Jump City: Apprentice Read online

  “A what?”

  “A sedative.”

  “No… thanks.” It seemed like a good idea to stay alert. “Where’s Elsie?”

  “Elsie?”

  “My nurse.”

  “Ah, you must mean Nurse Everest. Perhaps she’s on another ward, or she’s off-duty this morning… I don’t really keep track of such things.”

  “Are you sure this is a hospital?” I asked again. “The whole place seems sort of primitive.”

  “Primitive?” Valenti shot back, and was apparently quite upset. “This is a state-of-the-art facility, Mr Jardel. The most modern sterilization and anesthetics…”

  “State-of-the-art? You must be kidding. I don’t see any IV’s, monitors, or anything…”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Valenti glared at me.

  “IV’s— intravenous drips… heart monitors…”

  “Heart monitors? Like an electrocardiogram?” Valenti took my pulse again. “Is there something wrong with your heart?” He began to unfurl his stethoscope.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Good. And what do you mean, intravenous drips?”

  “Like for a transfusion, or plasma, or saline.”

  “You haven’t lost any blood, well, not very much, considering.” Valenti laughed. “Do you think you need some new blood?”

  “Ah, no… anyhow, I’m a rare blood type, AB negative.”

  “What are you saying? I’ve never heard such a thing… And how would you know about blood groupings in the first place? Have you read Karl Landsteiner?”

  “Not that I remember…”

  Valenti proceeded with his examination, unwrapping the bandages to inspect my wounds.

  “What’s this mark on your arm, Mr Jardel?”

  “Polio vaccination…” I said but my voice petered out.

  “What?”

  “Oh wait, maybe not, maybe it’s small pox, or TB…”

  “If you’re immune, then you won’t mind if we move you upstairs?”

  “Upstairs?”

  “You’ll have to be on your feet by the weekend.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’ve just ordered Gatch beds for the whole ward.”

  “Gatch beds?”

  “A bed which provides for the elevation of the head or feet. It has three divided sections with independent settings.”

  “Oh, you mean an adjustable bed.”

  “I do.”

  “Electric ones?”

  “They don’t make electric ones.” Valenti stared at me for a moment. “Though, that’s not a bad idea, Mr Jardel.” He looked at me anew, as if I were no longer just a patient. “I suppose we can keep you here for a few more days.”

  “Why?”

  “We can’t rule out infection at this point.”

  “Infection?” I asked, somewhat alarmed.

  “We wouldn’t want gangrene to set in, would we?”

  “How about some antibiotics?”

  “Anti-whats?”

  “Um, penicillin.”

  “How could you possibly know about this? Are you a medical student, perhaps?”

  “Me? No…”

  “But you know far too much for the ordinary laymen…” Valenti softened his comment with a wide smile. “That is to say… I am impressed by your knowledge. You know of Doctor Fleming?”

  “Everybody knows about Alexander Fleming.”

  “Very few would make a connection between penicillin and an infected wound.”

  “I like to read.”

  “That’s admirable at least.”

  I realized I had to be more careful about what I said. I was after all, a walking anachronism. I imagined just saying the word virus would have raised Valenti’s eyebrows in an almost comical way.

  “You cracked your head rather badly, though I’m quite sure the skull has not been fractured.” Valenti gingerly felt my head. “The swelling has gone down nicely.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “Your ankle is another thing entirely. Let’s have a look, eh?”

  A harsh voice called out from the hallway, a woman’s voice, “Doctor, there’s a telephone call for you.”

  “Well, take a message, Greta. I’m not to be interrupted while making my rounds. Everyone knows that by now.”

  “It’s Mr Mears.”

  “Very well, I’ll be along directly.” Valenti turned to me again. “You are quite the cause célèbre, Mr Jardel… Even Commissioner Mears is concerned for your welfare.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, not concerned perhaps, but curious about you.”

  Doctor Valenti instructed his nurse to change my dressings. She did not have the gentle touch of Elsie, but was far more clinical, or less intimate. Nor did she smile once or say a word. The iodine stung again, though I was happy to have my leg removed from the suspension wire.

  I started to think why the name Mears seemed so familiar when Valenti returned. I could hear him humming as he walked back to my bed. The tune was so recognizable, I joined in automatically: When the shark bites… with those teeth, babe…

  Valenti stared at me, dumfounded, and stopped humming abruptly. “How can you know this melody, and how can you put such lyrics to it, in English no less?”

  “Um… I heard her singing it.”

  “Singing? Who?”

  “Elsie… She said you taught her that song… She also mentioned you’re very good at the piano.”

  “Did she? I’m also quite a good cook, but I don’t recall teaching my nurse anything musical,” Valenti said, smiling. “Are you a musician as well, Mr Jardel?”

  “I don’t make my living at it, but yes.”

  Valenti looked at me again and laughed slightly. “I suppose I could say the exact same thing about myself. What instrument do you play?”

  “A little guitar.”

  “Classical?”

  “Er— no, elec— acoustic guitar, steel strings…” I smiled.

  “And how do you know this song I was humming?”

  “Everyone knows Mack the Knife.”

  Valenti looked at me quizzically. “Surely not everyone, my dear young man. It’s from a German operetta: Die Dreigroschenoper… No one in this country is at all familiar with it. Do you know more?”

  “More lyrics?”

  He nodded. I continued, “Fancy white gloves has old MacHeath, babe…”

  “Extraordinary. And a fair translation…” Valenti paused to think. “Did you see the show in New York?”

  “What show?”

  “The Threepenny Opera. I believe it had a brief run on Broadway earlier this year, but closed in less than a month.”

  “Yeah, that must be it.”

  “And the lyrics in English?”

  “Oh, a friend of mine thought them up.”

  “Well, I will ask you to write them down when you’re feeling a bit better.”

  “Sure…” I promised with a smile but it quickly faded when I saw the nurse approaching with a large needle. “What’s that?”

  “A vitamin shot, B-twelve.”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “It’s an innovative therapy. Just ask Mr… Smith over there. He gets them on a routine basis.”

  I glanced over to my roommate a couple of beds over. He gave me a smile and a funny wave. “I’d rather not,” I said.

  “Very well... however, I am sending you for a series of X-rays this morning.”

  My mind reeled, X-rays and 1933, somehow that couldn’t be a good combination. “X-rays?” I stammered.

  “Well, yes, for your head mainly, also for your ankle, your arm and your torso.”

  “Wait, I’m not sure I want X-rays.”

  “What? But you must. It’s essential.”

  “Hmm, I don’t think so. I’m not sure my health insurance covers that.”

  “What kind of insurance?”

  “Never mind.”

  “We have to determine whether any bone
s are broken or not,” Valenti persisted.

  “No, I can tell... nothing’s broken.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “I can feel it.” I reached down towards my ankle. “Honestly, X-rays scare me.”

  “Scare you? In what way? They’re harmless. It’s no different than the fluoroscope at the shoe store in Fairhaven.”

  “Still…”

  Valenti was perplexed by my reaction. He stared at me for a moment, his smile wavered. “I must insist, as your physician.”

  “I must insist not, as your patient,” I said and added a hopeful grin.

  “Very well, I cannot force you, I suppose.”

  “You said yourself that my head is okay. The swelling has gone down, my memory is returning.”

  “Yes…”

  “Well, my arm is better too. Look,” I said and flexed my fingers. “Definitely nothing broken there.”

  Valenti examined my hand more closely. “Alright, as you say… but we should check for internal bleeding.”

  “Internal bleeding?” I asked, vaguely alarmed. “I might have bruised a rib or two, but I’m fine otherwise. I’m sitting up with no problem, I have a good appetite. I’m totally fine.”

  “And your ankle?” Valenti asked.

  “Probably just a bad sprain. It doesn’t feel so bad… I can even wiggle my toes.”

  The doctor paused for quite awhile, just staring at me. “Then, I have to ask why are you so afraid of X-rays. It’s completely routine.”

  “Can you tell me why they’re called X-rays?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “What does the X stand for?”

  Valenti chuckled a bit. “X... for the unknown, I suppose.”

  “Exactly my point.”

  “They are completely harmless.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “It’s the same as a fluoroscope in any shoe store, they’re commonplace.”

  “Still…”

  “Alright, have it your way. I cannot force you.”

  “Just call me an educated consumer.”

  “Consumer? I am a doctor, you are my patient. There is nothing to be consumed.” Valenti glared at me. “What exactly is that supposed to infer?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you likening modern medicine to a product? That’s a very odd way to look at it. We are healers, we are here to help people, make them better. One cannot consume medical services.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  ***

  Doctor Valenti had just finished taking my blood pressure and was trying to light another cigarette, but his lighter failed to work. “Ah, Sheriff, thank you,” Valenti said and puffed back a cloud of smoke.

  I looked at the other man, still holding his lighter. Our eyes met briefly and he let off a big squinty grin. I knew him instantly and sat up in bed the best I could. I stared harder and even did a double take. It could’ve been Detective Durbin’s little brother, the same grin, same dimple, but no crew cut. His hair was much longer and slicked back, all slippery. This Durbin wore a light khaki jacket with a badge on the front. A nice shirt, a silk vest, and baggy trousers. He also had a wide brimmed hat with a black braid that ended in gold tassels. I could’ve been back in Colorado. He wasn’t wearing the hat though, instead it was in his hands and he was fiddling with the brim.

  “You must be Richard Durbin the first,” I said, not exactly meaning to say it out loud.

  “Pardon?” he asked and gave me an odd look.

  “That’s your name, right?”

  “It is… but how the heck could you know that?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  “Well, I’m not the first Durbin, not the second either.”

  “Do you have any kids?”

  “I’m not married.”

  “Oh… sorry.”

  This Durbin eyed me suspiciously.

  “The Sheriff has some questions— only if you feel up to it though,” Valenti said pleasantly enough.

  “Sheriff Durbin?” I asked.

  “Actually, I’m just the Deputy, but Sheriff is fine.” He gave me a grin. “You feeling well enough for a couple of questions?”

  “I guess…”

  “You’re surprised to see me here,” he began.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The look on your face.”

  “It’s just that you seem so familiar.”

  “I’ve probably arrested you before,” Durbin said, though I wasn’t at all sure if he was joking.

  “Yes, yes, ask your questions, Sheriff, but go easy on the man. He’s had a hard blow to the head and he’s been under heavy sedation.”

  “I was?”

  “For the pain… just a bit of morphine.” Valenti smiled.

  “Lucky you’re not upstairs with the lungers.”

  “He means the TB patients,” Valenti translated.

  “Well, Doc says otherwise, but I have to be sure you aren’t pulling a wingding.”

  “A what?”

  He ignored my question. “I didn’t see you come in on the train.”

  “What train?”

  “No luggage or anything?”

  “I must’ve lost it.”

  “What are you doing here in Fair Oaks?”

  “Fair Oaks? You mean Sand City?”

  He laughed outright. “Sorry… yeah, I haven’t got used to the new name yet.” Durbin smiled. “So what brings you here? You got family around these parts?”

  “No.”

  “How about friends?”

  “Not anymore, not yet anyway.”

  Durbin’s face screwed up into an odd expression, trying to make sense of my statement. “Well, I’m not sure you’re going to stick around long enough for that.”

  “What?”

  “Making friends.”

  “Actually, I’m waiting for a friend of mine. He’s supposed to show up any day now.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Inspector Fynn.”

  “Inspector, eh? What’s he inspect?”

  “He’s a policeman… I don’t suppose you’ve seen him around?”

  “No, you’re the only new arrival.” Durbin pulled up a chair right next to my bedside. “You here looking for work?”

  “Work? Um, no, not really.”

  “Have to ask… you don’t exactly seem like a tramp to me, I’ll say that much.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, they found you up at the quarry, right?”

  “I don’t remember so well.”

  “Mr Spotts, the foreman, he discovered you up there. Do you know him?”

  “No.”

  “You took a nasty gash.” Durbin eyed me. “We get a lot of guys showing up here looking for work. You know, jumping the blinds, end of the line…”

  “End of the line?” I asked.

  “The train.”

  “Oh.”

  “I hope you’re not a grifter,” Durbin cautioned.

  “A what?”

  “A grifter, a con man.”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Well then, what’s your story, morning glory?” Durbin smiled and pulled his chair a little closer. It made a terrible scraping sound against the linoleum floor. “A gasoline gypsy? You got a tin can parked in the woods someplace?”

  “What?”

  “A car.”

  “No, no car.”

  “Where you from, Mr Jardel?”

  “Um… Canada,” I said, but obviously paused too long. Still, it seemed like the right thing to say at the moment.

  “Canada, huh?”

  “Quebec, I think…”

  “You think? Don’t you remember?”

  “I might have amnesia.”

  Durbin glanced over to Valenti who gave an acknowledging nod. “It’s a distinct possibility.”

  “And how did you say you got here from Canada?” Durbin continued. “The borders have been closed for days.”

  “On
a boat, I think… it’s all a little hazy to me.”

  “A boat, huh? You’re not talking about that tramp steamer, The Manchurian, berthed in Fairhaven?”

  “I’m not sure…”

  Durbin rose and paced. “So, what do you do, Mr Jardel? Your profession?”

  “I’m a reporter.”

  “Really now? What newspaper do you write for?”

  “The Chronicle.”

  “What, you know Mr Woods?”

  “Mr Woods?” I hesitated. “Ah no, my paper’s out of New York.”

  “New York City?”

  I nodded.

  “Hmm, gonna have to cable them or get them on the blower…” Durbin paused. “I still want to know what the heck you were doing up there at the quarry. Don’t you know it’s a blasting zone?”

  “I do now.”

  “Funny guy, huh?”

  “No, I was just out… um, hiking.”

  “Hiking? Who the hell does that?” Durbin glanced at me suspiciously, one eyebrow went up and the other down. “You mean, just taking a stroll, eh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay…” he considered further, “Like a tramp.”

  “No, more like a tourist. I’m temporarily homeless.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around these days.” Durbin laughed, then came closer. “And how do you expect to pay for all this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “All what?”

  “Your hospital stay… it’s a private hospital, you understand.”

  “Oh…” I glanced over at Doctor Valenti. He was smiling as usual. I turned back to Durbin. He was grinning as well.

  “You have a bankroll?”

  “A what?”

  “Money…. moolah…”

  “Um…” I tried to think. “Somewhere in my pockets, maybe there’s a valuable coin there.”

  “Oh, you mean this?” Durbin said and held up the gold drachma between two fingers.

  “That’s it.”

  “It’s yours?”

  “Of course it is.”

  “Okay, well they found it in your hand.” Durbin eyed me. “Not your pockets.”

  “It’s probably worth something.”

  “Sure, I bet it’s worth a couple of bucks. In fact, I have a friend in Fairhaven who might give you a good price, more than just the gold in it. He’s a collector.” Durbin paused. “Still… I wonder if you’re going to have to turn that in?”

  “What?”

  “Gold coins…you know…” he said as if it were obvious.

  I had no idea what he was talking about, then remembered reading something about hoarding gold. “It’s my prize possession. Thanks for finding it.”