exerpts from the novel
The Electronic Windmill
By Pete McKinley
Chapter XVIII
The seat belt, still buckled, was loose in the lap where a hand was lying at an awkward angle. Closing his eyes tightly for a moment, then opening them quickly again, Cole stared at the hand. Something hurt and when he tried to touch the hurt, the hand rose from the lap and he felt stickiness and something that was full of pain. He brought the hand in front of his eyes and recognizing it, saw that the tips of the fingers were covered with brownish blood. Deciding it all belonged, he dropped the hand and tried his feet and they worked. Bending and raising his knees he looked for the other arm and as he moved forward it was released and fell down by his side. He swung it from the shoulder and plopped it in the lap too and then picking it up with the good hand, felt of it. It wasn’t broken, just asleep. Having examined himself and feeling reasonably sure that again, it was only his head that was damaged, he raised his eyes to look around.
Outside there was a man and boy draped from head to foot in what appeared to be old blankets. They were standing in a clearing of the stunted trees about thirty feet away and just to the right of the unbroken plastic canopy. They peered in silent, unmoving intentness. He peered back but when they made no advance he turned his head left and refocused his eyes on the pilot and looked for a long moment before deciding not to touch Kevin McDowell. Massaging the left arm had given it life again and he pulled the release on the safety belt that was too loose. The door was still tightly closed and when he pressed the latch it sprung open normally. The man and the boy watched as he crawled from the intact bubble. The chopper was resting on broken branches that had been ripped away by the lost under-carriage. Below the torn branches and springy needles was solid ground. He stood up straight, swaying slightly, and raised his eyes to a yellow sky. The man and the boy in their tent-like apparel were now walking cautiously toward him and getting close the boy looked inside the crashed helicopter at the dead pilot.
“Is your friend hurt bad?” he asked in a scared voice.
“He’s dead,” Cole said glancing back.
“We called the police,” the man broke in. “Right after it happened but they didn’t come. The boy and I walked to where we saw you come down and then went back and called them again. We told them it was a police helicopter and then they said they’d be here right away.”
Cole heard a siren that sounded close and was aware of several sirens in the distance. “How long has it been?” he asked.
“A little over an hour,” the man said. “The boy and I were still asleep. My son and daughter-in-law left early for the valley. We saw you crash when we ran out of the house.”
“I thought there’d be a tidal wave,” Cole said absently.
“There was.” The man pointed where the water had come, to within fifty feet of the wrecked helicopter. “We live only a block from the park but it’s higher yet.”
“What happened on the beach?”
“I don’t know. Everyone has been told they should stay inside so we haven’t gone down there but we heard on the radio that lots of people were drowned.”
The boy was holding a portable radio close to his ear. He turned it off as the sound of a siren growled closer and suddenly stopped. A red light flashed through the trees and Cole started in that direction. The man and the boy followed and as they brushed through the low trees they could see a policeman working his way in. Cole assumed he was a policeman, although he was covered in a long gray cape with a hood.
“Is the department chopper down in there, that we had a report on?” he called.
“Yes,” Cole said. “These people here reported it.”
The policeman nodded to the man and boy as he got to them and then turned to Cole. “You don’t look so good. Can you make it to the car?”
“I’m all right,” Cole said, “but the pilot’s dead.”
“Aren’t you the pilot?”
“No, I was a passenger,” Cole said. He stepped on a loose rock and almost fell. The policeman grabbed and wrapped Cole’s arm around his neck and they continued toward the flashing light. When they got down to the road the squad car radio was squawking and a second policeman was reporting in.
“The pilot’s still in the chopper,” Cole said to the second policeman calling in. “Can you ask them to send an ambulance right away?”
“Who’s he?” the second policeman wanted to know.
“He was a passenger. Tell them we’re bringing him in to the clinic, but the pilot’s dead,” the first policeman said.
The second policeman continued to report while the first one helped Cole into the back of the squad car and then went around and got into the driver’s seat. The engine was still turning over and Cole, looking out at the man and boy raised his hand. “Thanks very much.”
They started to move and then they stopped and the second policeman kept talking to the precinct. When he had finished and had asked for an ambulance the driver stuck his head out the window and said to the man and boy, “You’d better wait here even though you ought to go home.” He pointed towards the downed chopper. “They’re coming for him. Appreciate your staying on the road so they can see you....and thanks.”
“We’ll wait,” the man said. “No thanks necessary.”
The second policeman pulled the cape over his head and got out.
“You’d better go back to your home,” he said to them. “I’ll take over here. He’s one of our men and we thank you very much.”
The man and the boy looked at the driver, who didn’t say anything, and then they started walking along the road away from the squad car.
The driver turned to Cole in the back seat. “Are you O,K.?”
Cole, wrapped in the cape they had given him, merely nodded and the car started moving again along the Crossover drive. They left the park at Park Presidio bypass and went on to Geary Boulevard turning right for downtown. A car crossed in front of them at the intersection of Arguello. It was the first one Cole had seen and after fifteen empty blocks he hadn’t seen any people either. A dog crossed the road with an aimless gait and the driver slowed and swerved to miss him. The reflection of the dirty sky imparted an amber cast to the deserted streets and other than the distant sirens, a total hush engulfed the motionless trees and the blank buildings.
“Where is everyone?” Cole asked hitching forward.
“Watching television or listening to their radios. Civil Defense has asked everybody to stay under-cover and off the streets.”
“Were many people killed?”
“Not in the city. Just along the outer shore. I understand the bay raised several feet and caused damage but I didn’t get a report on people killed or hurt.”
“I’ve got to make some phone calls,” Cole said.
“You can make them when we get to the Emergency Clinic - although they’ve asked people to limit their calls.”
“Is that the clinic connected with the city jail?”
“That’s the one. Do you know it?”
“I know it. Why are you taking me there?”
“The hospitals are jammed and you need medical care.”
“What I need is sleep. Otherwise, I’m O.K.”
“They’re asking everybody with any exposure to take a shower with some kind of medicated soap and then use a special ointment.”
“All I want to do is make some phone calls and get some sleep,” Cole reiterated, but settled back and didn’t say anything more. Five minutes later, without the usual traffic to fight, the driver pulled in beside the city jail next to the small emergency clinic. Cole tried to get out of the back but found there were no latches on the inside of the doors. Two caped and hooded policemen came from the side door of the stone building carrying a stretcher and one of them opened the back door. Cole got out as they were arranging the stretcher and followed.
The driver asked, “Did the ambulance pick up the dead pilot yet?
“We haven’t got a report on that,” one of the stretcher bearers said.
When Cole entered the building he was surprised to see people lining the corridors, mostly old men, many of them sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall. There was barely enough space to walk between. He stopped and the driver of the squad car squeezed past saying, “Come on down this way.” They turned left and went up a short flight of steps and then into a brightly lighted interior room. A young bearded man looked up from behind a desk and pulled his glasses down on his nose, pinching the bridge of his nose where the glasses had rested.
“This man has probably had more exposure than anyone else,” the squad car driver said. “he was in a police chopper over the ocean and saw the whole thing.” Then to Cole, “This is Doc Carsey. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
The young bearded man behind the desk didn’t bother to rise, merely motioned them to go through the door at the back of the room and as they went by started giving instructions:
“You can use my room and private shower. Take your clothes off and put them in the basket by the door. There’s some special soap there - show him, Carmody. Suds down a couple of times and rinse off, wash your hair good, too. Afterwards, get ointment all over him, Carmody. There’s a clean gown in the coset. Put it on and you can use my bed.”
“Thanks,” Cole called from the other room. He felt weak and hungry but mostly he wanted sleep. Then he remembered. “I need to make a couple of phone calls.”
“There’s a phone by the bed, use it but don’t take too long.”
Cole saw the phone by the bed and started to sit down.
“Take your clothes off first,” Carmody said hastily.
Cole stopped, and swaying slightly, started to remove the truck driver’s clothes that he had put on so long ago. When he was naked he tossed the clothes into the basket by the door and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Picking up the receiver he dialed Pilar’s number. It rang eight or nine times and then he shut it off for five seconds before releasing the button and dialing the office. There was no answer there either and before he could try Aunt Hester the young bearded doctor came in. He didn’t say anything, just walked over and started looking at the bruise on Cole’s head. Pushing the hair back he examined more closely and then poked around the edges. He took a small pencil-like instrument from a breast pocket and shoving Cole’s head slightly, held open the upper lid of the right eye with his thumb. Probing it with light he peered through the end of the instrument and then the same with the left eye.
“You have a concussion,” he said tersely. “I don’t know if there’s a fracture. We’ll x-ray later. The skin is broken around the bruise. Wash it carefully but good. I’ll put a dressing on it after you’ve had your shower.” He pushed the pencil-like instrument back in the breast pocket of his dirty white jacket, re-examined the bruise and left the room.
Cole reached for the phone again and dialed Aunt Hester’s number. This time there was only one and a half rings and he heard Aunt Hester’s, “Hello.”
“Hello - How are you? This is Coleridge.” He didn’t know why he always referred to himself as Coleridge when he talked to Aunt Hester.
“Coleridge, where are you? Everybody’s been calling and leaving messages. Are you at that dreadful apartment now or are you at your office?”
“I’m downtown but not at the office. Are you all right? I just now had a chance to call.”
“Yes, I’m fine. I saw the whole thing. Of course, I knew what it was and took the precaution of watching through the stained glass window,” she went on excitedly and then asked, “Where were you when they dropped the bomb?”
“Nobody dropped a bomb - where did you get that idea?”
“It’s all on television. No one’s been accused yet but someone had to do it and those poor people along the coast. I’ve called the Red Cross and Salvation Army and offered this place for refugees. I’m sure we can handle fifteen or twenty - but I won’t let them disturb your rooms. When will you be home?”
“Not for a while. You might as well use the whole house, and don’t believe everything you see and hear on television.”
“Do you know anything about this, Coleridge?”
“I know something. We’ll talk about it later.”
“I thought as much.”
“Who called and left a message?”
“The first one was some crank...a Mr. Swensen. He said the police were at his place about some kind of tractor but that they were really looking for you. He said you almost caused two policemen to have a terrible smashup when you were driving this thing and then you parked it in the middle of the Embarcadero and just left it. He said you got away in a stolen police helicopter. I never heard of anything so ridiculous in my life and I told him so.”
“You did right. Who else called?”
“Mr. Shu-li and Mr. Carver. They’ve gone down to the beach to help the poor people there and said to tell you where they were.”
“Did you get any other phone calls?”
“Oh yes, Pilar called from the airport - said she was leaving in ten minutes for Washington and to be sure and let you know.”
“What is she going up there for? Did she say?”
“She wasn’t going up to Washington, she was going back to Washington, D.C. and that you should call a Mr. ....wait a minute, I wrote it down....Bocana. She said you’d know...”
“Oh for Christ’s sake!”
“Coleridge, there’s no need for that sort of language. I’ll have to ring off dear, there’s someone at the door. I’ve got a hundred things to do - come home as soon as you can.” He thought, if it weren’t for the tragedy, she would be positively happy with all the things she had to do.
When he set the receiver down he heard the shower running. Standing up he steadied himself for a minute and then shuffled slowly into the bathroom. Carmody was there and stood by while he soaped down twice including his hair, and he was very careful with his cut and bruised head. Over his objections, Carmody helped him towel down and then stopped him when he was all ready to fall flat on the bed and sleep for a week. Carmody insisted he put on the white stiff gown that tied up the back. With the knots fixed he dropped forward and embraced the bed and the last thing he remembered was a slight stinging in both thighs and Doc Carsey’s voice coming through from a long way off.
“I’m giving you a massive dose of vitamins and minerals.” After the second sting, “This injection is to combat the effects of radiation. It’s worked well on experimental animals but this is the first real test on humans and -” Hearing Cole’s deep steady breathing, Doctor Carsey stopped talking.
