“Did she say what those secrets were?”
“She said mere words were incapable of expressing them,” Mr. Mandrake said, looking irritated. “Can Dr. Wright produce a revelation like that in his laboratory? Of course not. Such a revelation could have come only from God.”
Or the temporal lobe, Joanna thought. He’s right. These are all temporal-lobe symptoms.
“ ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’ ” Mr. Mandrake intoned, and Joanna decided that was as good an exit line as any.
“I have another patient to see,” she said, “on six-west.” She squeezed past him, and walked down to the elevator. When it came, she pushed eight, and, as soon as it had gone up a floor, five. That should keep Mr. Mandrake busy for a while, she thought, getting off on five. And, she hoped, away from poor Ms. Isakson. She started for the stairs.
“Hey, Doc,” a voice behind her called.
It’s my own fault, she thought. Be careful what you ask for. “What are you doing here, Mr. Wojakowski?” she said, trying to smile.
“Friend of mine fell and broke his hip,” he said cheerfully. “One minute he’s walking to ceramics class, and the next he’s flat on his back. Reminds me of that time at Coral Sea when a depth charge hit us. Me and Bud Roop were down on the hangar deck repairing the magneto on a Wildcat when it hit, and one of the props flew off and took half of Bud’s head with it. Bam!” He made a slashing motion across his forehead. “Went down just like that. One minute he’s alive, chewing gum and talking away to me—he always chewed gum, Blackjack gum, haven’t seen it in years—and the next, half his head’s gone. He never even knew what hit him.” He shook his head. “Not a bad way to go though, I guess. Better than my friend in there.” He jerked a thumb back in the direction of the hall. “Cancer, congestive heart failure, and now this hip thing. I’d take a Jap bomb any day over that, but you don’t get to choose how you go, do you?”
“No,” Joanna said.
“Well, anyway, I’m glad I ran into you,” Mr. Wojakowski said, brightening. “I been trying to get ahold of you and ask you about that schedule.”
“I know, Mr. Wojakowski. The thing is—”
“ ’Cause I’ve got a problem. I told this friend of mine over to Aspen Gardens I’d sign up for this hearing study with him. It was before I signed up for yours, and I forgot I’d told him, so here I am signed up for two things at the same time. Yours is a heck of a lot more interesting, and I ain’t really hard of hearing, except for a little ringing in one ear. I’ve had it ever since Coral Sea, when this bomb hit just forward of the Number Two elevator and—”
“But you did sign up for it first,” Joanna said, deciding she couldn’t wait for an opening. “The hearing study has to take precedence.”
“I don’t wanta let you down.”
“You’re not.”
“Helluva thing, letting a friend down. Did I ever tell you about the time Ratsy Fogle told Art Blazaukas he’d take mess duty for him so Art could go see this native gal over on Maui?”
“Yes,” Joanna told him, but to no avail. She had to listen to the whole story, and the one about Jo-Jo Powers, before he finally let her go.
She went straight to her office and stayed there, looking up examples of ineffable revelations and all- encompassing wisdom until it was time for her session, and then took the list to the lab.
Richard was at the console, looking at scans. “Where have you been?” he asked without taking his eyes from the screen.
“Discussing philosophy with Mr. Mandrake,” she said. She handed him the transcripts and went in to get her hospital gown on. The sight of herself in the mirror reminded her that she hadn’t told Richard about the Greg Menotti incident, and as soon as she came out, she said, “Richard, you asked me if I had had any other incidents besides the—”
“Hello, all,” Tish said, coming in, waving a piece of paper. “Word from on high.” She handed the paper to Richard.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“It was on your door,” she said.
“ ‘Attention, all hospital personnel,’ ” Richard read aloud. “ ‘Because of a recent series of drug-related events in the ER—’ ” He looked up. “What events?”
“Two shootings and a stabbing,” Joanna said. “And an attack with an IV pole,” Tish added, attaching electrode cords to the monitor.
“ ‘—of drug-related events in the ER,’ ” Richard continued, “ ‘all personnel are advised to take the following precautions: One. Be alert to your surroundings.’ ”
“Oh, that’ll help a lot when a hopped-up gangbanger is brandishing a semiautomatic,” Tish said.
“ ‘Two. Do not make sudden movements. Three. Note all available exits.’ ”
“Four. Do not work in the ER,” Joanna said. “No kidding,” Tish said, setting out the IV equipment. “The board decided to hire one more security guard. I think they should have hired about ten. I’m ready for you, Joanna.” Joanna got on the table and lay down. Tish began placing the pads under her lower back and legs. “ ‘Four,’ ” Richard said, still reading. “ ‘Do not attempt to engage or disarm the patient. Five,’ ” he wadded the memo into a ball and lobbed it into the trash.
“Jenni Lyons told me she’s put in a transfer to Aurora Memorial,” Tish said, knotting the rubber tubing around “Joanna’s arm. “She says at least they’ve got a metal detector.” She poked the inside of Joanna’s elbow with her finger, trying to find a vein.
I have to get Vielle out of there, Joanna thought while Tish attached the electrodes, put on the headphones.
I have to convince her to transfer before something happens, she thought, and was in the tunnel, but much farther away from the door than she had been before, and this time the door was open. It spilled golden light half the length of the passage.
She couldn’t see shadows or movements in it, as she had before, or hear any voices. She stood still, listening for their murmur, and then thought, You did it again. You forgot to listen for the sound.
But it wasn’t a sound, or, rather, a cessation of sound. It was a
But standing there in the tunnel, she was sure there had been. A sound like—what? A roar. Or something falling. She felt a strong impulse to turn around and look back down the dark passage as if that would help her identify it, to go back down the passage toward it.
No, she thought, holding carefully still, not even turning her head, it’ll send you back to the lab. Don’t do that. Not until you’ve seen what lies beyond the door, and began walking toward it.
The light seemed to grow brighter as she approached it, illuminating the walls and the wooden floor, which still gave a look of impossible length to the corridor. The walls were white, and so were the doors, and as she neared the end of the corridor, she could see they had numbers on them.
What if one of them’s fifty-eight? she thought, clenched her fists at her sides, and went on. “C8,” the doors read, the letters and numbers in gold, “C10, C12.” The light continued to grow brighter.
She had expected it to become unbearably bright as she got closer, but it didn’t, and as she came nearer the open door, she could make out shapes in it. Figures in white robes, radiating golden light.
Angels.
18
“I dread the journey greatly.”
