The Last Move

Two men edged him to the side of the bed then slid him onto a gurney. Usually the nurses rolled his entire bed when they took him to dialysis. He found any change in routine to be disturbing. Besides, he would rather they just leave him alone--all he wanted was to rest. They had talked several times about moving him to another place, but he didn't understand why. He was perfectly satisfied where he was--if they would quit pestering him.

By the time they rolled him from his room, he had begun nodding again.

The sun on his face awakened him. He didn't know he'd been asleep, but the sudden light sent a surge of energy through his body. He wanted to sit up but he couldn't get his muscles to work. Besides, the contraption in his nose held him down. If he could get rid of the tubes he'd sit up, but every time he reached toward his face, someone pulled his hands away.

The gurney rumbled on the sidewalk and jolted at each joint in the concrete. It always rolled smoothly in the hospital halls, like a skater on ice. He tried to keep his eyes open against the sun glare but tears blocked his vision. Soon he became aware of someone holding a shade over his face, but he still couldn't see. He had forgotten how bright the outside world was.

Soon they entered another building. The sudden darkness left him blind for a time. He heard and felt the rumble of an elevator, then the gurney glided silently down a corridor and into a room.

Strong hands lifted him onto a bed, then as his vision returned he realized one of the figures in the room was his daughter.

"Where are we, hon?" he asked. "What is this place?"

She squeezed his hand. "It's a hospice, Daddy."

"A hospice? Isn't that where they take dying people?"

She didn't turn away. He saw tears on her cheeks as she bent over to kiss him. "Yes, Daddy," she said in a low catchy voice. "It is."

Story ID:	3658
Written by:	James Baker (bio, contact, other stories)
Organization:	Writers' Circle
Story type:	Fiction
Location:	Any Any USA
Year:	2003
Person:	Him