LATER CÁMARA COULD not say whether Hilario’s arm rhythmically striking his bedroom door like that had been deliberate or fortuitous. The glass panel rattled slightly, which meant that the sound travelled across the flat. But competing against the background hum of the city, the noise of their lovemaking and the weight of their own bodies subsequently demanding sleep, it took Cámara and Alicia longer to hear it than they would have wished.
Hilario had managed to make it out of bed and across the floor, but there the paralysis had stopped him and he was now soiled and dribbling at the mouth. His eyes stared wildly ahead, fixed and desperate. His pyjama top was open, as though he had ripped at it, and the pasty loose skin of his chest seemed to flash in the half-light, contrasting with the deep tan of his face and hands.
I’m losing him, Cámara thought. Not with his mind, but with some lower, gut-like brain. A second later Alicia was by his side.
‘Oh my God.’
‘Call an ambulance now. I’ll clean him up.’
He sprinted to the bathroom, grabbed cloths and towels, and was back with his grandfather as Alicia was dialling 110 from the landline in the hall.
‘We’ll sort this out,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll get you to the hospital. You’ll be all right.’
Hilario’s body was tense and quivering like a fist. His breathing was short and stuttered, a low grunting sound coming from his throat. The left side of his mouth arched down as though being pulled by a dentist to inspect his gums. Cámara pulled his pyjamas off and quickly rinsed him down. They needed to act as quickly as possible; everything would depend on how soon he could get medical attention.
Alicia appeared in the doorway and Cámara looked up. Her expression worried him.
‘What is it?’
‘The ambulance people.’
‘What?’
‘They said they couldn’t promise they would get here for at least an hour.’
It took a second for the information to sink in.
‘What?’
‘The cuts. They’re overstretched . . .’
‘You told them this was a stroke.’
‘Of course I bloody did. But they wanted to know how old he was and—’
‘What did you say?’
‘Well, I didn’t expect the question. I said he’s in his eighties, and then—’
Cámara stood up and touched her on the arm.
‘Are they putting him low on the list because he’s old?’ she asked.
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘We need to get him to a hospital as quickly as possible. Where’s your car?’
‘I – I parked it about three blocks away.’
‘Get dressed, go and bring it here.’
She ran back to the bedroom. Cámara knelt down next to Hilario.
‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘We’ve got it sorted.’
There was only one flight of stairs to carry him down. Cámara dressed Hilario as best he could, and wrapped a blanket around him. Then as quickly and as smoothly as possible, they carried him down and into the back of the car. The engine was still running. Cámara got into the driving seat.
‘Come on,’ he cried. They set off before Alicia could close the door.
It was late and the streets were empty. Alicia sat in the back, holding Hilario’s hand and murmuring to him gently. Cámara jumped the traffic lights, driving quickly but smoothly – the last thing his grandfather needed was to be thrown around by sharp cornering and heavy braking.
‘How’s he doing?’ he called to Alicia as they hit a patch of straight road.
‘The same,’ she replied. The tone of her voice said everything.
The street lights flashed overhead in a steady, bloodless pulse.
The new hospital was bigger, cleaner, better equipped and further away than its predecessor. The streets turned into avenues and the avenues into boulevards as they moved away from the centre and progressed outwards to the far edge of the city. Alicia’s car was stiff and middle-aged. When, eventually, they arrived, they had to circle around the vast white complex before finding the right bit: some genius had decided to build the emergency ward at the back.
An orderly tried to stop them parking in the covered bay outside.
‘Not here. This is only for ambulances.’
‘Find a stretcher,’ Cámara said, getting out of the car. ‘This man is having a stroke.’
The orderly turned on his heel without a word and went inside. If he was not back within half a minute Cámara would commandeer a stretcher from somewhere himself. He peered into the back of the car. Alicia’s face was lined and strained. Hilario looked pale, the expression in his eyes becoming gradually more vacant.
Cámara ran inside. Large transparent bags filled with rubbish were lined up against the wall and he almost fell over them as he looked for the orderly. There was no sign of him. The reception area was full: two rows of red plastic seats were crammed; at least four people were lying on the floor, catching some sleep; a couple of babies were screaming in unison in a corner; a large, elderly woman doubled up as she struggled with a relentless hacking cough. A queue of six or seven others was grouped around the reception desk, where a miserable-looking nurse was taking her time dealing with each new patient.
Cámara ran over, jumped to the head of the queue and started speaking over the voices of the others already there.
‘My grandfather. Outside. Having a stroke.’
The nurse carried on as though he did not exist, tapping at the computer and glancing up occasionally at the person she was attending to.
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Cámara cried. ‘We need a stretcher now. The man’s in a serious condition.’
He banged his fist on the counter. She looked at him.
‘Do that again and I’ll call security.’
He had her attention at last.
‘The person outside is very important,’ Cámara said. It was a common trick, which usually got sleepy civil servants to click into action for fear of ‘consequences’ otherwise. The nurse finished dealing with the person at the head of the queue before answering.
‘Important? Important?’ she said. ‘You’re trying to tell me he’s more important than anyone else here? If he’s that special why don’t you take him to a private hospital. If not, you can get to the back of the line and wait your turn.’
Cámara’s head began to spin.
‘He’s having a stroke!’ he shouted at the top of his voice. The nurse looked at him sourly, her eyelids heavy with fatigue. Then she pressed a button on her desk and indicated for Cámara to stand to one side.
‘Next,’ she called.
‘What’s going on?’ Cámara asked. The person behind him in the queue barged in front, shouldering him out of the way.
‘Someone will be coming,’ the nurse said, waving towards a door leading into the hospital. ‘Now wait like the rest.’
Cámara pulled himself away. The door she had indicated had a large red-and-white NO ENTRY sign painted on it.
He dashed back outside. Alicia was still in the car, holding Hilario’s head against her chest while she smoothed his brow with her free hand. Cámara could see the flashing lights of an ambulance in the distance: they would have to get Hilario out and move the car before it arrived. Beyond a low wall to the side he caught sight of the metal frame and grey wheels of a stretcher. He ran over; it had been stripped of sheets, but would do. Wheeling it across, he pulled up in front of the car.
‘We’ll have to do this together.’
Alicia did her best to heave Hilario out through the door. Cámara held him by the shoulders and Alicia uncurled herself out of the car and took his legs. After a couple of moments Hilario was lying down on the stretcher.
‘Drive,’ Cámara said. ‘We can’t leave the car there. Then come and find me.’
The ambulance was already pulling in, blowing its horn for Alicia’s car to be taken out of the way. She jumped into the front and screeched off.
‘What? Hey!’
The orderly reappeared.
‘You can’t take that,’ he said. ‘We need that stretcher.’
‘Find another one.’
Cámara pushed Hilario through into the reception area. It would be pointless staying in there: he could be made to wait for ever. Working his way through the mass of people, he headed towards the forbidden door. With a loud buzz it swung open automatically as he approached it with the stretcher.
The cries of the reception nurse and orderly angrily calling him back were soon muffled as the door closed behind him.
He was in a corridor, with small rooms on either side. Yet inside the hospital proper it was as busy and chaotic as in reception. A sticky brown stain streaked across the floor. An old man, naked but for his underpants, was standing in a doorway with a breathing mask over his face and a drip hanging loosely from his arm.
‘Where are they?’ he repeated in a hoarse voice. ‘Where the fuck are they?’
People shuttled in and out, back and forth. One, wearing a green robe, almost crashed into Hilario. She steadied herself, looked strangely at Cámara, wondering who he was and what he was doing, then dashed off, too busy with other things.
‘Excuse me!’ Cámara called. There was no response. From somewhere he could hear a horn-like sound, beating with a fixed rhythm. Was that an alarm? Had the nurse in reception called security?
He needed to find a doctor. He could hardly hear his grandfather breathe any more.
The stretcher squealed as he inched it forwards. Each side room was filled with patients, with family members crammed in around the bed. Empty boxes and plastic wrappers lay on tables or on the floor where they had been discarded. Mixed with the stench of bleach was a yeasty, sickly smell – antibiotics, perhaps, or infection.
‘What is this? What is this?’
A man with grey stubble stood in front of Cámara, halting the stretcher’s progress.
‘You can’t barge in like this. You have to go back. Can’t you see how busy we are? There’s enough to deal with without idiots like you wandering around the place.’
‘Are you a doctor?’
‘You’ll have to leave. This way, this way.’ The man took the end of the stretcher and tried to swing it round, towards the exit.
Cámara placed his foot in the way. The stretcher halted.
‘Are you a doctor?’
‘You have to leave. Otherwise we’ll call—’
‘Look at his face!’ Cámara shouted. ‘He’s having a stroke.’
The man paused for a second to look at Hilario. His face was badly contorted now, his eyes beginning to curl up into their sockets. But Cámara could see the doctor’s reaction: old man, probably far gone. It would not be worth the effort with this one.
‘I’m sorry. Everyone in here is an emergency case.’
Cámara dropped his hands to his sides. He felt something in his jacket pocket brush against his wrist. The doctor was reaching out to grab the stretcher again. This time he would not be stopped.
The bullet made a neat hole in the ceiling, barely bigger than the 9-millimetre round itself. The sound of the gunfire seemed to echo through every room in the hospital complex.
The doctor’s mouth gaped open as he stared at the gun now held next to Cámara’s head. In an instant his attitude changed. A nurse had appeared from a side room, attracted by the sound of the explosion. The doctor pulled him by the arm.
‘Room twenty-one,’ the doctor said. ‘It’s urgent.’
The nurse did a double take from the doctor to Cámara, who lowered the pistol to the level of his hip.
‘Right away,’ he said.
The two of them began pulling the stretcher along. Cámara followed them a pace behind, not lowering his hands. Only when Hilario passed through the swing doors at the end of the corridor did he drop his arms completely and put the gun away. Which was when the security guard pounced.
It took some explaining – using a firearm in a hospital, threatening to shoot a doctor dead, and finally bloodying the nose of a security man as he resisted being apprehended. But a Policía Nacional badge helped, particularly when backed up with an ID card stating clearly that he was a chief inspector.
Alicia found him alone in a room they had shunted him into – not quite a cell, but it was thought better to keep him on his own, and under some degree of control. For the time being, now that they had taken a proper look at him, they were more interested in Hilario’s condition.
Alicia and Cámara sat for hours on hard chairs, barely speaking to each other, Alicia with her back straight and eyes closed, Cámara leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. When the doctor came back, shortly before dawn, Cámara did not bother to look up.
They stood together outside for a moment. The sun was rising and reflecting on the cold hard paint of a thousand cars stretching out across the car park.
Another day. The beginning. And the end.
Alicia pressed a tearful face against his shoulder.
The sky ached so much he felt he would break.