One Foot Off the Gutter by Peter Plate Read Free Book Online Page A

taking her?” the doctor asked when he came within earshot.
    He approached the wheelchair, cleared his throat and examined the geriatric with a cursory gaze that was cruel, and which bordered upon disinterest. The patient was wrapped up in adhesive bandages like a mummy.
    â€œIs that you, Doctor Dick?” the orderly said. “I didn’t recognize you there for a second. You asked about this here biddy? Where am I taking her? I was told to take her outside.”
    â€œOutside?” the doctor asked.
    â€œYeah, you know. Got to put her somewhere.”
    â€œLet me see her chart.”
    â€œShe ain’t got one.”
    â€œOh, that’s peculiar. What’s going on here?”
    There was a lengthy and uncomfortable pause in which no one said a word. Nary a sound was heard in the lysol reeking corridor. The geriatric looked up at the doctor with her milk colored eyes; her pupils were dilated and gray. She opened her toothless mouth, but nothing came out.
    â€œAre you all right, ma’am?” he whispered.
    â€œAhhh,” she croaked.
    â€œI see. Well, she doesn’t have any complaints,” the doctor said.
    â€œThat’s right,” the orderly chipped in. “Elizabeth here, she’s been happy with us. She’s got no problems to speak of.”
    A gurney came speeding down the hallway, guided by three red-faced medics.

    â€œWatch out, doc!” one of the medics shouted. “We’ve got a live one here!”
    â€œIt’s not so good,” another medic gasped.
    â€œLet me have a look,” the doctor ordered.
    The gurney was laden with a heavy, inert body covered by a sheet. The doctor peeled back the sheet a few inches and received a jolt that shocked him speechless. It wasn’t possible; there had to be an error. He became scared, and strangely enough, as if he’d been waiting for this moment, he felt thrilled.
    â€œPatsy! My God, what is going on here?”
    The ice cold features of his wife’s unmarred face greeted him. Her eyelids were ashen, her skin bloodless; her breathing was shallow. He doubted if she was conscious, and there was a chance her heart wasn’t beating.
    â€œWhere did you find her?” he asked the medics.
    â€œAmbulance got her,” the third medic chirped. “They picked her up by Folsom Park.”
    The first medic pulled the sheet back from Patsy’s neck, revealing her breasts and shoulders. Three dark, bruised holes formed a triangular pattern across her left thigh and stomach. The doctor pressed his fingers on the wounds. The flesh was pulpy and wet; the bullets were buried under layers of muscle and fat.
    â€œWhere are you taking her?” the doctor asked.
    â€œWe haven’t decided,” the second medic answered.
    He kneeled down beside the gurney; the medics did the same. The doctor whispered, “Patsy? Can you hear me?”
    From a point on the map further away than the doctor could have imagined, she answered, “Yes, I can hear you.”

    â€œDo you feel any pain?”
    â€œI don’t know. I feel something. But it’s not what you think.”
    The doctor’s pulse double-timed a beat. Patsy was trying to tell him something important. But this wasn’t the proper occasion. Boy, did she ever freak him out; he never could tell with her. A voice inside his mouth told him to proceed with caution.
    â€œYou don’t get it, do you?” she whimpered.
    The words rattled like a corn husk in her throat. The doctor felt a blast of icy, arctic air blow across his shoulders.
    â€œGet what?”
    â€œI think we need to talk.”
    The medics stared at her with undisguised horror.
    â€œI thought she was dead,” one of them confessed.
    â€œNot yet,” the second medic smirked.
    â€œWhat do we need to talk about now?” the doctor asked.
    â€œOur marriage.”
    A drop of blood appeared on her lips; it resembled a solitary ruby. The