The Sound of Life and Everything (19 page)

28

Mama thought we should wait to bake Takuma's
cake, but I wanted to make it as soon as we got home. For some reason, it felt like we were running out of time. Takuma seemed all right while me and Mama mixed the batter and stuck the cake pans in the oven, but he started to cough as soon as the timer buzzed. By the time we got the cake pans to the cooling racks we'd spread out on the table, Takuma was on his hands and knees, a thin line of drool and snot dangling out of his mouth.

“It's all right,” Mama said, handing him a clean dishrag. “Let's get you into a chair.”

It didn't look all right to me, but mamas knew best. She looped one of his arms around her neck, and I looped the other around mine. When we set him down in Daniel's chair, it didn't even groan.

Though she might have sounded calm, Mama looked like a whirlwind as she swept around the kitchen. I tried not to bounce as she filled a pot with water and stuck it on a burner, then hacked up her biggest lemon and a chunk of ginger root. She was already going as fast as she could.

Daddy must have wondered why she was hacking up ginger root, because he turned up in the archway as she dumped it in the pot. “What are you making now?” he asked.

“What does it look like?” I replied. Honestly, he asked the dumbest questions.

Daddy managed to ignore me. “Anna, what's going on?”

“He just has a cough,” she said as she stirred the lemon tea.

Daddy cocked an eyebrow. “That doesn't sound like just a cough to me.”

“Well, you'd be more than welcome to go and get a flask of brandy.”

“Aren't you making lemon tea?”

“Only because we're out of spirits.”

Daddy threw his arms up. “You said it was just a cough!”

“And
you
said it didn't sound like just a cough to you.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Well, I trust your diagnosis.” Under his breath, he added, “I'm not wasting brandy on a cold.”

I stuck both hands on my hips. “I think you meant to say you're not wastin' brandy on a Jap.”

Mama threw her hot pads down. “Watch your language, Ella Mae!”

But she didn't have a chance to locate her bar of Ivory before Takuma coughed again. He covered his mouth like a good boy, but when he pulled the dishrag back, it was covered with red spots. He'd sprayed the cake pans, too.

I pressed my lips into a line. Throwing up was one thing, but coughing blood was another.

Mama gawked at the dishrag, then blinked and shook her head. “Clean that up,” she told me in her no-nonsense voice. “And
don't
forget to wash your hands as soon as you're finished.”

“Are you happy now?” I asked as I scowled up at Daddy.

Instead of answering, he licked his lips. At least he didn't
look
happy.

Mama cleared her throat. “The brandy, Jed?” she pressed.

“Yes, of course,” he mumbled, then bumped into the doorjamb in his haste to get away. The coatrack rattled in the entryway as he retrieved his hat and coat, and then the door slammed shut behind him.

When Mama scurried up the stairs, it was just me and Takuma. I scrubbed his dishrag out with soap and water, then turned my attention to the cake. I took a close look at both layers, turning them this way and that, but in the end, I decided it wasn't worth the risk. The fact that he'd coughed blood obviously had everyone spooked, so with a heavy heart, I chucked both cakes in the trash.

“Sorry,” he said, cringing.

“It ain't your fault,” I replied as I attacked the table with another dishrag. “You can't help bein' sick.”

“Not sick,” Takuma whispered.

A shiver skittered down my spine, but I pretended not to notice. “Don't be ridiculous,” I said. “You'll feel better in the morning.”

“Ella Mae,” he said, then waited until I met his gaze. His eyes were red but clear. “
Not
sick.”

It sounded like he meant it, but I didn't want him to be right, and besides, how did he know? Daddy was going to get the brandy, and he was going to be fine. But I didn't have a chance to tell him before Mama reappeared.

She motioned toward the dishrag I'd been using to clean up. “Throw that away,” she said, then changed her mind at the last second. “No, I guess I'll take it. We should probably burn it.”

Mama only burned things she really wanted to get rid of. Either that dishrag had offended her, or it was dangerous to keep around. I tried not to think too hard about which it was as I plopped it into her hand.

“Now go upstairs and wash your hands. Make sure you use the lye. And
don't
forget to scrub all the way up to your elbows!”

She hadn't even finished before I spun around. Mama's sudden obsession with proper hygiene was starting to scare me. I dug the lye out of the cupboard and rubbed it under the faucet to work up a good lather, then scrubbed my hands and arms until they practically bled. I thought that I was trying to wash Takuma's blood away, but as I watched the suds rinse down the drain, I realized that I was really trying to wash the memory away, too.
Not sick,
he'd said so certainly. I wished I couldn't remember.

• • •

That night, I waited for sleep, but it never bothered to show up. I tried to welcome it by climbing into bed as soon as I finished my dinner, but I could hear Takuma coughing, so it was hard to fall asleep. He sounded like the old man who sat outside Arty's Tavern smoking cigarettes all day. But Takuma hadn't smoked a single cigarette in his whole life—or his whole
second
life, at least.

Hours after sunset, Mama and Daddy trudged upstairs. They were speaking softly, but if I concentrated, I could turn their whispers into words.

“—can't go on like this,” Daddy was saying. He sounded downright weary.

Mama laughed, not very nicely. “Well, it's not like we can quit.” She just sounded mad.

“He needs a doctor,” Daddy said.

“Well, you and me both know that Dr. Olsen won't treat him.”

“Can you blame him?” Daddy asked. “He lost two sons in the Pacific.”

“And I lost Daniel in the Ardennes. Does that mean I get to hate every German in the world?”

“I don't know,” he whispered. “Maybe.”

Mama just harrumphed.

“At least let me call that scientist. What was his name again?”

“You will
not
call Dr. Franks! He would only kill him faster.”

I sat straight up in bed. Had I heard Mama right? Was Takuma really dying?

“Well, what are we supposed to do, just sit and watch him waste away?”

“We're supposed to keep him comfortable,” Mama said, then sighed. “But beyond that, I don't know.”

I strained to catch Daddy's response, but their door clicked shut behind them before he whispered it. I waited for breathless minutes, hoping against hope that they'd come back, but they must have gone to bed. Reluctantly, I lay back down.

I rolled onto my stomach and pressed my face into my pillow, but it wasn't any use. If I'd been wide awake before, I was wider awake now. What if Mama had it right? What if it really was Takuma's last night on this earth? I didn't want to waste it sleeping. I pressed my hand against the wall and tried to pass my strength to him.

29

When I woke up the next morning, it felt like I'd
forgotten something. I scrubbed the sleep out of my eyes and took a look around. The light slanting through the curtains was coming from the east, so it couldn't have been later than six (or maybe seven).

I flopped back on the mattress and tried to remember. As I stared up at the squiggles, the events of the previous day came rushing back. I scrambled out of bed and headed for Takuma's room, but when the doorbell dinged, I headed for the stairs instead. I didn't know who was at the door, but if he woke Takuma up, I might have to kick him in the shins.

I stumbled down the stairs and yanked open the door. At the sight of Dr. Franks, I froze. He wasn't wearing his lab coat, but his mustache was unmistakable.

“What are you doin' here?” I asked.

“Your father called,” Dr. Franks said. For once, he wouldn't meet my gaze. “He said the subject's been—”

“Stay back!” I interrupted, brandishing an umbrella like a broadsword.

Dr. Franks held up his hands. “I apologize for the intrusion, but your father was insistent.”

Daddy came up behind me as if he'd just been summoned. “You must be Dr. Franks.”

Dr. Franks held out his hand. “And you must be Mr. Higbee.”

Daddy shook the offered hand. “You can call me Jed,” he said as he pulled the door open. I tried to push it closed, but Daddy was a lot stronger than I was.

If Dr. Franks noticed our tug-of-war, he didn't mention it. “Thank you,” was all he said as he stepped into the entryway.

Mrs. Timothy said that the elements would combine against the Devil, so I waited for the walls to cave (or at least tremble a little), but the old house only sighed. It looked like the combining was going to be up to me.

“Mama doesn't want you here,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “And neither do I.”

Daddy picked me up and set me off to the side. “Would you like some coffee?” he asked Dr. Franks. “Or perhaps some lemon tea?”

Dr. Franks waved that away. “Oh, no, that's all right. I'm perfectly hydrated.” He removed his hat and coat (which looked like it could swallow children whole). “I just want to see the subject.”

“We've been over this,” I said. “It's Takuma, not ‘the subject.'”

Daddy didn't comment, just took the hat and coat. “This way,” he replied as he handed them to me.

I crinkled my nose. “I don't want to touch his things.”

Daddy waved that off. “Just hang them up,” he mumbled. “Then feel free to come upstairs.”

Grudgingly, I took the hat and coat. At least Daddy wasn't trying to cut me out of the deal. But as soon as they turned their backs, I chucked his things at the coatrack. The hat missed it completely, but the coat managed to land on one of the pegs.

Dr. Franks raced up the stairs. “I jumped in my car as soon as I received your message. When exactly did the coughing start?”

Before Daddy could reply, Mama materialized at the top of the stairs. Her robe was limp and rumpled (though it wasn't even seven thirty), but she looked more than capable of dealing with Dr. Franks.

“Out!” she said indignantly. Her shoulders shook with rage.

“Mrs. Higbee,” he replied, “please allow me to explain.”

“There's nothing to explain,” she said as she herded him back down.

Dr. Franks clung to the railing. “You don't understand,” he said as he struggled to hang on. “The last thing I want to do is watch the sub—I mean, Takuma—die.”

Mama missed a step. Dr. Franks had clearly said what she'd wanted to hear. He must have noticed, too, because he hurried on.

“We're in a race here—a real race—to unlock the secrets of life. While other scientists have tinkered with their silly children's toys, we've asked the daunting questions and followed lines of research that would have made lesser men blanch. And Takuma is the key.” He drew a ragged breath. “I want to save him, Mrs. Higbee, maybe even more than you do. Please do me the favor of allowing me to try.”

As he caught his breath, the teeter-totter seemed to shift. Mama grabbed the railing as she rocked back on her heels, obviously overcome by the power of his words. Daddy tried to help her, but she knocked his hand away.

Dr. Franks knotted his hands as if in prayer. “
Please,
” he said again. “I've never begged for anything, but I'm begging you now. That is my life up there.”

Even I had to admit that it was a moving speech. Takuma felt like my life, too.

But Mama didn't yield, just pressed her lips into a line. Finally, she turned to me. “What do you think, Ella Mae?”

Her question took me by surprise. I wasn't used to making the decisions. I looked back and forth between them, searching for an answer to the riddle she'd presented, but if there was an answer (or even a riddle), I couldn't have said what it was. Finally, I peeped, “I think we should let him try.”

Mama smoothed her robe. “Very well,” she said as she glared at Dr. Franks. “But don't think for a second that this means we agree with you. We'll never agree, you understand?” When he nodded, Mama sighed. “But at least for the time being, we do want the same thing.”

He tightened his grip on his black bag (which I hadn't noticed until now). “Thank you, Mrs. Higbee.” And with that, he bolted up the stairs.

While Mama and Daddy exchanged a heavy look, I hurried after him. The last thing
I
wanted to do was leave Dr. Franks alone with my best friend.

I might have only been a few seconds behind Dr. Franks, but when I reached Takuma's room, he was already unloading his black bag. If he'd noticed Daniel's drawings, they hadn't distracted him for long. While he unpacked his stethoscope, I crept closer to the bed. Takuma's skin was gray and papery, but his ruffled hair reminded me of Theo's on a windy day. He looked far too old for Gracie but far too young to die.

Dr. Franks motioned toward the nightstand. “Get that out of here,” he said. He must have meant the broth that Mama had tried to feed Takuma.

Scowling, I retrieved the bowl—I wasn't Dr. Franks's nurse—but when I spied the broth, I frowned. It was flat and cold, untouched, which meant Takuma hadn't eaten since noon the day before. I didn't know much about keeping folks alive, but I was pretty sure they had to eat.

While I watched from Daniel's dresser, Dr. Franks took Takuma's pulse, then checked his heart and lungs. Takuma was so tired he didn't even lift his head. Next, Dr. Franks pulled out a flashlight and shined it in his eyes. I expected him to flinch, but he only lay there sleeping.

I set the bowl on Daniel's dresser. “How's he doin'?” I whispered, hugging my arms around my waist.

Dr. Franks ripped off his stethoscope. “Well, he's certainly not doing well. His motor neurons have completely failed. The cells themselves are dying now, tearing themselves apart. He likely won't survive the day if we don't take drastic action.”

Mama appeared in the doorway. “What drastic action?” she replied.

Dr. Franks fiddled with his sleeve. “I've been developing another pod that will reshape existing cells in the same way the other grew them. The procedure
is
somewhat untested, but at this point, it's almost certainly the only chance he's got.”

“But why is it untested?” Mama asked. “You said you could predict how his symptoms would progress. Doesn't that mean the other subjects have experienced the same things?”

Dr. Franks chuckled uneasily. “We only just finished construction—”

“Then try it out,” Mama cut in, “and see how the procedure goes. If it works, we will consider bringing him in for a treatment.
If
he doesn't show any improvement on his own.”

“You don't understand,” he said.

“On the contrary,” she said, “I understand completely. You've put all your faith in science, but we've put all our faith in God. So try your new procedure. See how it turns out. If it really works as well as you seem to think it will, then he'll probably be fine.”

Dr. Franks lowered his gaze. “But that's just it,” he mumbled. “We can't try the new procedure because we don't have anyone to try it on.”

My breath caught in my throat. “What are you tryin' to say?”

Dr. Franks threw up his arms. “I'm saying he's the last man standing! The others have been dead for
weeks.
” Sighing, he dropped his gaze. “Subject oh-one-eight is my last chance.”

“Subject oh-one-eight,” I murmured. “Was he really the eighteenth?”

Dr. Franks nodded.

I crinkled my nose. “But there were only eight or nine at that first demonstration.”

There was something big, something important, that I was obviously missing. Thankfully, Mama figured it out.

“You
knew,
” was all she said.

I didn't know what Dr. Franks was supposed to have known, but he didn't deny it.

“You've done this before,” Mama went on, “so you knew what was gonna happen. You
knew
they were gonna die.” She clenched her teeth. “But you still brought them back.”

Though he had the decency to wince, Dr. Franks still didn't deny it.

“So Takuma must have seen what was happening to the others.” I felt my shoulders droop. “He must have known that he was dying from the very first day.”

Dr. Franks's nostrils flared. “No, he must have realized that he had a chance to
live
—for another month, another week. Wouldn't you give anything for another day of life?”

“But this wasn't his life,” I replied. For the first time, I really understood that.

Dr. Franks stuck out his chin. “Evolution requires sacrifice.”

I glanced down at Takuma, who looked like a worn-out paper doll. “Your sacrifice?” I asked. “Or his?”

Though Dr. Franks did blush, he didn't bother to reply, but that was just as well. Mama's face had flushed purple, and she looked like she might explode.

“Get out,” she said through gritted teeth.

Dr. Franks's cheeks paled. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Mama said. “
Get out.
”

Dr. Franks's eyes narrowed. “I don't think you appreciate the gravity of this situation. If you sit back and do nothing, subject oh-one-eight will die.”

“His name is Takuma!” I replied at the same time Mama screamed, “GET OUT!”

At least that got his attention. After sneaking one last peek at Takuma, he refastened his black bag, then half sprinted, half lurched out the door and down the hall. Though it might have been sinful, I couldn't help but grin.

Daddy cleared his throat. I hadn't realized he'd come upstairs. “Will you get his hat and coat?”

I thought about making a fuss, then immediately thought better of it. If it would get rid of him faster, I'd hold his coat for him myself. But by the time I got downstairs, he was already putting on his hat.

“I don't suppose you'd think about donating his remains,” he said.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Who said there will be remains?”

My knees were almost knocking at the thought of losing my best friend, so this was less of a challenge than a bluff, and Dr. Franks called it.

“Oh, there will be remains.” Dr. Franks glanced at his watch. “In fact, I'd say you're down to less than an hour now.”

This announcement scared me more than I cared to admit, but I didn't want Dr. Franks to know that he'd gotten to me, so I just stuck out my tongue.

“I suppose I can take that as a no?” he asked.

“I suppose you can,” I said.

“Then this concludes our business with each other.” He stuck his hat back on his head. “I wish I could say it's been a pleasure.”

“And I wish I could say we'd never met.”

Dr. Franks didn't reply, just ripped open the door and stalked out of the house. It wasn't until his Cadillac was thundering away that I realized that wasn't true. I was very glad we'd met. If it hadn't been for Dr. Franks, I never would have known Takuma.