ing around to me and cutting your speed,” and honks and honks, gets very close as if to say speed up or move over, but the man looks back again and looks alarmed when he sees how close the cars are and waves for him to get farther back and he waves for the man to go faster, faster and yells “Faster, faster,” and the man speeds up to sixty and stays there. “Jerk, fucking schmuck, move, move,” and sees a sign for the next exit one mile ahead, no H on it, maybe it’ll be on the exit sign, but the man isn’t signaling right, maybe he never does when he’s changing lanes or leaving one for an exit, lots of drivers don’t, but it’d be a signal to him that this exit’s the one they get off. They approach the exit and the man passes it and soon after it is another sign for an exit a half mile ahead, H on it and he signals left and skirts around the man and speeds up and the man honks and tries keeping up with him and he gets off, doesn’t look back to see if the man’s behind, maybe he should because maybe the man’s trying to tell him that this is the wrong hospital, the next one which might be off one of the next two exits might be the right one for emergencies, looks in the rearview but man’s not there, no no, there couldn’t be two hospitals so close or the chances of it are very small in what seems like such an unpopulated area and besides that the man would have said something about it before they took off, or even if the man just realized it it’s too late and this hospital will have doctors and stuff to help and going fast as he can he follows the H signs and then Hospital signs and sees the hospital, it’s a large one so will probably have an Emergency and goes down its road and looks for a sign saying emergency, “Margo, look for a sign that says emergency,” he yells, “e-m-e-r — you know how to spell it. Is Julie all right, everything back there okay?” and she says nothing and he sees the sign and then the emergency entrance and parks in front, “There’s Emergency,” she says and he says “I know,” and honks and honks and nobody comes out or is around and he yells “What do I have to do, go in to get you? — this is an emergency, I’m honking emergency,” and looks in back, Margo’s crying, “Oh this is so tough for you, darling, I know,” Julie in the same place, “Julie, my love, Julie, how are you? Please be well. We’re here, getting help, dear, help,” and gets out of the car, says into the back “Stay put, both of you, I’ll fetch them,” and runs in thinking “‘Fetch,’ what a dumb word, how could I have used it?” and yells to a man behind a window in Reception “Emergency, emergency, my daughter’s been shot, someone, someone, I almost know it’s too late but help me, help her,” and a nurse charges through the double doors next to the reception window toward him and just as she’s about to say something he grabs her arms and shouts “Where were you? Why wasn’t someone outside? Get a doctor, breathing equipment, something to stop the blood, she’s in the car outside, dark gray one, charcoal,” and runs back out and into the backseat and sits her up and breathes into her, comes up, breathes into her, lips are cold but that can be just that she’s very hurt, the opposite somehow of a temperature from an infection or cold where the body’s doing something he doesn’t understand because of the hole in her and loss of blood. Breathes into her, listens, nothing, but he might not be hearing, where’s Margo? “Margo,” he yells, “Margo.” “I’m in front. I couldn’t stay. Is that all right? Did I do wrong?” She’s so sticky and limp, back, wrist, forehead, cold all over, she’s dead, has to be, the purple coloring and film, there’d be some life sign, eyes, he opens one, it looks dead, he didn’t act fast enough to save her, just should’ve kept breathing into her with Margo waving for help on the shoulder till someone came. Or taken her outside the car and breathed into her there so other cars would see and stop. Didn’t do what he should’ve done on the road to get away from the men which would have been what? Swerved more, tried earlier to dart into the median strip and then gone north on it, got off sooner onto the shoulder and immediately driven in reverse. Moment he knew she was shot, without even going in back, should’ve raced down the highway till he saw a sign for a hospital — just should’ve believed one would come. If only they’d stopped at the rest stop twenty miles or so back as Julie had asked him to instead of his insisting on getting home soon as they can, eager to get their things away and dinner prepared so he could read the mail and newspaper over a drink. She didn’t have to go to the bathroom — he asked her — she just wanted water, maybe a soda, she said, “No soda,” he said, “and water you can get at home.” Margo wanted something to drink too but also didn’t have to make. If only one of them had wanted to go to the bathroom badly, just said that, even lied they did and then got water or asked for soda there, he would have stopped. If only he’d wanted to pee, but really had to, was about to explode or felt it coming, or twenty miles or so back he’d been so tired that he needed a break and cup of coffee, he would have stopped and never have come up against those men or probably not. But don’t get sick over it. He can still help, who knows? and breathes into her, listens to her mouth, nose and chest. Stop kidding yourself, there’s nothing there and hasn’t been for minutes, she’s dead, that’s all, but you’re not a doctor, you don’t know, so she might not be, but she’s already started what’s got to be an impossible-to-change change, he can see and feel it, so she’s dead. “Oh God, she’s dead,” he thinks, and bursts out crying and cries hysterically and Margo leans over the seat and rubs his back and says “This is very sad, Daddy, I don’t know what to do either.” Hospital people are there now, may have been there awhile, all the doors open, nurses, doctors, aides, equipment, with so many people and stuff they’ll be certain to help her, each of them has that competent look and this is the country, not the city, where people are eager to help and do their job well and no one’s on the run, and someone says, pulling his arm, “Please come out, sir,” and he thinks “That’s a good sign,” the relaxed voice and calm look and pleasant manner, just by looking at her they can tell things aren’t as bad as he thought and maybe not even an emergency and he says “Wait, I have to put her down first,” but she’s not in his arms, not even in the car now, he must have put her down, or dropped her, God forbid, or handed her to someone or they took her away from him, even out of his arms, without him even knowing it, so what does that say? A bad sign, but he’s not sure. And where is she? He’s escorted out, Margo’s already out, and he’s looking around for Julie, best place he bets is on the ground and he looks down and doesn’t see her and up and sees a crowd of hospital people whisking a wheeled stretcher toward the emergency doors, her feet sticking out or rather her shoes and little socks and a bit of her legs, then they’re through the doors which fly open, second set of doors which fly open and they’re gone, he can’t see them and he yells “Julie,” and a man, probably a doctor because he’s in white, says “She’s in the treatment room, we’re trying to revive her, just tell me quick, is she allergic to anything?” “I don’t think so, I don’t know, my wife knows all that.” “How long ago would you say she was shot?” “Half hour or so, I think, twenty minutes, longer, twenty-five, maybe more.” “Was any other harm or blow done to her, knife, head injury in the car?” “No, it was from another car, guy with a gun on the highway, we didn’t crash but I did come to a quick stop and she might have hit her head against the back of the front seat, but minor, minor compared to the gunshot.” “Anything else about her medical history, can’t clot, prone to seizures, any severe recurring illnesses, is she on any drug now, anything to do with the heart, congenital, recent operations, like that?” “Not that I know of, healthy, normal, colds, flu and that thing with the throat, strep, operations I know there’s been none of, only one time when she was very young there was a scare, pressure behind the eyes they thought could be a brain tumor, but it turned out to be nothing,” and the man says “Stay here, or preferably in the lobby, but somewhere where we can speak to you immediately if we need to, and if we don’t then someone will come out to see you after we’re done,” and runs to the emergency entrance so fast that the doors don’t open when he gets there, has to step back and walk forward and they open and then the next ones open and the man’s running someplace and then’s gone, and he’s looking for Julie again, maybe they didn’t take her, on the ground, nothing there, I should go to her, he thinks, but what use could I be, since she has pros taking care of her now and they probably won’t let me in. But maybe I could get in, “I’m her father,” I could say, “I’ve rights and I could be of some help,” to comfort her, from the sides saying “You’ll be all right, you’ll be all right, dear, do what they say, Daddy’s here, your daddy who loves you.” Margo’s holding his hand and says “This is so awful, Daddy. What will Mommy say if Julie’s really dead? Please hold me,” and he thinks “That I should do and can use a little of too,” and he tries but is too weak to. He knows he should comfort Margo also, say something like “It’s going to be okay, you’ll see, with so many nice capable people helping and in a treatment room where they can treat her capably, how could it not be?” but he’s crying and says “Oh no, I was all wrong and you’re right, it really is awful, how could it be worse?” He doesn’t want to, more for her sake, but slips his hand out of hers and holds his head, tries to think. There’s something I should be thinking of, he thinks, but I don’t know what. No, there’s something I should be doing — that’s it — but what? What is it I should do? I should do something. I should go into the lobby, stay there, waiting to be of help, that’s true and I will, but something else. I should wake up. Oh, that’s the easiest way out, isn’t it? and the least realistic, though wouldn’t it be nice. But I should. I should really wake up. This is too terrible a dream, they don’t need me in the lobby, everything with her is okay, some would call it a nightmare — it is a nightmare, but why quibble over definitions? — and if I can wake myself up from it I should, for then everything would change, but there I go again, the world’s easiest and most desirable cop-out, the dream. But where will I be if I could? Julie will be here, Margo. Lee will be with her folks and I’ll call her soon as I can and say “Well, we just got here and everything’s fine. How you doing? Kids and I miss you.”