Free Louse by David Grand

Once dressed I remove the sterile sheet from the bag, place the bag in the pocket of my hospital gown, and spreadthe sheet over the gurney. I then turn to Poppy and prepare to lift him. He closes his eyes as I dig my arms under his upper thighs and upper back and—feeling acutely aware of his brittle hips, shoulders, and neck—I lift his body in one clean jerk. He growls a little. He continues growling as I quickly turn around and delicately lower and arrange his body so that it is straight and flat on the gurney.
    â€œAll right,” he says, pointing ahead.
    â€œYes, sir,” I say.
    I look ahead, over his body, as I push him forward. He is silent during our trip. All I can hear are his toe nails and finger nails clattering against each other as I slightly jostle the cart with each step.
    I’m unsure of what to make of what’s happening. There has no doubt been a breach of contract. On whose shoulders this rests seems impossible to say. However, if this schism didn’t involve Poppy and if the stakes weren’t so high, it would seem like any other night in G. There are always arrests, interrogations, rumors about so-and-so who did this or that. A few details are divulged and the consequences are reported. In the past, no one seems to have been above these proceedings, other than Poppy, Dr. Barnum, and Mr. Sherwood. Mr. Kreslin, for instance, the man who was replaced by Mr. Bender, was arrested, viewed, and disposed of to one of the higher floors in a position no one has knowledge of. But to have Poppy being accused by Dr. Barnum and Mr. Sherwood is highly irregular. And to have Poppy reprimanding and manipulating Dr. Barnum and Mr. Sherwood is equally irregular; as a rule they have always reprimanded and manipulated other offenders together.
    I roll Poppy’s gurney onto the tiled floor and pull up to the toilet. Poppy begins humming the third movement of Mozart’s“Requiem” to himself and slowly rocks his head back and forth to the brooding tempo. Putting one hand behind his fragile head and one hand on his back, I lift him. He manages to hold himself up on his own as I swing his legs around and grab his feet before they can drop to the floor. He continues humming as I undress him of his diaper. I stand facing him and lift him with one hand under his legs and the other on his lower back. I bend forward, then lift him with his waist securely over my shoulder. I approach the toilet with my head pointing into the ring of water reflecting the old man’s bottom, and I rest him comfortably on his throne.
    I stand in the southwest corner of the bathroom as Poppy watches EKG Production
H.A. 13-3
. The lights are lowered. A green glow emanates from Jane’s holographic image on the medicine cabinet. Flashes of black and white illuminate and shade Poppy’s naked body, his corrugated ribs and chest, his stick-thin arms and scabrous feet, planted on the tiles like broken urns. He dips forward on his arm rests, barely able to hold himself up, and stares mercifully at the screen as Monte (played by the young Ronald Sherwood) and Roy Ruteledge (played by a vibrant young Poppy), brothers and fellow Oxford students, prepare for battle. They don ascots, goggles, and leather flight jackets embossed with Royal Flying Corps patches on the breasts and arms. They are running through cobblestone streets to the outskirts of the city.
    The year is 1914.
    The camera cuts to Karl Arnstedt. The Kaiser has just sent a zeppelin to bomb London. On board is Karl, a former Oxford student who is friendly with both Monte and Roy. He has only recently left Britain out of duty to fight for his fatherland eventhough his heart belongs to the green pastures of England and the hallowed halls of his college.
    The immense airship silently glides through the night and comes to a stop over a low-lying London fog. As the zeppelin hovers in miniature against the dark starry sky, the maniacal and monocled commander