#49-The Way Home
As the ambulance screamed through the streets, I crouched precariously at Darryl’s head, stroking him. Bernard had told me to make Darryl focus, so I was giving him directions on how to get to my uncle’s ranch from the Denver airport. It’s complicated, and I was also giving him the alternate routes. Darryl’s eyes no longer tracked my movements and he seemed from moment to moment to be fading, but every time I demanded:
“Did you get that? Did you understand?”
Darryl always answered, “Yes, E-470.” Or “Right on Red Feather Road.”
I figured he was merely repeating the last thing I’d said, but that proved he was listening on some level. Bernard was busier than a man with four hands, and he was also muttering into the mouthpiece of an ear-bug cell phone. I realized he was describing Darryl’s injuries to a doctor. My recital of turns and familiar landmarks faltered for a moment. At Bernard’s glare, I jerked my attention back to my task. We were almost home.
“Eight point eight miles west and look for the bleached pine, turn left. Did you get that, honey?”
No answer. I kissed Darryl’s ear to make him pay attention. I repeated myself a little louder. No response.
“Darryl! Listen to me, after the turn at the pine, the road’s going to twist right and split. Take the high road, the north fork. It dead-ends in my uncle’s front yard. If you get there in daylight, go around to the back of the house. You’ll find my aunt Martha either in the garden or the kitchen. Did you get that, honey?”
Darryl’s cheek pressed against my hand. I wanted to believe that he had moved it himself, but his head had rolled as the ambulance turned. The emergency crew had stripped off every scrap of clothing above his waist. I nearly cried when I thought of my own plans earlier for doing that. I still wanted to stroke the curly hair that fanned across his chest.
“Whoops,” said Bernard, “Almost forgot.” He plucked off Darryl’s glasses, folded them and handed them to me. “Hang on to these, Sugar.”
The doors of the ambulance sprang open and Darryl was pulled away from me. Bernard helped me down, hooked my purse over my arm and wrapped both my coat and Darryl’s parka around my shoulders. By that time, a team of people in green scrubs had surrounded Darryl and taken him someplace.
“Will he be okay?” I asked.
Bernard shrugged. “Out of my hands, into God’s and the surgeons.”
He swung back into the ambulance and it roared away. I staggered into the bleak waiting room, groping my cell phone out of my purse. I didn’t have much time.
“Tom, I’m sorry to call so late,” I said, “Listen, my cell phone’s about to go out.”
I told Tom where I was, that Darryl had been stabbed, and the name of the hotel where Darryl and I had stayed the night before. Then my cell phone cut out before I could tell him what I wanted him to do. I looked up.
Darryl shimmered, half in light, half in darkness. His muddy water eyes smiled at me.
“Tiffany,” he said, “I’ve never seen you in this light. You shine from within, did you know that?”
My mouth felt dry as old bones. “I reckon we all do, in some degree. Stay with me, Darryl.”
The colors of the other world crept over the black plastic chairs, the battered magazines and the square tables. Across the room, the flickering TV image turned to snow. The strange light grew stronger. I didn’t dare look behind me. The gate was gaping wider and wider, beckoning to the soul of a hero. Darryl looked up and became dazzled.
