Walk on the Wild Side - By Karl Edward Wagner Page 0,93

preamble, Keith said that Niane was doing very well in group; Niane said that it was a relief to be off drugs and that she had no more suicidal thoughts.

“Let’s explore this,” Keith suggested. “You were nearly murdered in Los Angeles. What were your final thoughts?”

Niane wanted another Demerol. “I can’t really say. I was really stoned before the... the... before it all started. I remember being pulled from a car trunk, then a rope tightening about my throat. It hurt. Then I was thrown into a dumpster. Garbage covered my face. There was laughter. I blacked out. Then there were the police.” Keith studied some notes, made some more. “According to police reports you may have been unconscious for several minutes before the homeless person managed to untie you. You told the police that you had had strange dreams as you were dying. What sort of dreams?”

Niane was definitely getting another Demerol after this session. Navonna had hidden her stash, but she knew where to look. “I was walking naked through the snow, back in Campbell County where I grew up. There were things crawling all about. At first I thought they were sticks or snakes, but then I saw they were more like—what do you call them?—lamprey eels. Like leeches. They had sucking mouths all lined with teeth. They began biting me all over, and I couldn’t pull them off!

“Then I could breathe again, and the police came.” Niane couldn’t stop shaking.

“Yes. Well, I think that’s enough for now. We have group just after lunch. Why don’t you and your friend have a nice walk through the snow. The exercise is relaxing.”

Niane begged another Demerol from Navonna, then they took a nice walk through the snow. The snow was slowly getting deeper, an inch or more. From the clouds, there might be much more on the way. Niane finally made some snowballs. A fight ensued with much shrieking. Niane felt like a teenager again, although she was twenty-one going on one hundred.

She bent down to scrape up another snowball, then screamed:. “Oh my god! Here’s another one! And it’s alive!”

Navonna rushed to see. “What the fuck!”

It was flopping across the snow. Short brown fur, something like a tailless monkey with membranous wings. It was smaller than a house cat and had tiny horns. Its feet were like an owl’s talons. Its muzzle was pointed and had many pointed teeth, which it snapped at them as it crawled across the snow.

Niane bent down to pick it up.

Navonna grabbed her arm and drew her back. “Don’t touch it! It’s rabid!”

“But it’s dying in the snow.”

“There’s nothing you can do. Leave it!”

“What is it?”

“I think it’s a fox bat or a fruit bat, whatever they call them. I can’t say. They live in South America.”

“Then what’s it doing here?”

“Migrating. Someone’s pet. I don’t know. There may be more of them wintering in these old buildings.”

“Bats don’t have horns. Or arms.”

Navonna dragged at her. “So now you’re the expert on bats. Just leave it alone. I’m sure it’s rabid.”

“We ought to report this to someone.”

“Then tell one of the doctors. Will you come on!”

Niane complained about her nervousness that night, but refused to take her Mellaril. Navonna gave in and gave her two Demerol. Then she unpacked their favorite dildo, strapped it on, and soon had Niane too exhausted to complain.

There was more than a foot of snow on the ground by morning. They slept through breakfast. Niane had a morning session with Dr Ashford. She complained that her crotch was too sore because Navonna had been too rough, and Navonna gave her two more Demerols, knowing full well the scam.

At least Niane wasn’t pouring coffee on herself. Navonna decided to keep her stash on her person.

Keith was his genial self. Niane was a little stoned.

“Still taking your Mellaril?”

“Yes. But it does make me drowsy.” She had flushed it down the toilet yesterday.

Small talk; then: “Let’s pick up from yesterday. I think we should explore your recent overdose.”

“I scalded my hand. I was already on too much medication. I took a handful of Demerols without thinking what I was doing. It wasn’t a suicide attempt. I was just out of control.”

“Dr Greenfeld told me you almost died. CPR and quick treatment pulled you through after your heart and breathing stopped. You were clinically dead for several minutes. Very lucky to have pulled through.”

“I won’t do it again. What’s this leading to?”

“What did you experience as you were dying?”

“Again?”

“It’s important.”

“Navonna was carrying me.

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