Part 8 (1/2)

”He was wrong. But so were we.”

Grady's eyes clouded over. She stared past Mary.

Mary touched her. ”Don't go.”

”Why?”

”I need you to drive.”

Grady's lips slid up, revealing her gap teeth. It was a strange smile. It was a great smile. ”Yeah, you were fixing to wreck my pile, weren't you?” she said, opening the door. ”b.i.t.c.h. Move over.”

The hospital was half-lit. A few floors were completely black, their windows reflecting moon. The only lighted entrance was the Emergency wing. Three orderlies smoked under a broad awning.

Grady parked, asked, ”You coming?”

Mary glanced down at her purple pajamas. She really hadn't thought this one through. Moments later, she caught up with Grady, who was a few feet from engaging the orderlies. ”Uh, how are we gonna get in at this hour?”

Grady flashed that maverick grin, her eyes lit up, and Mary knew it had already happened.

A heavy-set woman noticed them first. ”May I help you?” she asked.

Grady didn't even glance at her. Instead she sped past, colliding with a large man behind her. She grabbed him in a bear hug. ”Quinten!” she yelled, pulled back, her hands on his ma.s.sive arms. ”How are you?”

”Uh, fine,” he said, looking confused.

”Come on!” said Grady, linking her arm in his, leading him toward the electric doors at the end of a brightly lit walkway.

Mary followed, giving the woman a shrug.

Grady continued strolling with Quinten once they were inside. Past two sets of swinging doors, the hall past the ER was eerily silent. She instinctively lowered her voice. ”Quint, my boyfriend is here. I haven't seen him since . . . since-” and she choked back a fabulously phony sob.

”Randall?”

Grady nodded.

Quinten shook his head, sighed, and said, ”Fourth floor, Room 412.”

”Thanks, Quint,” said Grady, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Quinten lifted a finger. ”I didn't send you. You're on your own.” Quinten shoved past Mary. His steps echoed a moment, then vanished. The strangely distant sounds made by a slow night on the ER found them in bursts.

Grady shot past the elevators opened the door to the stairwell. ”Going up?”

”Why the stairs?”

”Shut up and follow,” Grady said with a laugh, taking the stairs two at a time, and Mary struggled in pursuit, her steps tapping opposite Grady's. She felt half-dead by the time she found her friend grinning by the door marked: 4. ”We gotta be stealthy, a couple of church mice.”

”Right, right,” said Mary, panting.

Grady opened the door. They slipped onto the floor, both of them looking for any white-coats hovering by the reception desk to their right. A sign on the wall told them to turn left.

Room 412 was the third door on their left. Grady disappeared inside. Slow as always, Mary followed her inside only to skid to a stop.

Grady had her hand on a vinyl drape. She walked it back and the metal rings sang. Light from the hallway splashed off the waves of vinyl.

Mike Randall lay in a bed that was at half mast. An IV pole festooned with bags of clear liquid hovered over him like a wraith. Glucose and antibiotics and G.o.d-knew-what dripped into a long tube attached by a needle to his arm. Gauze curled around his head like a turban. Black patches on his face surrounded burns. There was a white patch over his left eye. He was breathing raggedly.

Grady stepped back as Mary neared him. ”Oh G.o.d,” moaned Mary, wiping a tear from her eye.

Grady took her by the shoulders, rubbing them.

They jumped when Mike choked, took a harsh breath and coughed. ”Who's that?”

Mary leaned over his bedside.

His right eye fluttered. Above it, half an eyebrow arched. He licked his lips. Then his mouth spread wide in a smile. ”Hey,” he whispered. Light danced like a dying fire in his eyes. He opened his mouth and slowly, almost carefully, spit in Mary's face. ”You f.u.c.king wh.o.r.e,” he said.

Grady flashed into motion, grabbing the metal IV pole, but Mary caught her by the arm.

Mike grinned at them.

”No,” said Mary. ”Leave him be.”

Part Two: Fate is Convergence.

”The soul makes the body.”

-Ralph Waldo Emerson.

”Memory, prophecy and fantasy-the past, the future and the dreaming moment between-are all one country, living one immortal day.”

-The Great and Secret Show, Clive Barker.

Chapter Nine: Daniel.