The next morning, Barbara woke with a heavy heart. She showered, dressed, and got ready, all the while feeling like she was miles away from her own reality. She'd just finished pinning her hair when her nose scrunched up to the smell of pre-frozen waffles burning in the toaster. Bolting. She ran downstairs, glasses half-askew as she quickly scanned the kitchen for signs of smoke.
"Happy Saturday, Dr. L!" Toby shouted, as he shoved a half-black waffle onto his plate and fanned the toaster with an oven mitt. Her shoulders sagged with relief. "Sorry about the smell, it only burnt a little."
"I see you're up early," she smiled as she eyed the clock. "You ready to go see your Nana? She doesn't have PT until noon, so we can get a good visit in if we leave soon."
"Yeah!" He shouted through his food, downing half the pastry in two bites. "You want some? It's chocolate chiiiip," he tried to goad her.
"No, thanks," she patted her stomach, "I didn't have a good night with the lasagna."
"Suit yourself," he licked his fingers as he finished it. "Hey do you mind if Claire comes with us to the rehab center? We're working on a school project together and I could really use her input. Gotta start the beginning the year off right!"
"Not at all," The Doctor said as she reached into a cabinet to grab a water bottle, and then filled it. "I'd love to speak with her, actually."
"Rad," he said as he tapped at his phone, "she'll be here in, like, ten minutes. Mr. Nunez is gonna drop her off on his way to work."
"Ok, well, while we're waiting, why don't you help me change the porch light?" Her smile was warm. "I was going to do it later but, now that we're both just standing here…"
"Listen, I answer every call Dr. L," he stuck a hand in the air and counted off with his finger, "If you've got grass cutting, toilet plunging, rabid knomes…I'm your guy."
Strands of red hair bounced as she chuckled and shook her head. "The ladder's in the garage. I'll go get the bulb."
Ten minutes later, Toby stepped off of the last rung of the ladder, which Barbara kept steady, and dusted off his hands.
"Yeah, go team!" he shouted and gave the doctor a high-five.
The rumble of an engine caught their attention.
"Hey Toby, Dr. Lake," Claire said as she walked up to them, waving goodbye to her father. "You guys need any help?"
"We're just finishing up." The doctor smiled as she folded the ladder. Toby, with the typical zeal of his youth, took it from her, leaving the woman and girl alone as he headed to the garage.
For a moment, silence reigned as the Barbara looked down at her guest. Despite the springtime glow of her adolescence, the girl looked tired, weary from hours of fretting and fear. Barbara could only imagine how hard all of this had been soon her. The pangs of loss were something to be expected in adulthood, but to the young, it always came as a surprise—a searing shock that burned itself into the caverns of juvenile memory forever.
"Can I," the teenager paused, seemingly taken aback by the doctor's gaze. "May I," she corrected herself, "talk with you alone? Later, y'know, when Toby's not around."
"Yes, of course," she said, placing a hand on the teenager's shoulder. "I'd love the opportunity. We haven't really gotten a chance to speak with each other since…well, since Jim went missing."
Claire's brown eyes smiled back at her, before they both turned at the sound of footsteps thudding up the stairs. A few seconds later, they thudded back downward and a breathless Toby appeared, glowing rock in hand as he jutted it out for them to see. "Almost forgot Rocky. That would have been bad news, real bad, right Claire?"
"Where would we be without your pet rock?" the girl said as she rolled her eyes.
Amid the bickering, Barbara managed to herd them off the porch and back through the house to the garage. Jim's jacket hung by the exit, and she smoothed a hand over it before locking the door.
Halfway over the bridge, she was in mid conversation when she saw it.
"You know, the one thing is I just don't understand is what Mr. Strickler has to do with all of—"
A flash of red caught her periphery and her eyes went wide. My god, she thought, not while she was with the kids.
"Doctor Lake?"
"She keeps doing this," she heard Toby whisper, "You okay Dr. L?"
Ignoring them, she squinted to where she'd seen the flash. There. A shadow of a man, round fedora on his head. She changed lanes to distance the car from him, and jammed her foot on the accelerator.
By the time they reached the passing point, she looked over. Nothing was there—no man with the devil's eyes.
"Blinky warned us that something like this might happen," Claire's voice came into focus, "and now Jim's mom is turning into a space cadet! What are we supposed to do?"
"I'm fine," she said, looking back at them through the rear view mirror, "and I thought Mr. Blinky had retired."
They gave her sheepish looks.
Once at the rehab center, things calmed down again. With Toby and Claire chatting away with Mrs. Domzalski,, she took a moment to walk around the complex. It was a beautiful facility, one geared towards rehabilitating senior citizens, boasting the latest equipment and nice, cozy rooms to keep the patients feeling as though they were at home.
It certainly lived up to the commercials she had seen. Walking through the entertainment center felt mind boggling. The room was extensive, with pool tables, chessboards, televisions, and even a small theater down the hallway. She kept her arms crossed as she walked around, leaning in to examine one of the paintings on the wall.
"Oh, hello dear. Nice to see you again." A voice creaked up from behind her. "It's really a shame what happened to Walter. He was such a nice man."
Turning around, she caught sight of old lady staring up at her with watery expectation, and blinked. "I'm sorry, I think you might have mistaken me for someone else."
"Oh, no dear I never forget a face. Especially a redhead. My mother was a redhead, you know, and so was I, before I had white hair."
The doctor shook her head, dismissing her own confusion. "How long have you been a patient here?"
"Good gracious, it's not me. I'm here to see my husband, Charles." She pointed to a cluster of elderly patients sitting at a table near the door. "He's the one with the red sweater and the cast on his leg. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer's almost four years ago, now."
"That must be difficult for both of you."
"Oh yes, it very much is, but we manage with the small things. Even if he doesn't recognize me in person, he remembers our times together. It's enough for me."
A smile cracked its way through her lips, though she didn't know what to say. "So," her hand found the back of her neck, "we're you a patient of mine, at some point, or…?"
"No, it was the elevator, dear. I'm afraid I interrupted a moment between you and…well, maybe he's a touchy subject. You know, I never got your name."
"Lake," she extended her hand, "Dr. Barbara Lake."
"Wonderful," the elderly woman's grip felt soft and cool to the touch, "and what are you a Doctor of?"
"Emergency care," she let the hand go.
The lady's eyes wrinkled with humor. "That boy always did have good taste."
Her eyes shot up. "Excuse me?"
"Nothing, nothing." She waived a hand. "Just an old lady prattling on. Listen, I'd love to have you over for tea sometime." The older woman said as she began to rifle through her purse. "With my neighbor gone, I haven't really had any company to speak of. Everyone else there is so, well, old," she laughed.
"Are you sure it's me you remember, Mrs-?"
"Mrs. Presgrit, dear."
Something niggled at the edge of her mind.
"Presgrit," she repeated, letting the word roll on her tongue. "You know, something about that does sound familiar. This, neighbor you mentioned, Walter. Did you know his last name?"
"Oh," she made a face, "you two must not have known each other very well. I never really took him as the Casanova type, but I guess we all have our assumptions. It was Strickler, dear. Walter Strickler and he was a fine young lad. I don't believe a thing they say in the papers. "
A quick scan of her memory brought a date to mind: the next day off on her schedule. "How does Wednesday sound?"
Barbara dropped Toby off at her house. "I've got to run by my office to do some paperwork." She explained to the boy's confused look. "I'll drop Claire off on the way there. There's some leftover chicken in the fridge, and a box of pizza bites in the freezer. Sorry, I haven't had time to pick up any veggies."
"Bleh, who wants those anyways?" Toby remarked, "I'll see you two later. Don't forget about our meeting tomorrow, Claire." He pointed at the younger girl, "6pm sharp, by the gate to troll—the trolley station."
"We don't have a trolley station, Toby," Claire crossed her arms.
"Did I say trolley? I meant folly, which is short for foliage, and we're going to see a lot of that at the...park! Where we are meeting, Tomorrow. To discuss the project." He cleared his throat. "Park. 6pm. Don't be late."
The doctor made a face
"You are so weird." Claire said, before rolling up the window.
Barbara made sure that he got into the house before driving away.
"I don't know how you live with him," Claire remarked after a few moments of silence.
The doctor spared a moment to look away from the windshield. "He's a quirky kid, but it's not so bad. Better than being in that house alone."
"Well," the girl nodded, sounding nervous. "I guess I can see that."
"This must be hard on you," she said as she turned onto the main roadway. "We haven't had a chance to talk since Jim was in the hospital. You stayed by his side all night. Thank you, by the way. The two of you must have been close."
"Yeah, I really miss him." The girl looked down. "We were…just starting to get to know each other better."
The sound of the road beneath the tires was fraying. Hesitation overcame her, but she asked:
"That night you guys were in the forest. Jim wouldn't tell me the truth." The doctor pulled over in a lot by the park. "Do you know what really happened?"
"I," she looked into the Doctor's eyes, then sighed. "I don't want to lie to you, Dr. Lake, you deserve the truth. There were some bad guys that night. I don't really know who they were, or how they knew Jim, but he found out they were going to try to attack my parents' house and came to warn me. My mom's a member of the city council, you know, so it was probably something political. Jim said he didn't want you to know about them, that I had to keep it a secret."
"And you've been holding it in all this time?"
Claire nodded, the rainbow clips in her hair swaying with the movement.
"Is what you wanted to talk to me about?"
"I just wanted you to know that your son is a really good person, Dr. Lake. What he did, he did for the right reasons. I hope you know that, because there are a lot of people saying otherwise," said Claire
A shadow passed behind the doctor's eyes, sadness overwhelming the intensity of her frozen gaze. "Thank you. I know I couldn't have asked for a better child, or a better friend for my son." She smiled a small smile.
Silence reigned for a moment, and then, whatever anguish Claire had been holding in, finally broke out.
"I'm so sorry that we lied to you," she shook her head, her eyes watering. "I never wanted this to happen, and I feel like it's my fault. Like he did all this to protect my family, to protect me, and I never would have condoned the idea of him trying to be some lone vigilante. I wish he had talked to me before he disappeared." She balled her fists together. "I would have told him how I felt. "
"Oh, honey," she unbuckled her seatbelt, and wrapped her arms around the girl. "Listen, it's not your fault."
"I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault." Barbara held the girl tighter, her own eyes threatening tears.
If anything, Barbara thought to herself, it was her own fault. For not being there enough, for not paying closer attention, for not listening when he needed her the most. My god, she'd been so selfish. It was so easy to lose track of time with her job, and with the fatigue she constantly battled. Being an emergency care physician meant being "on call" for the patients, for the hospital, for everyone all the time, and she'd been so busy taking care of the world, that she hadn't had enough time to take care of her son.
And she tried, yes—she ran herself ragged with her attempts to be there for him, often foregoing sleep or food just to be available, but in the end, it hadn't been enough.
"I just want him to come home." Claire sobbed into the doctor's shoulder.
This time, she couldn't prevent her own shuddering breath as she pulled Claire closer, rocking back and forth while the tears streamed down her face. She didn't have the answers. None of them did, and it was far too late to fix the past.
On Tuesday evening, an answer came, though only half of one, and not in the way she would have expected.
As usual, it had been a busy evening in the ER. Barbara had been rushing around from patient to patient, doling out orders to the nurses and residents as the situation required. A broken arm here, a runny nose there, a sawed off finger, two OD's, some heart attacks, objects in places they shouldn't have been stuck, car accidents, chest infections, unexpected pregnancies, burns—everything, even a tiger bite on a caretaker from the local zoo (that one had her interested, and it tickled something at the back of her mind, something long forgotten).
She'd just finished ordering a rabies series for the latter (just in case), and had changed out her soiled scrubs (the big cat had managed hit an artery) when she finally got to one of the less urgent patents on the list. One of the difficult things about her position was having to prioritize patients. The patient in the next room had been waiting for a while, and she steeled herself against his probable annoyance.
Exhausted, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before made her way down the hall.
Opening the door and drawing back the curtain, she entered the small room, adjusting her glasses as she smiled apologetically at the figure sitting on the hospital bed-a round man with green eyes that peered at her through circular spectacles. He had a pleasant enough look about him, and seemed relatively healthy in light if his attendance at the hospital. A hat and coat, along with his shoes, had been tucked into the guest chair at the corner of the room.
"Hallo," he said with an obvious accent, waving at her when she stepped inside.
"I'm sorry you've been waiting so long, Mr. Scaarbach," she said, hoping she had pronounced his name correctly. "It's been an incredible evening and things are a little backed up. How are you feeling?"
"It was worth the wait. You are the lady in the news, ja? I have read about you in the paper."
The words stopped her for a moment. She blinked, and cleared her throat.
"Mr. Scaarbach, if you don't mind, I would prefer it if we focused on your symptoms. The notes I have here say you've been feeling faint, can you tell me a little more about that?"
"Ah yes, very faint. And my skin, it has been…itchy. Like it wants to change."
"Well, that's a new one." She blinked, wondering at the strange smile he wore, "I know the nurse has already gone over this with you, but do you have any known allergies? Sometimes people get so distracted by this environment, or how they feel, that they don't remember the first time they're asked."
"I'm allergic to liars, and cheats." His expression went devilish.
If it was humor he was going for, she wasn't laughing. "I think we're all little allergic to those," she offered a placating line, "any nausea, sweating, hot flashes, extreme fatigue? Anything like that?"
"Sag mir wo Herr Strickler ist."
Immediately, the air changed within the room. Danger. "Excuse me?"
"You are hiding him."
The air conditioning switched on, and she caught the heavy scent of cigarettes wafting off his coat. No, cigars. Cherry.
"Do I…know you?" she asked, squinting into the light.
"Nein, Frau Lake. But I know you, and I have reason to believe that you have information regarding his whereabouts."
"Whose whereabouts?"
"Our former leader, Lord Stricklander."
The blue of her eyes narrowed. Undoubtedly, he'd seen her case on the news. "Listen, I don't know what kind of prank you're trying to pull here, Mr. Scarrbach, but it's not funny. There are people here whose lives are on the line."
"Das ist kein Trick, Frau Lake-"
"I'm a doctor, buddy." she sneered, knowing enough of the language to catch the misstep.
"Ja, ja, du bist eine Ärztin. Doktor Lake, then." Rolling his eyes, he stood from the examination bed, and began to circle the room with clasped hands. "This is no trick. And if you ever want to see your son again, then you will help us."
"My son?" She said as she pulled back and grasped her clipboard, her eyes widening. "You, you have him?"
"Nein, aber we are on the hunt for him, and when we find him, he will have much to answer for. Der Führer has promised to show leniency in the event that you give us the information that we require."
The parking garage. The memory of his scent hurtled back into her mind. "You've been following me," she said, rolling her chair back toward the door. "The parking deck, the store, the trees, the bridge…that was you."
"Ah, ah, ah," he chided, waggling a finger at her as he stepped on one of the chair's wheels. "The security guards on staff tonight are all my agents," his lips twisted into a disturbing smile. "You will find no protection from within these walls."
"Agents of what?" Blue eyes followed his every movement, turning her chair as he circled her.
"You would like to know, ja?" He laughed. "I suppose Herr Stickler did not tell you about that little plan of his, did he?."
"Why does everyone keep mentioning his name? I barely knew the guy!"
The man paused, momentarily taken aback. "Perhaps the rumors are true." He said, "Perhaps they did lösche dein Gedächtnis."
Pretentious, she thought toward his tendency to switch languages. It was evident that he was fluent in both. "I don't understand what you are saying."
He continued his arc, seeming to ignore her. "This could work," his voice oozed out. "This could be used to our advantage."
Vying for his attention, she stood up. "If you have anything to do with my son going missing, or coming to any harm, so help me, I will abandon every single oath I have sworn against medical malpractice and will render you completely unable to function, do you understand?"
"You are a feisty one," he chuckled, folding his hands behind his back, "I can see why my former comrade took to you so quickly. It is really quite adorable."
Growling, she reached into a counter drawer, pulled out a long pair of forceps, lunged forward, and grabbed him by the septum all within a matter of seconds.
The doctor's blue eyes burned with the heat of a methane fire as she glared at him. "you know, there are a lot of nerves in that area." She said as he cried out in pain. "And the cartilage," she sucked in a mocking breath, "ouch."
Her grip tightened when he reached for his nose.
Locking the forceps into place, she gripped the makeshift weapon with both hands. "Go ahead and try to tug it off, be my guest. No one's going to realize that your screaming is abnormal, and then you'll really have a reason to be here."
"Ach! Lass mich los! Schau! Look!" He squealed, losing all of his clout. "We can help you!"
Tugging the forceps, her lips became a thin line. "How?" she demanded.
"We all wish to locate your son, Doktor. Believe me. And we have eyes and ears that extend far beyond the range of your limited law enforcement. In us, you may find an ally."
"Oh, yes, I'm sure that you're really looking out for the kids. What, are you part of some drug cartel or something, an illegal business trade? C'mon."
"Nein, nein," he flashed his palms in submission. "A global organization. Your son has been meddling in our affairs. Unser Anführer only wants for him to stop. If you help us, we will help you. Verstehen Sie?"
"And you want me to, what? Help you find my son's teacher? What does he have to do with all of this?"
"He is the reason we were not able to stop your son sooner. This entire situation has gotten far out of hand. Your son thinks that we are on the bad side of his cause, aber wirklich, we are only trying to help! He is more than just your son's teacher, Doktor, and soon, he will be a danger to us all."
Pausing for a moment, she tried to make sense of the situation. Although dubious in nature and purposefully kept exempt of all details, the situation lent itself to validity. She'd received more information in the past two minutes than she had in the same number of months regarding the disappearance of her son. And he was right about the police—they had limits, paperwork, and protocols. Sometimes, in order to get things done, one had to act outside of the range of the law. Although she did not actively support such behavior, she could clearly see his point-if she wanted to catch her son alive, and in one piece, then she needed an outside agent.
In this strange way, she found herself caving to the wills of this intruder. "So what am I supposed to do? Send out an all-call for long lost history teachers? And how do I know you're not just lying to me to get to my son?"
"You don't know," he admitted, "but if we wanted to harm you, we could have. We know where you live, we clearly know where you work, and have for some time. You were forced to get a new vehicle after your son went away. Funny that they found Herr Strickler's car in a ditch, on the exact same night yours went missing. Coincidence?"
She set her jaw.
"Either way you will want to see your son, ja? So why not take the chance. Wir brauchen Sie. We need you, to bait Strickler, draw him out. You may not remember him, but I can assure you that he will remember you. Ja, ja," he seemed to laugh to himself, "you were his little Schatzi, a secret obsession."
Her brow cocked, then hardened. "Why is he so important to you?"
In her pocket, her phone started to vibrate. Someone was beginning to wonder where she was. One of her hands let go if its death grip on the forceps, and she reached into her pocket to check. "I'm gonna need the short version."
"We have reason to believe that he has stolen a rare artifact, and might have given it to your son for safekeeping. Mein Chef very much wishes to have a little chat with him, und ist nearly blind with the ambition to find it."
"Your cook wants to talk to him because he lost an antique?" She made a disapproving face, "You know, you're really not selling yourself here."
"Nein, nein nein, ach, einschuldigung, wie sagt man "Chef" auf Englisch? 'My boss,' richtig? It is close to his heart."
"Who is he? And who is this 'we' you keep referring to?"
The phone buzzed again. They both heard it.
"Come by the fish market on Avery Straße, ja? To find out more. Ask for Freund Otto. Just like that. If you bring the authorities, I will know, and we will be long gone."
"Fine." She said after a long moment, and then let go of the forceps. Otto yelped and clutched at his now very red nose. Barbara drew back the curtain, which shielded the glass door behind it, and pointed toward his exit. "Get out of my ER."
When he hesitated, she stamped her foot down, and all but snarled. "Now."
Clutching at his nose, he ducked past her, grabbing his coat and shoes before he scurried away.
Only once he was out of the room and long into his trek down the hallway did she let her shoulders slump. Picking up his chart, she could feel herself shaking as she lifted her pen. REFUSED TREATMENT. She marked in, large capital letters, and then threw the clipboard to the ground.
The next day, she parked in the lot of Mrs. Presgrit's apartment complex, hands gripping white along the steering wheel. The building was open during the day, and the doctor floated into it like a ghost, ignoring the worried faces of the tenants she passed. She knew she looked pale, she knew she looked sick, she knew her face looked hollow and gaunt—dehydration, insomnia, malnutrition: the diagnoses ran like ticker-tape across her mind, but she couldn't stop. Not until she got closer to the truth. Not until she ran herself to the bone.
The elevator creaked as it ascended to the sixth floor, something about it smelled familiar, like she had been here in a dream.
When the bell chimed and the door opened, she almost stumbles out with how weak she felt. Counting out the doors, she made her way to the correct one.
The large, gold numerals loomed above her. "615," she whispered into the empty hall, checking it against the numbers she'd hastily scratched onto her notepad.
Everything lined up.
For the briefest moment, she hesitated. Afraid of what she would find out, or of what she wouldn't, but she was tired of tumbling down the rabbit hole. Resolutely, her hand rose to grasp the lion-faced knocker.
She rapped on the door, the thunder of it echoing down the hallway, and closed her pale and weary eyes.
German translations (in order of appearance):
Ja - yes
Sag mir wo Herr Strickler ist – tell me where Mr. Strickler is
Nein, Frau Lake. – No, Ms. Lake (google translate will give you 'Fräulein' for Ms., but this is not modern use)
Das ist kein Trick, Frau Lake – This is no trick, Ms. Lake
Ja, ja, du bist eine Ärztin. - Yes, yes, you are a (female) doctor
Doktor – German spelling of doctor
Der Führer – The leader/guide
Nein, aber – no, but
lösche dein Gedächtnis – delete/erase your memory
Ach! Lass mich los! Schau! – Ack, let me go! Look!
Unser Anführer – our leader
Verstehen Sie? – Do you understand?
aber wirklich – but, really
Wir brauchen Sie – We need you
Schatzi – "little treasure" so he's really saying "little, little treasure"
Mein Chef - my boss
und ist – and is
Nein, nein nein, ach, einschuldigung, wie sagt man "Chef" auf Englisch? My boss, richtig? – No, no, no, ahh, excuse me, how does one say 'Boss' in English? 'My boss,' correct?
Avery Straße, ja? – Avery Street, yes?
Ask for Freund Otto - Ask for friend Otto.
