Coldheart Canyon. Clive Barker
‘So what do you think it is?’
The doctor shook his head. ‘I’d say there’s a better than fifty-fifty chance he’s got some kind of tumour. On the brain or on the brain-stem.’
‘And if he has?’
‘Well, it’s like a human being. You can sometimes fix these things –’
At this juncture, as though to demonstrate that things were not in a very fixable state right now, Dempsey started to shudder in Todd’s arms, his claws scrabbling against the metal table as he tried to stay upright.
‘It’s okay, boy! It’s okay!’
The doctor went for a nurse, and came back with an injection.
‘What’s that for?’
‘Just to calm him down a little, so he can get some sleep.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. It’s a mild tranquillizer. If you don’t want me to give it to the dog, Mr Pickett …’
‘Yes. Yes. Give it to him.’
The injection did indeed subdue Dempsey’s little fit. They wheeled him away into another room to be given an intravenous infusion, leaving Todd with the quilt.
‘Damn dog,’ he said, now Dempsey was out of earshot. ‘More trouble than he’s worth.’ Tears very close.
‘Why don’t we get a cup of coffee?’ Marco suggested. ‘And we can talk to the doctor more when we get back?’
There was a little donut shop in the mini-mall at the top of Sepulveda, and it had just opened. They were the first customers of the day. Todd knew the instant he walked in that both the women serving recognized him, so he turned round and walked out again rather than risking getting caught in a conversation: Marco brought out two coffees and two Bear Claws in greaseproof paper, still warm from the oven. Though he hadn’t thought he had an appetite, the pastry was too good not to be eaten; so he ate. Then, coffee in hand, they walked down to the hospital, the eyes of the women in the donut shop glued to Todd until he had disappeared from sight.
They said nothing as they walked. The day was getting underway; the traffic on Sepulveda backing up as it waited to take its turn to get onto the freeway. These were people with two-hour commutes ahead of them before they got to their place of work; people with jobs they hated, houses they hated, and a pay-cheque at the end of the month that wouldn’t even cover the cost of the mortgage, the car payments, the insurance.
‘Right now,’ Todd said, ‘I’d give my eye teeth to be one of them, instead of having to go back in there.’
‘I can go in for you.’
‘No.’
‘Dempsey trusts me,’ Marco said.
‘I know. But he’s my dog.’
Chapter 5
Again, there was no news. Dempsey had been hooked up to a saline drip, and looked as though the tranquillizer had taken its effect. He wasn’t quite asleep, but he was dazy.
‘We’ll do an X-ray today, and see how he looks,’ the doctor said. ‘We should have the results back by the end of the day. So why don’t you two go home, we’ll keep Dempsey here and see what we can do to get him well?’
‘I want to stay.’
‘Well that’s going to be very uncomfortable for you, Mr Pickett. We don’t have a room we can put you in, and frankly you both look as though you didn’t get a full night’s sleep. Dempsey’s mildly sedated, and we’ll probably keep him that way. But it’s going to be six or seven hours before we get any answers for you. We share our X-ray technician with our hospital in Santa Monica, so she won’t even be in to look at Dempsey until eleven at the earliest.’
‘I still want to stay. You’ve got a bench out there. You’re not going to throw me out if I sit on that are you?’
‘No. Of course not.’
‘Then that’s where I’ll be.’
The doctor looked at his watch. ‘I’ll be out of here in half an hour and the day-doctor, Dr Otis, will be taking over Dempsey’s case. I will of course bring her up to speed with everything we’ve done so far and if she feels there’s something else she wants to try –’
‘She’ll know where to find me.’
‘Right.’
The doctor gave up a wan smile, his second and last of the night. ‘Well, I sincerely hope you have good news with Dempsey, and that by the time I come in again tonight you’ve both gone home happy.’
Todd would not be dissuaded from staying on the bench, even though it was situated a few steps away from the front counter, next to the soda machine, and would leave him in full view of everyone who came through the next few hours. Marco said that he would come back with a Thermos of good coffee and something to eat, and left Todd there.
The parade of the needy began early. About two minutes after Marco had gone a distraught woman came in saying that she’d struck a cat with her car, and the victim was now in her car, alive, but terrified and badly hurt. Two nurses went out with well-used pairs of leather gloves and a syringe of tranquillizer to subdue the victim. They came back with a weeping woman and a corpse. The animal’s panicked self-defences had apparently used up what little energies its broken body had possessed. The woman was inconsolable. She tried to thank the nurses for their help but all she could do was cry. There were six more accidents that rush hour, two of them fatalities. Todd watched all this in a dazed state. Lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with him. Every now and then his eyes would flicker closed for a few seconds, and the scene in front of him would jump, like a piece of film which had had a few seconds’ worth of action removed and then been spliced back together again. People moved abruptly from one place to another. One moment somebody was coming in, the next they were engaged in conversation (often tearful, sometimes accusatory, always intense), with one of the nurses; the next they’d gone, or they were on their way out.
Much to his surprise, nobody gave him more than a cursory glance. Perhaps, they thought, that can’t possibly be Todd Pickett, sitting on a broken-down old bench next to a broken-down old soda machine in a twenty-four-hour animal hospital. Or perhaps it was just that they saw him, recognized him, and didn’t care. They had other things to think about right now, more pressing than the peculiar presence of a weary-looking movie star on a broken-down bench. They had a rat with an abscess, a cat that had had six kittens but had got the seventh stuck, a guinea pig in a shoe box that was dead when the box was opened; a poodle that kept biting itself; a problem with fleas, a problem with mange, two canaries that hated one another, and so on and so forth.
Marco came back with coffee and sandwiches. Todd drank some coffee, which perked him up.
He went to the front desk and asked, not for the first time, to see the day-doctor. This time, he got lucky. Dr Otis, a pale and slight young woman who looked no more than eighteen, and refused to look Todd in the face (though this, he realized was her general practice: she was the same with Marco and with the nurses, eyes constantly averted), appeared and said that there was nothing to report except that Dempsey would be going for X-rays in about half an hour, and they would be available for viewing tomorrow. At this point, Todd lost his temper. It happened rarely, but when it did it was an impressive spectacle. His neck became blotchy-red, and the muscles of his face churned; his eyes went to ice-water.
‘I brought my dog in here at five o’clock this morning. I’ve been waiting here – sitting on that bench – that bench right there, you see it? Do you see that bench?’
‘Yes, I –’
‘That’s where I’ve been since six o’clock. It is now