That Elusive Cure 49

I slept badly. Wendy called late Friday and brought me up to date. Sally’s liver function was beginning to deteriorate. Her kidney function was worsening as well. This could well be the start of multiple organ failure, and not a good sign.

The pod came to me in my dreams, taunting me with its super powers and mending an ever lengthening stream of patients. A queue had formed, one that seemed to go on forever, stretching out the church, around Birkenhead and beyond. When I tried to get Sally to the pod, I was met with polite smiles then told to get to the back of the queue. Someone was selling trinkets in the car park. They had miniature pods on sale and fridge magnets with the words: I’ve been to the pod and survived. There were t-shirts and pictures of the church. The stall owner grinned widely at me, displaying gaps where he was missing teeth. The waiting people reminded me of people I seen in pictures as they waited at Lourdes and other holy places. The cripples and the infirm, the diseased and the insane, all hoping for a miracle.

I woke up in a sweat, knowing exactly why the pod had to remain a secret. There were only three days to go until Sally could be cured. I had to hope that her damaged body survived until then.

Knowing that I wouldn’t have the result I so desperately wanted, I went to the church anyway. The sun was still only just peeking above the horizon. I’d left Jimmy asleep in the bed, and here I was hoping for the impossible.

The hatch slid open and closed as smoothly as ever. Then the female voice, so familiar that she also visited me in my dreams, spoke.

“Power restarting. Diagnostics initiating. Pressure in the nanoparticle chamber is 99% and functionality is restored. Nanoparticle density is 90% and not high enough for functionality. Estimated time to recharge nanoparticles is three days. Recommend recharging with MicroHealth nanoparticles. Please contact MicroHealth representative.”

“No!” I yelled. “That’s not right, you need to be done. I need you to work!”

Rage boiled inside of me, so hot it burnt my cheeks and seemed to almost blind me.

I ran at the pod, the urge to rip and tear irresistible. At the last moment, some part of me saw sense and I veered away from the pod and ran at the stack of pews to my left instead. I tore at the benches. One near the top came loose and fell my way. It thudded into me and unable to keep my footing, the bench and I collapsed as one, my head bouncing off the floor as I hit. The edges of the pew knocked the wind out of me as it crashed on top of me.

I’m not sure how long I lay on the floor. When I opened my eyes grey snow filled my vision. The back of my head throbbed – that’s what woke me up. I felt carefully and found a tender swollen lump.

“It’s not fair, she’s dying and I can’t do anything about it.” Tears filled my eyes. “All I want to do is save her. That’s it. Just Sally. I’d give up my last session for her. I would have given up all my sessions for her.”

The bench was stopping me from breathing properly. I pushed at it, but there seemed to be no strength in my arms and the pew hardly moved. So this was how it was going to end. With me trapped in a church, the only keys in my handbag and a pod right next to me that would have saved me in a couple of days, should I manage to crawl out from under the bench.

Jesus stared down at me, his face passive.

“I’m not sure I can go on without Sally. It’ll be my fault if she doesn’t make it.” Tears flowed freely. “I can’t cope, being this close to the magic and unable to use it.”

The bone-white paint that had been used on His tunic was peeling. The blood dripping from His head had faded to a deep brown. If I got out from under this pew I’d get Him restored. I had to leave the outside of the building unimpressive. That didn’t mean I couldn’t put the inside back to the way it should be.

I tried to push the pew off my chest again. Somehow I found the strength and shoved it far enough to the side for me to slid out from underneath. Guess my end was not going to be today. After one last check of the back of my head for blood and a quick test to make sure I wasn’t concussed, I locked up and left for the hospital.

Sally’s skin had begun to turn jaundiced, like a new born baby. Between the air mattress and the drips, now up to two like the elderly lady in the end bed, and the weight she’d lost since I’d seen her at her house, she appeared like a small child. How long ago was it that we ate cake and laughed? Couldn’t be that long ago. I held her hand, trying not to wake her, and settled into the visitor’s chair.

I wondered when Wendy would show up. Maybe she’d bring the kids. My heart hurt when I thought about them. Poor kids. First their dad, and now their mother. They were going to be damaged forever.

The doctor had told Wendy that if she made it five days that chances started to be in her favour again. Today must be the third day, only two to go. I pictured Jesus in my church, concentrated on him and asked him to please give Sally a chance. She deserved it. She should get put in the pod, she needed to get better.

I must have squeezed her hand too hard while concentrating and I woke to find her head turned to the side, her blue eyes gazing at me.

“Making deals for my life?”

How did she know? She always did have a knack of reading my thoughts.

No point hiding the facts. “Yup. Asked God to give you a chance.”

"And what did your god say?”

I shrugged. “Well nothing, not yet. We’ll see if you get past day five. Then we’ll have the answer.”

She chuckled quietly. “Good luck with that.”

Sally closed her eyes again, dozing while I sat next to her and watched the sun rise in the sky.