He led them back down the hall to a set of double doors. “I inherited this place from my grandfather. My old man was a drunk, so the business skipped a generation.”
He pushed open one of the doors and gestured them inside. Donovan eyed him warily and Wong grinned right back. “Don’t let the youthful facade fool you. I’m an old soul.”
They stepped into a windowless room with an exam table at the center. The only other furniture was a chair, a counter and sink, and a large storage closet tucked into a corner. There were more jars on the counter, containing an unappetizing array of brown and green liquids.
“Take off your shirt and shoes and hop aboard,” Wong said, patting the table.
Donovan hesitated, then did as he was told, feeling a bit self-conscious as he pulled off his shirt and climbed onto the table.
Wong cracked his knuckles and rubbed his hands together rapidly, as if trying to warm them. Moving around behind Donovan, he placed his palms on his bare back and slowly worked them across it.
After a moment he said, “I’ve got one word for you: chaos. You got a lotta shit going on inside there.”
No kidding, Donovan thought.
“Like I said, I can get you where you want to go…”
“But?”
“There’s a speech my grandfather always gave his clients, full of fortune-cookie wisdom and metaphysical mumbo jumbo about chi and meridians and the manipulation of the body to release the soul… But the bottom line is this: I’m gonna stop your heart. And the condition you’re in right now, once I get it stopped, I might not be able to start it back up.”
“I knew this was a bad idea,” Rachel said.
“She’s right. It probably is. You sure you don’t want to reconsider?”
Donovan thought about Jessie and shook his head. What other alternative was there?
“I’m sure,” he said.
“You understand,” Wong told him, “if you don’t come out of this thing, I’m gonna be in a bit of a pickle. Cops’ll be all over me and I’ve got a reputation to think about.”
“You’re backing out?”
“I didn’t say that. Things get crazy, I can always tell ’em your ticker just stopped-without mentioning, of course, that I’m the one who stopped it.”
“Then what are you getting at?” Donovan asked, feeling impatience bubble up.
“Another couple grand would ease the pain.”
“Fine,” Donovan said. “Whatever you want.”
Wong grinned. “I take back every bad thing I ever thought about you.”
That was when Rachel turned and left the room.
She was halfway down the corridor before Donovan caught up to her. He grabbed her arm. “Rachel, wait.”
She stiffened at his touch, then turned on him, her eyes angry. “What are we doing here, Jack? This guy’s a joke.”
“You heard Grandma Luke.”
“I know, I know. I’ve been hearing stuff like that all my life. But how the hell do we know what’s real and what isn’t?”
He took her by the shoulders. “This isn’t just a grandmother’s story, Rache. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. And right now it’s the only reality I have.”
“But this guy’s talking about stopping your heart, for God sakes. Don’t you think that’s just a little bit nuts?”
“Then why the hell did you bring me here? Why take me to your grandmother in the first place?”
She looked at him, tears brimming. “I can’t do this, Jack. I can’t watch you die. When they told me you drove off that bridge, I…”
She let the words hang, her fear and vulnerability displayed without filters, telling him everything he needed to know. There was no mystery to solve. There never had been. All this time he’d been too blind or too stupid to see that. It was the same mistake he’d made with Jessie. And Joanne. Too self-absorbed to really see the people around him. To understand how they felt about him.
He focused on her eyes. God, she was beautiful.
Before he could stop himself, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She fell into it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It lasted only a moment, but in that moment Donovan lost himself completely, feeling his own apprehension melt away.
“I need you here,” he whispered.
Her arms tightened around him.
They stayed that way for a while, Rachel pressing her cheek against his bare chest, stirring something inside him that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Then, tears still clouding her eyes, she pulled away from the embrace. “I swear to God, Jack, if you don’t come back, I’ll kill you.”
When they returned to the exam room, Wong was smoking another cigarette.
“So,” he said. “Everybody on the same page now?”
Donovan shot him a look, then squeezed Rachel’s hand and climbed back onto the table. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Wong dropped his cigarette, stamped it out, then turned to the counter and poured something green into an ornate ceramic cup.
“Drink this,” he said, handing it to Donovan.
“What is it?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know. It’ll help relax you.”
Donovan stared at the liquid and saw what looked like flecks of dark flesh floating in it. He swirled it around a moment, then put the cup to his lips and knocked it back.
The taste was so bitter he nearly gagged. He managed to swallow, the liquid burning a trail down his throat and landing with a thud in his stomach. He instantly felt nauseous, thinking for a moment that he might throw it right back up.
“Jesus,” he said, closing his eyes.
Wong took the cup. “Got a bit of a kick.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
Wong set the cup on the counter. “When you’re ready, lie faceup for me.”
Donovan waited for the nausea to subside, then opened his eyes again and saw Rachel staring at him with concern. He gave her a reassuring look, but couldn’t quite fight off the feeling that the room was starting to sway. Grabbing the side of the exam table, he swung his legs around and lay back.
Wong was over at the closet now, pulling it open. “Just so you know: Before I took over the business, I spent two years as a paramedic. If things get hairy, there’s always this…”
He reached in and grabbed hold of a metal cart, rolling it out into the open. It held a bulky, premodern defibrillator. The rubber on the paddles was so worn that patches of steel shone through.
“It’s old,” Wong said. “But it works.”
Rubbing his hands together again, he moved back to the table and stood over Donovan. “Last chance to change your mind.”
Donovan felt his body starting to relax. The medicine kicking in. He glanced at Rachel and could see that she still wasn’t happy with this. But she nodded.
“Do it,” he said.
Wong moved to a dimmer switch on the wall. “This isn’t your first trip, so I won’t bother with any tour information.”
He turned the dimmer, reducing the room to near darkness. “You’ve got about six minutes. Anything longer and your brain is toast.”
He started with the soles of Donovan’s feet, running his thumbs upward toward the toes, then back down again, pressing them hard against muscle, so hard it was almost painful.
Donovan felt his tension leak away and suddenly realized how tired he was. He’d been running on fumes ever since the accident. That he’d managed to survive this long was an act of sheer will.
Now Wong’s magic hands were leeching the negative ions from his body, sucking the tension away. He felt himself sink deeper into the table as the hands worked their way to the tops of his feet, then on to the shins, the calves, moving upward to his thighs, thumb tips pressing into selected pressure points, each one sending what felt like a pulse of electricity through his body and straight up into his brain.
By the time they reached his shoulders, the table beneath him had melted away. He felt weightless, floating on a cushion of warm air. Wong might not look like much, might not have the most pleasant demeanor in the world, but he knew what he was doing. No question about it now.