He collapsed through the driver-side door; the buoyant seat cushions, as worn out as they were, felt as soft and yielding as a titan’s bosom. He closed the door, started the car, and immediately cranked up the air conditioning; even at one in the morning, Tucson baked like an open-air barbecue. His heart, already in a lot of pain, sank as he pondered his health plan’s high deductible. How long would it take him to pay off an emergency room visit? Could his finances survive such a hit? Would he have to give up his business and his apartment? Was he fated to move back in with his parents, to endure their well-meaning but grating questions about his plans for the rest of his life and when he was finally going to get serious? The miasma of consequences hurt more than the actual injury.

And what had he gained tonight? The knowledge that Tucson Sam wasn’t a silly joke, but a true hero and faithful companion? He could have gone the rest of his life without that insight. That another world existed parallel to our own, and it was out for blood? Interesting, but no practical use there. That giant statues can come to life? That Kelly’s source hadn’t been lying?

Kelly. The word hit him like a chicken coop thrown by a summer gale.

He pondered his phone uneasily. The advantage of his awful situation was that things couldn’t get any worse, and that gave him a certain amount of freedom, or maybe that was just the injury talking. He scrolled to her name in his contacts list and typed his text quickly. “Badly hurt. Can you help? Also have news of interest to you.”

He sent the text and then flopped backwards into his seat. Would she be awake? Would she be willing? Her parents had already paid him well; would she think him an ungrateful mooch? The avalanche of self-defeat stopped as his phone chimed; she had written back! “Come over now.” Relief worked her delicate fingers over his neck and back, the pain evaporating under her touch. Finally, a little luck! He carefully attached his seat belt, wincing at the unwelcome return of searing pain, then began his sojourn to the enlightened world of the top tenth of a percent.

Finally, he pulled in front of Dr. Bettencourt’s outer gate, waiting for the bored voice from the speaker. It never came; the gate opened without a single word. He guided his vehicle up the driveway warily and achieved rock-star parking at the end. Slowly staggering toward the inner gate, he marveled that it was already open. Was security suddenly passed out in the gutter? He painfully ascended the stairs; the front door opened before he could reach it. Peering out into the dark was the unmistakable strident face of Kelly.

“Oh my God,” she lamented. “You look like hell.”

“Yeah?” he mumbled. “I just got back.”

He nearly tripped on the threshold; Kelly helped him catch his balance.

“The gates all opened for me,” Richard related. “Didn’t make any sense.”

“I knew you were coming,” Kelly explained. “Who else would come here at this hour?”

“I don’t know,” he gasped. “Robbers?”

“They’d be spotted immediately. Did you see anyone else for the last two miles or so? Cars, pedestrians, anything at all?”

“No,” Richard admitted. “It was dead quiet.”

“Exactly. You’re the only person it could have been. It’s that kind of neighborhood. There was never any danger.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs and slowly began ascending, Kelly helping Richard steady himself.

“I’m surprised you’re open for business, as it were, at this hour.”

“I was awake anyway,” Kelly explained. “I’m a bit of a night owl. We don’t do many daytime protests.”

“Still, thanks for taking me in on such short notice.”

“Not a problem.” She smiled at him. “Us misfits have to stick together! You know how it is; if you refuse to conform, you end up scraping just to get by.”

They reached the top of the stairs and turned down the hall. “You think I’m just scraping by?”

“Oh, come on now,” she soothed. “I know your business isn’t doing that well; otherwise, why would you have taken our harebrained case?”

“You got me there,” he admitted.

They turned left and headed to Kelly’s room. “Why didn’t you go to the emergency room? Worried about the cost, right?”

“I can’t get anything by you, can I,” Richard groaned. “Maybe you should be the detective.”

She chuckled. “Thanks, but I’m right where I want to be. I’m all too aware that sudden medical costs can ruin someone’s life; fighting that is a cause I truly believe in.” She opened the door to her room and they walked inside. It looked just as dark and gloomy as Richard remembered it. She sat him down on her bed and moved to switch on an articulating desk lamp, pointing it at his injured side.

“Where’s your fish tank?”

“Right over there.” She pointed to a covered rectangular volume. “He’s not a night owl. And if he doesn’t get enough sleep, he gets anxious.”

She stood before him, reaching for his jacket. “OK, let’s see it. When does it hurt most?”

“Only when I move.” He grinned weakly. “I mean it, too; once I sat down, I started feeling better.”

“Not a surprise.” She slowly guided the jacket past his arms; it fell from him as she jumped with a start and covered her mouth. “Holy crap!”

Richard’s eyes flared. “What?”

“Omigaw,” she whispered. “You’re a mess!” She froze for a moment, staring wildly. “This is bad. This is really bad.”

“Am I done for?” he asked, not really wanting to know.

“Worse,” she answered. Terror shot through him like a caber tossed by a drunk Scotsman. His eyes met hers as she glared fiercely. “I hate to say this, but…I think we have to use my dad’s equipment.”

She grabbed a container from her refrigerator, folded up his jacket, then offered him her arm. He pulled himself up to a standing position, continuing to ponder her uncertainly. “So…that means I’m dying?”

“No,” she clarified. “I mean, not yet. But you do need a full set of X-rays.”

He considered this silently as she led him out of her room. “Where are we going?”

“My dad’s private examination room. It’s just down the hall.”

They turned left at the corner and continued down the dimly lit corridor. “Does that mean we have to wake him?”

“Good Gods, no.” She looked nervously behind her as they carried on. “I’m really thankful he’s not awake to see this. I’d never hear the end of it.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised a doctor has a home exam room,” he mused.

“A lot of people bring their work home with them,” she quipped.

Kelly opened the door and switched on the light; the glaring reflections from the unbroken white walls blinded him momentarily. “I even played in here when I was a little girl! I was his proud little nurse, learning the ropes. At least, until our falling out.” She gestured to the exam table, already prepared with a fresh sheet of paper; he gently hopped onto it.

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She shook her head sadly. “He would provide free health care for the help, but only if they obeyed him. If he thought their malady had anything to do with slacking or goofing off, he’d charge them for it. He was so stingy! I knew enough to patch up most common injuries, and did that when he wasn’t around, so they wouldn’t get in trouble. I learned more and more about medicine as time went on.” She turned to him and smiled grimly. “That continues to this day. I still do charity work for the staff. Kind of how I am with you.”

“I’m not quite that needy,” he said as he unzipped his belt pouch. “I have a payment of sorts.” He produced the container of fungus; the green glow managed to push through the glaring laboratory white of the fluorescent bulbs and make its mark on the room.

“Omigaw! That’s…” She snatched the container from him and peered at it closely. “This is high-grade stuff! Like what I used to get, so long ago! It’s incredible!” She flashed him a bright smile as she walked toward the sink. “You can consider your bill paid in full!” She proceeded to wash her hands thoroughly, then cleaned the outside of both containers, stashing the fungus in a nearby refrigerator.

She returned and began unbuttoning his shirt. “How did you come by that?”

He summarized his evening, including the empty plaza, the temple, and the walls covered in fungus; the pupils in her wide eyes constricted noticeably as he spoke of the giant homicidal statue. “Maybe Gerald wasn’t lying after all,” she mumbled.

“Who?”

“My source for the fungus. The one that disappeared.” She stared morosely at the ground. “He’s probably dead, isn’t he?” She looked up at Richard, tears in her eyes. “I wish I hadn’t judged him so harshly. But then, who would have believed such a story?”