Red Skies (The Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters) (21 page)

“Max, are you hurt?” Mari set the girl on her feet and went to Max, dropping to the ground beside him. Between his coughs, tears ran down his face and he sobbed.

“I couldn’t save her. I didn’t make it. I let her down,” he cried.

Mari reached out and stroked his head. “Max, we tried. I’m so sorry.” She felt her heart fall. Did death just follow her around? What was wrong with her? Was she cursed?

Even over the little girl crying, Max was louder. He was inconsolable, and Mari didn’t understand the emotion coming from him. Yes, it was sad—tragic even—but he didn’t know the child, making his reaction seem to her a little overboard.

“Max—”

Suddenly the girl shrieked and pointed behind them. Mari turned, and her next words froze on her tongue.

Scooting along on her butt from out of the trees was An Ni, the girl Mari’d met on the sidewalk near her home weeks before. The girl moved slowly, a large bag looped around her neck, but it was really her, and she was alive.

But she looked sick. And hurt.

And just like on the first night they’d met, An Ni looked at Mari, her eyes wide with fright. Mari jumped to her feet and ran to her, with the little girl and Max hot on her heels. When she got to her, An Ni reached for her, and Mari dropped to her knees, gathering the girl close to her.

“You came,” An Ni whispered. “I knew it was you all along. You came.”

Chapter Twenty

T
he taxi pulled up to the hospital building, and Max climbed out of the car, then picked An Ni off the seat, gently cradling her in his arms, and he turned to rush her inside. In the lobby, he found himself in the center of what ironically mimicked a busy train station. The lobby of the hospital was huge, with windows along several walls and people shuffling around. It was utter chaos. He turned first to the left, then to the right, confused about which way to go.

Mari tapped his shoulder rapidly. “Take her over there and sit down; I’ll go talk to the admitting clerk.”

Mari went one way while he headed toward the few rows of tattered plastic seat. When they got there, he gently placed An Ni into one and helped her prop her hurt leg on another. He sat down beside her. Through the black smudges on her face, he could see she was pale, and though the night was crisp and cool and she was barely dressed for it, beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. He could tell she was in pain, but she was taking it like a little warrior—not surprising, considering she’d gotten herself out of the burning shack and into the protection of the woods, all by herself with a probable broken leg. The thought of all she’d dealt with alone sickened him. He still hadn’t explained to Mari why he’d lost his mind back in those woods, and as embarrassing as it was, he didn’t relish having that conversation any time soon.

He looked at his watch. Almost midnight. It had taken them too much precious time to separate the girls, convincing the littlest one—Mei, she’d called herself—that An Ni would be fine with him and Mari, while she went on with Mari’s parents to the apartment. The old man, Lao Zheng, had gathered the little girl in his arms, and his strong, confident but caring presence had calmed Mei. He’d whispered to her that his daughter, Mari, was a big sister to many little girls and would care for An Ni like her own, then Mei had settled down and agreed to go quietly. Once that was decided, An Ni was all for going to the hospital, confident that some sort of god—Guanyin, she’d called it—had directed Mari and even him into their path, giving her peace that they were with the right people.

Across the room, he could see Mari gesturing wildly as she spoke, pointing at him and the girl. She looked upset, then crossed the room and stood before him. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’m very sorry, but the deposit is one thousand renminbi. I don’t have near enough to pay it. Please tell me you do.”

“A deposit? Don’t they treat her and then tell us what the bill is?”

Mari shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that here. They set an initial deposit, then we pay as we go for each procedure. When she’s discharged, if there’s anything left, you’ll get it back. If you can pay now, I’ll find a way to repay you. I’ve told them she’s my niece from out of town and I don’t have her hukou with me. That’s why they set the deposit so high.”

Max stood and dug into his pocket, pulling out his money clip and quickly peeling off ten bills and handing them over. “No, you won’t give this back, Mari. I’m paying for this, and I never want you to mention it again.” He didn’t care what it cost; he just wished they’d hurry and give the girl something for pain. Mari turned on her heels and stomped back to the window, and he returned his attention to the girl’s little face.

She was staring up at him, a funny expression forming.

“
Ni hao
?” he said, feeling more awkward than he’d ever felt in his life.

“
Ni
?” she asked softly.

He knew what
ni
meant—it was the word for “you”. But he didn’t know why she was saying it.
She must be in shock
, he thought, then nodded to satisfy her. “Yes, it’s me.”

The little girl wiggled around, each movement bringing a different expression of discontent to her face, until she finally got her hand to her pocket and carefully pulled out a piece of paper. She handed it to him and he took it, then looked back at her.

“What’s this?” She couldn’t understand his words, but he felt sure she knew what he was asking.

“
Ni,
” she answered softly.

The paper was worn and looked as if it had been kicked around on the streets one time too many, but he began unfolding it, careful to avoid ripping it in case it meant something special to her.

When it was completely unfolded and he could see what it was, he was so surprised he almost dropped it.

It was the copy of his passport that he’d lost along with his wallet almost a month before.

He looked back at her, and she nodded her head emphatically. “
Ni. Da Bizi
.”

How did she have the copy? What the hell was going on? And why did she keep calling him Big Nose?

Before he could work it out in his head, Mari returned along with two male nurses pushing a stretcher. She waved at the two of them. “Now we go to the X-ray department.”

One of the nurses reached for An Ni, and she resisted, shrinking back against the seat. Her expression changed to fear, and Max stood up, waving at them to step back.

“Let me,” he said. He quickly folded the paper and stuffed it into his pocket, then picked up the girl and moved her to the stretcher. He wouldn’t worry about the paper now—they’d have plenty of time later to find out when and where she’d lifted his wallet from him, and how they’d tracked him to the train station.

As the nurses wheeled her away, the girl reached for his hand. Max felt a lump move into his throat as he gave it to her, and he walked beside the stretcher. For the first time in over a year, he felt needed, and he also felt he was where he was supposed to be. And those feelings were something he’d trade everything he’d ever owned to hold on to it for a moment longer.

Six hours, three bags of fluids, two bags of antibiotics, a cast, and minus too many vials of blood from one skinny little girl later, they were on their way back to Mari’s apartment. An Ni slept between them, her head leaning on Max’s shoulder, her arm snaked through the straps of the purse that she’d dragged with her out of the shack.

At the hospital, he’d had to once again dig deep into his pockets. He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d greased the doctor’s palm with money when it came time to get him to release An Ni. The stubborn girl had already told Mari in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t leaving Mei overnight, and she’d hop out of the hospital if she had to. Max believed that she had the nerve to try it, too, even if she didn’t know where Mari’s apartment was. The kid was just resourceful enough that he wouldn’t bet on her being unable to find it.

The doctor almost wouldn’t yield. But An Ni’s leg wasn’t too bad. He’d even been impressed that, as swollen as it was, the actual break wasn’t worse. He called it a stable fracture of the fibula, which meant that the bones, though broken, were still aligned—the best way to break a bone, in his book. However, she’d originally had a lot of open scrapes from her fall, and they’d never been cleaned. The doctor concluded that she’d contracted osteomyelitis—a bone infection—either from the tissue wounds or even through her bloodstream from the urinary tract infection he’d also diagnosed—which, from what Mari explained, was the most serious issue at hand. He’d pumped her up with antibiotics, and her body temperature finally came down to normal. However, the hospital policy was they couldn’t give prescriptions for most drugs. So in addition to keeping her casted leg propped for the next several weeks, she’d have to be brought back to the hospital daily for intravenous antibiotics.

Surgery wasn’t completely off the board, either, but the doctor was open to trying non-invasive measures first. But bottom line was that An Ni was going to need several weeks to completely heal. Already the idea of the girls traveling to Wuxi with Mari was out of the question.

He looked down at An Ni’s face. In sleep she was more childlike, the tough mask she’d worn for the last several hours dissolved, transforming her back into the young girl she really was. Her eyelashes fluttered a few times, and she jerked in her sleep. Max wondered what dreams haunted her. With the life she’d led, there were probably more bad memories than good that she ran from when she closed her eyes.