The response was an unintelligible whimper and he scurried out of sight behind the van. Natasha breathed a sigh of relief and she recalled a patient she had last treated months earlier.
“Melvin, is that you?” she asked.
There was no response but Natasha could hear him panting as his fright level increased. She made a wide arc around her car and came around the side of the van so that the lights were behind her and she could see his face.
“Melvin Montgomery! It is you! What is it? What’s wrong?”
Melvin glanced furtively about.
Natasha knew that Melvin was neither an alcoholic nor a drug addict. His many illnesses were psychological. Among them, anthropophobia, also known as fear of people and fear of society.
With some people, anthropophobia would come and go, but with Melvin, it was a constant presence. He had a morbid aversion to human contact. It caused him panic attacks, shortness of breath, rapid breathing, irregular heartbeat, sweating, nausea, and an intense feeling of dread.
By nature, Melvin was gentle and much too afraid to seek help or remain in any environment where people were nearby. It was not an easy life. A life that forced him to live in a doorway in an alley, his existence dependent upon a few select Dumpsters behind the area restaurants.
Natasha had encountered and befriended him before. The first time she had helped him, he had made it as far as the entrance to the waiting room, but when he saw the other patients, he wouldn’t come in. The receptionist became alarmed at the sight of a vagrant with an old green sleeping bag draped around his shoulders loitering outside. She notified Natasha, who went out and discovered he was suffering from an infection caused when he was bitten on his chest by an injured cat that he found. She allowed him to enter through the rear fire-escape door.
A few days after that, Melvin returned after someone roughed him up and stole the antibiotics she had prescribed. His trust for her had grown enough that he had stepped inside to let Natasha re-examine his chest in the corridor. Maybe tonight will be easier, she thought.
“It’s okay,” said Natasha. “I see you’ve been waiting for me. I’m here now. It’s okay. Are you hurt?”
Melvin stared at Natasha for a moment before slowly taking his hand from his raincoat and holding it out. Blood seeped from a dirty rag wrapped around his hand.
“Looks like I better take a look at that,” said Natasha. “What happened?”
“I fell,” mumbled Melvin. “In a Dumpster. A piece of tin,” he added for explanation.
Natasha sighed, not so much at the injury as to the predicament that caused it. “You should come inside so I can have a better look. You might need stitches.”
Melvin looked at the clinic and shook his head, retreating farther into the shadows as two people strolled by on the sidewalk.
“It’s okay,” said Natasha. “There is nobody inside the waiting room. I’ll walk ahead and make sure we’re not bothered.”
Minutes later, Natasha had achieved some success as Melvin followed her into the clinic, but before she could examine him, he sought refuge in the rear washroom.
As the minutes ticked by, Natasha heard the receptionist talking to some newly arrived patients.
“Melvin?” she said quietly. “You have to come out. You can trust me. I’ll make sure nobody hurts you, but you —”
The door unlocked and Melvin stepped out. He glanced around and saw Natasha was alone. “I wasn’t hiding from you,” he whispered, glancing nervously down the hall. “I saw you were scared of me when we were outside. I know I don’t look so good. I’m sorry.”
Natasha saw that Melvin had wet his hair and slicked it back from his face in an attempt to look nicer. She smiled and said, “You did scare me, but that was before I knew it was you. I don’t need to be scared of you, do I?”
Melvin looked concerned, shaking his head, then caught Natasha’s smile. He gave a small smile out of embarrassment at the irony of the situation and lowered his head.
“Think you could handle coming inside an examination room with me?” asked Natasha.
Anguished, Melvin looked into the small room, but nodded and entered. Once inside, he allowed Natasha to treat his injury.
Natasha spotted a clump of cat hair on Melvin’s coat and said, “By chance, that wouldn’t happen to be from the same cat who bit you before?”
Melvin shyly nodded and said, “I adopted him. I call him Winston.”
“Good name,” replied Natasha. “Last time we talked you mentioned he had just lost his front leg. How is he doing?”
“That was when we first met. He had crawled up into the engine compartment of a parked truck to keep warm. When the guy came back and started his truck and drove off, I think Winston caught his leg in the radiator fan, but he’s better now, thanks.”
“You said he took off after he bit you. Did he come back again later?”
“No, it took a few days of looking but I found him a few blocks away. He didn’t mean to bite me. He was just hurting. We’re friends now.”
“Does he have trouble getting around?”
“He can run faster than me,” replied Melvin. “He is also afraid of people. Especially cars and trucks.” Melvin smiled at Natasha and added, “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Winston and I are kind of the same.”
Natasha’s smile revealed that Melvin had read her thoughts correctly.
“At night, he crawls into my sleeping bag with me and sleeps curled up on my chest.”
“The piece of tin you fell on left quite a cut,” said Natasha, changing the subject. “I’m sure it’s painful.”
“Yeah, but don’t worry. I won’t bite you,” grinned Melvin.
***
Mad Dog scanned his rear-view mirror one last time before pulling in behind the warehouse and parking. Snake and Looner, who were in the car in front of him, had also parked. Mad Dog shut off his headlights and sat for a moment, peering around in the darkness. He lowered the car window and listened. He saw Snake get out of his car and stand scanning the area, as well. Looner was less cautious and gave Mad Dog a friendly smile as he approached.
“Let’s do it,” said Looner.
“Shut the fuck up and listen for a moment,” said Mad Dog.
Looner listened briefly and said, “I don’t hear nothin’.”
After a pause, Mad Dog replied, “Me either, but after this afternoon, I ain’t takin’ no fuckin’ chances. You search ’im good?” asked Mad Dog, with a nod of his head toward Snake.
“Yeah, real good,” replied Looner. “He ain’t gonna rip us. It’s only you and me that got pieces,” he said, patting the butt of the .44-calibre
