Chapter 32
"I'll be home for Christmas. You can plan on me. Please have snow, and mistletoe, and presents on the tree…"
The surgical lighthead glows as bright and white as the sun on a clear winter's day. Metal clinks against metal. Gentle "oohs" flow through the surgical bay. A bonesaw shines sharp silver under the light.
"Christmas Eve will find me where the love light gleams," Dick sings, inspecting the blade. "I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams…I hope I didn't wake you. We have much to accomplish in so little time so we can prepare for your friend Chris's return. But who can resist Frank Sinatra at Christmastime? Dr. Cabot is a particular fan of Old Blue Eyes. Aren't you, Marty?"
Dr. Cabot stands in silence in the dark corner, his blank eyes glinting like twin pearls. Dick lays the saw on the tray.
"You must be in horrible pain," he says. "Pain is counterproductive to healing. I'll give you a sedative to help you sleep while I fix you."
He picks up a syringe full of blue liquid. He sticks it in my neck.
"Then, when her organs are healed and you've awakened, I'll slice you open and take them from you - just like he took them from her all those years ago," he says, plunging the needle, "back when all of this started..."