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Fairy Tale(10)

Author:Stephen King

I didn’t understand that until later. Mr. Bowditch had no cell phone. Had never seen the need to get one, hardly knew what they were.

He tried to move again and bared his teeth. “Jesus, this hurts.”

“Then you better stay still,” I said.

I called 911 and told them I needed an ambulance at the corner of Pine and Sycamore, because Mr. Bowditch took a fall and broke his leg. I said it looked like a bad break. I could see the bone poking out the leg of his pants and his knee looked swollen, too. The dispatcher asked me for the house number, so I asked Mr. Bowditch.

He gave me that was-you-born-stupid look again and said, “Number 1.”

I told the lady that and she said they’d send an ambulance right away. She said I should stay with him and keep him warm.

“He’s sweating already,” I said.

“If the break is as bad as you say, sir, that’s probably shock.”

“Um, okay.”

Radar limped back, ears flattened, growling.

“Stop it, girl,” Bowditch said. “Get low.”

Radar—she, not it—went on her belly at the foot of the steps with what looked like relief and started to pant.

I took off my letter jacket and started to spread it over Mr. Bowditch.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m supposed to keep you warm.”

“I am warm.”

But I saw that he really wasn’t, because he’d started to shiver. He lowered his chin to look at my jacket.

“High school kid, are you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Red and gold. So Hillview.”

“Yes.”

“Play sports?”

“Football and baseball.”

“The Hedgehogs. What—” He tried to move and gave a cry. Radar pricked up her ears and looked at him anxiously. “What a silly name that is.”

I couldn’t disagree. “You better try not to move, Mr. Bowditch.”

“Steps are digging into me everywhere. I should have stayed on the ground, but I thought I could make it to the porch. Then inside. Had to try. Going to be fucking cold out here before long.”

I thought it was pretty fucking cold already.

“Glad you came. Guess you heard the old girl howling.”

“Her first, then you calling,” I said. I looked up at the porch. I could see the door, but I don’t think he would have been able to reach the knob without getting up on his good knee. Which I doubted he’d have been able to do.

Mr. Bowditch followed my gaze. “Dog door,” he said. “Thought maybe I could crawl through.” He grimaced. “I don’t suppose you have any painkillers, do you? Aspirin or something stronger? Playing sports and all?”

I shook my head. Faint, very faint, I could hear a siren. “What about you? Do you have any?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Inside. Go straight down the hall. There’s a little bathroom off the kitchen. I think there’s a bottle of Empirin in the medicine cabinet. Don’t touch anything else.”

“I won’t.” I knew he was old and in pain, but I was still a little cheesed off by the implication.

He reached out and grabbed my shirt. “Don’t snoop.”

I pulled away. “I said I won’t.”

I went up the steps. Mr. Bowditch said, “Radar! Go with!”

Radar limped up the steps and waited for me to open the door rather than using the hinged flap cut in the bottom panel. She followed me down the hall, which was dim and sort of amazing. One side was stacked with old magazines done up in bundles that were tied with hayrope. I knew of some, like Life and Newsweek, but there were others—Collier’s, Dig, Confidential, and All Man—that I’d never heard of. The other side was stacked with books, most of them old and with that smell that old books have. Probably not everyone likes that smell, but I do. It’s musty, but good must.

The kitchen was full of old appliances, the stove a Hotpoint, the sink porcelain with rust-rings from our hard water, the faucets with those old-timey spoke handles, the floor linoleum so worn I couldn’t tell what the pattern was. But the place was neat as a pin. There was one plate and one cup and one set of silverware—knife, fork, spoon—in the dish drainer. That made me feel sad. There was a clean dish on the floor with RADAR printed around the rim, and that made me feel sad, too.

I went into the bathroom, which was not much bigger than a closet—nothing but a toilet with the lid up and more rust rings around the bowl, plus a basin with a mirror over it. I swung the mirror back and saw a bunch of dusty patent medicines that looked like they came over on the Ark. A bottle on the middle shelf said Empirin. When I grabbed it, I saw a little pellet behind it. I thought it was a BB.

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