A Fluffy Tale (6 page)

“I…uh…just need
to know how he is.”

“Then you go find out. Good luck—and
remember, people can survive much worse things.”

He watched her for a second or two as she
drove away. Yes, people could survive worse. But they died in car accidents all
the time, and Zachary had looked very bad. It had taken the paramedics a long
time to stabilise him before they could load him up.

His bloodied state raised a few questions
at Reception but when they found out he wasn’t injured, he was told to wait
with all the unfortunate friends and relatives of people being treated. The
receptionist suggested that Mr Ledbetter’s family be contacted if Julian knew
how to—but he didn’t. That ended his usefulness, apparently.

It became clear this would take more than a
couple of hours, and his filthy state had already drawn a lot of curious looks.
He took himself off to the small public bathroom to clean himself
up. The place smelled like urine and unpleasant chemicals, and wasn’t
particularly sterile. The soap dispenser was nearly empty and he had to use
half a dozen paper towels before he removed the worst of the blood from his
clothes and hands.

Pyon, who’d been so very
good and kept himself out of sight while the worst was happening, now popped up
and wanted reassuring.

“You and me both, little guy,” Julian said
cuddling his kem, staring at his reflection in the mirror and wondering if Zachary
was already dead. And Linis too. His eyes filled
suddenly. No. No, not Linis too. Not both of them.
He’d only just stopped hating the guy.

The waiting room was no one’s idea of a
pleasant place to be. The television showed cartoons and then a series of inane
soaps. Some of the waiting people stared at it slack-jawed, but most ignored
it. There wasn’t much else to occupy the attention, and the bored wandered in
and out to make mobile phone calls, smoke or just get out of the foetid, sickly
air inside. Julian didn’t dare leave in case someone called him to tell him
about Zachary.

It was two o’clock in the afternoon before
he got any news at all, and that was only to tell him that he couldn’t have any
specific information because he wasn’t a relative. “I don’t care—I want to stay
here until he’s okay,” he told the doctor.

“That’s going to be some time,” she said.
“Mr Ledbetter’s uncle is flying in tonight and there will be some decisions
about treatment to be made. You can’t do anything for him right now. Mr
Ledbetter is unconscious and will remain so for at least twenty-four hours—no
visitors either.”

“I'm staying.”

She sighed. “Up to you. But if you want my
advice, you’ll go home, change, get some rest and come back tomorrow.”

“What about his kem? Is Linis okay?”

“Kems typically dematerialise when the host
is injured. We haven’t seen his, but that’s not unusual. You surely know they
can’t be injured. Now, please, I have other people to see.”

He stood disconsolately as she walked away.
Pyon meeped enquiringly and rubbed his face against Julian’s cheek. She was
right—he did need to change and eat, at least for Pyon’s sake. But he’d come
back here afterwards.

He left a message at the office to tell
them briefly what had happened—he had no idea when it would be picked up, but
he didn’t care particularly since work was the last thing on his mind. Two
messages on his own phone from friends, he ignored—they'd have to wait. He
could email them later but he just couldn't deal with anything else now. Then
he showered and changed, and ate a proper meal, and told Pyon to go inside so
he could nourish himself properly. He felt fairly useless—he didn’t know
Zachary’s family or friends so couldn’t tell them. The only thing he could do
was swing past the man’s apartment building and let his neighbours know, but he
discovered none of them had actually met Zachary. He delivered the information,
hoped he wasn’t setting Zachary up to be burgled, and then he hailed a taxi and
headed back to the hospital.

No change, no more information. Pyon didn’t
like the hospital—neither did the other kems, from what he could see. Too many people in distress, angry, worried or bored, and with no
interest in playing with their kems or anyone else’s. Only the children,
with their tiny symbiotes, had time for them. Pyon played a little with the
younger kems and the children too, who adored him, but most of the time, he
spent with Julian, curled up on his lap and swishing his tail against Julian’s
hand, or begging for cuddles and petting. He seemed as worried as Julian, and
it made Julian wonder just how much Pyon knew of what was going on.

The room was hot, ugly and smelled of
desperation and unwashed people. Without his kem for company, he’d have gone
nuts, but it was still damn boring. The only thing he’d learned was that
Zachary’s uncle was expected in around midnight, still hours away. In the
meantime, he could only wait and worry—or go home, which he refused to do. He
felt someone should be here—it was wrong that Zachary, or anyone, could be so
badly injured with no one to wait for them to wake up.
But there wasn’t a lot he could do until that happened.

At eight, his stomach rumbled. He’d brought
some nuts and dried fruit to stave off hunger but he thought he should keep
those until he had no other options. The hospital offered a canteen some
distance away, an all night tea and coffee bar, and some hideously overpriced
vending machines. He went for the machines because they were closest and at
least they sold sandwiches and juice. Zachary’s lectures about healthy eating
hadn’t covered hospitals, but Julian felt he should try to stick to the diet.
Zachary would be furious if Pyon suffered because of him.

He had just pressed the button for the
juice and was waiting for it to dispense when he heard a plaintive whine and
felt a clawing at his leg. But Pyon was on his shoulder… He looked down and saw
a familiar, if unexpected, kem, batting at his ankle. “Linis? What are you
doing here?”

He bent down and picked up the big kem, who
wailed and headbutted him. He’d never seen Linis upset at all before.

“Hey, fella, you’re worried?” He cuddled
him close, and Pyon bent down to give his new friend a lick. Julian collected
his juice and took the food and his passengers back to the hard and
uncomfortable chair.

Linis was desperate for reassurance and
affection—desperate full stop, in fact. Did that mean…? Julian felt a chill in
his chest. Was Zachary…dying? He hugged the two kems close to him and bit his
lip. Would the hospital tell him if he was?

But Linis seemed in good health, and surely
if Zachary was on the verge of death, he wouldn't be. He just seemed rather
lonely and worried. All Julian could do was try to reassure him, let Pyon play
and groom him, while he ate his scratch meal and wondered what was going on
behind the closed doors of the emergency ward.

Linis disappeared from time to time, and
Julian worked out that he was popping back to check on Zachary. But he always
reappeared in minutes, distressed and in need of more affection. Julian finally
asked the receptionist if there was any more news, but she couldn’t or wouldn’t
tell him anything more than he already knew.

Time dragged on. As night fell, the waiting
room emptied of the families and the idlers, leaving only the truly desperate
and worried, and even they mostly disappeared as they received news, or their
friends and loved ones came out, bandaged or clutching a bag of medicine. Every
so often people would stagger in, either drunk or clutching a bloodied head or
hand. Their friends hung around while they were treated and then left.

Julian alone kept a vigil all evening.
Zachary would probably be utterly bemused at him doing so, but he just…had to.

At one am, a taxi pulled up outside and a
tall, elderly man carrying a smart, compact leather suitcase, came in through
the glass doors. Julian guessed at once who it was, and went over to him.
Though the man had to be seventy at least, he had the same elegant bone
structure and lean physique as his nephew—and the same green eyes.

“Are you here for Zachary?”

“Why, yes.” The man seemed completely taken
aback at being accosted by a stranger. “I'm Leo Underwood, his great uncle. Who
are you?”

“Uh, Julian Godwin. He…we work together.
Um…he’s a friend.”

“You must be—is that Linis? Goodness, what
are you doing here, little fellow?” He reached out and patted Zachary’s kem
affectionately. His own kem, a small white creature, materialised then and
walked down his arm to sniff and lick at Linis’s face, and then Pyon’s. “You
and Zachary must be close.”

“Um, not exactly. They won’t tell me what’s
happening with him. He was hit by the car just near my
apartment. We’d been jogging together—I feel awful.”

Underwood smiled wearily. “Not your fault,
so don’t. Let me speak to whomever I need to. Could you look after Linis while
I do that?”

He left his case with Julian and then went
over to the receptionist. He was taken almost immediately behind scenes,
leaving Julian with the two kems to wait again.

It seemed to take forever, though the clock
on the wall said it was only fifteen minutes before Leo Underwood reappeared.
He looked far more tired and depressed—the news couldn’t have been good. Julian
stood to hear the worst.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“They’re not sure. He’s in critical care
right now. The injuries were severe.” He rubbed his eyes. “To be honest,
Julian…they warned me he could die.”

“No,” Julian whispered.

“I'm afraid so, yes. But he’s stable, and I
believe he’s being given excellent care. They told me to return in the morning,
to leave a contact number with them. I’ll stay at Zachary’s apartment.”

“You could stay with me, if you like. His
place isn’t far from mine…and…um…”

“You want the company? Have you been here
all day?” Julian nodded. “My dear boy, you must be exhausted. I accept your
generous offer—a sorrow shared and all that.”

“What about Linis?”

“Let me talk to him. May I have your
telephone number to give the doctors?”

Julian scribbled it out, and the
address—and his name, just to be sure—and Underwood took it. “Let me sort this
out. Give me Linis, and if you could call a taxi?”

It was good to have someone who could make
decisions—who could get information, even if it was bad news. When Julian
finished ordering the car, he found the man talking seriously to Linis in a low
voice, his own kem listening intently. Then he straightened and Linis
disappeared. “I asked him to keep an eye on our boy while we get some rest. He
understands we can’t be here all the time.”

“How do you know, sir?”

“I just do,” he said, smiling tiredly.
“Please, call me Leo—‘sir’ makes me feel my age and I really don’t need any
help with that. I hope that taxi comes soon. I'm not as young as I used to be,
and it was a tiresome flight.”

Julian was a lot younger but this worrying
day and all the waiting had exhausted him. The old man had to be close to
passing out. Since he couldn’t directly help Zachary, he decided he would help
Zachary’s uncle—and maybe learn a little more about the mysterious Mr
Ledbetter. It’d be a distraction from worrying himself sick, at least.

They spoke little in the taxi, except to
exchange the names of their kems—Leo’s was called Nuji, and Pyon was already
his fast friend—and for Julian to explain his relationship with Zachary a
little better.

“I, uh, don’t know the names of his other
friends. Are you going to call his parents?”

“I can’t. They’ve been dead for over twenty
years.”

“Oh.” Julian replayed that conversation in
his head and mentally smacked himself. It hadn’t been hostility—just deep
discomfort, possibly even grief, which had made Zachary go all frosty. “No
other relatives?”

“None, unless you count distant second and
third cousins that neither of us have ever met. There’s just me, and like you,
I don’t know his friends either. You’re the first one I’ve ever encountered.
I'm glad he’s found someone so loyal.”

Julian opened his mouth to say he’d do this
for anyone, then shut it. If Leo wanted the illusion
of a close friendship, what harm could it do? For all he knew, he
was
Zachary’s best friend—which was a lonely, depressing thought in itself. “He can’t
die,” was all he said.

“I hope not. He’s young and fit and the
doctors said he had more than a fifty percent chance of making it. I'm a great
believer in those kinds of odds, Julian. Are we nearly there?”

They were. Getting up the stairs and
opening his front door suddenly felt like enormously difficult tasks. But
finally he was home. That morning, Zachary had eaten breakfast with him in this
very place. Their dirty dishes still sat in the sink. His heart went tight.
Zachary just couldn’t die.

He set Leo’s suitcase down and tried to
think what needed to be done. “I, uh…need to change
the sheets.”

Leo shook his head. “Please, Julian, I’ve
slept on mud floors. I just want to lie down. Politeness can wait.”

Julian was too tired to argue, though he
did put out clean towels and checked the bathroom was still respectable. He
didn’t even bother making up the sofa bed—he just grabbed his pillow from the
bedroom, swapping it for a spare, clean one, and picked up a blanket. He was
asleep in seconds, Pyon clutched close to him.

He dreamed and he had nightmares, but when
he woke, shuddering, the memories slipped through his fingers, only leaving
sadness and confusion. He took a few seconds to work out why he wasn’t in his
bed, and what had woken him—the answer was the same thing. Leo. The man,
dressed in a black and gold silk bathrobe, puttered quietly enough in the
kitchen but the unfamiliar noise—soft clinks of someone trying to find mugs in
a strange kitchen—had been enough to interrupt Julian’s sleep.