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Radley Furey touched his plane down on a private runway nestled in the Cascade foothills. He didn’t taxi long before coming to a halt, stepping out and smiling at the middle-aged nurse next to a wheelchair.
“Hello, Ms. Coleman,” he said. “Nice to see you as always.”
She nodded curtly as he opened the back door and unbuckled the seatbelt holding Beatty in place.
Radley was a short man, easily underestimated, but he picked up Beatty without strain and lowered him into the chair.
“W-w-where are we?” Beatty asked, his question barely above a whisper.
Radley looked up across an expansive green field at the sprawling estate on the other side. “This, John, is the home of your employer—the Director.”
“Never met him,” Beatty forced out.
“Sure you have.”
Radley took the handles of the wheelchair and started down an asphalt path that cut across the field.
“Is the infirmary ready?” he asked the nurse trailing behind him.
“Of course, sir.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Radley rolled the wheelchair up a ramp near the entrance and threw open the massive door leading into the mansion. He rolled Beatty through a grand foyer, down winding hallways, and through a number of rooms not designed for any particular purpose other than their grandeur. Radley never slowed down, but he also didn’t shy away from admiring each and every trophy hung high on the walls, some so large as to be unbelievable. Glass boxes, tastefully placed around each room, housed still more, intricately taxidermied specimens of fantastical and exotic creatures.
The collection was truly a sight to behold. Its value in both dollars and to the scientific community could not be calculated.
Soon they came to a smaller room, sterile and white with marble tile floors. In the middle stood a hospital bed. Wires snaked out in different directions from the machines crowded around. Radley rolled Beatty alongside the bed and locked the wheels in place.
Radley bent down and lifted Beatty, shuffling him around until his head rested on the paper-covered pillow.
“Ok, Ms. Coleman. Do your thing.”
The nurse flitted about the room, turning on equipment and choosing supplies. She placed a heart rate monitor on one of Beatty’s fingers, and flipped a switch on a nearby machine. It made no noise, but Radley watched the line rising, slowly but consistently, with no signs of atrial fibrillation. Beatty was weak, but not on the verge of death yet.
Ms. Coleman used a pair of surgical scissors to cut what was left of Beatty’s shirt off, peeled back the blood-soaked denim, and inspected the wound. The claw-marks were clearly visible, and, as Radley already suspected, they were certainly not from a bear. He wondered if Ms. Coleman could tell that.
After pressing her hands against Beatty’s bare chest, Ms. Coleman looked up at Radley with a furrowed brow. “It’s not good. He definitely has some fractured ribs. If any of them punctured an organ, he could have internal bleeding. We should get him to a proper hospital. I’m not a surgeon.”
Radley looked down at Beatty, whose chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.
“Can’t do that. Not right now. Just make him comfortable.”
“But, sir, I can’t guarantee he’s going to make it.”
Radley couldn’t help but smile at this same argument, the same argument they’d had multiple times over the past twenty years. “That’s for me to worry about. Just make him comfortable. Keep him alive if you can.”
Ms. Coleman sighed and rolled over an IV cart. She expertly tapped a vein and got the drip flowing. Fetching a vial from a nearby refrigerator, she withdrew the liquid into a syringe, then tapped it twice to ensure there were no bubbles.
As she injected the drug into Beatty’s IV, Radley put a hand on his shoulder. Beatty looked up through half-closed eyes.
Radley spoke softly. “The organization wants to express their heartfelt appreciation for your work over the years. You always were one of our best. Ms. Coleman is going to take excellent care of you.”
Beatty didn’t respond, of course, and Radley didn’t expect him to.
“Let me know if there are any changes in his condition,” Radley said.
He didn’t wait for a response before storming out the door. As he walked back through the grand hallways and massive rooms, he gave no thought to whether Beatty might live or die. He’d been through this routine a hundred times before, with varying results. He couldn’t afford to dwell on each one.
Radley simply crossed the field, refueled his plane, and headed back to Misty Lake.
