Jessie coughed, as if that might clear the confusion muddling her mind. “How long have you . . . ,” she began, but couldn’t finish. Her jaw locked and refused to open.

  The woman’s eyes flicked over Jessie’s face, assessing her, gleaning all she could before speaking. “Please, won’t you sit down?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  Doctor White shrugged, spread her hands on her desk, palms up, and raised her eyebrows, as if to ask, “What next?”

  “How long?” Jessie demanded.

  The doctor blinked, acting like she didn’t understand.

  “Kelly!” Jessie screamed. White flinched in surprise. “When did it start?”

  A sigh and a shrug. “I started seeing Kyle about four years ago, and—”

  In her muddled state, Jessie misheard. “Kelly was fourteen four years ago!” she cried. “What kind of pervert are you?”

  “What?” Doctor White pushed back in her chair. Her eyes opened wide with sudden understanding, and a bubble of laughter erupted from her mouth. She raised a hand to hide it but was too late. “Oh dear. I think we’ve both made some terrible assumptions. Maybe we should start over.”

  Jessie still wasn’t getting it, and the doctor’s amusement was only making her angrier. “Stop mocking me!”

  “No, no. I’m not! I’m sorry. I’ve known Kyle — Kyle, Kelly’s brother — for almost five years. I’ve been his doctor, not Kelly’s . . . .” She gestured uncomfortably. “I’m not your husband’s secret lover. Oh dear. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “I don’t find any of this funny.”

  “I know, and I apologize. It’s just a shock. Please, let me explain.” She sighed, and the laughter drained rapidly from her face, leaving only tiredness. “I first met the family, including Kelly, four years ago, when I was brought on to consult in Kyle’s medical case. Such a horrible tragedy, really. It should never have happened.”

  “You’re not making any sense. What does Kyle have to do with you and my husband sneaking around?”

  “Please, sit down, dear. This might take a while.”

  She pushed herself out of the chair again and walked toward the door. She was several inches shorter than Jessie, and she paused as she came astride her. Laying a tentative hand on Jessie’s elbow, she said, “Let me get you something to drink. I’ll explain everything. I promise you it’s not what you think.”

  † † †

  The spacious office was sparsely furnished— a small wooden desk, like a lonely island floating in the middle of a barren sea, three chairs (all old and not very comfortable looking), a dented metal filing cabinet beached crookedly in one corner. A stunted fern resting in a pot beneath the window, the only oasis of green in the drabness of the entire office.

  Shelves lined an entire wall. They were colored to match the ceiling, but the glossy white paint had yellowed with age and was peeling. A cluster of faded print books huddled drunkenly against one another on the bottommost shelf, looking forlorn and forgotten. The undisturbed dust on them suggested they hadn’t been touched in years. Only specialty books and collector’s editions were printed on paper anymore. For the most part, reading material was published in digital format. Professional journals, medical references, would almost certainly be available solely on the streams.

  Knickknacks, equally as anachronistic, lay strewn about in the remaining spaces, like flotsam on the shore. A small snow globe was the lone occupant of an entire shelf. Sealed inside of it was a different skyline of lower Manhattan than the one Jessie held in her mind; some of the buildings in it, she knew, hadn’t existed in over forty years. Even the plastic snow settled onto the bottom felt whimsical. One shelf up: a battered toy gondola, like the ones she’d seen in books being poled around the now-sunken canals of Venice. And next to it: the replica of a spire, some of the white paint worn off of the corners, showing the dull gray of the underlying plastic. Jessie recalled a vague memory that it once commemorated the first president of the old United States.

  Relics from places which had disappeared in this woman’s lifetime.

  Jessie sat and folded her hands onto her lap, her head still swimming from confusion.

  It’s not what you think.

  But if not an affair, what then?

  The doctor returned several minutes later, just as Jessie was beginning to get restless. She gently closed the door a second time and handed Jessie a cold bottle of water. With a quick exhale, she settled back into her seat behind the desk.

  “I hadn’t expected to be having this conversation with you so soon.” Her eyes flicked to a pair of framed photographs which occupied an empty corner of the desktop, their backs facing outward.

  On the opposite corner sat a human skull, cream-colored and shadowed by the grease of countless fingers. The holes of its eyes stared hollowly out at Jessie, and its hideous grin showed a m
outhful of jagged yellow teeth. One was missing from the lower jaw. Someone had stuffed a wadded piece of tissue into the empty socket. The top third of the cranium had been sawed off with a fine blade and was now canted open on a hinge. Jessie wondered what she’d see if she looked inside.

  Candies?

  “And certainly not under these circumstances, anyway.”

  Jessie barely heard her.

  The remaining articles on the woman’s desk also harkened back to a forgotten time: a nondescript lamp topped with a faded New York Giants football lampshade. A homemade wooden name block with the words SISTER ANNE WHITE, M.D. burned into it, and underneath, in smaller letters, SISTERS OF MERCY HOSPITAL. There was also an antique device which she recognized as a telephone, the grandfather to their Link communication devices. Along the bottom edge of it was a row of clear plastic buttons; the second one was missing.

  She turned her eyes back to Doctor White and finally registered what the woman had said a moment before. “I’m here now, so talk.”

  The doctor nodded, leaned back. The game had begun; Jessie had forced the opening move, and now it was the doctor’s option to set the tone. “Listen, Jessica,” she said carefully. She rested her elbows on the coffee-stained blotter and leaned forward. “I know you went to Citizen Registration today.” It was as much a question as it was a statement. “You didn’t get a new implant, did you?”

  That’s why she was staring at your neck.

  And on its heels: No sense in lying about it. She already knows the answer.

  “They couldn’t replace it.”

  There was just the barest of twitches in White’s face, a signal that the answer held some significance for her.

  “I suspected as much when I spoke with Kelly,” she said. “But I needed to hear it from you.” She rubbed her hands over her cheeks, as if they were cold and she was trying to warm them. “When Kelly told me you’d gone—”

  “No!” Jessie shouted. She slammed her palm on White’s desk. The teeth in the skull rattled and the lid clattered shut. “Tell me what’s going on! I want to know who you are and what you and Kelly are doing to me.”