“It’s also proof you haven’t. You looked for evidence of wrongdoing at your medical school. Here it is.” “Yes. We have them dead to wrongs.”
“Your father is our proof. We have to get him back to the States in one piece.” “How? We’re in the middle of their campus on their island.”
“There are no flights off the island until the end of the week and no way we can smuggle a cadaver onboard an airplane. We’re trapped!”
“We deserve better.” “True, but what I’m thinking about is the $85,000 I borrowed to finance my degree. I can’t get it back. I’m trapped!”
“You deserve better.” “True. I can’t pay it off if I don’t get my MD. My future patients will settle for another doctor. They’re trapped!”
“They deserve better.” “True. How horrible the way they desecrated my father’s remains, reducing him to an anatomy cadaver. He’s trapped!”
“His body deserves better.” “True. I think I did well on my midterms. Can I transfer to a stateside med school?” “You’re probably trapped.”
“I deserve better.” “True, but if we can’t get off the island, the rest of it is probably moot anyway.” “True. So how do we get untrapped?”
In my pocket I have David’s business card. I recall the air taxi flight: The noise; the acrobatics; the narrow brush with death; the noise.
The idea of another joy ride on David’s Air Taxi Service and Storm Door Company does not especially appeal to me. What are my other options?
I can’t pay Regi’s student loan. I can’t help her transfer or get her an MD. I can’t bring her father back to life but I can bring him home.
I say “I have an idea but I have no cellphone signal. Can I borrow yours?” “My phone? Who are you calling?” “I know a man with a plane.”
“If you have no signal, how are you tweeting all the time?” “I don’t know.” “Is it possible no one is reading your tweets?” “It’s possible.”
On David’s card a yellow biplane spirals out of the air, dogged by Luftwaffe fighters. His slogan reads “We Get You There and Back Again.”
Dialing gets voice mail. “You’ve reached David’s Air Taxi Service and Storm Door Company. Press 1 for flight info. Press 2 for storm doors.”
I press 1. “OK. You want to fly. If you want to fly right now press 1. If you’re not sure when you want to fly, call back later.” I press 1.
“If you are flying alone, press 1. If you are flying with someone else, press 2. If one of your party is deceased, press 3.” Huh? I press 3.
Why would he ask that? Regi makes a hurry-up motion with her hands. “OK. You’re transporting a cadaver. I can help you make arrangements.”
“David, pick up. This is Arkaby.” “Arkaby? Why didn’t you say so?” “What’s with the IVR on your cell phone?” “What are you talking about?”
“The annoying prompts. You don’t have interactive voice response?” “Nope. It’s just me, my vehicles for hire and, of course, storm doors.”
“Weird. It sounded like the IVR at Body Parts R Us.” “Why are you calling?” “Are you still on-island? I need passage for two with baggage.”
(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)