An Impossible Dilemma: A Psychological Thriller Novel (8 page)

“I dunno, nineteen, twenty, but he won’t see twenty-one if I don’t do something quick.”

“Can you fix him?”

I paused in the doorway. “Eh?”

“Can you fix his wound, temporarily?”

“Yes, but he still needs a doctor.”

“No, you don’t get me. If you can fix him for now, he’s the right age … You know … to be a donor.”

His intention hit home. I considered what he was saying for a split second. “We can’t do that, Frank. It’ll kill him. We’ll be locked up for life.”

“Who would know? We could feed him to the pigs, or even make use of Jon’s offal pit.”

“Although I’m tempted at the prospect of turning this sack of shit into pig chow, I’m not a murderer, and neither are you,” I said, my voice sharp and to the point.

“What’s our alternative?”

“Call the ambulance and the police. Like I was going to.” I shrugged.

“Think about it for a second, lass. What will happen if you call the police?”

I shook my head.

“I’ll tell you, shall I? They’ll get him fixed up and he’ll claim damages, probably bankrupt you if this country’s law system is anything to go by. You‘ll be charged with attempted murder and he’ll get off scot free with a pocket full of
your
cash. And Emily will still die.”

His last sentence hit me like a smack in the face. I plonked down beside him on the sofa, my eyes glued to Shane. Gurgling noises came from his chest, and although he looked unconscious with his head lolling backwards, his mouth still moved.

“Can you do the transplant? Frank grasped my wrist with both of his hands, his eyes large and hopeful.

“If we got him to the clinic, perhaps, but I’d struggle alone,” I said quietly.

“You’re not alone, I can help. What about putting it into Emily safely?”

I nodded, “That’s the easy part. It’s just an injection.”

I couldn’t believe we were really discussing this.

Shane’s breathing was becoming even shallower.

“He needs help now or he’ll be dead.”

I tipped Shane’s chair back onto two legs and dragged him down the hallway to the front door, leaving a trail of blood behind me. I searched for my car keys, remembering Stephanie had taken them.

“Fuck!” I snatched the keys to Jon’s truck from the key-hook beside the front door but realised the truck was jammed in behind my car. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity, fucking fuck!”

Frank came down the hallway towards me. He seemed more unsteady on his feet than normal. “Calm down, lass. What’s wrong?”

“I need to get him to the clinic but Steph took my car keys.”

“Get the wheelbarrow. That’ll have to do.”

Chapter 10

It took sheer grunt and determination to get Shane and the wheelbarrow across the path and down the driveway to the clinic.

I unlocked the door and switched on the light.

Shane was unconscious. Blood trickled from his nose, and his face had a blue tinge.

I needed to work quickly. It didn’t take a genius to work out he was in a bad way. I had to remove the stick and insert a chest tube to drain off the blood from his injured lung.

Frank shuffled into the clinic.

I screamed and dropped a stainless steel dish to the floor making a loud crash. “Oh, Frank, you made me jump.”

“You said you needed help. I may not be the best, but I’m better than no one.”

“I need to get him up onto the table to remove the stick. It’s in quite far, so that may be easier said than done.”

“Undo him from the chair first,” Frank said.

I found a pair of snips in the tool box Jon had left under the counter, and cut the ties.

Shane’s arms flopped to the floor, and he almost fell off the wheelbarrow. The gurgling sound coming from his chest sounded like someone blowing bubbles down a straw.

My whole body was shaking. Frank took hold of my upper arms and shook me roughly.

“Calm down, lass. Think of Emily.”

“Okay.” I nodded. The mention of Emily had the desired effect, and I took several deep breaths.

“Frank, we need to get him up but he’s heavy. Any ideas?” I held my breath, trying to prepare myself for what we were about to do. The adrenalin had kicked in and the professional in me was finally in control.

“If you help me lift his top half as far as we can, I can hold him in place while you grab his legs,” Frank suggested.

“Okay, let’s do it then. We’re running out of time.”

We managed to get Shane up onto the table. Frank’s good arm was strong. I doubt I’d have got him up on my own.

“Right, I need to get a few things and then can you hold him while I try to pull the stick out?” I said.

He nodded.

I gathered all the equipment I needed, plus a stack of towels. “Okay, are you ready?” I glanced at him, taking a deep breath.

Another nod.

“When it comes out there’ll be a lot of blood so be ready, and shove these towels onto the wound right away.” I placed the towels on the table beside Shane.

The broken stick splintered as I tried to grip it.

Frank found some adjustable pliers in the tool box and handed them to me. “Try these.”

The stick came away with a sickening squelch and Frank rammed a towel into the hole.

“Press down hard while I organize myself,” I said.

Shane began to groan.

“Oh shit, Frank. If he wakes up, we’re screwed.”

“Can’t you drug him?” Frank asked.

“We’re already up to our eyeballs in trouble, Frank.”

“Exactly, so what difference will a bit more make? Better to be hung for a sheep than a lamb,” he said, in a matter–of-fact tone.

I stopped and glanced around at him. His eyes were more alive than they had been in ages, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was actually enjoying this.

However, Frank was right. If Shane woke up, things could get a whole lot worse. A little bit of anaesthetic would have to do. “What would you say he weighs?”

“He’s a big lad, but more wiry than heavy. I’d say around ten stone, maybe eleven.”

I quickly worked out the quantities and prepared the medication.

“Okay, let’s hope this is right. If not, it could kill him anyway.”

“It’ll work. This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for. I think Jon sent him our way.”

Immediate memories of Shane shoving his dirty penis into my mouth flashed through my mind, followed by the feelings of disgust I’d had when he violated my body. I shuddered. Wanted nothing more than to sink into a steaming hot bath and scrub away every last trace of Shane.

I didn’t think Jon would send him to me, not like this.

But if it worked, if it helped get Emily well again, every disgusting second would have been worth it.

After I applied the chest drain, Shane’s breathing steadied. My next step was to remove the Proteum. I’d already studied the location of the Proteus.

Shane lay face down on the operating table. I shaved a small area at the base of his skull and cut out a square of skin with a scalpel. Then with a tiny, high-powered hand drill I made a circle of holes and cut through the remaining bone with a fine wire saw, making a bone flap.

The proteus gland was easy to find. I inserted a needle and drew off the yellowish blood-tinged fluid, ten mil in total. I found it hard to believe this little bit of gunk could be the difference between life and death for my gorgeous girl. And for Shane, too.

I had to decide what to do with him next. We had two choices. To monitor him until he died naturally—which could take up to twenty-four hours—or administer a euthanasia solution.

My priority was to get this liquid gold into my baby, as I didn’t know how long it would be viable. “Frank, I’m going over to the house. I might need you. Can you follow me?”

“What about him?” Frank nodded at Shane, who already looked dead to me.

“He shouldn’t be a problem for a little while. We’ll be back in no time.”

I raced from the clinic, praying Shane hadn’t got any other terrible disease such as HIV. But it was too late to concern myself with all that now. This whole thing was a huge gamble, but less of a gamble than doing nothing.

Emily didn’t stir as I entered the bedroom.

I stroked her hair. “Mummy has to give you some medicine, my baby. You’ll be okay,” I whispered as I took out the syringe and attached a clean needle. Using a surgical wipe, I cleaned inside of Emily’s arm before inserting the needle into her vein.

She made a tiny sound and my heart contracted, but she went straight back off to sleep. I said a quick prayer before injecting the fluid.

I was still sitting in the same position on the floor next to the bed when Frank entered. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

I shook my head, putting my fingers to my lips as I got up, my legs threatening to buckle under me.

“She didn’t even wake up.” I sobbed as I fell into Frank’s arms.

His breath caught in his throat. “I thought you were about to tell me you’d changed your mind,” he whispered.

I tipped my head towards the hallway and walked out of the room, taking one last look at Emily before closing the door. “I hope we’ve done the right thing. What if it doesn’t work? Makes her ill even? I may be a vet, but there’s a world of difference between treating animals and treating humans.” I had palpitations in my chest as the enormity of what we’d just done suddenly hit me. Bile rose into my mouth, and I raced to the bathroom, falling to the side of the toilet as my stomach contents splattered into the bowl.

Frank stepped into the room behind me and rubbed my back. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.

“It can’t hurt her, lass, and besides, this is her only hope.”

“But now we have to deal with Shane. In fact I’d better get back to the clinic,” I said, pulling myself to my feet and linking my arm through Frank’s, drawing strength from him.

“What do you think we should do?” he asked.

“Maybe a lethal injection is the kindest way,” I said. “I know he’s a nasty piece of work, but I hate the thought of causing any unnecessary suffering.”

Even this would still haunt me. I had a rule to never euthanize pets in the clinic if they were fit and well. It amazed me how many people refused to rehome unwanted pets. They’d prefer to put them to sleep rather than suffer the distress of losing their owner and their home. I would try to convince them that lots of pets are rehomed successfully, but if I still couldn’t sway their decision, I’d send them to the opposition to do the dastardly deed.

I found it hard enough to put a sick and distressed pet to sleep. It always tore my heart out to have to administer that fatal shot. However, in Shane’s case, one fatal shot was better than leaving him to die naturally. There was no telling how painful or drawn-out that would be.

Frank nodded. “You go on ahead and I’ll follow.”

“No, get your wheelchair, and we’ll go together. You must be worn out.” I linked my arm through his.

Frank started laughing halfway down the stairs, and I thought maybe he’d gone mad. He braced himself against the wall to prevent him toppling down the stairs.

“What are you laughing at?” I asked, shaking my head, concerned I would have to cope alone if he’d lost his marbles.

“I didn’t think to use the wheelchair earlier. Instead, I suggested the wheelbarrow and the next thing you had him strapped to the wheelbarrow and pegging it down the path,” he howled.

I shook my head, “We weren’t in our right minds, were we?” I smiled shakily, relieved he hadn’t cracked up.

Once Frank recovered from his hysterical outburst, I helped him into his wheelchair and pushed him back to the clinic.

Shane was still out cold.

I prepared a dose of pentobarbitone, a short-acting barbiturate I often used for animal euthanasia. I knew it was still used for death by lethal injection in some American states.

My hands shook uncontrollably as my earlier nerves returned. It was one thing operating on him, but another thing entirely to inject him with this fatal dose. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I approached Shane.

I gripped his wrist, feeling for a pulse.

Nothing.             

I checked the pulse at his throat.

Still nothing.

Grabbing the stethoscope from the hook on the wall, I listened to his chest.

Silence.

A sob escaped me, and I realised I’d been holding my breath.

“What’s wrong, lass?” Frank said, getting to his feet.

“He’s dead, Frank.” I threw the syringe back into the tray, as though it were a hot rock.

I grabbed the table to steady myself, taking several deep breaths as I tried to clear my head.

“Already?” Frank’s eyes were wide open as he shuffled past me to examined Shane himself. Satisfied Shane was indeed dead, he made his way back to his wheelchair and sat down heavily. His fingertips pressed to his mouth.

“So what now?” I asked, a strange numbness spreading through my limbs.

“Maybe the offal pit would be the easiest option.

“I thought about that, but they’re still looking into Jon’s accident. What if someone finds him?”

There had been lots of comings and goings the past week as they examined the scene and the digger. They had no reason to examine the offal pit, but I didn’t want to risk it.

Frank wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyebrows furrowed. “Okay, we have no choice then. We’ll have to dismember him and feed him to the pigs. They’ll eat him, bones and all. We’ll need to send Alex away for a few days, in case he notices something.”

Frank had a home-kill business before he got sick. He would also slaughter and butcher his own animals in a slaughterhouse on the other side of the farm. We sent our cows away nowadays, so the slaughterhouse hadn’t been used in a number of years.

“I can’t do that!” I shook my head. “Can’t we feed the body to them whole?”

“Maybe, but to be honest, I wouldn’t want the pigs to make a connection between human beings and food. They might try to feast on anyone who dared to enter the sty if they did.”

“I guess,” I said. “But Frank, there’s no way I can chop him up.” I shook my head.

“The equipment is easy to use. Maybe I can manage with a little bit of help.”

“How will we even get him there? Plus we can’t leave Emily on her own.” I felt my hysteria rising.

“If we get him over to the cold store tonight, we can finish the rest tomorrow. No one uses that area now, so he’ll be okay. Can you drive the quad?”

“I suppose, but no one’s been in there in years. How do you know the tools are still there? What if the power’s been turned off?” My head spun.

“Because I didn’t arrange for anything to change at the time. We just shut it up. I’ll need the large bunch of keys in the garage. Do you want to get them when you fetch the quad? I’ll wait here,” he said.

I was grateful to be told what to do. Even though Frank wasn’t physically strong any more, he’d taken control of this situation.

“Okay, but first I’ll check on Emily,” I said.

I raced towards the house, my thoughts in turmoil, dreading what I would find. Had I injected an animal with a powerful potion, I would monitor them closely in case of a bad reaction.

Instead, we’d left Emily all alone.