Haze Read online

Its windows were completely dark. There was no way to see who was driving or whether the vehicle carried anyone –alive or dead- within. Several journalists noticed the vehicle’s arrival. They surrounded it.

  Three police men pushed the crowd aside, creating several feet of free space. It was enough to allow the hearse access to the Station’s rear entry.

  All at once the mob froze. Their incessant droning stopped. They stood in place like pale statues, no longer an active part of this scene.

  From somewhere behind the station emerged three paramedics. One of them held the Station’s rear door open while the other two wheeled a stretcher to the hearse. On top of the stretcher and covered with a pristine white blanket was a corpse.

  As the paramedics dragged the stretcher to the hearse, a red spot appeared over the corpse’s chest. With each step the paramedics took, the bloody splotch grew. The journalists’ droning started up again and built into a maddening screech. Blood dripped down the side of the once white sheet and onto the snow. By the time the paramedics reached the hearse, the sheet was covered in blood.

  The paramedics rolled the stretcher and corpse into the back of the hearse and closed the door before returning to the station. The hearse inched forward.

  The journalists surrounded the vehicle and, despite the police officers’ pleas, pushed ever closer. The hearse continued inching forward. As it did, it left behind a trail of blood. The corpse was still bleeding.

  I followed the line of blood back to the rear of the Police Station. From there, a new trail of blood appeared. This one was a dull red, as if it were dry. This trail lead out of town and continued for miles, curving up and up and toward that angry black mountain.

  No, the mountain was not black. In the dull light of evening, I realized it was covered in that old blood.

  The journalists scattered in all directions. Some followed the hearse while others returned to the Station. They trampled over the old and new blood, splattering and tracking it all over the snow. Their unintelligible questions grew louder and louder, until I could no longer take them.

  I screamed for them to stop, but they wouldn’t. I pressed my hands against my ears and my nose bled. Drops fell to the ground and mixed with the corpse’s blood. The whole world was spinning. I dropped to my knees and screamed in agony...

  …and then there was complete silence.

  After a few seconds of calm, I opened my eyes. The parking lot and entrance to the police station, with the exception of a trio of parked cars, was deserted. A light snow fell over the area, as if to fill the vacuum left by the reporters’ disappearance. It covered all the blood, even mine.

  The Police Station was dark and deserted. I turned and walked to the parked cars. Two of them were police vehicles, the other a dark colored sport utility truck. For some reason, it was familiar. I turned away from the SUV and once again gazed at the Station’s entrance. A lone figure was standing there.

  He was lean and had sunken, melancholy eyes. A cast as white as the snow covered his lower left leg.

  I recognized him instantly, for I was looking at myself.

  And yet it wasn't me. He was so much older. He stared in my direction and opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something. But he couldn’t. Instead, a calm and forceful woman’s voice spoke. She said:

  "What are you doing here?"

  CHAPTER THREE

  When I opened my eyes, a minute or a lifetime later, a gaunt young man stood at my side. Officer Bates was gone. The man held my right hand in his and was taking my pulse.

  “How do you feel?” he asked when he realized I was awake.

  “Not too bad,” I said. My mouth felt like it was buried beneath a ton of sand.

  “Do you remember me?” he said.

  “No.”

  “I’m Doctor Jones, your attending physician,” he said.

  “What?”

  The male Dr. Carter smiled, as if reading my mind.

  “No Mr. Towne, you’re not going crazy,” he said. “I’m not the same Dr. Carter who you spoke with a couple of hours ago.”

  “Your wife?”

  “She would be delighted to hear that,” he said between well-rehearsed laughs. I suspected this was a conversation he had engaged in many times before. “No, Mr. Towne, she’s my mother.”

  I nodded and shut my mouth. It remained that way while he finished taking my vitals. When he was done, he sat in the chair beside the bed and jotted his notes.

  "How am I doing?"

  "You were suffering from severe dehydration, a high fever, and blood loss."

  "Sounds like a typical Friday night.”

  Dr. Carter let out a polite laugh. “We’ve got you on intravenous fluids, which have eased the dehydration. As for the fever, it’s comes and goes, but we’re keeping it in check with nothing stronger than over the counter aspirin. We’re also administering antibiotics. You were quite sick, Mr. Towne, and well on your way to developing pneumonia.”

  “Great.”

  “We’ll get you back on your feet again,” Dr. Carter offered. “As for your blood loss, that’ll require plenty of rest. You shouldn’t need a transfusion or anything quite so drastic.”

  “How long?”

  “Given all you’ve been through, we expect a full recovery in a few days. However, I have to ask: Why didn’t you see a Doctor sooner?"

  "I did."

  “Oh?”

  “You wouldn’t be related to Officer Bates, would you?”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind,” I said. “You haven’t gotten in touch with Doctor Dixon?”

  “Who’s that?”

  “My—” I said, and stopped. Dr. Carter opened my chart.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said as he read through the pages. “I remember now. My mother made a note about this Doctor Dixon. Your personal physician, right?”

  “He’s the guy I went to before all this.”

  “Huh. She tried to contact the Doctor. No luck.”

  “He isn’t listed in the phone book?”

  “You would think so,” Dr. Carter said. “You wouldn’t happen to have his number, would you?”

  “My sister took me to see him for the first and only time last week.”

  “Could she provide his number?”

  “I guess.”

  “All right, have her do so,” Dr. Carter said. “That’s enough for now. You should get some more rest.”

  I nodded. Dr. Carter rose from his chair and exited the room. After a few minutes, I once again drifted off to sleep.

  When I woke up, Jennifer sat beside the bed in the very same spot the two Dr. Carters and Officer Dixon had been in. She held a copy of the latest issue of Cosmo. The cover blurb promised to “Spice-Up Your Sex Life in 10 Easy Steps!”

  "Catching up on the classics?" I said.

  She laid the magazine down. Even when doing the simple things, her movements were smooth and graceful.

  “Not all of us are attracted to the wit and wisdom of comic books.” she replied.

  I smiled. “Ouch.”

  Jennifer examined me as if I was a particularly unimpressive blind date.

  "You look like hell."

  "That’s what all the women say.”

  A sad little smile appeared on her face. After a second, it flickered and faded away.

  “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “I shouldn’t have gone to work. It was a stupid thing to do. How did you find out?”

  “You left a message on my answering machine.”

  Yet another item to add to the list of things I couldn’t remember doing. If this kept up, I’d start questioning my sanity.

  “How are you?”

  “Not too bad,” I said.

  A frown appeared on her forehead.

  “I’m going to have a talk with Dr. Dixon when this is over.”

  I smiled. Just like Jennifer to fight for her little brother.

  “What else have you heard?”

  “Only that th
e nurses expect you to stay here for a couple more days. Once the antibiotics kick in and your fever is under control, you’ll be a free man.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “Did Lillian come by?”

  Jennifer shook her head.

  “I thought she didn’t want to see you again.”

  “Guess so,” I muttered.

  For the next couple of hours, I faded in and out of sleep. Whenever I was up, I felt uneasy. I had never slept so much in my entire life. At some point Jennifer left the room, hopefully to return home and the real world.

  It was just as well, I was lousy company.

  The next morning one of the hospital volunteers, a lady that didn’t look a day over ninety, wheeled in a cart loaded with the latest sampling of beat up magazines. She gave me a few seconds to look them over and pick out a few and promised to return later in the day to bring me more, should I need them.

  I thanked her for her kindness and watched her shuffle off. Somewhere in the darkest corners of my mind I wondered why she was ambulatory and I was not.

  A little later it started raining. Despite the bright fluorescent lights, the room felt dark and oppressive. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening reading through the magazines or watching television or sleeping. The old lady never returned.

  After supper, one of the nurses encouraged me to start taking short walks. I was happy to oblige, though doing so turned out harder than I thought.

  The first time I put my feet to the ground they felt like they were made of rubber. It took a while to build up my strength and finally take just a couple of steps. A few hours later I was in the hallway and journeying closer and closer to the elevators. I was tempted to make a break for freedom. If I were a little braver –or crazier- I just might have.

  It was during the last of these walks that Ted McTeer, my boss, exited the elevator and stepped into the hallway. He was wearing a dull gray suit and a bright red tie, his idea of high fashion. In his hand was a familiar looking black briefcase. When I saw him, I thought I had lost my mind.

  Surely he wasn’t here to see me?

  Mr. McTeer stopped in front of the elevator and looked around. He was unsure of where to go. I stood only a few feet away from him, but he didn’t notice me. A patient in a hospital gown in the middle of a hospital hallway is like a soldier in camouflage standing in the middle of a forest. Unless you were really looking, you were part of the scenery.

  “Mr. McTeer?” I called out.

  The boss turned my way and straightened up. He was surprised to see me standing so very close by. The surprise faded and was replaced by a typical crooked little smile. He came over and extended his right hand as he had done so many times before for his clients. His handshake was vigorous and strong and more than a little intimidating.

  “I was driving by and,” he paused, letting the thought die an uncomfortable death. Switching gears, he released my hand and surveyed me as if inspecting damaged goods. “How are you doing?” It was the question of the day.

  “Not too bad,” I said. “Rather be at work than here.”

  “We miss you too.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Hey, I brought you your briefcase. You left it in your cubicle.”

  He handed it to me.

  “We were real worried about you, especially after—”

  Once again McTeer paused. Yet another thought left unspoken. The whole thing seemed like a dream. My boss was no hard ass, but neither had he shown much concern about the welfare of those that worked under him. Then again, this was a unique situation...

  Of course.

  What concerned McTeer was the bloody mess I left behind in his company’s restroom. How did it happen? Was the company negligent? Even more importantly: Were they responsible?

  No. I would have been happy to let McTeer off the hook, but it was difficult to broach the subject without sounding like a fool or worse. Instead, we made small talk and walked back to my room. McTeer stopped just inside the door while I crawled into bed. I laid the briefcase on the night table and motioned to the chair.

  “Please, have a seat.”

  “Only for a moment or two. There are things to do.”

  “Of course.”

  “What have the Doctors told you?” McTeer inquired.

  I pulled the sheets over my legs.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “Just in the past few hours I’ve gone from barely standing to walking the entire hallway. Maybe tomorrow I’ll hit the treadmill and run laps.”

  “When will you be released?”

  I thought about that for a second and said:

  “I should be back at work by—”

  McTeer raised his hands.

  “Take it easy. There’s no rush. Last thing we need is for you to come back before you’re ready.”

  Like the last time.

  “Sure,” I said. There was no point in arguing. “I’m sorry about the bathroom. They told me I left it in really bad shape. All I remember was getting a terrible nose bleed. I suppose that’s what knocked me out.”

  There, I said it. You guys weren’t responsible.

  McTeer nodded. The tension in his body eased just a little.

  “Hanson –you know, the guy in accounting- was the first to notice the blood,” McTeer said. “It was on the floor in the hallway, leading to the bathroom. I can’t imagine what he was thinking. He was scared.”

  McTeer let out a chuckle.

  “It didn’t stop him from opening the bathroom door,” McTeer continued. “When he did, and he saw all that blood on the floor, the walls, and in the sink...He freaked out. ‘Someone’s been killed!’ he yelled. He was out of breath and halfway out of his mind when he reached the reception desk. By then, the rest of the staff was out of their offices and in the hallway.”

  “Someone, who knows who, called 911. Mr. Michaels was paged. He ordered the building evacuated.”

  “The whole building?”

  McTeer nodded. “For all he knew, there was at least one victim, perhaps more. Maybe, we thought, the killer was still around, searching for another.”

  “Christ.”

  “When the cops arrived, they cordoned the place off and had us wait in the parking lot. We were processed one by one as they searched the whole place over. An entire day’s work went down the drain.”

  I let out a breath. How much money did the company lose on that one day?

  “I’m so sorry—”

  McTeer shrugged.

  “Of course, they didn’t find any bodies or crazed killers,” McTeer continued. “By the time the news crews showed up, we knew you were the only missing person. At about that same time word came that they found you in this hospital’s parking lot. The news crews had what turned out to be a minor story and the police departed. Mr. Michaels told the staff to go home.”

  “I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” McTeer said. He rose from his seat and walked to the window. He opened the shade and revealed a green treetop. Above it was a dark orange sky. McTeer was quiet for a few seconds before saying:

  “We’ve gone over your records. You’ve got two more weeks of sick leave and one week of vacation time available. We want you to take it all. Three weeks.”

  I counted the total absences.

  “I’ll be out of work for a little over a month,” I said. Apart from maternity leave, no one at the company ever took that much time off. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This isn’t about you and what happened,” McTeer said. “The boys in Houston finished their year’s end assessment of our branch and programming staff. They’re talking about belt tightening.”

  “Layoffs?”

  McTeer didn’t answer.

  “Am I going to be laid off?” I said.

  McTeer shrugged.

  “I don’t know. Things aren’t clicking into place like they were even a month ago. You know
how it is. One day you’re eating filet mignon and the next you’re wondering if you can afford fries with your burger.” McTeer straightened his tie. “The boys in Houston are worried about the next quarter. What happened the other day didn’t help matters much. I’m going out there in a week, to show them the big picture.”

  This was my boss’s favorite saying. He talked about it often, as if he invented the idea. While everyone else focused on the individual details of their individual jobs, he focused on the company’s performance as a whole. His idea of the “big picture”.

  “I’ve been working on some new initiatives. They should give Houston reason to keep us going through year’s end and, hopefully, far beyond. When they approve my plans, we should be fine.”

  “Meanwhile, I need to stay far away.”

  The lines on McTeer’s face tightened.

  “We’re not punishing you,” he said. “But at this point, the last thing we need is a distraction or, god forbid, something worse.”

  McTeer stepped away from the window and returned to the chair. He didn’t sit down. “Take the full time off. Come back healthy.”

  “But—”

  “I want you back, Robert,” he insisted. “Even more importantly, I want you back healthy. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.”

  “So we’ll see you in three weeks, right?”

  “Right.”

  Mr. McTeer reached out and again shook my hand. This time, his grip wasn’t quite as strong. “I’m fighting for all of us. I’ll make sure there’ll be plenty of work waiting for you when you come back.”

  I nodded but held back on any enthusiasm. McTeer wasn’t lying, at least not outright. He would go to Houston and he would put up a fight. He might even convince himself he was fighting for all of us. The reality, of course, was that whatever fight he put up was ultimately for his job. If he saved the rest of us, that would be great, too.

  But there would be belt tightening, and at this moment, the most expendable member of this team was the one who wasn’t actually working.

  Mr. McTeer gave me a final pat on the shoulder and exited the room.

  I watched in silence as he left. He wasn’t the only person capable of seeing the big picture.