The Ups and Downs of Being Dead (39 page)

The morning dragged on, through talk shows, and then game
shows. Right after lunch, one of the men heaved himself out of his seat and
shuffled toward the waste chute to throw away his lunch glass. His left arm dangled
uselessly at his side.

He jerked, and made a hiccupping sound. His left leg buckled
and he made an awkward turn to try and catch himself with his right hand. The
cup in his hand crunched against a chair back, dribbling the last dregs onto
the fabric. The man tumbled sideways to the floor. His head hit the tile with a
sharp crack.

Immediately, Robbie was on his feet.

“Frankie!”

Two other men nearby scrabbled out of their chairs. A man
across the room called out, “What happened? What’s going on?”

With the help of his cane, Robbie lowered himself down onto
his good knee. He pressed two fingers against Frank’s neck.

Others from the group gathered around, their faces pensive
and fearful.

Robbie blew out a breath of relief. “He’s alive. I guess he
tripped.”

He made a feeble attempt to make Frank comfortable by
straightening out his leg, and pushing his arms against his sides. He brushed a
wisp of thin white hair back into place on the side of Frank’s head.

“Come on, buddy,” Robbie whispered. “Stay with me.”

One of the other inmates shuffled over to a small box on the
wall, like a fire alarm. He slid open a small window and pressed a red call
button that was marked “For Emergency Use ONLY.”

Robbie sat in the chair Frank had grabbed to break his fall.
He glanced down, still hoping for movement three hours after his friend had
fallen. Frank was sprawled in the same position.

Scratching nervously at his forehead, Robbie closed his
eyes, like he was trying to come up with a plan. His good leg bobbed
spastically. His mouth quivered, the wrinkles around his lips expanding and
contracting. Then he opened his eyes and looked out the window on the far side
of the room like he was waiting for someone.

The television blared on, but Robert could see that no one
in the room was concentrating on yet another game show. From time to time,
someone would stand to get a look at Frank on the floor, or he’d call over to
Robbie, “Any change?”

By the time two EMTs rolled a stretcher into the room,
Robert was sure Frank was dead. One of the techs knelt down and checked his
pulse. He shook his head.

“Anybody know what happened here?” he asked.

“He fell,” Robbie said. “Bumped his head.”

As though to confirm, the tech slipped a hand under Frank’s
head and felt.

“Yep. He’s got a big knot back here.”

Robert wondered if they would bother with an autopsy, or
just list the cause of death as ‘a big knot’.

After they left, Robbie sat hunched in his chair, his
arthritic hands fisted together at his face. He chewed at the tip of his thumb
as he rocked slowly. His good eye pooled with tears.

When the dinner bell rang, Robbie stayed in his chair. One
of the other men brought Robbie’s drink to him, but he refused to take it.

And when he lay in his bed that night, his left hand dug
into his thigh, massaging the old wound. His head thrashed from side to side
fitfully.

Somewhere in the dark, a man called to Robbie.

“Let it go, man. Nothing you could have done.”

“That’s right, Robbie. You got to get your head on straight
again.”

But Robert understood the significance of losing Frankie. He
was Robbie’s greatest achievement. A friend who had been his worst enemy.

After taking a couple deep breaths, Robbie began his humming
chant. It was a relaxation technique he had learned years before.

* * *

The June meeting was in Chicago. Robert stood next to
Suzanne in a back corner of the executive lounge at O’Hare International,
complaining to Maggie.

“There’s no kind of medical attention whatsoever,” he said.
“All those guys are just left there to die.”

Joe shook his head as he listened.

“I gathered that from what I’ve heard,” she said. “They’re
on some kind of ‘do not resuscitate’ list, too. I guess the government feels
they’ve been gracious enough to let our remaining prisoners live.”

“My god,” Robert said, “They’re just a bunch of sick old
men. They have no human contact with the outside world.”

“Sounds like something out of a book I read years ago when
writers were trying to warn us about the future,” Maggie said.

She started to say more, then nodded for Robert to look
behind him. Sam was making his way from group to group.

“I’ve never seen him so depressed,” she said. “This memory
business has hit him pretty hard.”

“I can imagine,” Suzanne said. “He spent so much time in
class. He must feel its all been a big waste.”

Sam tried to smile when he spotted their little group, but
it didn’t alter his sorrowful eyes, or his furrowed brow.

“Hi, everybody,” he said with a sigh.

“You need to get away from the center,” Maggie scolded. “Is
this the first you’ve been outside the building?”

He gave her a sheepish shrug.

“Why don’t you come with the four of us?” she said. “We’re
taking the train across Canada all the way to the Rockies.”

“Canada, huh? I haven’t done that in a while.”

“Yes, Sam. Please come with us,” Suzanne encouraged.

“Are you speaking at the meeting today?” Robert asked him.

“No. What’s the point?”

“We’d still like to know how the reanimations are coming,”
Maggie said.

“Then watch the news,” Sam grumbled.

“Surely you have something good to report,” she said.

As much as Sam wanted to wallow in his grief, that basic
need to document and report findings rose to the surface.

“Well, I did go out to the facility where the clones are
growing. I looked us all up.”

“Really,” Maggie said, encouraging Sam to continue. “How did
I look?”

“We’re still in adolescent stage, but you looked pretty.”

He stood quietly for a long time, his head bobbing, like he
was getting it all straight in his mind. Then he turned to Robert.

“They pulled your DNA from your body. They’ve decided it
will be easier to grow clones even for the whole body preservations. You were
pretty ugly as a kid.”

Maggie snorted.

“Hey!” Robert protested. “My mama always told me I had
unique features.”

Suzanne gave his cheek a little tweak. It was worth taking a
ribbing from Sam, just to see the smile on his face.

“So,” Robert leaned closer to Sam, “Did you see Madeline
Wingate? Is she already a double D?”

“Oh-ho!” Sam hooted. “The techs had to extend the glass.”

It felt good to laugh again. They’d all been depressed ever
since Tanya Kettering came back with no memory of her time in limbo. Even
subsequent patients had no recollection of the temps, so Maggie’s theory that
something might not have been connected properly was a wash.

And then Robert had spent those days with Robbie, which just
added to his depression.

“Here’s an interesting tidbit,” Sam said. “The news has made
such a big deal about us coming back, that the center has gotten a few
squatters.”

“What?” Robert asked.

“Dead people have been hanging around the reanimation suite,
hoping they can jump into a body before the rightful owner does.”

“You’re kidding!” Maggie chortled. “Has anyone been
successful?”

“No. They get booted out immediately. But you’ve got to
admire people for their ingenuity.”

Later that night, after the meeting, Robert curled up behind
Suzanne on the bed in their hotel room.

“That was pretty crazy, what Sam said about squatters trying
to hijack bodies at the center.”

“People never cease to amaze me,” she said.

“At first, when he told us, I got so excited. I thought all
our problems were over.”

“Why?”

“Because of Maggie. She doesn’t want to come back, either.
She wants to stay with Joe.”

Suzanne quickly flipped over to face Robert. Her eyes glowed
with excitement.

“But it won’t work,” he said. “So don’t get your hopes up.”

She moaned and buried her face in his chest. “Because I’d
come back as Maggie, not me.”

“Yeah. And I don’t care how pretty Sam says she looks. I’m
not going there.”

* * *

Early in their excursion to Canada, Robert and Maggie
resolved to make the most of the time they had left. There was no point making
Joe and Suzanne miserable. And Sam definitely needed cheering up.

“One thing I am going to do though,” he told them all as
they sat high up in the glass-domed train, viewing the fields of Saskatchewan
growing lush with crops. “I’m going back to Virginia and get to know Robbie.

“You already know all about Robbie,” Suzanne said.

“No, I mean get inside his head. I’ve been watching him for
years. But I think it’s time I told him I’m proud of what he’s doing.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Robert,” Maggie said. “I’m proud
of how you’ve changed your attitude toward Robbie.”

“He’s probably not going to live much longer,” Robert said.
“I want him to see the new me before he dies.”

“Just be careful when you pop into his head,” Maggie warned.
“He might not be too receptive. Don’t push it.”

“Yeah, especially if he thinks you’re the Robert we first
met all those years ago,” Sam added.

True to his word, as soon as Robert and Suzanne returned
from Canada, he went back to the retirement home to see his son.

Before he left, he and Suzanne had discussed the best way to
get things started. Robert had even kidded about breathing heavily like Darth
Vader when he said, “Robbie, I am your father.”

But now that he was standing behind Robbie, he wondered if
his son would be glad to see him or not.

He slipped into Robbie’s head, and got hit with a jolt of
pain that felt like someone had slugged him with a ball bat. His left leg
throbbed with stabbing pain that radiated all the way up his chest. And
Robbie’s back ached because he sat so rigid, tensed against the pain. Even the
joints in his fingers seemed to pulse.

Because he could breathe now, Robert inhaled deeply several
times to get on top of the intensity.

“You okay, Robbie?” one of the other men asked.

That’s when Robert realized he’d been rocking as he breathed
and Robbie was, too.

“Yeah,” Robbie said, shaking his head against the
disorientation. “I just—” Robbie stood, and placing a hand in the small of his
back, he straightened slightly.

“Your back hurtin’ you again?” the man in the next chair
asked.

“No.” Robbie bent a little. “It’s not hurting much at all.”

Robert decided to take a chance. He whispered, “Let’s take a
walk.”

Robbie jerked around like someone had snuck up behind him.
“What the fuck?”

“You okay, Robbie?” the man asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, scratching his head. He looked
behind once more, then said, “I’m going to take a walk.”

He shuffled out of the living area and headed toward the
lobby.

“Robbie,” Robert said, “Don’t freak out. This is dad.”

His son twisted so violently that he lost his balance and
had to stagger a short step to the wall for support. Robert was immediately
expelled. He waited for a moment as Robbie searched the lobby, and down the
hall.

“What the hell?” he muttered as he rubbed his temple.

Robert popped back in. “I’m inside your head—”

“Frankie?”

“No, it’s dad.”

Robbie forced him out again. “This is bullshit.”

He actually knocked on his skull with his knuckles.

This was tougher than Robert had imagined. Usually, he
struggled to remain undetected, but trying to establish his presence was
beginning to look impossible.

Popping back in, he said. “My body was frozen. But I’m still
around.”

Robbie stiffened, his eyes darting once again around the
lobby. Then he slumped further into the wall. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. I saw your friend Frankie die last spring. I’m sorry
about that.”

“Yeah, well you and Rachel are the only ones who give a
shit.”

“Why did it take so long for the paramedics to respond?”
Robert asked.

“Because they’re not supposed to do anything to prolong our
lives. We’re supposed to shrivel up and die in here. The sooner the better.”

“Is that why you don’t get any pain relievers?”

Robbie snorted. “I don’t need any more drugs, dad. I’ve
learned how to control the pain with my mind.”

Robert was tempted to debate how well that control was
working, but he let it go. Instead, he said, “Good for you.”

That seemed to irritate Robbie. He pushed off the wall and
started back for the living area. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Such a direct question caught Robert off guard. “I came to
see you.”

“Yeah? Did you come see me in prison, too? Were you there
the day my leg got sliced open? Did you get your jollies watching me take it in
the ass for a fix?”

“Robbie—”

Robert found himself back in the hallway, with Robbie
shuffling on ahead.

His son sat in one of the chairs, but after only a few
minutes, he was on his feet again. He paced along the back of the room, his
cane coming down hard on the tile floor each time. At the window, he stared out
across a vacant field. Then he banged his head against the glass.

“You okay, Robbie?” a man asked.

Wearily, Robbie straightened. “Yeah, I just kind of lost it
there for a minute.”

He shuffled back across the room. This time his cane didn’t
crack with anger.

Out in the hallway, he asked, “Are you still here?”

Robert popped back in. “Yeah.”