It didn’t take long. Almost immediately, the edge wore away. As the seconds ticked off, the pain continued to fade until it was once again manageable. The pain never left completely. It always hung nearby, a reminder of the disease eating away the flesh inside her. She knew the end was near. She only needed to hang on for a few more weeks, she told herself. One more Christmas and then she could go.
She settled back in her bed, trying to take deep breaths and relax her body on each exhalation. Her mind wandered, as it often did these days, back through the stacks of memories stored within her. She enjoyed thinking about the good times of her life, her wedding day, the kid’s birthdays, so many happy times.
Her favorite memories were of Christmas. Even though her sons lived all over the country now, they nearly always managed to make it home for the holidays. And it had only gotten better over the years as the flock of grandchildren grew. A new generation of kids had stared in wonder as Daniel walked across the front lawn in his Santa suit. She took pictures as her sons put their kids on the same sleighs they used when they were growing up and sledded down the hill in the back yard. Afterward, they’d all thaw out by the fire, chomping on her famous cinnamon sugar cookies as they laughed at the stories of the day.
Now they were all coming home one last time. Everyone knew it was her last Christmas. It was the last thing she wanted to do before she passed on. One last time to see all the faces. Hear their laughter. Listen to the stories one more time. She mumbled a regular prayer to her late husband. One more Christmas, Daniel. One more Christmas with the children, then I’ll come to you.
She caught a movement from the other side of the room. She craned her neck forward to see what it was.
“Hello Ruthie,” said a man’s voice, soft and gentle.
“Who’s there?” Ruth asked.
In the corner of the room, from the dark shadows, came a soft glow of light. Pale at first, but growing in intensity, it throbbed as if keeping time with a pulse. Ruth squinted as the light became bright enough to illuminate the entire room. Within the light, she could see the outline of a form, but it wasn’t until the light started to move toward her bed that she realized what she was seeing.
“Oh Daniel,” Ruth whispered, knowing that it was her husband come to collect her. “You’re beautiful.”
The man said nothing. Light streamed around the edges of his body, obscuring his face. He continued toward the bed.
“Daniel, honey, I can’t come yet. It’s not time. I need one more Christmas. Please. Can’t I just have that?”
A hand reached out from the light and hovered over the bed. Ruth reached out to touch it, mesmerized by the luminescent skin, in rapture over the idea of holding her Daniel’s hand once more.
The hand seized hers. It closed, in a claw-like grip, crushing the bones in her hand. Ruth cried out, first in pain and then in terror from the face that leered in front of her.
“You’re not Daniel,” she whimpered.
“Sorry, Ruthie,” Huckley hissed. “Nothing personal. But you have something I need.”
Ruth tried to pull back her hand but the man’s grip was too strong. Huckley squeezed harder, his lips turning up in pleasure as she groaned.
“Don’t hurt me,” she begged. “Oh God, please don’t hurt me.”
A buzzer went off next to Nurse Anna Beaufort. The sudden burst of noise in the silence made her jerk back in her chair and nearly drop her book. A quick look at the monitors arrayed in front of her explained the cause for the alarm. The heart monitor in room 302 was flat-lined. She felt a pang of sadness. It was Ruth Haig’s room, one of her favorites. She had grown quite fond of the tough old bird.
The nurse opened a binder positioned on the shelf next to the monitors. She already knew the answer to her question, but she felt obligated to look it up to be sure. The binder had tabs on the side listing the patient’s names that were on the floor. She flipped open the book at the tab designated for Ruth Haig. She used her finger to trace the space between the heading and the written entry on the page. She was right. There was a DNR order, ‘Do Not Resuscitate.’
“Aww, that’s a shame.” Nurse Beaufort had come to know Mrs. Haig a little over the past couple of weeks. She knew how much she was looking forward to Christmas with her family.
She picked up the phone and dialed an extension. The doctor picked up on the third ring. “Dr. Brendel.”
“This is Nurse Beaufort on the third floor. Ruth Haig just passed.”
There was a pause. Anne thought maybe the news had hit the young doctor hard. But then she heard him answer a question put him by someone else in the room. He wasn’t even listening. Then he was back on the line. “Ruth Haig? She has a DNR, right?”
“Yes doctor.”
“All right. I’ll be up when I can. Wait until I come up before we notify the family.” Then the phone went dead.
Nurse Beaufort snorted. Docs were all the same, pompous asses every one. That Dr. Tremont was better than the male docs, but she still had an attitude.
The nurse reluctantly marked her page in her book and headed down the hall to Room 302 to start to prepare the body. There was no one else there to cover the desk for her but she didn’t think twice about it. It was a slow day. Nothing much really happened on the third floor anyway.
FORTY-FOUR
They hiked through the forest along a narrow deer trail, just wide enough to permit them passage through the prickly underbrush. The crunch of dry leaves and small twigs accompanied every step. Squirrels chattered nervously above them, hopping from branch to branch, alarmed by the intruders and uncomfortable with the lack of coverage afforded them by the naked branches of the winter trees. In the distance came the unmistakable honking of Canadian geese. The asynchronous chorus grew louder until the flock heard the tramping men below and veered away, their angry calls fading quickly into the air.
Lonetree set the pace. The only supplies they had were whatever contents Lonetree carried in the pack strapped to his back. The large man had refused any of Jack’s attempts to pry out more information about Huckley so he had finally quit trying and resigned himself to walk in silence.
After ten minutes, Lonetree stopped and shrugged off the backpack. He pulled out a black handheld device with a LCD screen above a series of buttons.
“Is that a GPS?” Jack asked.
“Uh huh,” Lonetree acknowledged, working the buttons for the global positioning system. The device was a little different from those found at the local Radio Shack. Even with its compact size it could pinpoint their location to within one meter. That in itself was no technological wonder. What made the unit special was its ability to withstand being run over by an armored division and come out of it unscathed. That and a special signal dispersal algorithm that ensured anyone interested in his whereabouts couldn’t trace him back from the GPS contact with the satellites. It was one of the little toys that had gone missing when he left the SEALS.
“You’re quite an outdoorsman,” Jack baited. Lonetree grunted but otherwise ignored the comment. “And quite a conversationalist,” Jack muttered.
Lonetree threw the device into his backpack and slipped the straps over his shoulders. “We’re a couple of minutes away. Let’s go. I want to get you back before they notice you’re gone. I don’t want to make them nervous.”