Malcolm did not bother to answer. He knew the nurse wouldn't pay any attention to what he said anyway.
'Are we ready for a surprise this morning?'
Malcolm turned his head away.
'Malcolm's going on a little trip.'
He turned back to look at the nurse. She had a mole on the side of her neck with a single orange hair growing out of it.
'I thought that might interest you,' she said brightly.
'A trip where?'
'That's going to be the surprise. I don't want to spoil it for you.'
A oily-haired man in a white doctor's coat came through the door. Malcolm remembered him. He was the nasty one who gave Holly a hard time when Malcolm was first brought in.
'This is Dr Pastory,' the nurse said like she was giving him a great big present. 'He's going to beyour doctor now.'
'I don't want a new doctor.'
'You don't know how lucky you are,' Potato Nose told him. 'A lot of people in your position don't have any doctor at all.'
'Where's Holly?' Malcolm said.
Pastory spoke for the first time. 'Dr Lang has other patients to attend to.' His voice was as oily as his hair.
'I'd rather have her.'
'You will find, Malcolm, that in this life we don't always get what we want.' He turned to the orange-haired nurse and said in a low voice, as though Malcolm could not hear, 'Give him fifty ccs.'
The nurse lifted one edge of the white cloth and took something from the tray she had brought in with her. She held it down low, shielded by her body, so Malcolm wouldn't see it. He knew what it was though.
'How about rolling over for me, big fella,' she said, all palsy again.
'What for?'
'We've got to poke a little medicine into you, that's all. A tiny pinprick in your bottom. You've had them before.'
'But what is it?'
'It will make you feel better.'
'I feel fine.'
Dr Pastory moved over closer to the bed and frowned down at Malcolm. His eyes were small and bright, and there was something in them Malcolm didn't like.
'Do as the nurse says, Malcolm. We have some strong young fellows working here who can come in and flip you over if you won't co-operate. Do you want me to call them?'
Malcolm looked at the nurse and saw he would get no help from her. Feeling trapped, he rolled over on his side, facing away from them. The nurse yanked the blanket and sheet down and pulled the short hospital gown up to expose his buttock. He felt the sharp sting of the needle and a tightening of the flesh down there as something was pumped into him.
He felt the needle slide out and smelled the tang of alcohol as the nurse swabbed him off. She gave him a familiar little pat and pulled the gown back into place. Malcolm rolled on to his back and looked up at the two of them.
'That wasn't so bad now, was it?' the nurse recited.
'I want to see Holly,' Malcolm said. 'Dr Lang.'
Pastory showed his small, even teeth. 'I'm your doctor now, Malcolm. You'd better get used to that.'
Malcolm felt a tingling sensation spread over his body. He braced his hands and tried to sit up, but found he was dizzy and lay back down.
'Just relax,' Pastory told him. 'Don't try to fight the medicine. You can't win, you know.' The words had a funny echoing sound.
'I don't want to relax. I don't want you for my doctor.' That was what Malcolm tried to say, but it came out all mushy. His tongue felt thick and foreign, like a hunk of strange meat.
'The more you fight it, the more trouble it makes for everybody.' Pastory's oily little face swam in and out of focus.
With a great effort Malcolm sat up. The doctor reached for him and Malcolm batted his hands away. 'You're not my doctor,' he mumbled.
Pastory bared his teeth, and for a moment Malcolm thought the doctor was going to strike him. But he got control of himself and turned to the nurse.
'Better give him another fifty ccs.'
'But doctor, for a boy his age that's — '
Pastory's little eyes flashed, though his voice remained calm. 'Please do what I ask, Nurse.'
With her cheeks reddening, the nurse turned her back and did something with the things on the cloth-covered tray. Pastory stared impassively down at Malcolm.
'Don' wan' any more shots.' Malcolm had trouble getting the words out past the tongue that did not belong to him. 'Wan' see Holly.'
'Will you hurry?' Pastory snapped at the nurse, who was still fumbling at the tray.
'No more shots,' Malcolm said feebly.
The orange-haired nurse turned toward him, making no attempt this time to conceal the hypodermic needle. She reached down with one hand and flipped Malcolm on to his side as easily as though he were stuffed with straw. His body would not respond to the messages sent by his brain.
He barely felt the second needle prick. The nurse eased him over on his back and he watched as she and Dr Pastory floated side by side in some murky void. The room grew warm, then hot. Malcolm could feel the sweat rolling off him, but he could not move a hand up to clear his eyes. His power of speech was gone. All he could manage were soft grunting noises. The light grew dim, and dimmer.
'That's done it.' Dr Pastory's voice floated to him through a long tunnel, distorted and barely audible. 'I won't be needing you any more, Nurse.'
The shadow-shape that was the nurse floated back away from him and disappeared. Dr Pastory went away too, but just for a moment. Then he was back with somebody else. Another man. The features were only a blur to Malcolm, but he sensed that the newcomer was not a doctor or a hospital employee. He smelled wrong. There was none of the astrigent tang of surgical soap, medicine, and alcohol that clung to the hospital people. This one smelled of tobacco, stale sweat, and urine.
Malcolm felt himself lifted roughly from the bed and placed on another flat, yielding surface. He sensed the door to his room being opened, and he was floating out through it into the corridor. No, not floating, rolling on soft rubber wheels. Rolling, rolling. The fluorescent lights passed overhead in dim, wavery images, as though seen from underwater.
Suddenly the air was cool on his face. There was a breeze with the scent of pine in it. He was outside. A dim recollection of a voice that called him from out here fought for a space in his consciousness, but the drug was too strong.
Malcolm was lifted again, placed inside some sort of metallic box. A van. Dr Pastory got in beside him. He gave an order. An engine fired and Malcolm sensed movement. Then the fever returned and consciousness slipped away.
At ten o'clock Dr Dennis Qualen strolled in through the entrance of La Reina County Hospital. He was, as always, impeccably turned out. Today he had chosen a dark-blue worsted with muted pinstripe and a tie of pale yellow. He acknowledged the greetings of staff and employees with a nod and half smile. Dr Qualen did not believe in becoming too familiar with the people under him, particularly since he did not intend to spend one day longer than necessary at La Reina. He had feelers out to bigger institutions in San Francisco, Houston, and Miami. Once he had straightened out the budgetary problems here, and had the figures to show it, he would surely be hearing from them.
