Angel's Demon

11. Eighteen Years Earlier -1

11. Eighteen Years Earlier

The 5th floor Children’s Ward—Cancer Unit was a place no one wished existed. It was bad enough that the disease ravaged the bodies of adults. To see children fighting and losing the battle to this most tragic of diseases was almost unbearable.

There were twenty-four children in the ward, ranging in age from five to ten — all so young. Too young, in fact, to be snatched away from loving families.

The most anticipated time of the day was when the hospital mascot, Jock, the little Scottish Terrier, came for a visit. He would spend an hour with the children, licking hands — who cares about a few dog germs when you’re dying? — begging on his hind legs, shaking hands, speaking when asked to, and allowing the children to lavish him with loving. Not once did he play dead. That would be poor form. Even he knew that these children would die. He could smell the disease in their tiny, fragile bodies. His job was to help make them forget, just for a little while, that they were dying.

“I want to pat Jock,” one girl said.

“No, it’s my turn,” another said.

“I’ll be dead before it’s my turn,” the first girl whined.

Silence descended upon the ward. They weren’t supposed to talk about dying. None of them wanted to die. If you pretended it wasn’t going to happen, then it couldn’t. Everyone knew that! To say it out loud was inviting death.

“Now, now children,” Jock’s handler said. “There will be no dying while Jock is around.”

“Then Jock will just have to live forever,” one of the boys said.

They all laughed and clapped their hands. It was agreed that Jock would live forever, and so would they.

Jock did his final round of the children, sniffing their feet and committing their scents to memory. He wagged his tail and woofed “Goodbye!” before heading out with his handler.

“Off to the Geriatric Unit, Jock,” his handler said.

It was a long day at the office — well worth all the joy and happiness he brought to those who needed it.

Jock was snuffling along the corridor, about fifty metres to the left of the children’s ward. Fifty metres was the equivalent of three hundred Jock steps. Little legs took lots of steps, whereas long legs, like his handler had, could take two steps to his six. He was pondering how many calories he burned during his daily trek when he smelled something divine. He veered away from his handler to follow the scent, and came across a young woman holding lots of helium balloons.

“Hello!” he woofed at her, wagging his tail.

The young woman stopped and looked down at him, a wondrous smile on her flawless face.

“Hello, Jock,” she said. “Have you finished your visit with the children?”

“Yes,” Jock woofed back, “but how did you know I visit them? I haven’t smelled you here before. Come to think of it, how do you know what I’m saying? Humans aren’t very good at dog-speak.”

She leaned down and scratched him behind the ear before whispering, “I know all languages, Jock, for I am not mortal. We both want the same thing — for these children to be free of the disease that is riddling their bodies. I am here to help.”

Jock nodded his head and wagged his tail. The lovely woman stood up and continued on her way.

“Come along, Jock,” his handler said. “We have other patients to visit.”

Jock followed his handler. Something wonderful was going to happen. He could feel it in his bones.

Gina had found the little dog to be most enchanting. She loved him for caring so much about his charges. He was no doctor, and could not heal physical ills, but he could help to heal a wounded soul. In a way he was like her, doing what was within his power to make the world a better place.

Gina pushed open the door of the cancer unit, shepherding the balloons into the large room before allowing the door to close. She turned to face the children, all of whom were curious about the lady with the balloons.

“Hello, my name is Gina,” she said. “I’ve brought balloons.”

One of the boys sniggered. It was obvious she had brought balloons, and funny that she would state the obvious.

“Don’t pay any attention to Brian,” one of the little girls said. “He thinks everything’s funny.”

“That’s okay, Gesthimani,” Gina replied. “Lots of people find me funny, even though I don’t tell jokes.”

“How did you know my name?” Gesthimani asked.

“Magic,” Gina replied.

“Wow, you know magic?” a little boy asked.

“Yes, Matt, I do.”

“Cool. Can you show me a trick?” Matt asked.

“What would you like me to do?”

Matt ran over to his bed and pulled out a collapsed magician’s top hat — black, of course — from under his pillow. He walked back to Gina, flicked his wrist to snap the hat into shape, and handed it to her.

“Pull a rabbit out of the hat,” Matt said.

Gina let go of the balloons and they slowly drifted up until they bounced along the ceiling. She reached her free hand into the hat and pretended to be searching around for a rabbit. She had a determined look on her face, so that the children would think she was trying, but not having any luck. At last Gina smiled and pulled out her hand. She was holding a piebald rabbit by the scruff of the neck.

This was real magic. All the children except for Matt clapped their hands.

“What’s wrong, Matt?” Gina asked, handing the rabbit to a little girl to cuddle and pat.

“Real magicians only use pure white rabbits,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

“You mean like this?” Gina asked, dipping her hand into the hat again and pulling out another rabbit, one that was all white.

“That’s more like it,” Matt said, smiling as he took the rabbit from her.

“I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t know that real magicians only pull white rabbits out of a hat. I’m very new to this. Perhaps when I have more time you can show me the ropes?”

“Deal,” Matt said.

Gina handed the top hat back to Matt and raised her hand above her head. The balloons instantly returned to her, and the children oohed and aahed.

“I would like to give each of you a balloon,” Gina said.

Paul was the first to approach Gina. All the balloons said Get Well, but each one had a different picture on it. Gina handed Paul a balloon with a treble clef and musical notes. She knew he liked music. As Gina gave him the balloon, her hand touched his briefly. He looked up at her and she smiled. His hand felt weird, all tingly, like an ant was walking across it.

Next came Rob. Gina selected a balloon with Egyptian hieroglyphics on it. Rob was interested in history, and Egypt had a long and interesting history. She touched Rob’s hand as she gave him the balloon. Like Paul, Rob felt his hand tingle.

Renee could see the balloon she wanted. “The one with the silver star,” she said, “just like they have on the footpath in Hollywood.”

Gina obliged Renee with the balloon of her choosing, though Gina had prepared them all in advance, before she stepped through the door. Gina’s fingers briefly touched Renee’s hand as she passed her the balloon. Again, there was a tingling sensation. In fact, the children would later report that the pretty lady with the balloons had touched their hand as she gave them out, and where she touched tingled for a brief moment.

Michael received a balloon with a tall skyscraper on it; Jake’s had a pair of running shoes; Aly’s balloon had a microphone on it; Brian’s had a question mark, for he was a trivia buff and loved it when people quizzed him on various topics; Kate’s balloon was covered in love hearts of different sizes; Chris’s balloon announced E=mc2; Gesthimani’s balloon had what appeared to be a picture of lavender — it was the closest image Gina could think of that depicted something people associated with a calming influence; an artist’s brush and palette adorned Alice’s balloon; Dom’s had a tall building emblazoned with a golden dollar sign; on Alex’s balloon were the images of a halo and horns, for he believed in God and the devil; Teresa’s balloon had a picture of the cosmos; Graeme’s had the internal workings of a clock; Andrew — he preferred to be called Andy — had a strongman on his balloon; Felicitia’s balloon showed a bouquet of flowers, and she thought she could actually smell the roses; a hummingbird decorated Laura’s balloon, for she was flighty like a bird; Marty had a DJ turntable on his balloon; Matt’s had a magician’s top hat, with a white rabbit peeking out the top, as was to be expected; Brooke’s image was a little more difficult for Gina to decide on, as she was a wild child — the closest she could think of was a psychedelic image from what Little Mother had called The Hippie Era; Kyle’s balloon had a typewriter on it; Doug’s balloon showed a cartoon boy whose clothes were too small, for he believed he was a misfit, and lastly; Sarah, whose balloon had a picture of her mum’s face on it — the person she most wanted to be like.

“Children, it is almost time for me to go,” Gina said. “Before I leave there are a couple of things I would ask of you.”

“Okay,” Sarah, Kyle and Gesthimani said in unison.

“If there was one thing you could wish for, what would it be?” Gina asked. “Mind you, it must be a wish you can all agree upon.”

“That’s easy,” Marty said. “We’d like to be better again and go home to play with our other friends.”

The children nodded their heads in agreement. A few uttered uh-huh, to make it clear they agreed.

“Very well,” Gina said, smiling happily, “you shall have your wish and in a few days’ time you will all go home.”

The children squealed with delight. Unlike grown-ups, they were not suspicious of her motives, wondering if she was a con artist or what was in it for her. They had faith, and they had decided to place that faith in Gina.

“What’s the second thing?” Sarah asked.

“What I ask of you I do not ask lightly,” Gina said in a serious tone, “I would ask each and every one of you to protect Little Mother when the time comes. Could you do that for me, please?”

The children looked at each other, baffled by the request. Who was Little Mother and how could they protect her? Maybe Little Mother was the piebald rabbit that was hopping around on the floor, or maybe it was the white one. They huddled together and whispered to each other, trying to reach an accord. As long as they got better, it didn’t really matter, did it? It seemed such a small request to make, and the pretty lady — Gina — seemed so nice. They all turned around to look at Gina. Someone pushed Sarah to the front.

“Okay,” Sarah said, “we’ll do it.”

“Tell me what you are to do?” Gina asked.

Together they all replied, “Protect Little Mother when the time comes.”

The day after Gina’s visit the children showed visible signs of improvement. Complexions were better, appetites improved and they were complaining of being bored in general, wanting to run around and play — something they wouldn’t have done if they were still sick.

Jock came for his visit at the usual time. Something was different. He sniffed each of the children. The underlying scents were still the same, but the cancer smell was gone. He wagged his tail madly and ran around in circles, barking. This was the wonderful thing he knew was going to happen. The lovely woman who could understand him had helped the children.

The children laughed and danced, and gave Jock more cuddles than he usually received. They were so full of energy and life. It made him feel like a pup again.

Several orderlies came in with wheelchairs. The children knew what the wheelchairs meant — being taken for tests or treatment.

“Alex, Matt, Brooke and Graeme,” one of the orderlies read from a sheet.

The four children stepped forward and each of them sat down in a wheelchair.

“You kids are looking good today,” one of the orderlies commented.

“We feel good,” Sarah replied, and laughed. They all laughed.

“Good for you,” the orderly replied. “Maybe Jock has finally found that miracle cure Denise is always going on about.”

“Hah!” Denise, Jock’s handler said. “Never underestimate what a little dog can do.”

Jock barked in agreement.

“See you soon, Jock,” Brooke said.

Alex, Matt and Graeme also voiced their goodbyes.