The Fifth Profession (28 page)

“But it was there!” Savage drove even faster. “Akira and I both saw it. We
slept
there. We
ate
there. We guarded Kamichi along every corridor! Three nights! Three days!”

“So
old,”
Akira said. “The wagon-wheel chandeliers. The ancient staircase. I can still smell the must in the lobby. And the smoke from the logs in the parlor's fireplace.”

“But it isn't there,” Rachel said.

The Taurus squealed around a bend. Struggling with the steering wheel, Savage suddenly realized he was doing seventy. He eased his foot from the gas pedal. Beyond a bare ridge—a sign said BEWARE OF FALLING ROCKS—he saw an abandoned service station, its sign dangling, its windows broken, and pulled off the road, stopping at the concrete slabs where fuel pumps once had stood.

“We asked a dozen different people.” Though Savage no longer drove, he continued to clutch the steering wheel. “None of them had the faintest idea what we were talking about.”

He felt smothered. Jerking the driver's door open, he lunged from the car, filling his lungs with fresh air.

Akira and Rachel joined him.

“This isn't some small hotel so far from Medford Gap that the locals might not have heard of it.” Savage stared toward the bluffs beyond the service station but was too preoccupied to notice them. “It's a major tourist attraction, so close that Medford Gap's part of its name.”

“And we checked every road that led to the top of the mountain,” Akira said.

“We even drove back up the road that you're sure is the one you used six months ago,” Rachel said. “We searched the trees in case there'd been a fire. But there wasn't any charred wreckage. A half-year isn't enough time for the forest to hide evidence of the building.”

“No,” Savage said. “The forest couldn't have hidden a burnt-out cabin, let alone a massive hotel. And the fire would have been spectacular. The local population couldn't possibly forget it so fast. Even if there
had
been a fire, it wouldn't have destroyed the lake beside the hotel. But the lake's not there either!”

“And yet we're certain both the hotel and the lake were there,” Akira said.

“Certain?” Savage asked. “Just as we're certain we saw each other die? But we
didn't.”

“And”—Akira hesitated—“the Mountain Retreat never existed.”

Savage exhaled, nodding. “I feel like…What I described last night in the hotel.
Jamais vu.
Nothing seems real. I can't trust my senses. It's as if I'm losing my mind.”

“What happened to us?” Akira asked.

“And where?” Savage scowled. “And why?”

“Keep retracing your steps,” Rachel said. “Where did you go from here?”

“A hospital,” Savage said.

“Mine was in Harrisburg,” Akira said. “A hundred miles south. I had to be flown by helicopter.”

“Harrisburg?” Savage's hands and feet became numb. “You never mentioned …”

“It didn't occur to me. The look in your eyes. Don't tell me
you
were flown there as well.”

“Did your doctor have blond hair?”

“Yes.”

“And freckles?”

“And glasses?”

“And his name was…?”

“Hamilton.”

“Shit,” Savage said.

They raced toward the car.

10

“What's keeping her?” Akira asked.

“It's been only ten minutes.” Savage had let Rachel out when he couldn't find a parking space. He'd been driving repeatedly around the block. Still, despite his assurance to Akira, Savage's need to protect her—coupled with his growing affection for her—made him nervous by her absence.

Midafternoon. Traffic accumulated. Savage reached an intersection, turned right, and sat straighter, pointing.

“Yes,” Akira said. “Good. There she is.”

Relieved, Savage watched her hurry from the Harrisburg public library, glimpse the Taurus, and quickly get in. He drove on.

“I checked the phone book,” she said. “Here's a photocopy of the city map. And a list of the hospitals in the area. But this'll take longer than you expected. There are several. You're sure you don't remember the name of the hospital?”

“No one ever mentioned it,” Akira said.

“But the name must have been stenciled on the sheets and the gowns.”

“I was groggy from Demerol,” Savage said. “If the name was on the sheets, I didn't notice.”

Akira studied the list and read it to Savage. “Community General Osteopathic Hospital. Harrisburg Hospital. Harrisburg State Hospital.”

“Osteopathic?” Savage said. “Isn't that something like chiropractic?”

“No, osteopathic medicine's a theory that most illness is caused by pressure from injured muscles and displaced bones,” Akira said.

Savage thought about it and shook his head. “Let's try …”

11

“I'm sorry, sir,” the elderly woman at the Harrisburg Hospital information desk said. “There's no Dr. Hamilton on our staff.”

“Please,” Akira said tensely, “check again.”

“But I checked three times already. The computer shows no reference to a Dr. Hamilton.”

“Maybe he's
not
on the staff,” Akira said. “He might be in private practice and sends his patients here.”

“Well, of course that's possible,” the woman said behind the desk.

“No,” Rachel said.

Savage and Akira turned to her.

“When I checked the phone book, I looked under private physicians. He isn't listed.”

“Then he works for another hospital,” Akira said.

They crossed the crowded lobby toward the exit.

“What troubles me,” Rachel said, “is there was no Dr. Hamilton in the white pages either.”

“An unlisted number.”

“What kind of physician has an unlisted private number?” The lobby's door hissed open.

12

The overweight man behind the information desk at the Harrisburg State Hospital shook his head, tapped more buttons on the keyboard, watched the computer screen, and pursed his lips.

“Nope. No Dr. Hamilton. Sorry.”

“But that's impossible,” Savage said.

“After Medford Gap,
nothing's
impossible,” Akira said.

“There's got to be an explanation.” Savage suddenly thought of one. “This happened six months ago. For all we know, he resigned and moved to another city to work for another institution.”

“Then how would we find that information?” Rachel asked the man behind the desk.

“You'd have to talk to Personnel. The computer lists only current staff members.”

“And where—?”

The man gave directions to Personnel. “But you'd better hurry. It's almost five. They'll soon be closing.”

“I'll do it,” Akira said quickly. “Savage, phone the personnel office at the other hospital.”

Akira hurried down a corridor.

Trying not to bump into visitors, Savage rushed toward a row of pay phones at the side of the lobby.

“I'll meet you back here,” Rachel said.

“Where are—?”

“I've got an idea.”

Continuing toward the phones, Savage heard her urgently ask the man at the information desk, “How do I find the business office?” Savage wondered why she wanted to know. But at once all he cared about was that every phone was being used. He glanced at his watch. Six minutes to five. Anxious, he pulled coins from his pocket, scanned the list of hospitals, addresses, and phone numbers Rachel had given him, saw a woman leave a phone, and darted toward it. As the call went through, he glanced across the lobby. Rachel was gone.

13

They sat in the hospital's coffee shop, staring at their Styrofoam cups.

“The personnel office has no listing for a Dr. Hamilton in the past five years,” Akira said.

“The other hospital
did
have a Dr. Hamilton,” Savage said.

Akira straightened.

“Three years ago,” Savage said. “Female. Elderly. She died from a stroke.”

Akira slumped back in his chair.

“It's beginning to look as if our Dr. Hamilton didn't exist any more than the Medford Gap Mountain Retreat did,” Savage said.

“And that's not all that didn't exist,” Rachel said. “The two of you may think you're real, but you're not.”

“What are you talking about?” Akira asked.

“At least as far as the Harrisburg hospitals are concerned. I went to the business office. While they found out what I needed, I went to a phone to call the other hospital and get its business office before it closed. I asked for the same information.”

“What
information?” Akira asked.

“The business office is the place that sends patients their bills. Earlier you told me the names you'd used when you stayed in the hospital. I pretended to be an insurance agent. I said my company had paid for your treatment several months ago. Now I was getting complaints from you. I asked each hospital why it was sending you notices about overdue bills. The people I spoke to were quite sympathetic. It was easy to solve the problem, they said. They checked their computers. You'll never guess what. The computers came up blank. There's no record that you stayed in
either
hospital.”

Savage squeezed his Styrofoam cup, almost breaking it. “Then where the hell were we?”

“Maybe the Osteopathic Hospital,” Rachel said. “But when we go there during business hours tomorrow, I strongly suspect …”

“We'll get the same answers,” Akira said. “There's no such place as the Medford Gap Mountain Retreat. We didn't see each other die. We never met Dr. Hamilton. We weren't in a Harrisburg hospital. What
else
didn't happen?”

Savage stood forcefully and walked away.

“Where are you going?” Rachel hurried to follow, joined by Akira.

“The information desk.”

“But why?” Rachel tried to keep pace as Savage stalked into the lobby. “We've asked everything we can think of.”

“No. There's one thing we
haven't
asked. The way to the goddamn Emergency Ward.”

14

In a brightly lit vestibule, a weary nurse peered up from behind a counter. “Yes, sir? May 1 …?”

She suddenly frowned, seeing the tension on Savage's face. She shifted her troubled gaze toward Rachel and Akira.

“I want to see a doctor,” Savage said.

“Has there been an accident?” She stood. “You don't look injured. Is it someone else who needs …?”

“I said I want to see a doctor.”

The nurse blinked, startled. “Of course, sir.” She stepped back nervously. “Please wait right here.” She disappeared down a corridor.

“Be calm,” Akira said.

“I'm trying, but it's not doing any good. I have to
know.”

Abruptly the nurse returned, accompanied by a tall man wearing hospital greens.

“Yes, sir?” The young man slowed, approaching Savage cautiously. “I'm Dr. Reynolds. The senior resident on this ward. Is there something—”

“I need an X ray.”

“Why?” The resident studied him. “Are you in pain?”

“You bet I'm in pain.”

“But
where?
Your chest? An arm?”

“Everywhere.”

“What?”

“I want …What I need … is a full-body X ray.”

“A full-body …? Why would you …? Describe your symptoms.”

“I ache from head to foot. I can't bear the pain anymore. I
have
to know what's wrong. Just give me the X rays.”

“But we can't just …”

“I'll pay.”

“We still can't…Does your family doctor know about your pain?”

“I travel a lot. I don't have a family doctor.”

“But without a diagnosis …”

“I said I'm willing to pay.”

“Money's not the issue. We can't give X rays needlessly. If your pain's as severe as you indicate, you'd better come into the ward. Let me examine you.”

“Your name, please,” a young woman said.

Savage turned toward a civilian, who'd replaced the nurse at the counter.

“And the name of your insurance company.”

“I changed my mind,” Savage said.

The resident frowned. “You don't want to be examined?”

Savage shook his head. The resident's suspicious gaze bothered him. “I thought if I asked…My friend here was right. Be calm.”

“But something
is
wrong with you.”

“You're right about that. The question is
what.
Don't worry, though. I'll take your advice. I need a family doctor.”

15

The elderly physician, who had a gray mustache, wore suspenders, and didn't mind ordering full-body X rays for anyone willing to pay him five thousand dollars, came out of a door marked TECHNICIANS ONLY. Instead of sending his patients to one of the hospitals, he'd chosen a private facility called the Radiology Clinic. As he crossed the waiting room, Savage, Akira, and Rachel stood.

“Well?” Savage asked.

“The films are excellent. We won't need to take a second set. I've studied them carefully.”

Savage couldn't keep the anxiety out of his voice. “But what did you find?”

“You paid so handsomely to have your pictures taken, why don't you come along and see for yourselves?”

The doctor led them through the door. They quickly entered a dimly lit room. To the right was a counter with cupboards above and below. To the left was a wall upon which a row of X-ray films hung from clips, illuminated by fluorescent lights behind them.

Various skeletal segments were revealed in shades of gray.

“These are yours,” the doctor said, gesturing to Savage. “And these farther over are yours,” he told Akira.

They leaned toward the films. After thirty seconds, Akira shook his head and faced the doctor. “I don't know how to read them.”

“You asked me to determine how well your injuries had mended. My response is,
what
injuries?”

“Jesus,” Savage said. “I was right.”

“I'm not sure what you mean, but I'm sure of this.” The doctor traced a pencil along bones on the various films. “I'll save you the medical terminology. This is your upper right leg. Your lower. Your
left
leg, upper and lower. Right ribs. Left ribs. Various views of the skull.”

The doctor shifted toward Akira's X rays and used the pencil to draw attention to the images of his bones as well. “Completely intact. No sign of calcium deposits where the bones would have mended. Why would you tell me that
each
of you had suffered broken legs, broken arms, broken ribs, and a fractured skull, when
none
of those injuries obviously ever happened?”