Read One Through the Heart for Free Online Page B

voice from behind him. He turned and yelled, ‘Elizabeth!’
    He couldn’t make out the words but she called back to him and the sound came from somewhere close by, and after staring a long moment he put a hand on a fallen tree and then ran his hand along it in disbelief. It was concrete, colored concrete, a cast of a eucalyptus log. He squatted down. He looked behind it and found concrete rocks in the shadow, then made out a steel grate. Some sort of mesh was in front of it though torn. He yelled into it to la Rosa and when she didn’t answer he stacked rocks so he could find it again.
    When he got back up the slope la Rosa stood with her hands on her hips waiting for him. She let her hands fall. She was hoarse and not all that happy.
    ‘We could have gotten a smoke stick and an electric fan and blown smoke out the vent. We could have used a boom box or anything that made enough noise. You’re walking around with a map in your hand. Maybe they were all writing about the nineteenth century, but we’re not living in it. This is a halfass way to do this and I still don’t see the point, and aren’t we too late now?’
    ‘It was worth it. Coryell heard screams and it’s worth knowing if a woman’s voice could carry from in there. Yours was faint but I could hear you.’
    ‘You could hear me, OK, fine, but what good does this really do us? The trip here to do this chips three hours out of today. I just don’t see it helps. But all right we proved a woman’s voice will carry out the air vent. Now what?’
    ‘Now we go see Lash.’
    The Gordon G. Wright Senior Living Centre was a new building. As Raveneau signed the guest register he had his chance to ask who Gordon Wright was but missed it. They followed the manager, a petite and earnest woman who seemed to want to tour them through the building before taking them to Lash. She used the walk to probe and try to find out what their goal was today. She was protective, wanted them to understand Lash could handle questioning but not interrogation.
    ‘He’s far along,’ she said. ‘He’s quite fragile.’
    Most lived three years after a diagnosis of ALS. Fourteen percent made it past five years. Five percent beat the six year mark and a remarkable few lived decades. It’s a cruel disease, attacking the motor neurons but leaving the mind intact and trapped inside a frozen body. For Lash, as with most, it started with his legs. All that he could move now was his head. He had reached the beginning of pulmonary issues and that’s where it would end.
    On the third floor, the top floor of the Gordon C. Wright Senior Living Center, they saw the movie theater and dining area and the room where residents worked on projects and did crafts. La Rosa rolled her eyes. She was agitated today. But Raveneau figured that if it was important to the manager to walk and talk with them they could spare the additional ten minutes.
    Carpets and bathrooms were spotless. They looked at the dining room where the residents ordered off the menu and were waited on. After a meal they could return to their apartments or gather in the common area adjacent to the dining room, or perhaps go out on one of the excursion busses.
    ‘We work at making it a happy place,’ the manager said.
    ‘Is Albert on this floor?’ la Rosa asked.
    ‘No, he’s on the first floor. All of those who need twenty-four-hour care are on the first floor. We’ll go there now.’
    The once thick head of dark hair was snow white. The bones of his shoulders propped up his coat, the skin of his face papery and splotched, right cheek twitching, yet his eyes were the same and his recognition instant and apparent. Raveneau didn’t doubt that he’d watched the TV reports. He studied la Rosa longer and when he spoke the words were very labored and slurred and directed at Raveneau.
    ‘What – do – you – think of – meee – now?’
    ‘You’re still the brightest guy in the room.’
    ‘Very . . .