Chapter 17 #3
“Lu, Jan, go downstairs with Ramsey and wait for me. I’ll be right behind you,” Keisha says with a soft smile. When they’ve left the room, she grips Nurse Patrick’s uninjured hand. Tears spring to her eyes, and I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen her cry real tears.
“Thank you,” she whispers to him.
He nods and forces a smile. “You’ve grown up so much, Keisha. You have a good heart, kid. Listen to it. You’ll know what to do.”
Keisha lets go of his hand and turns to leave. The interaction is brief, but I can tell it’s filled with meaning for both of them. On her way out the door, Keisha’s eyes meet mine.
“Don’t let him suffer, Quinn,” she begs in a whisper.
“I promise.”
When the two of us are alone, Nurse Patrick gets down to business.
“We can’t wait. I will not be a burden to you girls, and I can’t become one of them. I need you to end this. Please.”
“We have time, though. How long did it take Ms. Michelle to turn? You could have another day to—”
“It has to be now,” he says, cutting me off, determined.
I’m impressed. I didn’t expect him to be so rational about this.
I don’t want Nurse Patrick to die. I’m pretty sure we owe our survival to him a few times over, and I actually like having him around.
The truth is staring me in the face, though.
His time is up. He’s already turning a pale shade of gray. He’s right. We shouldn’t wait.
“I get it. I can do it.”
He sighs. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t waste a moment. He pulls several pill bottles from his pocket with his good hand and pushes them toward me.
“Here. You’ll need these for January and Lucia. Do you remember what I told you about how to administer them?”
“One of each, twice a day, with food.”
“Right. Here, take this,” he says, removing his watch. “It’ll beep twice a day to remind you. It’s waterproof.”
I nod and fasten the watch around my wrist. It hangs heavy and loose.
“Most pharmacies will have these meds. You need to find more soon. Quinn, I know what you’re thinking about January. Please try to remember that her life has meaning too. She has hopes and dreams just like you. Be patient with her.”
“Okay,” I say, to appease him.
“Okay. Can we go down to the river? I think the water would be a nice place to rest.”
“Okay,” I repeat solemnly.
This doesn’t feel good. I don’t feel that tingle of excitement. I don’t want to do this. But if not me, who?
When we step outside, the sun is bright and high in the sky. I can hear January chattering endlessly to her new friend Ramsey. The birds chirp, and the breeze makes the summer weather feel tolerable. It all feels too bright and cheery for what’s about to happen.
When we get to the riverbank, Nurse Patrick sits down, pulls off his boots and socks and dips his toes into the water. He looks out at the scene, and a smile touches his lips. “This is okay,” he says. “Can you make it fast?”
I nod.
“And you’ll make sure I don’t come back?”
A strange lump forms in my throat. I nod again.
“Can you make sure they get a chance to say goodbye before you send me downriver?”
“Of course,” I say, my eyes on the hard-packed dirt under my feet.
“Okay. I’m ready.” He breathes out and closes his eyes.
“Nurse Patrick?”
“Yeah, Quinn?”
“I’m glad you came with us.”
“Thanks, kid.”
He gives me a final elbow tap, then closes his eyes again, letting the river flow over his feet.
I put down my machete and take the smaller hunting knife from my belt. Its lightness feels shocking after carrying the machete for so long, but somehow it still weighs heavily in my hand.
I walk behind him and get myself into position, placing my left hand on his shoulder to steady myself. He reaches up and touches my hand in a tender gesture. It shocks me, and I almost pull my hand back, but instead, I squeeze his shoulder. He squeezes back.
In my mind, I count to three. One…aim the knife at the base of the skull.
Two…place the blade at an upward angle. Three…
plunge it in quickly. The blade slides through the soft skin of his neck, then catches on bone before finally finding its way to his brain stem.
Just like that, his body goes slack. Nurse Patrick’s hand falls from its grip on mine, and he slumps to the hard ground.
I move the knife back and forth, making sure there’s nothing left of him to return.
Warm blood covers my hand and my knife. I kneel down and let the river wash it away.
I look at Nurse Patrick’s crumpled body and the pool of blood near his head. I straighten his legs and place his hands on his chest. I kick fresh dirt over the pool of blood. This is as good as it gets.
For the first time, I wonder how old he is.
Was. I guess thirty-five. I glance down at his ring finger and find it empty.
For a moment, I wonder if he had any children but quickly decide he didn’t.
He wouldn’t have left Peoria without them.
Still, I wish I had asked. He must have dedicated his entire life to working at the Pegasus Center with us.
A profound sadness comes over me, and the emotion feels as ill-fitting as the watch hanging from my wrist.
I take one more look at Nurse Patrick’s body, then turn and walk toward the parking lot to get the others.