Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Deadly Accident

Thursday morning after swim practice and lunch with Carol—Richard was out doing an interview—Therese hiked down to Jen’s in the warm afternoon sun with Clifford trailing behind her. Stormy might not need to be groomed, but Therese needed to keep busy. Every idle moment added to her anxiety over what lay ahead.

It wasn’t just getting past the Hydra, though that certainly would be enough to make anyone anxious. She did, after all, have to time getting in and out of the lair just right, which would be tricky, even after all the practice she and Than did last night. And apologizing to Vicki in the Underworld, well, that was less of a challenge than it was a gift, a gift of closure. Although the last two challenges worried Therese, what really had her stomach in knots was the part about burning to death.

Maybe her body would go into shock, so she wouldn’t feel it. Maybe she’d burn quickly, and it would be over before she knew it. She shuddered and tried not to think about her flesh in flames.

Reaching the Holts’ gravelly drive, now lined with cars belonging to trail riders, she headed to the barn as Clifford went on to the stream at the back of the house. Pete tapped his hat to her from the pen. She wiggled her fingers to him, and then to Bobby, who also waved. Jen was in the barn brushing Sassy.

Jen looked up as Therese entered. “Hey there.”

“Hey. I let Clifford come today. Hope that’s alright. He went straight to the stream, as usual.”

“Sure. He never gives up, does he? Fishing for trout.”

Therese chuckled. “Never.” She took Stormy’s brush from the shelf and sat on a stool in the front of his stall. He was getting big, though he still wasn’t weaned, and he was sometimes skittish even around Therese. “It’s okay boy.” She stroked his soft gray hide and pressed her cheek against his flank. “Stormy. That’s you, boy. You’re Stormy. I’m Therese.”

“Matt and I are going to the movies this weekend. Maybe you and Pete could join us.”

“Hmm. I don’t know.”

“Think about it.”

“Than and I are talking again. I was going to tell you the other day, but…”

“I thought you hated him.”

“No. Not anymore. He’s been busy trying to find a way for us to be together.”

Jen came around from behind Sassy to work her other side. “So, do you really like him? I mean, ‘like’ like him?”

Therese nodded. “It’s bad, Jen. I think I’m in love.”

“No way. Y’all haven’t even seen that much of each other.”

“More than you know.”

“What do you mean? He hasn’t come up to see you, has he?”

Therese moved her stool so she could reach the backside of Stormy. “It was a quick trip. He flew in and out in one night. He’s done that twice now.”

“Is he loaded or something? That’s a lot of money.”

“I guess so.” His father was the god of all precious stones, she supposed.

Just then, Bobby barged into the barn, breathless. “Therese, come quick. It’s Clifford.”

Therese and Jen exchanged worried glances as they left the stall and followed Bobby. Pete stepped from the pen holding Clifford’s limp body in his arms.

“Clifford!” Therese ran to Pete’s side.

“He slipped into the pen somehow. The General trampled him.”

Clifford’s head was a mangled mess, smashed and pouring blood. His little white and brown body twitched.

“He’s not dead!” Therese insisted, a lump rising to her throat. “Can you take me to a vet?”

Pete met her eyes. “But…”

“Please?”

He nodded and carried Clifford to his truck. Therese and Jen followed to where it was parked in the garage, Therese no longer able to feel her arms and legs or the rise and fall of her chest.

Mrs. Holt came up alongside the truck as Therese blindly climbed in. “Listen, Honey. No use going to see a vet.”

“You don’ t understand. He’s going to be okay.” She said this with a quavering voice, sounding as unsure as she felt.

Bobby came up behind. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry! When I opened the gate, Clifford ran past me! It’s my fault!”

“No it’s not, Bobby,” Therese said.

Jen climbed in beside Therese, crying her eyes out. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe it.”

“Get me a towel, Mom.” Pete held Clifford at the opened passenger side door, blood running down his arms and onto his shirt and jeans.

“Thank you, Pete! Thank you for helping me!” In another life, she would have married him.

Mrs. Holt returned moments later with an old towel, which she wrapped around Clifford. It immediately became soaked with blood. “Ah, hell, let me get another.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jen said, more of a slobbering mess than Therese.

“It’s okay. Clifford will be fine.” At least she hoped. Artemis hadn’t been angry enough with Therese to undo her gift of immortality, had she?

“Oh, Therese!” Jen cried. “Look at his head. He’s not going to be fine!”

Pete lowered his eyes.

“Stop it!” she snapped. “I don’t want to hear that.” Please, Artemis.

Mrs. Holt returned with another towel, swaddling Clifford like a baby. Then she and Pete lay Clifford in Therese’s arms. She cradled him, speaking softly to him, even though she could feel no life left in his body. He wasn’t breathing, nor was his heart beating. He felt heavy with death, his stubby tail, usually wagging, stiff. “You’ll be alright, soon, Clifford, boy. Hang in there.”

Pete climbed behind the wheel and brought his truck to life. Tears streamed from Therese’s eyes as she prayed over her best friend, silently. “Please let him be alright. Please, Artemis.”

As they neared Therese’s house, Carol ran from the gravelly drive, waving her hands for them to stop. Pete rolled down his window. Mrs. Holt must have called her.

“Is there room for me?”

Pete climbed out and helped Carol into the backseat of his truck. Carol leaned over and stroked Therese’s hair. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so, so, sorry.”

“He’s going to be okay. The vet will know what to do.”

Therese sensed Carol and Jen exchange looks.

“Trust me, guys,” Therese said as Pete drove across the dam. “Clifford will make it.” She cradled his body like a baby as her teeth chattered. “Please hurry, Pete. He’s losing so much blood.”

She knew what they were all thinking. They were thinking, “Poor Therese. First her parents, then Dumbo, then Puffy, then Vicki, and now Clifford. Poor, poor Therese.” But Therese knew Clifford could not die; at least, not forever. At some point, his soul would return to his body, just like Asterion and Ariadne’s would. She wasn’t sure how long it would take, but she hoped the vet could fix his head so his body would be ready when his soul returned. “Please, Artemis,” she whispered, low, so no one could hear over the sound of the engine. “I beg you.”

When they reached the emergency vet clinic, Pete dropped everyone off at the door, and Therese rushed Clifford inside. She was immediately led to an operating room, where a technician came in to exam Clifford.

“Let’s lay him on the table,” the young technician said as she pulled on gloves.

The stainless steel table was cold and hard. Therese kept her arms around Clifford as the technician carefully pulled the bloody towels away from Clifford’s body.

“Oh, dear,” she said, her eyes wide. She put one end of her stethoscope to her ears and the other to Clifford’s blood-matted chest. “Tell me what happened.”

“He was trampled by a horse,” Therese said. “But he’s going to be alright.”

Carol shook her head. “Oh, Therese. She lost her parents only a year ago. This is hard for her to accept.”

“Stop saying that, Carol!” Therese turned an angry face to her aunt, feeling the blood feverishly flow to her face. “This has nothing to do with my parents! This is totally different! You don’t know everything!” Her heart raced fast. She couldn’t breathe.

Carol backed away toward the door. The others lowered their eyes.

The technician wiped away some of the blood, gently handling Clifford’s head. She pushed his lids down to cover his lifeless eyes. “I’ll have Dr. Chenault take a look at him. Why don’t you step out into the waiting room, and I’ll call you back after she’s had a chance to examine him.”

“I don’t want to leave him,” Therese said. “The others can go, but I want to stay here.”

Carol put a hand on her shoulder. “Therese, I…”

“Please,” Therese said.

“That’s fine,” the technician said. “But I need the rest of you to clear the room. Thank you.”

Carol kissed the top of Therese’s head. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

When Therese was left alone with Clifford, she wiped more of the blood away from Clifford’s body. He’d stopped bleeding. His head was a clotted mess, and she could see the fractured skull and maybe even some of his brain behind his left ear. At least his eyes hadn’t been crushed. She wiped each paw, rinsing one of the towels at the sink and wiping again—wetting, wiping, the whole time praying to Artemis, until, after about three or four minutes, Dr. Chenault entered the room.

The doctor, a thin, petite woman with curly brown hair and glasses, bent over the examining table and looked over Clifford, pressed her stethoscope to his chest, lifted the lids of his eyes and closed them again. “Poor guy didn’t have a chance.”

“I don’t think he’s dead. Can you try to revive him?”

The doctor narrowed her eyes at Therese and called her to the other side of the table. “Look here. See how his skull is collapsed? This kind of brain damage means he didn’t suffer long. As soon as the hoof hit, this little guy was gone.”

Therese wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her hand. “Can you fix him up? I don’t care how much it costs. I’ve got a lot of money. Can you stitch up his head and make him look nice?”

“Do you mean like a taxidermist?”

Therese’s mouth dropped open. “No. No, not like that at all.” Her shoulders shook as a new wave of sobs constricted her throat and made it impossible to speak.

The doctor put a hand on Therese’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

One of Clifford’s legs twitched. Therese covered her mouth with her hands and held her breath.

The vet saw it, too. “That’s normal dear, especially with head injuries. That doesn’t mean…”

Clifford blinked open his eyes and began to whine.

“What the…” The vet rushed to Clifford’s side and looked at him closely. “He’s breathing again. This is unusual. There’s a pulse. His heart’s beating.”

Clifford started writhing and whining, obviously in great pain. Dr. Chenault had to hold him to keep him from falling off the table.

Therese gasped, not sure whether to laugh with glee or to scream in terror at his suffering.

“Call my tech back in here. Her name’s Katie.”

Therese ran to the door. “Katie! The doctor needs you!”

“You’ll need to step out of the room, Therese. I’ll update you when I’m done here. This is very unusual.”

Therese met the others in the waiting room with a smile on her face. “He’s moving around. I think he’s coming to.”

Jen jumped from her seat. “What?”

Pete crossed to her side and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you serious?”

“What did the vet say?” Carol asked.

“It’s very unusual.”