Sign of the Unicorn

I shook my head. I was drifting off, more than half a dream. I had to stay awake. Was that another car? Maybe. I tried to raise the cloth and dropped it. When I leaned forward to retrieve it, I just had to rest my head on my knees for a moment. Deirdre… I would call my dear sister. If anyone would help me, Deirdre would. I would get out her Trump and call her. In a minute. If only she weren't my sister… I had to rest. I am a knave, not a fool. Perhaps, sometimes, when I rest, I am even sorry for things. Some things. If only it were warmer… But it wasn't too bad, bent over this way… Was that a car? I wanted to raise my head but found that I could not. It would not make that much difference in being seen, though, I decided.

I felt light on my eyelids and I heard the engine. Now it was neither advancing nor retreating. Just a steady cycling of growls. Then I heard a shout. Then the click-pause-chunk of a car door opening and closing. I felt that I could open my eyes but I did not want to. I was afraid that I would look only on the dark and empty road, that the sounds would resolve into pulsebeats and wind once more. It was better to keep what I had than to gamble.

«Hey! What's the matter? You hurt?»

Footsteps… This was real.

I opened my eyes. I forced myself up once again.

«Corey! My God! It's you!»

I forced a grin, cut my nod short of a topple.

«It's me, Bill. How've you been?»

«What happened?»

«I'm hurt,» I said. «Maybe bad. Need a doctor.»

«Can you walk if I help? Or should I carry you?»

«Let's try walking,» I said.

He got me to my feet and I leaned on him. We started for his car. I only remember the first few steps.

When that low-swinging sweet chariot turned sour and swung high once more, I tried to raise my arm, realized that it was restrained, settled for a consideration of the tube affixed thereto, and decided that I was going to live. I had sniffed hospital smells and consulted my internal clock. Having made it this far, I felt that I owed it to myself to continue. And I was warm, and as comfortable as recent history allowed. That settled, I closed my eyes, lowered my head, and went back to sleep.

Later, when I came around again, felt more fit and was spotted by a nurse, she told me that it was seven hours since I had been brought in and that a doctor would be by to talk with me shortly. She also got me a glass of water and told me that it had stopped snowing. She was curious as to what had happened to me.

I decided that it was time to start plotting my story. The simpler the better. All right. I was coming home after an extended stay abroad. I had hitchhiked out, gone on in, and been attacked by some vandal or drifter I had surprised inside. I crawled back out and sought help. Finis.

When I told it to the doctor I could not tell at first whether he believed me. He was a heavy man whose face had sagged and set long ago. His name was Bailey, Morris Bailey, and he nodded as I spoke and then asked me, «Did you get a look at the fellow?»

I shook my head.

«It was dark,» I said.

«Did he rob you too?»

«I don't know.»

«Were you carrying a wallet?»

I decided I had better say yes to that one.

«Well, you didn't have it when you came in here, so he must have taken it.»

«Must have,» I agreed.

«Do you remember me at all?»

«Can't say that I do. Should I?»

«You seemed vaguely familiar to me when they brought you in. That was all, at first…»

«And…?» I asked.

«What sort of garments were you wearing? They seemed something like a uniform.»

«Latest thing. Over There, these days. You were saying that I looked familiar?»

«Yes,» he agreed. «Where is Over There, anyway? Where did you come from? Where have you been?»

«I travel a lot,» I said. «You were going to tell me something a moment ago.»

«Yes,» he said. «We are a small clinic, and some time ago a fast-talking salesman persuaded the directors to invest in a computerized medical-records system. If the area had developed more and we had expanded a lot, it might have been worthwhile. Neither of these things happened, though, and it is an expensive item. It even encouraged a certain laziness among the clerical help. Old files just don't get purged the way they used to, even for the emergency room. Space there for a lot of useless backlog. So, when Mr. Roth gave me your name and I ran a routine check on you, I found something and I realized why you looked familiar. I had been working the emergency room that night too, around seven years ago, when you had your auto accident. I remembered working on you then - and how I thought you weren't going to make it. You surprised me, though, and you still do. I can't even find the scars that should be there. You did a nice job of healing up.»

«Thanks. A tribute to the physician, I'd say.»

«May I have your age, for the record?»

«Thirty - six,» I said. That's always safe.

He jotted it somewhere in the folder he held across his knees.

«You know, I would have sworn - once I got to checking you over and remembering - that that's about what you looked the last time I saw you.»