Torn (29 page)

“NASA,”
Winslow
stated. “If you’ve been
doing it
for that long,
I jus
t
guessed you
worked
for NASA. Can I see it? I have never had a close
-
up look at a
space
ship.”

“A
. . .
”
Before Bobby could answer, Bruce cleared his throat to silence him.

“
The
transportation
i
s delicate,” Bruce aid. “Min
d if I call Dr. Reye about that?
”

“Go right
ahead
,”
Winslow
said.

“Dad,” Bo
bby whispered. “A
spaceship
?”

After
waving
off his son, Bruce walked to the bat phone.

Not that Bret knew what she was looking at
,
exactly. She had an idea, reflecting back to her grandmother being in the hospital with an infection.
It was nearly as bad.

Blain lay
in the hospital bed
,
which was tilted. Intravenous pumped
drugs and saline through him;
a vital signs monitor beeped every so often to announce that it worked.

His leg, swollen three times its size
,
was packed in ice.

He was not conscious.

A single knock on the open archway drew Bret’s attention from Blain.

“There you are,”
Darius
said,
slipping
through the curtain.

“They m
oved him quickly,” Bret said. “H
e went from t
he ER, to a room, to Intensive C
are in four hours.”

“Hmm.” Darius rubbed his chain. “Probably a precaution.”

“Then why didn’t they move him here right away?”

Darius shrugged.

“Four hours.”

“Speaking of which, i
t’s actually been five.” Darius looked at his watch.
“Ready to take off?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you ready to go? We lost a lot of time. We need to hit the road.”

“You can’t possibly be serious, can you? His vitals are low.
He’s
not responding.
Fever high. The d
octor was in here and said his white blood c
ount was astronomically and frighteningly low. I don’t know what that means, but still.”

“It means he has a toxin in his body. Infection. Maybe meningitis.”

“Uh!”

Darius winced.

“He’s dying.”

“
He’s
not dying.”

“He’s dying from a C
hi
huahu
a bite.”

Darius
snickered.

Bret
pointed a finger. “Stop it.”

“What, Bret?” Darius asked. “He’s in a hospital. Stabi
lized
. . .
”
he looked down to
Blain. “Sort of. In good hands.”

“Have you any compassion at all?”

“What do you want us to do?”

“I think we should stay until we know he’s stabilized, at the very least
until
his mother gets here tomorrow morning.”

Darius
sighed
out. “You realize everyone is going to the
drive
-
in tonight.”

Bret just stared at him and
blinked
.

“Not like we’d make it or anything.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“Fine. Fine.” Darius tossed out his hands. “I’ll get us a room. But the seco
nd he’s stable, w
e’re gone. I’ll
be back.”

Bret nodded
. A
fter Darius scuffed his feet on his way out, she turned to face the bed. Her hand rested on the railing. “Until you stabilize.” Her eyes shifted from the monitor back to Blain. “Why do I feel that’s not gonna happen?”

It was an institution in
Pittsburgh
. Originally, and not many people knew it, the drive
-
in showed
pornographic
films until the mid
-
eighties. But it was last of the breed and Colin actually debated on opening up his own drive
-
in one day.

One main screen and three small ones, a concession stand with adequate food, and a semi
-
clean bathroom. In the later years they added a
secondary
concession stand, but Colin always preferred to go to the main screen.

The kids were excited. He stopped for a Starbucks on the way there, got some chicken from the chicken place, and vowed to
buy
everything else there, e
specially the popcorn. When Andi suggested they pop some, Colin was adamant about saying no. There was nothing like the bad
popcorn
dripping with movie theater butter.
They
had to get the corn there.

Colin
didn’t think much ab
out it. Actually, when he was
waiting
in line to pull
up to the paying booth at the drive in, he
recognized
the man. He knew he saw him at Winslow’s house and often with
Winslow
. The late twenty-something man in a suit,
name
d
Guy,
had an ear
piece and looked like a CIA agent more than a drive
-
in security man.

He thought to himself as he approached and recognized him that, that was life. The poor young man had to moonlight at the drive in
-
to make extra money.

Colin waved a simple wave over the steering wheel, and Guy gave a nod.

“Know him?” Chuck asked.

“
He’s
a Winslow
security
employee.”

“
There
you have it,” Chuck said. “Rich guys don’t
pay their man anymore than any
one else. Probably less.”

“
Probably
,” Colin looked sideways at Chuck as he lit up. “You smoke like a chimney. How many packs a day to you go throu
gh?
”

Chuck shrugged. “Who knows?
Who cares.
I
t’s
not what’s gonna kill me anyhow.”

“Well, you’ll have to cut down. I can’t see the cigarette market surviving.”

Chuck fluttered his lips. “
I could buy
cartons
of
cartons
and my own tobacco plants.”

Colin snickered.

“Dr. Reye.” Andi tapped him on the shoulder. “Did you make the Winslow person mad?”

“No, why?” Colin replied.

Andi pointed. “
He’s
going to the booth
now and pointing to you.”

“Th
at he is. I wonder what’s up.” Co
lin pulled up to the booth. “Five please,” he told the lady.

“Sir, your tickets are taken care of.” She
pointed
to Guy.

“Wow. Thanks.” Colin smiled.
He raised his eyes to the mirror.
“Guess we
didn’t
piss him off. How nice of him.”

Pulling forward Guy asked him to stop.

Colin did and wound the window. “
Thank
you for the
tickets
.”

“You’re welcome,” Guy said. “M
r. Winslow paid for them. Pull
down to the third row. You can park anywhere there.”

“You mean the row
conveniently
empty with the barrage of
security
men?” Colin asked.

“Yes, sir. Mr. Winslow rented the
entire
row for tonight for you and your guests.”

“Wow, that’s remarkable. I’ll have to thank Mr. Winslow.”

“You also have an open account at the concession stand.”

Chuck whistled. “Now that’s sweet.”

Guy smiled. “
Have
a good evening.”

With a nod, Colin thanked him and drove forward. “How fortunate is this. An entire row. No annoying babies parked next to us. Call Bruce and tell him.”

“Got it.” Chuck pulled out his phone. “Man, Winslow likes you.”

“Yes, I do make that impression.”

“And free concession food.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’ll take full advantage of that.”

Chuck smiled as he dialed the phone, and Colin pulled down to
center o
f the
third
row.

They were the big drive
-in celebrities. People kept
staring at the people whose few cars took up the entire row.

Bobby used that to
h
is advantage
,
g
iving that flirty ‘up’ of his chin when a g
irl
walked by.

Chuck huffed when he saw him doing that. Munching on popcorn, he shook
h
is head as Bobby passed, and at Winslow who was in his wheelchair with a portable air conditioning unit by him.

“What is your problem?” Colin dipped into Chuck’s popcorn bag.

“How is Bobby go
i
ng to make it without a woman in the shelter
?
”

“I would say Bobby is trying to solve that problem.”

“How about
W
inslow with his air conditioning
?
”

“He wants to be cool,” Colin said.

“Unreal. People are pissed at us.”

“Why?”

“We too
k
the whole row.”

“
Nonsense
, they’re jealous.”

“It just doesn’t seem right,” Chuck said. “Not having
a
packed row.”

“Chuck.” Colin turned completely to him. ‘In the car you bitched because you
h
ated being packe
d
in. We aren’t packed in. You’re still bitching. Think of this as a pre
-
bonding
exercise
for the apocalypse.”

“I don’t know if I can get a
long with these people.
”

“Can you ge
t
a
long with anyone?”

“Not really,” Chuck shrugged.

“Then perhaps like Bobby who is on a mission to have a sex partner in the shelter, then you should be on a mission to learn to tolerate people.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it’s going to be tough enough
to keep your sanity with
out people driving you nuts.”
Colin reached toward the bag.

“I’m not worried about it,
because
I don’t plan on making it to that phase. I want a hot dog
.
” Chuck walked away.

Mid
-
reach for popcorn
,
Colin grabbed air. But he also realized he grabbed on to something else
, t
he possibility that perhaps Chuck was on a different agenda.

Darius grunted.

Bret moaned.

Each time he cried out, s
he called out some
explicit
word. Back and forth.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Bret cheered with excitement.

“N
o,
no, I…have to get.
…” grunt. “Fuck.” Darius blurted in frustration.

“Well, you didn’t have to throw the controller,” Bret reached for the game control.

“I didn’t throw it. I dropped it
hard in my frustration. I
thought
I was going to finish that level.”

“I did, too.”

“But you’re g
l
ad I didn’t.”