The Sick Stuff by Ronald Kelly Read Free Book Online

bone. The blade was
tilted at a downward angle and the rear edge was buried deeply into
the throbbing meat of his tongue, which felt as if it were swollen
to twice its normal size. He gagged, letting blood and pieces of
chocolate cake fall into the sink. Zachary carefully tried to force
his jaw wider, to relieve the stinging pressure and withdraw the
razor blade, but to no avail. His jaw was already stretched to
capacity. There was simply no way that he could extract the blade
by himself.
    Zachary knew that he had to get to the
hospital. He was bleeding much too profusely and sharp pains had
began to shoot through his abdomen. He could imagine a swirling
concoction of needles and glass slashing his stomach into bloody
ribbons. But I can't chance going to the hospital, he tried
to convince himself. If I do, I'll get caught for sure. His
mind skipped from one option to another, but the pain that wracked
his body was too strong and it was difficult to think things out
correctly. He suddenly found himself not caring what happened to
him in the long run. All he wanted at the moment was to put an end
to the agony and the constant flow of blood.
    He dug his car keys out of his pocket and
stumbled toward the door. Soon he was outside in the crisp autumn
night. The fog had intensified, growing heavier and more opaque. He
groped across the small front yard, trying to find his car. Zachary
located the front fender of the Lincoln and felt his way to the car
door. He climbed in and started the engine. Then he snapped on the
headlights and headed west toward the boulevard. He knew there was
a hospital less than a mile from where he lived.
    The fog was so thick that he had trouble
seeing a dozen feet ahead. The headlights reflected off the heavy
mist and blinded him. Despite his urgency, he found himself driving
slowly. If he traveled any faster, there was a good chance that he
might unknowingly swerve into the opposite lane or end up wrapped
around a telephone pole, and that certainly wouldn't help his
present condition any.
    Fifteen minutes later, he spotted a lighted
sign through the fog. Muted red letters proclaimed EMERGENCY. But
something was wrong. It was located on the opposite side of the
street from the hospital he had been thinking of. What do I
care? he wondered wearily. Just so they fix me up.
    He pulled up to the emergency entrance and
parked his car. He stumbled toward the frosted glass doors. They
opened with a pneumatic swish , providing him access to the
waiting area of the emergency room.
    Zachary could only stand there and stare for
a moment. The place was packed. Dozens of children and their
parents sat along the sterile white walls, waiting for their turn.
The gathering looked huge. The corridor was long and narrow,
seeming to stretch a mile to the reception desk where a couple of
white-clad nurses sat.
    He began the long walk to the nurses'
station. He tried to avoid looking at the children as he passed,
but still their bloody, pain-wracked faces invaded his vision. Some
he recognized from that night, while others brought no recognition
whatsoever. Many of the children had worn masks. Perhaps they had
come to his door earlier that night and he didn't know it.
    He reached the desk and tried to appeal to
the nurses, but the blade wedged in his mouth made communication
impossible. He could only grunt and groan. A squat nurse with black
hair and cold gray eyes as hard as stones regarded him stoically.
"Do you wish to see a doctor?" she asked.
    Of course I do, you stupid bitch! thought Zachary, but he simply nodded to get his point across.
    The motion sent fine beads of blood flying.
They speckled the nurse's starched white cap, but she didn't seem
to notice. "Please, fill these forms out in triplicate. Take a seat
at the end of the line and we'll be with you as soon as
possible."
    Zachary stood there and stared at the
complicated forms that the nurse handed him, unable to believe what
was going on. He glared at the woman