Part 6
The test results arrived while Gideon slept on the heated floor. Rachel brought them into my office and sat without putting the folder between us.
His heart wasn’t pumping effectively. His kidneys were beginning to fail. We could adjust medication and make him more comfortable. We couldn’t restore what his body had lost.
“How much time?” I asked.
“Weeks, possibly. Don’t count on weeks.”
Talven was still repairing fire damage, so the lions remained with us. We offered the approved sightline when Gideon showed interest. Some mornings he carried the ring outside. On others, he stayed inside and watched through his doorway.
When he reached the fence, the lions came down and rested opposite him. Rachel let the sessions last only while he chose to remain.
The bloodwork worsened anyway.
One good morning, he ate several grapes and stripped a willow branch. I took the bare stem to the clinic.
Rachel glanced at it, then asked, “Getting up today. How long?”
“A minute or so.”
“Calvin clocked three and a half.”
I put the branch on the corner of her desk.
She had made a daily quality-of-life chart: food, breathing, mobility, rest, use of space, interest in familiar activities. Calvin and I filled ours out separately. Rachel compared them against her own observations rather than letting us persuade one another across the breakfast table.
A bad day wasn’t an order to end his life. A continuing loss of the things that let him choose comfort was another matter.
“You’ll have a part in the decision,” she told me. “So will Calvin. So will I. The standards stay the same when the scores drop.”
“You’ve got this planned right down to me.”
“I’ve worked with you before.”
I took the blank chart from her hand.
On the seventh night, I found her asleep in the camera room. Her hand covered the edge of Gideon’s file. On one monitor he sat upright beside the blue ring. On another, four lions lay near their fence.
I spread my coat over her. She woke before I could step back.
“Did he move?” she asked.
“No.”
She rubbed her forehead, still watching the screen.
“I’m afraid I’ll be early,” she said. “Because I’m trying to prevent what you might do. That’s not a fair way to judge him either.”
I pulled the other chair alongside hers.
We read the entries in order. He’d chosen the yard twice. On four days, he’d eaten more than half his meals. His medication still allowed him to sleep comfortably.
Neither of us changed a number.
“Not tonight,” Rachel said.
“When the answers change, ask me anyway. Even if you know I’ll hate them.”
She closed the file.
“I need you to give them without a fight.”
“I will.”
Eleven mornings after the lions arrived, Calvin called from the ape house.
Gideon was on the floor of his inner room. He hadn’t made a nest. The ring lay near the shift door, and the pear he usually chose first was untouched.
When I entered the aisle, he lifted his head. His abdomen worked with every breath.
Rachel knelt at the barrier and presented his target. His hand moved toward it, then fell short into the bedding.
May called from the far yard.
Gideon turned his face toward the sound. He spread his fingers, tried to push up, and slid sideways when his left leg wouldn’t hold him.
My hand went to the orange shutter handle.
Opening the distant view was permitted now. I could let him see them, perhaps bring his head around, perhaps ask for one more movement toward the door.
His arm was trembling beneath him.
I took my hand away.
Rachel was watching me.
“Can he get back to comfort?” I asked.
“No.”
“Here, then. No more moving him.”
Calvin removed his glasses and stood facing the wall. Rachel touched his arm as she passed, then began preparing what she needed.
For three years, she had trained Gideon to accept injections through protected contact. That morning he accepted the first one in the familiar place.
We waited until he was fully unconscious before entering.
Calvin arranged fresh straw beneath his shoulder. Rachel laid out her equipment clear of his hands. I sat near his head with the blue ring, its rubber polished smooth where he had carried it, and held it close enough for him to smell.
His breathing grew easier. Rachel worked quietly beside him.
After it stopped, I tapped the concrete three times.
Rachel kept her fingers at his wrist after the monitor had finished telling her. Then she laid his hand down in the straw.
Later, after the examination, staff took him through the private service gate. Calvin cleaned the room. He left the bedding and ring until morning.
At the usual afternoon hour, Rachel opened the distant sightline.
The lions came down the slope. Mack walked along his fence, turned, and walked back. Bram sat facing Gideon’s doorway. Tansy stretched out beside him.
May stayed on her feet, the pale toe resting against the bottom rail.
Beyond the road, the ring lay in a patch of light inside the empty room. A little straw moved when the wind came through the open door. May held her head toward it and waited.
Rachel handed me a coffee through the car window before she got in. She had asked whether I wanted to visit Talven, then waited for an answer before putting anything on my calendar.
I hadn’t found a donor to see or an inspection to conduct along the way. We were going to see the lions…
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