DISCLAIMERS/WARNING: I suppose there will be blood shed and violence and name calling. It is an adventure after all. The main characters are unusual for so many reasons but chief among them is age and infirmity. My goal is to explore a population most media want to ignore. This story is in no way meant to mock or ridicule aging and illness. Instead, it is, by design, a celebration of the reward for endurance, the only reward promised for good behavior in the Ten Commandments, the goal we all work toward but are terrified of achieving…long life.
ENJOYING THE STORY?: Then, for goodness' sake, let me know p.phair@comcast.net
SOMETHING OLD BECOMES NEW: My site got a make over for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, and/or New Year. So let's celebrate something we have in common; our appreciation of stories for grown up at http://www.phair1.com/
FOR BOB, my own hero
Chapter 4
Grandma and Robert lead the group down the main hallway toward the skilled nursing level of the complex. Carlos and Radio were just behind them and Jude covered the rear. They moved at a deliberate pace. After so many years of serving together, it was hard to establish a gentle stroll versus a uniformed step.
As they reached the heavy fire doors, Carlos and Radio double timed it, with a lumbering gait, in front to push the doors open. Immediately the sounds and smells morphed to an industrialized clang of equipment and antiseptic stink of cleaning agents used to fight the odors of human waste. The squad reformed with Grandma and Robert still in front but Jude was now centered with Carlos and Radio bringing up the rear. The end of the main hall was less than fifty feet ahead.
They would need to take the southern hall to the get to the Secure Care Unit, as Administrator Sohn referred to it. The southern hall was viewed with fear by most of the residents of the complex. Even more so than the the Locked Unit. At least on the Locked Unit, patients were unaware of the who, where, what, and how of life.
The Secure Care Unit was a very different matter, indeed. It was for people who were in Stage 5 of Alzheimer's Disease; the true hostages to the dementing process. Most of the folks on the unit could remember who they were and pieces of what their life used to encompass but retained little of what was currently happening to them. As with many disease processes, individuals varied wildly in the way they responded to the cognitive and chemical changes happening to them. There was little commonality in behavior except, they all possessed an unquenchable desire to be someplace, anyplace else but nothing in terms of planning skills to actually achieve an independent escape.
“Yea, though I walk through the hallway of depends, I shall fear no incontinency,” Carlos muttered grimly bringing a smirk to Grandma's face.
The wide, brightly lit hall was lined on one side with men and woman sitting in array of wheelchairs or high back cardiac chairs. Several wanderers were milling about but they moved aside to let the squad walk by.
“Excuse me, excuse me,” one silver haired woman sitting in a wheelchair called out. “I'm not suppose to be here. I'm really fine today. Just needed some sleep. So if you'd be kind enough,” she smiled brightly with confidence her statement would get results, “ask the principle to call my mother to come pick me up.”
“Ruth,” Jude said as she side stepped from the squad briefly, “your mom wants you to stay here tonight too. She's still trying to get all the chickens slaughtered.”
The silver haired woman seemed started with the news. “Really? There are that many?” The nod from Jude brought a grin from Ruth. “Oh boy, sounds like our ship's come in, at last. I guess '38 is the red letter year for the Mussolini's of Mississippi.”
Jude turned away from the momentarily distracted woman. She quickened her step to catch up with the squad only to be grabbed from behind. A meaty forearm laced around her neck and started to squeeze. She was grabbing for his wrist when she heard a warning spoken so low it could have been a growl.
“PRIVATE! Unhand that woman and I mean right now,” Robert had gotten Grandma's attention focused on the crisis behind them and she swung into command of the situation.
“Micah, it's okay. I can deal with this. You go on and get Shortstuff,” Jude reassured calmly only to get a violent shake from the man accosting her.
“Shut it, Bitch. You're gonna lead me out of here and now. And, none of your tricks, you get me,” he snorted.
“Of course,” Jude said evenly. “We need to go in that room across the hall. There's a door there that will get you where you want to go.”
He released his hold around her neck but kept a grip on the collar of her shirt. She slowly crossed the hall and entered a patient bedroom. She pulled the door just inside the entry open to reveal a toilet and sink.
“Hey,” the big man gave her a shake, “what do you think you're pulling with me?”
“You said you had to go,” Jude replied without raising her voice. “This is where you go.”
“I said, I had to go?” The big man asked and let go of Jude's shirt.
Jude nodded.
He stepped into the bathroom but stopped to look back over his shoulder at her. His brow was furrowed in confusion.
“You go ahead and take care of your business. I'll wait out here like always. Just pull the call light when you're done.”
“I should tinkle?” He asked with a boy like innocence.
Jude's eyes got misty but she managed to smile, “Yes Jack, you should tinkle.”
He nodded and shut the door himself. Jude went back into the hall and found her team mates waiting for her. Radio was frowning at her.
“You could've got hurt going in alone with him. He's huge and almost ripe for for long-term lock down,” Radio said with real concern.
“I know, I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt him,” Jude replied. “It's just, I mean, he was such a sweet guy before. Why is it always the sweet ones that get so violent?”
“Ha,” Carlos chuckled. “That'll mean Wolf's gonna be a friggin' saint when she gets placed.”
The whole squad laughed. All except Robert. He held a little tighter to Grandma's arm.
“It's fine, boy. Just a joke. Nothing to worry about. My CT reports are still pristine,” she said with a wink and watched him nod but his hold did not lessen.
They got to the outer secure door leading to the short hall of the Locked Unit's entry way. Grandma punched the two digit date and month into the key pad. The red light stayed lit denying them admittance.
“Radio,” Robert said, “decoder needed.”
The man moved forward while the team fanned back. They formed protective screen around him as he pulled a small transistor box from his deep front pocket of his blue dickies. His stubby forefinger and thumb struggled to remove the zero button from the code box. Once that was accomplished, he inserted a dangling wire into the a previously drilled outlet. Number sequences began to flash in a dizzying array in the box's screen.
“Alright folks, nothing to see here. Go on about your assignments,” Carlos admonished the gathering of previously aimless wanders at their backs.
“What's he doing? Find the key or something?” One of the men asked and tried to look around the blockage of shoulders.
“Your clearance isn't high enough, friend. Head back to your post,” Carlos advised.
The man frowned. “I know you. I trained you in demolition for Laos.”
“Bay of Pigs,” Carlos corrected him.
The man pointed at him and nodded. “Done good for yourself, sonny. What're you? Sixteen, seventeen?”
“Classified,” Carlos answered easily.
The man shrugged and walked away. “Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just check your file. You'll get yours, you son of a bitch!”
The click of the magnetic lock was a welcome sound to the whole group. Radio pulled the equipment out and deftly replaced the zero while Jude pushed the door open. She held it with her back so she could keep an eye on the wandering patients.
Grandma and Robert entered after her. Radio was fast on their heels. Carlos moved backward so he never gave the wanders a chance to ambush him. The wanderers, realizing there was a new opening before them, surged as he got to the threshold. He sidestepped over quickly and pulled Jude after him. Together they encouraged the door to swing closed slightly faster than the factory settings. Without a knob on their side and only an unfamiliar pressure bar along the middle of the door, the wanderers were stymied as to how to stop the magnetic lock from clicking into place.
Carlos and Jude didn't wait to listen to the pounding on the door which would begin soon. They hurried to catch up to the squad. However, they seemed to be momentarily halted.
“Problem?” Carlos asked.
Robert just pointed. A head of them, on the other side of the second locked door, was the nursing station. The med cart was out and ready for the morning pass. But, the teams' task had become instantly more difficult when they saw the covering day shift nurse.
“What the Hell is she doing here?” Jude hissed with uncharacteristic venom.
“Well, I guess I'm gonna find out,” Grandma said without emotion.
“Be careful,” Radio told her. “Oh, the new code is two, three, four, pound.”
“And, they say we're dementing. That was the code last month,” Carlos groaned.
Grandma ignored the comments and encouragement. She tried to straighten her back to reclaim an inch or inch and a half of her former height. Clearing her throat to make sure she was in full voice, she pushed her walker forward and into the first full battle of the day; Jada, the night shift supervisor.
Jada stood tall at five feet and ten inches but she accentuated that advantage with thick soled nursing cloggs. Her skin was deep ebony and rich with the vitality of youth and good health. During duty hours, she kept her hair combed tightly into a bun at the back of her head. But, Grandma had seen pictures of her with her hair loose and free. Those pictures always reminded Grandma of what she missed most from her own youth and good health; random sex with beautiful women. As she pressed the entry code, Grandma felt a long missed wetness settle between her thighs and was grateful for her panty liners.
“You are not suppose to be here,” Jada said without looking up from her medication book or putting down her extra large Styrofoam cup of black coffee held delicately by long fingers tapering to well manicure, fire engine red nails.
Grandma felt a chill of excitement at the sound of Jada's voice. “You shouldn't be here either. What happened to the promotion to night shift sup?”
Jada looked at Grandma but did not break a smile as she answered, “Nothing. Just pulling a double. Need the OT. Jamal has expensive taste in shoes and he growing an inch a week.”
“He's a good kid. Take care of him. If he gives you any trouble, send him to me and I'll set him straight,” Grandma offered.
“So to speak,” Jada smiled and her face become angelic.
Grandma pulled her legs a little close together and tried a Kegel or two while she was standing there.
“I suppose you've come to see Mr. Pink. I'm not suppose to allow visitors during the first 24 hour observation, you know that, so save me the argument,” Jada sounded weary.
Grandma moved closer to the nursing cart and got a look into the day room just beyond it. A dozen people sat, nearly motionless. One or two rocked a little and another wept softly but all were too heavily medicated to do much more than sit and breath.
Shortstuff was in a reclining geri-chair positioned out of the reach of the other residents. He was wearing a telling lime green mesh vest over his pajamas. The vest kept him restrained to the chair. The pajamas kept him from looking all that healthy. His usually robust dark skin was yellowish around the angles where his skin stretched over bone. George ‘Shortstuff' Pink was a tall and muscular man of sixty two who had not lost an inch or gained a pound of fat over the years. Today, he was flat on his back staring blankly at the ceiling above him in a chair his long frame barely fit on leaving his bare feet to dangle over the elevated footrest.
“His ankles are gonna swell like that,” Grandma said quietly.
Jada closed the medication book. “I ordered a big boy for him. It'll be here this afternoon.” She put her free hand on Grandma's shoulder and spoke softly, “He's been having issues in the evenings.”
“Sundowning,” Grandma muttered the dreaded word.
“And, poor compliance with his meds and meals and water and we had a major outburst last night. Doc put him on a little Haldol…,”
Grandma winced at the drug name. It was a big gun antipsychotic. Jada noticed the reaction and put her coffee down on the med book.
“…just to get him calm. I thought we were gonna have to get a tranquilizer gun in here last night. He punched Nolan. A good thing too ‘cause that guy was a marine. If he socked Barbara instead, he would have broken her stupid neck.”
“No loss there,” Grandma muttered.
Jada sighed. “Come on, I'll give you five minutes to visit but that's all I can spare you.”
Grandma did not move toward the day room doorway. Instead, she turned and headed back to her squad. Her steps were steady but she lost the inch she had managed to gain for the trip over to Jada.
“Hey, Micah,” Jada called and waited for the woman to look back over her shoulder. “I thought you wanted to see Mr. Pink.”
Grandma felt a tear break free as she shook her head. “I do but he ain't here anymore.”
Jada trotted across the space between them and hugged Grandma. The old woman let a few tears stain the soft scrub top covering ample and inviting breasts. A soft hiss of contempt was heard from behind them but neither acknowledge it.
“We'll take good care of him. He'll be managed so he doesn't hurt anybody. You know George would be pissed at us if we let him do damage to somebody,” Jada pulled out of the hug to wink at Grandma, “even if they desperately deserved to be damaged.”
Grandma nodded and turned to go but Jada leaned forward to whisper parting words. They brought a smile smile to Grandma's face.
“You tell that little troll, Cobra, I let you feel my titties up again. And, when you guys finish up with whatever war game you're playing today, I'm gonna let you do it again.”
“What's with Shortstuff?” Carlos asked when Grandma returned to the squad.
Grandma just shook her head. No words were needed. They all knew what it meant. They were a band of five from today forward. At some point, the number would diminish again but at no point would it increase. They were losing ground against the only enemy they could not out maneuver; time.
“Robert,” Grandma asked, “can we take the long way to the garage? Do we spare the minutes?”
Robert didn't refer to the itinerary. He merely nodded approval. The team headed for the door marked exit. It took them to the courtyard. From there, they would cross to the recreation building outside but within secure walls. The walk was longer because the pathway meandered around the well planned garden. It was meant to give agitated patients a secure place to walk off their energy. But, it add a few minutes to the trip from the direct route back through the Secure Unit.
The windowless metal door on the far north side of the courtyard could only be opened with a key. Robert stopped walking to fiddle with a safety pin on the inside of his pant's pocket. Once he freed it, he pulled the key it was holding out. He walked a little faster to get ahead of the group and unlocked the door. He had to tug hard to get it open. It was heavy as lead because it was filled with lead as a good fire door should be.
The squad didn't dare try to help him with the bulky door. It would have sent them flying. Instead, they scrambled to get over the threshold as quickly as possible so Robert's time holding the door was minimal. He scooted in after them and let the door bang shut.
“Ssssshhhhhhhh,” a man of about forty eight, wearing black framed glasses hissed at them.
He was standing behind a conference table filled with papers and charts and reference books. In spite of the massive pile of work before him, his tweed jacket was still on and buttoned and his bow tie was straight.
To his left, a young man writhed in unending tremor in his wheelchair. An occasion spasm would be so strong is would shake the wheelchair carriage on specially designed springs meant to keep the chair wheels down. The twitches and thrusts formed an intricate non-pattern which looked somewhat like an interpretive dance routine.
To the bow tied man's right was a white board filled with a list of bands. The order was: The Beatles, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Nirvana, The Pretenders, The Doors, The Monkeys, Fleetwood Mac, Talking Heads, Tom Tom Club, Santana, Foo Fighters, Ben Folds Five, The E Street Band, Pink Floyd, The Who, and Rush.
The squad looked from the man to the board, back to the man then to the young man writhing continuously and finally to each other. Grandma shrugged when Jude raised an eyebrow.
“You want to take this one?” Grandma asked her.
Jude shook her head a little but gamely wandered over to the men. “Hello friends.”
“What's your clearance?” Bow Tie demanded in a nasal pitched voice.
“Way higher than yours will ever be. But, I don't actually care about your project. Just want to know if you've seen Scooter.”
Bow Tie seemed puzzled but the guy with the choreic movements answered with a heavy slur, “Garage.”
“Thanks,” Jude said and pointed her squad to the side door. Then she casually looked to board over, “You do have a bit of a problem there.”
“For the last sixteen days, Droid,” Bow Tie bobbed his head toward the man who could not stop bobbing his head, “has been calling out one band name a day. If I can break the sequence key then I will be able to figure out the passwords into his computer terminal.”
Jude raised both eyebrows, “Now, I'm going to have for your clearance. That information should have been with his superior.”
“It was,” Bow Tie frowned as he took his badge from his jacket pocket. “Sadly, his sup was a double agent. Defected about a month ago. Took all the codes with him.” Jude looked very alarmed by the news. “Relax. The terminal is off the main frame. The codes won't do Benedict any good because he can not access the program.”
“Benedict Green? He was a double agent? I knew that guy was too good to be true. Took too many shifts on the holiday so others could be home with their families,” Jude said.
Droid momentarily stopped shaking and his face went bright red. His eyes slammed shut and his hands clenched. Sputtering began before he was finally able to bellow the next in the series of bands.
“Black Sabbath!”
Bow Tie raced to the board and scribbled it down. Jude looked on for a moment before giving up on the problem. She had enough of her own trouble to deal with today.
She caught up to the squad at the door leading to the garage. Radio stopped the group with a hand gesture. He lifted his nose in the air and took several deep sniffs.
“For God's sake,” Grandma muttered. “Gimme a break, those Brussels sprouts last night were killers.”
“No, not that.” Radio sniffed again, “Factory fresh on the other side.”
“Seriously?”
Robert pushed the door open and the new car smell swirled around them like a long forgotten scent of a first lover's cologne. They walked in a near trance into the garage to stand before the brand new vehicle.
“Wow,” Carlos sighed. “It is so beautiful.”
A black Hummer H2 sat shining and waiting for them. The squad stood in awe for a few minutes until a shrill voice ended the moment.
“Oh no, not you guys again. No way am I getting strung up with whatever national emergency they're sending you out on! I knew when that General dropped this beast off this morning, it'd be nothing but trouble.”
“Scooter,” Robert said quietly as he turned around to face the waddling approach of the the overweight man. “Uncle Langley sent this car for Grandma and her friends and me to go to New York…,”
“Out of state?” Scooter, a young man of no more than twenty two, pulled on his already thinning hair making the edges Bozo like around the circumference of his head. “Absolutely not! No way. I'm not even suppose to work a full day today. I cut my thumb on the staple that was holding the paperwork I had to sign for this monstrosity.”
“Scooter, shut up,” Grandma said as she touched the cold metal of the enormous SUV. “This is the coolest ride Langley ever sent me. You're not getting out of taking us to NYC.”
“Why do I have to go?” Scooter whined.
Jude patiently answered him, “You're the only one with an active driver's license, dear. Now, stop weeping like a little girl and go get a step stool so we can climb into this bitchin' ride.”
“I've got no fuckin' luck at all,” Scooter continued to whine but followed the directive.
Radio just shook his head at him, “You've got plenty of luck; fun, adventure, and an all expense paid trip to New York with the Phantom Squad.”
“That's exactly what I mean, no luck at all!”