Goodness, KK, Ben, Leo, and Woofard depart the bowling alley on their errand. Ingar is staying at the bowling alley, having somewhat therapeutic conversations with Harvey and possibly other people. No walkie with Ingar. Dr Barrett also packs up and leaves.
Harvey and Ingar amuse themselves with a few games though Harvey discovers fairly quickly that he tires easily due to the bump to the noggin.
Ingar, who still wobbles around stiff-leggedly, insist on going somewhere private to change his footwear. After putting on some bowling shoes sized "disproportion eight feet tall hulk" (one of the hidden benefits of living in Al-Amarja is finding shoes of his size), he wobbles along with Harvey to a fairly functional aisle.
Ingar is somewhat deficient in the fine art of bowling, and his first attempt involves throwing the ball all the way to the skittles. After realizing his error he apologizes profusely to Chris.
In general, bowling has rarely looked as much like a game of marbles as when Ingar played it, he sends the ball down the aisle with a flick of his wrist. The astute observer would note that Ingar's bowling balls did not move in a straight path, rather making small skips and curves along the way. Despite being the player capable of tearing the other player's arms off their sockets, he tries to let the dermatologist win. As Ingar sees the doctor grow tired, he suggests that they sit down and have a cup of coffee.
All the time, Ingar chats, seemingly off-handedly, with Harvey, trying to ease him into acceptance of the reality of Al-Amarja, which he himself has resigned himself to. Even more importantly, he sneaks a fair bit of crisis psychology intervention into the dialogue. He also compliments the dermatologist on his brave and humane actions, which he truly and honestly admires.
Ingar remembers to catch his breath, at least some of the time.
Harvey enjoys the game of bowling, its the first normal thing he's done in quite some time and Ingar seems a relaxing guy to be around. He finds the strange curving of the ball when thrown by Ingar curious at first, and soon realises that Ingar could probably just throw the ball at the skittles every time, but its a pleasant way to pass the time nonetheless.
Harvey finds himself increasingly relaxed as time passes, its as if somehow talking with Ingar is helping to relieve some of the tensions he's experienced recently, helping to reconcile him with the wierdness on the island.
Sam and Marda lie around mending, and Chris busies himself cleaning up after the imprompteau party. About an hour goes past as people do various things, engage in small talk, or just rest - taking the opportunity to catch their collective breaths after such a busy day.
Harvey is sitting back after the game, relaxed and fairly cheerful, asking Ingar "So, are you a professionally trained psychologist or have you just had a lot of practice? I can see there must be a lot of need for your skills hereabou..."
The relaxation is shattered by the sound of a slamming car door out in the parking lot, followed by the squeal of tires. Whoever is now pulling out (or rather roaring out) of the bowling alley parking lot apparently pulled in pretty quietly. Ingar hefts a bowling ball which he has been fingering, holding it like a throwing weapon, then he looks guiltily down at the ball and sheepishly tosses it away.
Harvey breaks off mid-sentence, "It never really winds down hereabouts, does it?" he asks in a resigned fashion.
Sam, still a bit peeved that his attempts to join the crowd as Sad Mary's was fustrated, looks around for a listening ear. Not seeing anyone but Marda, he yells: "CAN SOMEONE GET ME SOME FREAK'N CLOTHES? THERE'S GOTTA BE A DANG THRIFT SHOP AROUND HERE SOMEWHERE." He obviously purchased his other clothes at one.
He stands up and hobbles over to a window and tries to see what all the interest in the parking lot seems to be.
Chris shakes his head at the new damage. He then walks up to the windows to see what the noise was about.
Sam staggers to his feet, feeling his stitches stretch uncomfortably as he does so, and waddles over in the direction of the doors (noting in the process that he is mooning the inside of the bowling alley since his butt is hanging out of the hospital gown). Only a few seconds behind him, Chris joins him at the door.
Sam gets to the doorway just in time to catch the wink of taillights as a vehicle shoots off into traffic, though he doesn't get a good look at the vehicle itself. As Chris moves up to join him, the pair can see that there is a small, crumpled form lying in the parking lot.
Sam looks over at Chris who stands next to him. Trying to pull his hospital gown together he says, "You some kinda queer or someth'n?" Looking out into the parking lot, Mr. Dart wishes he could have gotten the plate number. Shrugging he starts moving back to his bed. "Looks like more trash for the city dump."
Chris assumes it is another "guest". He takes out his knife and moves through the doors. He will look first then touch if it seems safe.
"Ok funny boy, go ahead but don't expect any help from me." Sam starts snooping around the bowling alley looking for workers uniforms, maintenance overhalls, goodies in the lost and found box, clothes anyone may have left laying around, etc...
Ingar, after ascertaining that the bowling ball did not hurt anything organic, totters over to the door to join the two men. Should they reflect on the matter, all within the bowling alley would probably be grateful for being mooned by Sam rather than by Dr. Forn, considering that his face is less appealing than your average anus.
As Ingar totters towards the door, Sam totters away from it and begins wandering the bowling alley in search of clothing. Chris draws a rather effective looking knife from the recesses of his clothing, and steps out into the parking lot. Ingar steps to the doors and looks out in time to see the small, crumpled form lying out there move slightly.
Chris draws his knife and slides out into the parking lot, putting his back to the wall for a moment as his eyes scan the scene. There is still a big chunk of building lying in the middle of the parking lot, though it has pretty much burned itself out by now. The lights are back on all over the neighborhood, and the Kanga Burger across the street seems to be doing brisk business. Traffic is heavy on the street out front, but not heavy enough that it is slowed or stalled, and various vehicles go shooting by at great speed. Cautiously, Chris approaches the crumpled form lying on the asphalt.
The form lying on the pavement is apparently that of a young child - a girl of around six judging from the clothes and size. As Chris approaches she moves slightly. As he gets close Chris can smell blood.
Chris reaches out with his off hand to gently pull back some of the cloth to get a better look.
From a distance, Ingar looks down on the small figure, his mouth half open, displaying the long and uneven teeth which are deeply incongruous with his infinitely sad eyes. Somehow his aberrant physique makes his puppy gaze even more heartbreaking. He tries to make out the physical characteristics and clothing of the prone figure. Then he calls out to Chris, "I doubt you will be needing that weapon, Chris. Too much pain has already been inflicted." and cranes his head around to call out: "Harvey, I am afraid that we may need a medical doctor here." Turning back to the crumpled form, he mutters to no-one in particular: "Apes shouldn't torment apes. Why do you never cease? Why can't you all just get along, and be friends?" A small glob of olive-coloured liquid oozes from his left eye and slips down his cheek. It hits his caramel-coloured collar with a slight hiss.
What Chris finds is a young girl of around six. She seems to be of mixed Indian and European decent, around 101 cm, 15 kg. She is dressed in a checkered blouse, pants, and sneakers - the clothes somewhat tattered and ripped. She is also awaake, and stares at Chris with a dull lack of interest. She doesn't move at all while he looks at her.
One of her eyes is swollen nearly shut, and there is blood on her face. Blood drools from her mouth as well. There are dark stains on her clothing, particularly her pants.
Chris reconsiders moving the girl and heads straight to the phone. Turning to Ingar he says, "We are a cruel species, as you well know".
"Cruel and shortsighted. But I believe, in my heart, that all of humanity have a potential for empathy and spiritual growth. Everybody must be healed, nurtured and taught."
Harvey heads over towards Ingar, he looks out to the crumpled form outside and say to Chris, "Can you cover me if someone starts shooting?" Without waiting for an answer (and perhaps not realising the difficulties inherent in covering someone with a knife) he crouches low and runs outside toward the body, keeping low and zigzagging all the way. He bases his technique on how the doctors in M*A*S*H used to run up to the helicopters bearing wounded, lacking any actual combat experience of his own to draw upon. As he runs he calls back "Ingar, be ready to help pull me in if necessary".
Ingar walks quietly and fairly erectly up behind Harvey. He fatalistically reasons that if somebody should be shot, then it might as well be him. "Is it safe to move her?" he asks.
"We'll know soon enough," replies Harvey, still zig-zagging. "Let's just hope we can help her."
He dashes out into the parking lot, doing his best to run in serpentine fashion until he reaches the form on the ground. Nothing assails, assaults, attacks, or acknowledges his existence along the way.
The girl doesn't move at all when Harvey bends down to examine her. He says to her "my name is Harvey, I'm a doctor, are you hurt?" He starts to go through a basic medical check to see if she's fit to be moved. Her arms and legs are all bent at only the appropriate places and in only the appropriate directions. Her head seems to be on correctly. Her spine does not appear twisted. However, she was apparently tossed out of a car, possibly a moving one, and Harvey's attempts at requests such as "Can you move your toes? Can you move your fingers?" meet with no response whatsoever. His introduction is met only with a listless stare.
In short, given the probable circumstances of at least portions of her current injuries (Harvey is trying very hard not to think about the circumstances of her other injuries, despite the mounting evidence) do not preclude the possibility of a fractured spine or dislocated vertebra(e). Since she isn't up and moving around there is no way to diagnose short of an x-ray.
Better safe than sorry.
Harvey shouts, "I'm not certain if its safe to move her or not. Chris, I'm going to need a blanket or something of that sort, and I need an ambulance. And I need it all fast." He shouts to Ingar, "She's not talking, see if you can use your skills to get her to respond, I need her to describe her sensations but I think she may be in shock".
"I don't think she would benefit from talking to me right now," rumbles Ingar. "I tend to make a terrible first impression. I think I had better stay in the background."
Harvey continues checking her pulse and breathing regularly. The child's breathing is very rapid, but regular. Both sides of the chest rise and fall, and there is no wheezing to indicate respiratory distress.
When he reaches for one wrist to take a pulse she doesn't react, but Harvey does. Just under the sleeves of her blouse the skin of her wrists has been abraded away by rope - both wrists are a mass of clotted blood and mangled flesh, though the injuries are not deep enough to have damaged any arteries. They are deep enough that they are going to require a skilled dermatologist to remove the extensive scar tissue that will otherwise be there for the remainder of the girl's life as a result of these injuries. There may be muscle/tendon damage.
Harvey decides to try for a pulse at the neck instead, but discovers extensive bruising there. Nevertheless it seems the better place to try for a pulse, which turns out to be rapid and fluttery. This kid has definitely taken a leap of the high dive and is plunging towards deep shock. She continues to stare at Harvey with dull and disinterested eyes.
Harvey says, "Ok, we're going to try to keep her warm then. Could you go get some blankets and call the emergency medical guys back here? Make sure you tell them we're in the parking lot, the way they drive we could all end up under their wheels before they notice we're here."
Harvey tries to use his medical skill to assess the situation He decides to keep her still until help arrives. Hairline fractures to the spine, hips, or legs, could be made infinitely worse by the simple expedient of putting weight on them. Paramedics with proper equipment could minimize that risk.
Harvey shakes his head in disgust at what he sees, he shouts to Ingar and anyone else who might be within earshot "She has severe wrist abrasions and bruising around the throat. She's going to need some serious medical attention. Could some of you guys come to the hospital with me? I'm going to need some support on this one".
Harvey then checks he still has his medical credentials and insurance details (carried in his inside coat pocket, a good doctor never travels without professional indemnity insurance) and says to the girl "Don't worry, I'm a doctor, I'm going to stay with you, you're going to be ok". He continues in this vein in the hope that the sound of his voice may at least prove soothing.
Casting a glance back at the child, Ingar resolves that he might as well take his chances, as the consequences of inaction may be as bad as the consequences of failure. He pads over with unprecedented lightfootedness, bending forwards and trying to get as close as possible to the lil' she-ape without getting into her visual field. He also tries to stay downwind.
He then tries out his best clinical cooing, trying to ease her strained mind.
Ingar's cooing has little effect on the girl. Harvey, on the other hand, inexplicably feels a bit calmer than he thought he would under these circumstances. But the kid is still on a nose dive towards internal organ shut-down at the moment., and Dr. Forn did not bring out the requested blankets. He does seem rather overdressed for the warm climate, however, so maybe he could contribute a vest or something.
Harvey strips off his raincoat and the remains of his now rather tattered
Harvard sweatshirt and wraps them round the girl. He says to Ingar,
"I need your coat or some clothes from inside, either way fast, your choice".
He reflects on how strangely calm he feels, how reassuring a presence Ingar
is, how he has grown used to the big guy... "Thanks" he adds.
Marda is lying quietly on her cot. Ghishu is meditating on his chi or something. Sam, meanwhile, is still prowling around the bowling alley looking for pants. He walks over to Chris as he enters the bowling alley. "Looks like you survived your little trip to the parking lot. Hey man, by the way, you got any pants I could borrow?"
Chris cockes his head at the man. Remembering that just moments ago this same person insulted him, after Chris help pay for his medical attention. "I have a few things in my office let me get you something." With that he walks to his office, enters-alone and closes the door.
Inside along with the makeshift closet he made there is a trunk that was here when he came to the island and reopened the bowling alley. One of the odd things in the place was this trunk which was filled with old clothes. No one period or style dominates, just a random selection of cast offs. Reaching at random into the trunk Chris pulls out:
One pair of shiny, white old man loafers. The kind that retirees the world over wear.
One pair Pippy Longstocking style leggings.
One pair jockey shorts. made in the USSR circa 1965. Has the name "Vasily" embroidered and then crossed out with more thread in the cheap elastic. Next to that is the name "Vladimir" also crossed out and finally next to that is the name "Magda".
One pair surplus Swiss Army Shorts, teal with gold trim. Many pockets, loops and so forth.
One macrame belt. Steel buckle is about five inches across and has the face of bandleader Les Brown carved into it.
One t-shirt, red with white lettering that reads "Until I say otherwise: you are a monkey scrubbing bastard."
One polyester evening jacket, off-black with a neon orange lining, striped in emerald green.
One necktie, silk with a topless hula girl as the design.
One bowler hat, bullet hole just over the brim towards the front.
Chris throws all of the stuff on the main desk. "This is all I could find in your size."
Sam looks sideways at the shorts. "Got anything a bit longer? That pretty belt will hold up just about anything that you can dig up, no?" Tata throws the clothes on and checks himself out in the mirror. He doesn't seem too shocked at the styles but holds off on the shorts 'til the end. He stands there in his ex-russian army skivvies and complains, "Sure you ain't got anything longer?"
Chris disappears into his office, moments later he returns with a pair of jodhpurs. Paisley jodhpurs that reach to mid shin with a long stirrup that goes under the sock. These are old style jods so that the hip pieces are exaggerated and stick out about six inches. The seat of the jodhpurs has long ago worn out and has been patched with the Confederate Flag.
As Chris hands over the jodhpurs he reaches for the necktie. He quickly pushes a button on the back. The hula dancer's nipples then start to blink on and off. If a person were to pay attention they would notice this pattern:
.... . .. / ... --- .-.. -.. .- - --..-- / --. .. .-. / -- . --. / -. --- . / . .-.. ... -.- ..--- . --. / .-.. .. -.- . / ..-. --- .-. -- . -. / .- ...- / -.. .. -. / -... .- -.- ... .. -... .-.-.- / -.-. --- -- . / - --- / - .... . / .... --- ..- ... . .-.-.- /.-- ./-. . . -../-.-- --- ..-/.--- . --. / -.- .-.-.. -.- ..- .-.. . .-. . .-. / .. -.- -.- . / -- .- -. --. . .-.-.- / ... -.- .-. ..- . -. / --. --. / ... -.- .-. ..- . -. / -- . --. / ... -.- .-. ..- . -. / -- . --. .-.-.- 1
Before further fashion mayhem can be perpetrated against Sam, the phone begins to ring. Chris picks up. "Rick's Bowling Palace aka Bilge Bowl, can I help you?"
Sam smiles at the gift of jodhpurs. He throws them on over his thrice owned cold war underwear then puts the Swiss army shorts over the whole thing to hold them up and tops his wardrobe off with the macrame belt. Tata looks down at himself and beams "cool" is all he can say until he thinks about Marda. Especially Marda running around the bowling alley in her gown. "Eh..hem.." He lets Chris know that he has more to say as soon as he finished with the customer on the phone.
"This is Dr. Bennett. Is this a business or a social call?"
At Sam's "Eh..hem.." Chris looks up from the phone and confronts the satorial disaster he has wrought.
"ARK!" The ashtray he was toying with slides like a hockey puck down thhe slick surface of the desk and tumbles off the edge. Chris is thrown so off balance by the sight of Sam that he loses his footing. Unfortunatley because he is wearing slip soled bowling shoes he is unable to gather his legs together. His herky-jerky motions send him backing into the control panel. WHUMPH! "FRONLK" Arms windmilling he slips across the face of the panel which turns on most of the alleys and then slides back turning most of them off again. He then slumps to his knees bumping his head on the cash register. DING! The change tray shoots out catching him in the forehead. WHACK! "OOOOF!"
Finally he reels backward into the towel rack which disgorges a pile of musty smelling bowling rags onto him. Now, flat on his back under a pile of rags and small change he says "Ah, business really. A small child was dumped in the parking lot. She has multiple injuries. Harvey is looking after her now but I was hoping you could turn around and come back."
"I'll be there as soon as I can," replies Dr. Bennett. "But I'm on my way to another call at the moment. It'll probably be 45 minutes to an hour. You might be better off getting her to the Good Doctors if you think she can be moved."
"O.K. we'll keep her warm, it does not look like she can be moved." The pile of rags and change then shifts, disgorging Chris from beneath. He hops up, hangs up the phone and heads outside to the others.
Finally coming out from under the influence of the pain and the drugs, the little six-year-old Romoanian moppet awakes. She feels around the cot for clothes and Teddy, and finding neither, slowly and dizzily pulls herself from the beds, using the sheets to cover her (oddly, and unlike other children her age, she is quite self-conscious about her nakedness.) She immediately goes to the nearest adult in sight and askes two questions, namely: 1) "Have you seen my Tata?" and 2) "Have you seen Teddy?"
Chris gets up from the pile of clothing and heads out into the parking lot once more, leaving Sam, Marda, and the oddly silent Ghishu inside the bowling alley.
Sam shouts at the departing Chris, "Hey man, how about some cool clothes for the little lady. Oh, and did you find those clothes for Teddy that you were looking for?"
"Sure, in a sec," Chris answers over his shoulder. "Although I think it would be best to keep her in that hospital gown as she will have to be cleaned up at some point and putting her in street clothes that might end up soiled seems like a waste."
Tata walks over to Marda, kneels down and gives her a big hug. "Glad to see that you are okey dokey little girl. Tata is right here now if you need anything. So, you like my new duds? That man over there," he points in the direction of Chris, "gave them to me, maybe if you ask nice he will give you some too. If not just break into his trunk, it's right over there."
Sam stands up and walks off to the mens room to admire himself in the mirror.
If Sam tries to get to the trunk he will encounter the locked office
door, necessitating an attempt at B&E.
Chris walks outside, looks at Ingar, and a big stupid smile comes to his face. The smile fades as he turns to Harvey, "The Doc says she will be about thirty to forty minutes, we need to keep her still and warm until then." At this point a quarter falls out of his pants, runs down his left shoe and rolls to a stop in front of Ingar. Chris does not seem to notice that or the dollar bill that is resting on his head.
"An' the hits just keep on comin'," mutters Goodness. He puts on his happiest voice, sauntering up to Chris, Forn, and Finklebaum, and asks, "So, what's all this, then?"
Chris looks up. "Where's Leo?" he asks.
Harvy is stripped down to his shirt, and has his sweatshirt and jacket wrapped around a young girl. Her face shows signs of considerable blunt trauma. She is most assuredly breathing but isn't moving at all, and her eyes have a distant, glazed expression. They don't even flicker in the direction of the new arrivals. The air carries a faint scent of blood. Mixed with it is a faint, dank smell, like a wash cloth left in the washer for a day.
Ingar stands behind the girl's head, just outside her visual field. His upper body arches forward, and he is making small, soothing sounds and nonsensial statements ("There, there, it will be alright"), whose overall effect is remarkably pleasant and calming, especially considering the fearsome chaos his voice normally ranges through. He seems quite engrossed in this.
"Just another day for you and me in paradise," says Harvey, in a somewhat resigned tone. "Can I have your jacket?"
"Surely," replied Goodness, shedding the garment. He stops, remembering something, and reaches into the right-hand pocket, removing the five throwing stars, then hands it across. This, of course, exposes his shoulder holster and pistol. "And once again, may I inquire, what's goin' on?"
Ingar and Harvey give Goodness a confused, halting summary in between their ministrations to the little victim. The next 45 minutes at the bowling alley pass relatively uneventfully (unless one counts the fact that in 45 minutes, nobody stops to offer any assistance to a small child lying in a bowling alley parking lot). Harvey manages to bring the shock under control, and even treats some of the minor abrasions, and Ingar continues to croon and make vaguely encouraging statements that seem, unaccountably (given their source), to put everyone at ease. Inside Sam struts around in his new togs until accumulated blood loss and the effects of being burned, stabbed, and thrown into a pin setter catch up with him and he is forced to either sit down or fall down. Marda naps and wonders where Teddy got to. The Strangely Silent Ghishu aquires a thin layer of dust.
KK isn't waiting 45 minutes to hear what Harvey has to say to Goodness' question about what's going on.He's already learned enough about to violent nature of this place to consider a child beaten to near death something to be expected every day. Either that, or a bunch of kids threaten to carve *you* up instead! Not paying more attention to the unfortunate little girl, he silently shuffles inside the bowling alley and goes to sleep in the most comfortable and out-of-the-way spot he can find.
Eventually Doctor Bennet's van pulls back into the parking lot. Spotting the crowd standing around, she swings the vehicle so that its headlights illuminate that portion of the parking lot, then hos out of the van, pulls a couple of medical cases out of the back, and hustles over.
"OK," she says, addressing herself to Harvey as she approaches, "what have we got?"
Chris leaves the doctors to their work and heads inside.
Harvey answers crisply, "A small child in shock, probably thrown out of a moving vehicle, she has serious abrasions to the throat and wrists and has probably suffered serious abuse. In my judgement she needs not only traumatological care but also the attentions of a good dermatologist and a child psychiatrist. Urgently. I can do the dermatological work, if you can get her to a hospital and treat the immediate problems. I haven't checked for signs of sexual abuse.
"Ingar," Harvey continues, "I'm going to need you by me if that's ok by you. If I have to treat abused children a little psychological backup would not go amiss, my clients are normally middle-aged socialites, not battered kids. So far, you're the best psychologicial support I've found and your help would be appreciated."
Ingar looks somewhat uncomfortable. "I will do my best, but I must confess that my experiences with clients have been limited, and not too good so far. They are somewhat put off by my appearance. Perhaps this will be less of a problem in Al-Amarja, though."
"Doctor Bennett," Harvey adds, "the two patients you helped with earlier are also inside. If we're taking this girl to hospital we may as well take them also. I'll meet all the relevant bills." Harvey runs his hand through his hair and slumps, its felt like a lot longer than 45 minutes.
"Please, call me Alexandra," says Dr. Bennett sets her suitcases down and squats down by the child. She goes through the standard initial checks - pulse, respiration, pupil dilation, bleeding, etc., as she speaks. "Could one of you go and pull the backboard out of the van please? Its the thing that looks vaguely like a stretcher with straps on it."
She shifts some of the jackets and does a quick examination for serious injuries, pausing only slightly at the wrists and as she examines the neck. Reaching into one of her bags she pulls out a sheet, two pairs of latex gloves, and a pair of scissors. She starts putting the gloves on, one set over the other.
"Nice job of treating the shock." she says, beginning to spread the sheet out over the girl's legs and abdomen. She shifts her hands under the sheet and starts snipping. The girl moves hardly at all, except to turn her head slightly to look at Dr. Bennett.
"Either of the patients inside wanted by the authorities or on the run from anyone who might know that they're injured?" she asks. "The D'Aubainne hospital isn't exactly safe for them if so. It's the first place anyone will look. " She stops snipping, reaches into her bag again, and pulls out a penlight. Her gloves already have some blood on them
"Hold her shoulders, would you?" she says to no one in particular, lifting the sheet to look underneath. After a moment she lays the sheet down again, reaches underneath, and does something. The girl grunts, the first sound she has made since being found in the parking lot. Dr. Bennett withdraws the hand (now somewhat bloodier) and reaches into her bag again, pulling out some KY jelly, which she starts smearing on one glove. She catches Harvey's eye and grimaces slightly. She reaches under the sheet again, and moves her hand around a bit, eliciting one more grunt and a short, quiet moan.
"Sorry," she says to the girl, "almost done." She pulls her hand back out and sighs. The glove is now quite bloody.
"Well, her pelvis isn't broken at least. She's suffered some trauma, but I don't think there is any serious damage. 'Serious' being a relative term you understand. There has definitely been vaginal and rectal penetration - probably with some sort of blunt object. There are also what appear to be electrical burns on the labia, but I can't be sure in this light."
Dr. Bennett stands up and stretches, then starts stripping off the first set of gloves. She reaches up to readjust her baseball cap, but stops just short of actually touching it.
"In short," she says, "Some sick motherfucker worked her over but good."
Ingar is at a loss of words, but his face contorts badly, its grotesque features showing a mixture of emotions, predominantly pity and disgust.
Goodness, thankful for something to do, silently gets the backboard. While he was more than happy to drop $200 for consentual sex with the woman at Sad Mary's, he seethes inside at the idea that somone would do this to a child. He suddenly regrets returning to the bar and accepting the offer to go "rat-catching". He finds that now he would much rather bring his faculties and suddenly limited resources to bear on some serious street justice. But he is sure that some of his new compatriots will have the same idea.
"Tell me", says Harvey, "just how good are the police locally in dealing with this kind of thing?"
"How important do you think her family is?" replies Bennett.
"If she had an important family, she probably wouldn't be lying here
now. Unless this is the result of some kind of kidnapping.
My guess is that she's nobody, that's why they thought they could get away
with this. Can you excuse me for a moment, I just need to go inside
to talk with my companions. Please don't set off without me, I'll
just be in there," Harvey says, pointing inside the building.
"Yes," responds Dr. Bennett, rising. She reaches into one of her bags and pulls out another pair of latex gloves, which she slides over the pair she is still wearing, then fishes out another pair which she holds out to Goodness.
"What we want to do is roll her up on her side while keeping her spine as straight as possible so there is no twisting, slide the backboard under her, then roll her back. I'll get in back and take the head and shoulders. You get in front. Put one hand on her hip, one hand on her ribs, and just roll her towards you gently when I tell you, until she's on her side, OK?"
Bennett moves behind the girl and repositions the backboard slightly, moving the straps out of the way. "Put the gloves on first," she says absently.
Goodness complies, donning the gloves silently. They're a bit snug, but not to the point of tearing. He positions himself as Dr. Bennet instructed, and looks over to her expectantly. "On three, then?" he asks.
"All right," says Dr Bennett. The transfer onto the backboard goes without a hitch, and Dr Bennett busies herself for a moment adjusting straps to make sure the girl is firmly secured.
"All right, let's move her inside," she says. She motions for Goodness to take the head, and then looks at Ben. "Could you get the other end please?" she asks.
"Yeah, yeah," grumbles Ben suddenly wondering why he's been standing in the parking lot for nearly an hour when he could be getting some much needed rest. He reaches down and hoists his end of the stretcher, not bothering to wait for Goodness.
"OY!" says Goodness angrily, picking up the other end quickly. "'ey, Captain Crankypants, 'tis a wee gairl we're pickin' up hair, na some drunk friend on a Friday night! Ye'll do well t' take care!!"
"Hey!" yells Dr. Bennet, who is just bending down to pick up her bags. "If you didn't want to pick the thing up, you could have said 'no'," says Dr Bennet angrily to Ben. "Now why don't you put it down - slowly - and we'll find someone else to help, OK?"
"Please!" adds Ingar imploringly, flashing a nervous and very, very toothy grin at Ben. His timid voice is somehow underscored by a deep moan reminicent of metal bending under great stress. Part of the musculature under his right eye spasms with clocklike regularity, and his hands are groping aimlessly around in the air in his immediate vicinty, like a pair of large, levitating crabs suffering from cocaine psychosis.
Ben shrugs. "Suit yourself," he says as he drops his end. "If you don't like the way I do things, I would suggest you refrain from asking my help."
Ingar's meandering hands freeze, bent upwards at the wrist in a rather effeminate way, and he stares slack-jawedly at Ben's incredible carelessness. He lets out a deep-pitched groan, much like the sound of a braking train.
Goodness feels his end of the back brace almost slip from his grasp as the other end is released and hits the ground. Angrily, he sets his end down gently and turns on Ben. "Ye son of a bitch!" he barks. "What's wrong with ye? This kid's been hurt enough, don't ye think? I couldn't give a flyin' fuck if yair ti red o' waitin' aroond, or if ye'd rather grab yer blankie an' take a nap. Ye doon't fuckin' DROP a backbrace!" He closes the distance to the other man. "Ye got a particular problem, oor hae ye suddenly turned inta the biggest fuckin' asshole on all o' Al Amarja?"
"Goodness, let us try to remain in a calm and constructive dialOGUE. BEN - THAT WAS CRUEL AND UTTERLY MEANINGLESSSSS - WHHHERE IS YOURRR HOOOMAN EMPATHY? SHHHE ISHH A HHHHURRRRT CHILD!" As Ingar voice devolves from his nervous tenor to a buzzing sub-bass which makes one's ears itch and one's teeth hum, his body also seems to undergo a metamorphosis. His dainty-Frankenstein persona slips away and he seems to acquire several new joints, most of them in unlikely places. The whatever passes for his torso under his caramel-coloured blazer is roiling and twisting. With an unprecedented -fluid- grace he stalks up alongside Goodness. His legs have knees. They bend backwards.
Ben looks down at Goodness with a bemused expression. "I'd dearly love to claim the title of biggest fucking asshole on all of Al Amarja but I'd have to admit I wouldn't even make the top ten. But seriously," he says, his expression turning dark and his voice lowering an octave or two. "Are you just going to stand there with your eyes buggin' out and your face all red or are you actually going to take a swing at me?" He leans forward and extends his chin slightly almost inviting the Scotsman to take a poke.
Dr. Bennett, struck momentarily speechless by the sheer callousness of Ben's act, recovers quickly and bends down to check the small child (who uttered not a sound on being dropped, incidentally).
"You sick bastard," she says - quietly but with great feeling - to Ben.
"Are you out of your mind? What did this kid ever do to you?
You really... must..." her comments trail off as she notices the
direction Ingar's knees are bending.
"Folks, there is a little girl out there has been badly damaged. From what I've seen you guys know some tough people, I say we find out who did this and make sure it doesn't happen again."
Chris turns his head sharply, causing a dollar bill to float of his head and gently waft to the floor. "And how would you go about finding them? And while we are off on our vengence trip who is going to watch the girls, huh?! Those guys might know people but I've only been here a few days, the only people I know are you guys."
"Agent Goodness here is some kind of private detective, yes? We coped with a deranged psycho covered in chicken blood and got out ok, yes? We've seen vanishing heads, people materialising in pinsetting machinery, talking dogs... at least this is something we can understand. Anyway, if not us then who? We can't just pretend it didn't happen."
Chris shakes his head as if to clear some cobwebs. "Talking Dogs? What in the Hell are you talking about?"
Harvey looks over at Chris. "Ah, I forgot who was here at the time, the kid has a dog which talks, I mean not a fake talking dog, a real contrary-to-the-laws-of-nature talking dog. Does that help?"
"Do you mean that Akita from the crapper? I was around it most of the time and I did not hear it say a goddamed thing pal!" Something painful lances through Chris' head. He winces and the veins on his forehead start throbbing. Beads of sweat form on his brow. Talking slowly as if to a child, he enunciates: "Dogs - do - not - talk."
Harvey replies equally slowly "They ... do ... 'round ... here. You're not looking so well, are you sure you're ok?"
As Harvey says that, Chris happens to look out the window, catching movement in the parking lot. He spies Ben and Goodness holding a backboard, which probably has the little girl on it. Before Chris's unbelieving eyes Ben - apparently deliberately - let's go of his end, sending the backboard and the girl crashing to the concrete! Goodness' face contorts with anger, but he carefully sets down his end of the backboard before moving up in front of Ben, who just stares at him. Ingar also moves in Ben's direction. Something about the way he moves is... unsettling.
Chris's mental state is undergoing a revolution at the moment with the forces of weirdness battling the loyalist Skeptic Corps for control of the mindscape. The reality of Ingar is only tenuously in check and then a flanking attack by the talking dog concept is threatening to macerate Chris's sanity. Watching the big thug drop the girl brings ripping back to the surface a cameo appearance by a part of him he thought he left behind. Anger floods him. His hand reaches for his breast pocket.
Anger contorts Chris's face and he advances on Harvey with blood in his eyes. Harvey tries to get out of the way, but Chris shoulders him aside as if the doctor were merely an inconvenient branch along a trail before he can, and continues walking towards the door. From seemingly nowhere a nine-inch knife appears in his hand, then rotates into an overhand grip so that it can be carried flush along the forearm.
"How dare this person violate my hospitality. How dare he consent to lift the backboard, making an implicit promise to see the job through, and then for what... drop it! That girl, just like the other one and her jerk of a friend are under my protection! To attempt to harm one of them is like an attack on a member of my family and is also the worst possible insult!" Chris says, unaware that he is shouting.
Chris bangs through the doors of the bowling alley and out into the parking lot. Those inside can see through the glass that Goodness and Ingar seem to be having an argument with Ben. Ingar's posture, gait, and overall shape are somehow - disturbing to look at.
Chris begins walking across the parking lot towards them.
Marda is roused from her sleep by the voices, to fitfully awake and see Dr. Bennett's van outside. "NO!" she screams, obviously frightened. "NO HOSPITAL! NO HOSPITAL! NO CENTER!"
Harvey turns, surprised, and says, "Whoah there, nobody will take you anywhere you don't want to go. But I don't mean a bad hospital, I mean a nice one with doctors and nurses and teddy bea... ah... n bags" Harvey swallows nervously, hoping she didn't notice the almost reference to teddy bears. "So, there's no need to panic, ok?"
Marda is surprisingly adamant on this one despite the severity of the injuries, even reverting to standard grammatical errors. "No. Hospitals bad. All hospitals bad. NO HOSPITALS! AND WHERE'S TEDDY?!!!"
"Teddy's at the picnic" shouts Harvey, quickly, "no hospitals, hospitals bad, teddy at picnic, all ok now". He mutters to everyone else present "Does anybody know when the t-e-d-d-y will be back here? How long does it take to fix a t-e-d-d-y anyway?"
Upon hearing the last statement, Marda narrows her eyes and asks, "What do you mean 'How long does it take to f-i-x a Teddy'?"
Harvey says "b-u-g-g-e-r" then adds "Um, teddy got torn in half and has been taken away to be repaired. Hopefully teddy will be fine, I'm sorry we kept it from you but we didn't want you panicking." He then steps back and waits for the onslaught.
Meanwhile, KK has been sacked out for the last half hour or so on one of the benches inside the bowling alley, dreaming dreams of avarice and angels. Gradually, a man's voice begins intruding into his blissful slumber.
"... dare this person violate my hospitality. ... dare he consent to lift the backboard, ... an implicit promise to see the ... through, and then for what.. drop ... That girl, just like the other ... and her jerk of a friend ... under my protection! To attempt to ... one of them is like an ... on a member of my family ... is also the worst possible insult."
With a start KK wakes up as the doors to the bowling alley slam open, and he raises his head just in time to see Chris walking outside, holding a knife hidden against his forearm. "What's going on? Someone's going t'get their throat slit or something?" KK asks out loud, somewhat irritated that forces beyond his understanding are conspiring to deprive him of his drug-induced sleep.
But at this point, Ingar could have invoked the Second Coming and Marda would have missed it. She has reached the point of what most child psychologists refer to as "critical mass."
Marda wails like a banshee. To be more precise, upon hearing Marda, most banshees would opt for early retirement.
The tantrum goes on for several minutes, for most of which, the adults can't figure out exactly what she is saying, as it crosses between English, Romanian, Gibberish, and perhaps Ancient Aramaic at one point. One phrase that does come out crystal clear, however, is "I WANNA SEE TEDDY NOW!!!"
Tata moves over to comfort Marda. "Things seem to be so strange lately" he whispers to himself as he sits down on the retired hospital bed. "I'm going to go talk to Chris to see if we can find you some clothes and then we will go in search of Teddy, OK?"
Sam steps out of the bowling alley and into the parking lot. "Chris," he calls, "can we see... see..."
What Sam sees is a creature out of nightmare advancing on Chris and Ben, who seem to be intent enough on trying to kill one another that they do not notice its rather obvious approach. Goodness has apparently noticed the creature, however, for he is down on all fours on the asphalt, seemingly trying to rid himself of the vision by ramming his head into the pavement with sufficient force to crack open his skull and allow his brains, if not his body, some sort of release. His mouth agape, Sam begins to feel what's left of his sanity slipping away, like water down a drain.
During the moment that the doors are open, those inside can hear what sounds like a high-pitched wailing (somewhat similar to the noises Marda sometimes makes) and a low, bone-shaking growl-hum. Sam stops in his tracks just outside the doors.
Realising what must've woken him up, and what is keeping him awake at the present time, KK makes his way over to the fabled banshee. "Hey there, little girl. Why are you screaming? There's nothing dangerous here. You're hurting me, I need to sleep," he pleads in the most reasonable fashion he can accomplish.
Sam's attempts to console Marda and KK's attempts to reason with her prove to be very much in vain. She continues to lament (very much like Jeremiah, only much louder) that her best friend has been dismembered and it seems very much like she will continue on this way until someone provides her with proof that this is not the case.
Harvey, looking somewhat aghast, tries to provide comfort: "Don't worry, Teddy is getting the best of attention, I'm sure it will probably be fine. Anyway, if its not we'll get you an even bigger and better teddy." Realising that his last comment is unlikely to help he adds, "Um, I mean we'll take it to a specialist and get it fixed so it's bigger and better than before".
KK sighs in resignation and sneaks off to 'his' corner of the bowling alley, where he makes preparations to continue his nap. To protect what is left of his valuable hearing, he lies down so that one of his ears rests on his upper arm, while his other upper arms rests on his other ear. This he has found to be a decent way to shield himself from noise in the past, and hopefully it'll do for now.
Marda reacts to all this reasoning by continuing to scream. Upon
the suggestion that Teddy can be replaced by a newer, more efficient model,
she commences to scream even louder.
To Be Continued...
The tie looks a bit like this
one.