Next Time Satan Calls, Play Dead

Dr. Kyle Kidd looks out of his window at the lush greenery surrounding his office, smiling serenely.

“I’m glad we came here. I really like it.”

Tempest, his nurse, nods approvingly. “It’s the perfect small town for a talented country doctor. We can live here for twenty years before anyone notices you haven’t aged.”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “With all the eligible men in this town already lining up at the door faking ailments just to get a look at you, no one’s paying any attention to me. We might be able to stay here forever.”

“… Inbred hillbillies…,” Tempest murmurs.

Given her profession, Nurse Tempest’s acidic tongue and lack of a bedside manner may come across as incongruous, but in the year since Kyle has started his practice in Bucksnort, Tennessee her glossy red hair, hazel green eyes, and curvy figure have made her the town’s most talked about and mysterious resident.

Startlingly handsome, with a generous cowl of jet black hair, a dimpled chin, bright, friendly blue eyes, and a gym rat’s physique, Kyle is respected throughout Bucksnort for his experience, and gentle approach to providing care.

“Yeah, I’d say Bucksnort is as beautiful as Naples, as historic as Washinton D.C., and as cultured as London,” Kyle says.

“It’s not Gettysburg, that’s for sure.”

“You really hated that place.”

“We should have left there after the war,” Tempest replies. “But no, you wanted to ply your new trade. There was nothing there but broken houses, broken men, and the stench…”

“I’m surprised it offended you. I thought you’d have been used to it.”

“Just because I’m associated with death doesn’t mean I gleefully sit on piles of bodies chewing on arms and legs like they’re Kentucky Fried Chicken and sniffing their stench like its perfume. I was human once, just like you.”

“What happened?”

“Love.”

Kyle snickers. “You?”

“I was a slave who made the mistake of falling for a patrician, a man far above my class,” Tempest says. “He took what he wanted, swore he would marry me and drown me in jewels. I found out he already had a wife the same day the centurions came to throw me in prison. I was called an adulterer and was supposed to be burned at the stake. Aphrodite, the goddess of love, took pity on me. She coerced the same centurions who had jailed me into killing my lover and his family. Zeus was angered by this and had me cast into Hades, or as you call it, Hell. The King of the Underworld decided that my beauty could serve him.”

“I guess all the times I’ve called you the devil’s daughter…”

“It wasn’t far from the truth,” Tempest replies.

“I’ve underestimated the pain and suffering you’ve been through, I’m sorry.”

“What I’ve caused in return has made up for most of it.”

“Please tell me you’ll continue to behave while we’re here,” Kyle says hopefully.

“Thanks to your talent, most of your patients will live. But you know that some must die as well. It’s the way of the universe. Don’t feel sad, Doc. You’ll continue to do great things here. I knew you had exceptional talent when I saw you operating in that field hospital at Gettysburg. That bearded man was certainly proud of you.”

“General Grant. I still have the medal he gave me in my drawer.”

“He always stunk of booze and cigars.”

“Yeah? How did Caesar smell? My experience at Gettysburg made me want to help others, which is why I was so willing to strike a deal with you. Then the Spanish-American War followed, then World War One, and World War Two. By then I began to wonder if what I was doing was having any effect at all.”

Tempest clicks her tongue. “You chose this path. I found you in a ditch. A Confederate mini ball had shattered your spine and you were seconds from death. You said you wanted to live so you could save others. I gave you the knowledge you needed to be a doctor. We made a pact, and you have to honor it. Never forget that I can throw you back in that ditch anytime I like.”

Police officer Lou Tennant swings open the front door to the office shouting, “Hello, beautiful!” at Tempest, whose sour expression indicates she’s not happy to see him.

“What are you faking this time, hayseed? Cholera? Bubonic Plague?”

The spry, boyish police officer puts his hand against his chest, feigning heartbreak. “You really do live up to your name, sassy lady. You know I’d do anythin’ short of dyin’ just to see you darlin’, but this is for real. I’ve got a man havin’ a heart attack in the back seat of my car.”

Tempest summons Kyle, and the two men carry an obese groaning man into the exam room.

“Why dontcha keep me company while the Doc does his thing, dearie?” Tennant asks.

“Shut up, you clodhopper. If you ever call me dearie again, you’ll be the one on your back.”

“Oooh. Can’t wait, darlin’!”

“Isn’t it time for your lunch, Goober?” Tempest asks testily. “There’s got to be some roadkill out on the highway waiting for you. GO!”

Tempest joins Kyle in the exam room. Kyle is covering the man with a sheet.

“He’s in your world now.”

“No. He’s not supposed to die yet.”

Reaching into her lab coat, Tempest produces a small vial containing red liquid. Cracking open the top of the vial, she pours the contents on the man’s chest.

“Rub,” she says.

“What?”

“Rub the liquid into his chest. I’d do it, but yuk, he’s so hairy…”

The liquid begins to sizzle. A loud pop makes Kyle back away. The pungent puff of smoke wafting off his patient’s chest makes Kyle gag.

“What’s that smell?” Kyle asks.

“Death.”

Exhaling loudly, the man sits up, his eyes bulging as he looks around the room.

“A light! I saw a light and I went to it!” the man yells.

Kyle pushes him back down onto the table.

“Voilà,” Tempest says.

“Let me examine him. Then we need to talk.”

“I’m proud of the work we do, but I’d like to do more of it myself, you know what I mean?”

Tempest gives Kyle a long, unnerving stare. “No, I don’t. A win’s a win.”

“I’d feel more useful, more accomplished if you didn’t pull some futuristic rabbit out of your hat practically all the time.”

Tempest’s dissecting stare broadens as she taps a pencil against the top of her desk. “Are you politely telling me to mind my own business? Because that ditch hasn’t been filled yet.”

“No, of course not,” Kyle replies uneasily. “But the reason I made our agreement was to help people.”

“Which you have. You just saved that whale guy. You’ve saved hundreds of lives.”

“And lost nearly as many,” Kyle says woefully.

“The dead belong to me. You’re working as much for me as for the living. That’s the cold hard part of our agreement.”

“You know who’s supposed to live or die before I even treat them. I want to do the right thing, but why bother?”

“Like I said, If you have doubts, I can send you back to when we first met, and you can take your chances on whether you’ll live or die with a shattered spine. The next time Satan calls, play dead.”

“What’ll it be?” the Starbucks cashier asks.

“A Frappuccino with Mocha Cookie Crumble and a double layer of whipped cream,” Kyle says.

“Tsk. Tsk.,” a woman’s voice admonishes.

Kyle turns around to find an olive-skinned brunette wearing a peasant blouse smiling at him. A little girl with big brown eyes sucking her thumb looks at him with wonderment.

“Aren’t you Doctor Kidd?” she asks.

“Yeah. I haven’t had the pleasure…”

“Willow Macker. And you won’t if you keep overloading your system with sugar.”

“I’m a general practitioner, not a nutritionist.”

“Do tell,” Willow replies.

“You’re right. I should set a better example. Would you and your little sister like to help?”

The girl looks up at Willow. “Ha! Watch out for this one, Mom.”

Kyle whistles happily as he enters the office carrying Dahlia, Willow’s daughter, piggyback.

Tempest stands by her desk, her hands on her hips.

“What’s up, chuckles?” Kyle says to her.

“And you’re supposed to say ‘What’s up. Doc?’” Dahlia says to Tempest, giggling.

“Who is this street urchin?” Tempest snarls.

Rushing forward, Willow says, “That’s my daughter, red!”

Tempest gives Willow a long vicious stare that makes the much smaller woman take a step back.

“Hippies!” Tempest bellows. “There haven’t been any hippies in this country since Lyndon Johnson was president, yet you managed to find some.”

“I resent you calling me and my daughter dirty,” Willow says.

“Yeah, I took a bath this morning!” Dahlia chimes in as Kyle lets her down from his shoulders.

“A word. Doctor,” Tempest says venomously.

Sighing heavily, Kyle follows her into the exam room.

“Don’t yell at my new friend. He’s cool!” Dahlia yells.

Tempest halts, her shoes squeaking against the floor like Good Year tires smoking to a stop at a racetrack.

Tempest’s burning stare bores in on Dahlia.

“Some children should be eaten, not heard.”

“What in the name of General Grant’s beard are you doing?” Tempest roars at Kyle.

“All work and no play…”

“Oh my God, you’re intoxicated.”

“No, I’m not. All I had was some chai tea,” Kyle answers.

“No, fool. You’re drunk with infatuation. You mean to tell me you fell in love with that mountain woman in the two hours you’ve been gone? She must’ve slipped you more than just chai tea.”

“Think back to that man you said you loved. Everything and everyone said it was wrong. But you knew it was right.”

“You’re making my point for me, Doc. I was dead wrong. Accent on the dead. The age difference between you is laughable enough. Have you forgotten the last time? What was her name? Music box?”

“Musette. Butte, Montana, 1989,” Kyle answers quietly.

“Right, the French chick. You told her everything. You even showed her your medal. And what happened? She ran away screaming, smack into the grill of a Greyhound bus.”

“It’ll be different this time.”

“You’re right. Because you’re going to nip this farce in the hind quarters right now.”

“NO! You’ve been in hell for so long, you don’t even know what heaven is anymore. I’ve found it and I’m not letting it go.”

Tempest enters Kyle’s office, tossing a pair of files into his inbox.

“Are you practicing your free throws? Come in.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” Tempest says. “It’s been a month, and you’re still playing house with that Joan Baez lookalike. And that little girl…Yuk… She’s a mini terrorist.”

“I thought her putting the fart cushion on your chair was very funny.”

Tempest groans. “Just don’t let things get out of hand.”

“How can they?” Kyle asks.

“Oh, I don’t know. You could show her your gramophone, your collection of steel pennies, or that picture of you and General Grant.”

Their argument is interrupted by footsteps frantically trampling through the hallway.

Police Officer Tennant runs to the doorway. “Hello, gorgeous!’

“Don’t make me shoot you with your own gun, flatfoot,” Tempest returns.

“Got an emergency for you, Doc. It’s Willow Macker’s kid. She was swimmin’ in Snag Lake. She went too far out for her mama to save her.”

“Are you saying she drowned?”

“Looks like it.”

Kyle rushes to the exam room trailed by Tempest. Tempest pauses to look back at Willow as she collapses in Tennant’s arms.

Kyle is trying to resuscitate Dahlia when Tempest joins him. He desperately pounds Dahlia’s chest, hoping to raise a heartbeat.

After fifteen minutes, Kyle pulls away, exasperated and worn out.

“…She’s gone…”

Kyle collapses in a nearby chair, sobbing.

Tempest looks down at Dahlia, waving her hands over her cold body.

A miniature plastic dome appears over Dahlia’s chest. A small piston pounds against her body.

After several minutes Dahlia opens her eyes saying, “Hey, get this thing off me.”

The dome evaporates as Kyle takes Dahlia in his arms.

“What was that?” Kyle asks.

“A heart pump from the next century.”

“Why did you do that?”

“When the time comes for you to choose, I don’t want you to pick Willow out of pity, or me out of fear. And believe me, the time for you to choose is coming, Doc.”

Tempest checks the waiting room, noticing Willow and Dahlia cloistered in a corner.

Kyle breezes into the office, carrying a suitcase.

“What is this? Ozzie and Harriet go on vacation?” Tempest barks.

“I need you to release me from our agreement.”

“So, the time to choose has arrived, eh, Doc? What’s it been two weeks since Little Miss Muffet drowned? I must be losing my touch. I thought you wouldn’t pull this stunt for another month.”

“Please Nurse Tempest, we want to be a family,” Dahlia says, looking at her dewy-eyed.

Tempest gives her a lethal look. “Remember what I said. Some children should be eaten, not heard.”

Shrieking, Dahlia clutches at her mother.

“Ask yourself, Tempest. Why would Kyle want to stay with such a cruel, angry woman?” Willow asks.

“You need to try and understand that I’m in love with Willow, Tempest and that I want to spend the rest of my days with her,” Kyle says.

“You heard him, Tempest. He loves me, not you.”

“Quiet, mouse,” Tempest retorts. “Have you told her everything, Doc? Did you show her your medal?”

“I will.” 

“Better check when the next Greyhound is leaving before you do.”

“What is she talking about, Kyle?”

“She’s just stalling, Willow. She doesn’t believe I have the guts to leave her.”

Tempest glares at the three of them for what feels like an eternity, Raising an eyebrow and exhaling deeply, she says, “Be very sure this is what you want, Doc.”

“I’m sure.”

“He’s all yours then, mouse.”

Kyle holds Willow in a long embrace.

Gasping, he pulls away, his body quaking. Moaning, he grasps at his stomach.

Willow reaches out for him. “Kyle! What’s wrong!”

Kyle looks at his liver-spotted hands. They shake uncontrollably as they begin to wrinkle and gnarl.

Willow gasps as the once handsome doctor’s deep black hair turns grey, and his healthy skin tone pales.

Kyle’s skin slides off his bones, melting into a pile at his feet.

His bones crack, snapping like weak twigs.

Willow and Dahlia scream as Kyle’s fleshless skull looks mournfully at them as it disintegrates.

“…I love you, Willow…,” he whispers dryly.

Kyle’s skeleton dissolves into powder.

Tears streaming down their cheeks, Willow and Dahlia look to Tempest for an answer.

“He fell into a ditch a long time ago and was never able to climb out,” she says, disappearing.