CHAPTER 36
Woodstock Hospital was as casual as they came. Many times, when you entered city hospitals, they were usually hotbeds of activity, often emitting more lights and sounds than the average amusement park. Of course, in the super-sized trauma centers, where helicopters are air lifting perforated gang bangers, and 90% burn victims are being wheeled in through padded freezers, you’d expect a commotion that would rival any activity in a garden variety ant colony.
The laid back medical center across the road from the police station on Tinker Street had several advantages – there were never any gunshot wounds to close, no serious bacterial infections that required total isolation, no cases of leprosy, malaria or Lhasa fever to evacuate a town for. There were also no time clocks to punch; by that token, there were also no paychecks to collect. The workers didn’t mind, though. The credit levels on their blue cards said it all. One day in service at the clinic roughly equals three or four fancy dinners at a world class restaurant, 15% discount at the clothing emporiums around town, free passes to any of the gyms in town, and several other amenities that made exposing yourself to blood, phlegm, spit, urine and poop worthwhile.
In the relatively non-busy hall just outside Brian Jones’ room, nurses and therapists were going about their daily routine of rendering care to hapless citizens. There weren’t really that many to begin with anyway. Besides Brian, there were maybe six or seven patients on the floor in their private rooms. Gregory and Tony, planted in seats just outside the multi-instrumentalist’s room, sat patiently while the nurse inside attended to the recuperating musician. Restless Tony kept checking his watch as if that would speed time up. His stomach was grumbling, but since the D’s were recently notified that Brian was awake, but weak, he might be able to answer a few questions before the meds he was on knocked him out again.
Just as the young detective checked his watch for the fifth time, the 40-something year old male nurse, garbed in light blue scrubs, comfortable bamboo slippers, and a purple stethoscope around his neck, exited from Brian’s room. At the first sight of the medical professional, Tony leaped to his feet with a smile as broad as Broadway.
“All done, gentlemen,” the kindly nurse told them with his Southern accent. “He’s responding but he is still kind of weak. Try not to upset him too much, you hear?”
“Thanks,” Gregory said. “Tony, as you coming?”
“I just want to talk to Elvis for a minute or two,” he answered, then turned to the Jailhouse Rock singer-turned-nurse, “if that’s okay with you.”
“I have time,” the rock icon promised.
“Then I’ll see you in a little while,” Gregory said to his partner as he entered Brian’s room.
“It’s really an honor to finally meet you,” Tony said, shaking Elvis’ hand.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Presley told him. “What was your name again?”
“Tony Lopez,” the young man answered. “Tony is fine. You know, when we wheeled Brian over here, I really thought he wasn’t gonna make it.”
“He was almost gone,” Elvis admitted. “I encouraged the doctors to use an experimental treatment on him – Cryogenic Tissue Manipulation to prevent Cell Death by Apoptosis. You freeze the cells, you lock the soul in place. The bad thing about that is the rapid cooling could destroy the cells instead of freezing them.”
“I’m very surprised.”
Presley looked puzzled. “About what?”
“The king of rock and roll is now a doctor.”
Elvis laughed. “I’m not a doctor, just a nurse, but I spent about eighteen years in Micro Sciences, you know, taking a break from the music. Never too late to pick up a new hobby, right? I’ve been researching, writing about, and advocating for, Tissue Manipulation Cryosurgery but they said it was too dangerous. In this instance, they didn’t have a choice, especially since celestial matter is different than carbon-based organisms and could handle more extremes in temperatures – to a certain extent.”
“Not bad,” Tony concluded. “Still, being that, you know, you’re not a doctor, it’s kinda weird you’d be able to influence the surgeons like that.”
“And that’s surprising, actually,” Elvis acknowledged. “It was just a suggestion. Many researchers had also successfully profiled the science on the medical journals up here but I guess I get some of the credit because I got the ball rolling.”
“I gotta admit,” the young detective said, “I’m impressed. Who would’ve known!”
“So, Tony,” Elvis asked, sitting down cross legged in one of the chairs outside of the room, “anything else you want to know?”
“I can’t believe I’m sitting here talking to Elvis Presley,” Tony said, finding a seat for himself. “You look pretty good, man.”
“Thanks.”
“You look like you lost a lot of weight.”
“Yeah,” Elvis conceded, rubbing his abdomen, “cut back on my carbs years ago.”
“How do you feel?”
“Okay,” the icon answered. “Can’t complain.”
“Are you playing the festival?”
“Uh, huh,” the black-haired singer replied. “I’m headlining the first day, Rockin’ 50’s.”
“I haven’t seen any posters of the lineup, yet,” Tony admitted.
“They’re still getting everyone together. My own band isn’t even together yet,” he revealed. “Should be good to go in a few days, though. I’ll be performing with the Ramones.”
“A punk band?”
“They’re going to tone it town,” the king of rock promised, “but they’re really into that 50’s stuff. Can’t say I blame them. Raw power, you know what I mean? Hip shaking, man.”
“How come you’re working as a nurse?” Tony asked the originator. “Kinda got tired of the fame, huh?”
“You know,” Elvis said, scratching his head, “that’s a no brainer. I’ve spent so much time in places like these, I thought it’d be nice to give back a little.”
“So, you went to school to learn the trade?”
“Yep,” the ex-Graceland resident attested. “Over in Medical.”
“Must’ve been hard, you being, you know, Elvis.”
“Man,” the king said, “I can tell you some stories that would make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Over here in R&R, I’m safe. Everybody knows me, I know everyone. No big deal. But, man, as soon as I get out the transfer station to another world it becomes chaotic all over again.”
“You don’t like the attention?”
“I like privacy sometimes,’ he acknowledged. “You know, Tony, there is no right or wrong way to deal with fame. Either you can handle it or you crumple like a ball of tin foil. You really need thick skin. I mean, you have fans, but you will have detractors, too. When I first got here, you know who I hanged out with most of the time?”
The young PI shook his head.
“Jimi Hendrix,” Presley stated. “He understands the need for privacy real well, but he also knows this bubble we inherited can stifle us, too. He’s good people. Really learned how to take things in stride from him.”
“Or you would’ve lost your mind?”
“Oh, hell yeah,” Elvis supposed. “You know I have a little lady now.”
“Oh, really?” Tony asked. “You remarried?”
“Yep,” he answered. “Sweet little gal from Philly – Clara Ward. Sounds familiar?”
“Should it?”
“Great gospel singer,” Presley attested. “She was in Viva Las Vegas with me. Beautiful woman. She’ll be playing the festival, too. Probably singing with me or Canned Heat. She’s recorded with them before. Well, young man,” the legend said, standing up, “I have some vital signs to take care of, so, keep in touch.”
“Of course,” Tony said, standing up and shaking his hand. “It was a pleasure.”
“Same here,” the king replied. “See you around.”
“How did it go with Elvis?” Gregory asked as Tony entered Brian’s room which was so warm that
the elder PI was using a towel to sop the sweat from his brow.
“Fascinating,” the neophyte admitted. “Hey Brian,” he greeted the recovering musician who was lying in bed beneath three blankets. “Why is it so hot in here?” he asked his mentor.
“Elvis didn’t tell you about cryosurgery?” the lounging patient asked him.
“Yes,” Tony answered. “He said he pioneered it or something like that?”
“It works,” the multi-instrumentalist claimed, “but as you can see, they’re still working out the kinks. They over-freezed me.”
“Okay,” Tony said, pulling up a chair and sitting next to his teacher at Brian’s bedside.
“We got to him just in time,” Gregory told his partner. “The Anima was just being warmed up to be used.”
“Was it an angel?” Tony asked the blond guitarist.
“I think so,” he answered. “I was just pacing back and forth when this ball of light came in right through the wall and knocked me out. Obviously, I don’t remember anything after that.”
“Hello, people,” L’Da said as he and Ba’al’figor, both attired in black, entered the room.
“Hey,” Brian greeted the angels.
“We just came by to see how Brian’s doing,” L’Da said, walking over to his bedside with Ba’al’figor following right behind.
“I’m okay,” the guitarist claimed. “I was lucky, thanks to these two gentlemen.”
“Good news,” L’Da said to the group. “The Council of Angels has pardoned Brian.”
“They have?” the ex-Stones artist jubilantly exulted.
L’Da nodded. “Just in time, too. It didn’t seem like the concert was going to happen.”
“So, what do we do now?” Tony asked the angel. “Somewhere out there, someone’s running around loose with a soul stealer.”
“We’re on it,” Ba’al’figor promised. “They won’t get far.”
“Well,” L’Da said in conclusion, “I was just coming by to give you the good news. Glad to see you’re recovering well,” he said, turning to Brian. “Oh, by the way,” he added, looking at Gregory, “we tried to locate the Anima using heat signature tracking, but so far, nothing’s shown up. That’s good news. It means you two did a good job of preventing a disaster. As we speak, the angels and engineers are speedily working on a technology that would let us insert a new soul into Amy. Hopefully, they’ll get it done in a few weeks and we put this whole affair behind us.”
“Sounds promising,” Tony acknowledged.
“We have more planning to do,” Ba’al’figor stated, “so we’ll catch up with everyone later?”
“Sure,” Gregory noted. “I did want to ask you about something,” he said, looking at L’Da, “but I forgot. Something about the steps required for Level II.”
“If you remember,” L’Da said, “I’ll be in the station for a while. You can catch me then.”
“Sounds good,” the elder PI said as the two angels exited.
“They’re not so bad,” Tony noted. “I’m surprised there’s all this animosity.”
“You haven’t been here long enough,” Brian said. “Give it time.”