Absolute Zero

“Let’s just calm down and take it one step at a time,” Broker said as he swerved down the dead-end road that led to Hank’s house and then eased down the twisting drive and parked in front of the garage. The sky shut over them and it was almost night in the dense white pines. They hurried up the steps.

Jolene opened the door and was on the verge of embracing Broker when she saw Amy. The two women looked each other up and down with an elaborate suspicion that cranked the urgency up a notch.

“Jolene, this is Amy. Amy’s a nurse,” Broker said.

Jolene and Amy did not shake hands.

“She is,” Jolene said slowly.

“Hennepin County Emergency room, three years,” Amy said. Which was valid, Broker observed, but not necessarily accurate, under the circumstances.

“This way,” Jolene said.

Okay, who’s coming now. Hank could hear the scurry of several pairs of feet coming through the bedroom. Jolene, Broker, and. . he saw the white-blond hair and the sassy gray eyes and the freckles. .

The lynx.

He instantly recognized Amy, the nurse from Ely. Her face had been his last pleasant conscious memory.

Amy, whom Allen smugly let take the blame for his willful mistake. And the moment Amy entered the room and saw him, her eyes glistened, filled with tears.

She thinks she did this to me.

Seeing the full burden of his condition projected on her face, he felt his own eyes flood with moisture.

Seeing the bright rush of tears come to Hank’s eyes, Jolene, Broker, and Amy froze.

Amy said, “Jesus, he’s looking right at me.”

She reacted swiftly by focusing both eyes down toward the floor. Hank imitated the eye movement. She rotated her eyes up toward the ceiling. Hank matched her. She went left and right. So did he.

“Jesus.”

Amy looked around the study, walked to the desk, took a piece of paper, picked up a pen, and wrote something. Then, with the paper behind her back she approached the bed.

“Hank, if you can hear and understand me, I want you to blink twice for yes, once for no.” She held up the piece of paper on which she had written YES and NO.

She pointed to YES.

Hank was initially distracted by the salty taste of his tears which trickled down his cheeks and pooled on his lips.

Okay. This is it.

He had to go with Broker and Amy. It was game time. But how much time did he have? How many thoughts did he have left. How many words remained in him? He had wanted to be a writer, to make his mark with words. Now he was down to his last words and, like hoarded bullets, he had to aim them very carefully. He blinked twice and was shocked at the effort it took.

Amy immediately sat at the desk and printed blocky letters on a fresh sheet of paper.

“What?” Broker asked as Jolene hung on his arm, wide-eyed.

“Alphabet board, a crude one, but it’ll work,” Amy said without looking up. She was all business, totally focused on arranging the letters of the alphabet into five groups:

ABCDE

FGHIJ

KLMNO

PQRST

UVWXYZ

“Okay,” Amy said, flushed, eyes bright. “I point to a group until he blinks twice, then I tap each letter in the selected group until he blinks again. We write that letter down. Then we start over until we get a word. I’ll tell him to shut his eyes for three seconds to indicate a new word.”

Jolene studied Amy through a rippling curtain of shock. An expression was forming on her face that groped toward a question: Who is this woman and what is she doing in my house?

“You mean he can talk to us?” she asked, disbelieving.

“Yes,” Amy said, getting up and returning to Hank’s bedside.

Jolene followed her, getting the distinct feeling that she was the spare wheel, that Broker and this Amy were some kind of team. She looked to Broker for reassurance but his attention was riveted to Amy and her attempt to communicate with Hank.

Amy was speaking to Hank now, patiently explaining the sheet of paper in her hand. When she finished, she asked him. “Do you understand?”

Too many things mobbed his thoughts-everything that had happened recently and in his entire life, all the people he’d known.

It was not the time to overwrite.

Time to pick the first right word.

What’s the most important thing he had to tell them?

Amy was waiting for his response. Okay.

He blinked twice.

“Here we go,” Amy said. Her finger pointed to the first letter group. No response. She moved to the second. Again, nothing. Number three.

Hank blinked twice. Her hand moved to the first letter in the group. He blinked twice.

“K,” Amy said. Her finger moved back to the first group and they started over. Nothing on the first group. Then two blinks on the second and two more on the fourth letter in the group.

“I,” Amy said. She did not start over at the top but went to the next group down and got a response on the second letter. But Hank blinked four times.

“L,” said Amy. She turned to Broker and Jolene. “Four blinks, what do you think?” she asked.

Jolene felt the bottom start to fall out but she was good at puzzles, so she said, “He means twice.”

“Could be,” Broker said.

“L,” Amy said. She and Broker locked eyes. The letters materialized like a cold draft coming off of Hank and they raised the short hairs on Broker’s forearm. He realized he was holding his breath.

Amy went down through the groups getting no response and went back to the top and got a hit. Scanning across, Hank’s eyes selected the fifth letter:

“E,” Amy said.

They could hear each other breathing as Amy worked through the groups. The next stop was on the third letter of the fourth group.

“R,” Amy said.

Broker put his hand to his forehead, and his palm came away damp with sweat. He and Amy locked eyes again.

Seeing the two of them react, Jolene started backing away from the bed.

“Keep going, he hasn’t shut his eyes,” Broker said.

“Right,” Amy said. She pointed through the last group, returned to the top, worked her way down, and Hank blinked the fourth group again. Fourth letter.

“S,” whispered Amy as Hank shut his eyes. She printed killers on the bottom of the sheet of paper.

Broker counted under his breath-one, two, three. Hank’s eyes popped open.

“New word,” Amy’s voice rasped. Their eyes met, glanced away. Life and Death Charades.

“N,” Amy said.

“O”

“T”

Hank shut his eyes. And Jolene felt like Hank, Amy, and Broker were slowly forming her firing squad. Fucking Earl. Should have never. .