From The Grave

Chapter 8

Wayne was seated in a lounge chair in front of the atrium window, staring out at the grounds behind Balsam Grove. He recalled when he used to sit here with his wife and how he tried to get her to enjoy the very scene he was now unable to appreciate himself. When was that? Time had changed shape for him and he was uncertain of his location along its timeline.

He felt in his heart that he was better but his body just wouldn't respond and consequently, the medications to get his body kick-started were dulling the mind. The door opened behind him and he saw, reflected in the window, the figure of April walking toward him and felt her hands on his shoulders as she leaned down to kiss his cheek. The familiar perfume hit his nostrils and he closed his eyes.

"How are we today, baby?"

"Bored and tired." He didn't respond to the kiss and she came around, squatting down beside the lounge and took his hands in hers.

"You're coming along fine, Wayne. It was a tremendous trauma you suffered, both physically and mentally. My God, it was your daughter after all who did this to you. And then to see her die . . . well, that's enough to unsettle anybody." She stood and went to the portable side table that followed him everywhere and dug out his pills.

"I don't want any more of those. They make me dull and dizzy."

"Come, come now, Wayne. These are helping make you better. Look how far you've come already. Goodness, without the medication you would still be in hospital." She set three pills on his tray and poured a glass of water. "Come on now, drink up."

He picked up the pills and looked at them. What the hell, it was easier to take them than to fight about it. He swallowed all three at once.

"Good boy." She took the glass and set it on the table. "What can you tell me about Bishop Gravestone?"

"Huh?" He looked up at her, his head already starting to come apart in sections. "Why- what-- ?"

"This deal you made with him, he seems reluctant to pass on any progress reports that you are entitled to. I think I should speak to him but I need to know what kind of man I'm dealing with."

"Huh, deal? What deal?"

"You know, you set it up just over a week ago. He is using Jenner Global for transport."

"I don't remember any—"

"Is he ethical? Will he honour his word?"

"Bishop? Sometimes I suppose but I don't—"

"Well I think you're entitled to know the whole story behind his machinations; your deal was for fifty percent."

"Of what? What deal? What did I . . . ?" his voice blurred and his head drooped to one side.

April lifted his wrist and checked her watch then she pressed the buzzer on the table and when the orderly arrived she directed him to put Wayne back in his room in bed. So Bishop will honour his word sometimes. Good to know. She locked the drawer with the medicine and dropped the key into her skirt pocket.

Bishop's cell phone jingled and he took it out and flipped open the case.

"Gravestone."

"Bishop, it's me. Wayne was just after me for details. I knew he would be, that's why I called earlier. What can I tell him?"

"I thought he was too sick to handle anything."

"I helped him make some calls, now what can I tell him?

"I told you everything to date. Their having dinner with the seller tonight- no, wait a minute, it'll be tomorrow night in their time zone. When I hear, you'll hear."

"We should, otherwise Wayne's generosity with the transport might just end and you could bring your people home on your own hook."

"What the hell is your problem, lady? We made a deal and you agreed. Now you're acting like I'm working for you."

"When you need me again for transport, let me know, Bishop. Meanwhile see that we're kept informed."

He slammed down the phone and glared at it. Bishop! Where the hell does she get off using my name like some butler? He looked at his watch and grunted with disgust; he wouldn't hear for another day and then it would be first bloody thing in the morning. He decided to hedge his deal with April and he lifted the phone again and placed a long distance call.