philip_k_dick_-_the_man_in_the_high_castle

Hairdresser lady, Juliana realized. Looking down, she saw that she did have nothing on; the
woman had been correct.
'Joe,' she said. 'They won't let me.' She found the bed, found her suitcase, opened it, spilled out
clothes. Underwear, then blouse and skirt . . . pair of low-heeled shoes. 'Made me come back,' she
said. Finding a comb, she rapidly combed her hair, then brushed it. 'What an experience. That
woman was right outside, about to knock.' Rising, she went to find the mirror. 'Is this better?'
Mirror in the closet door; turning, she surveyed herself, twisting, standing on tiptoe.
'I'm so embarrassed,' she said, glancing around for him. 'I hardly know what I'm doing. You must
have given me something; whatever it was it just made me sick, instead of helping me.'
Still sitting on the floor, clasping the side of his neck, Joe said, 'Listen. You're very good. You
cut my aorta. Artery in my neck.'
Giggling, she clapped her hand to her mouth. 'Oh God — you're such a freak. I mean, you get
words all wrong. The aorta's in your chest; you mean the carotid.'
'If I let go,' he said, 'I'll bleed out in two minutes. You know that. So get me some kind of help,
get a doctor or an ambulance. You understand me? Did you mean to? Evidently. Okay — you'll call
or go get someone?'
After pondering, she said, 'I meant to.'
'Well,' he said, 'anyhow, get them for me. For my sake.'
'Go yourself.'
'I don't have it completely closed.' Blood had seeped through his fingers, she saw, down his
wrist. Pool on the floor. 'I don't dare move. I have to stay here.'
She put on her new coat, closed her new handmade leather purse, picked up her suitcase and as
many of the parcels which were hers as she could manage; in particular she made sure she took the
big box and the blue Italian dress tucked carefully in it. As she opened the corridor door she looked
back at him. 'Maybe I can tell them at the desk,' she said. 'Downstairs.'
'Yes,' he said.
'All right,' she said. 'I'll tell them. Don't look for me back at the apartment in Canon City because
I'm not going back there. And I have most of those Reichsbank notes, so I'm in good shape, in spite
of everything. Good-bye. I'm sorry.' She shut the door and hurried along the hall as fast as she
could manage, lugging the suitcase and parcels.
At the elevator, an elderly well-dressed businessman and his wife helped her; they took the
parcels for her, and downstairs in the lobby they gave them to a bellboy for her.
'Thank you,' Juliana said to them.
After the bellboy had carried her suitcase and parcels across the lobby and out onto the front
sidewalk, she found a hotel employee who could explain to her how to get back her car. Soon she
was standing in the cold concrete garage beneath the hotel, waiting while the attendant brought the
Studebaker around. In her purse she found all kinds of change; she tipped the attendant and the next
she knew she was driving up a yellow-lit ramp and onto the dark street with its headlights, cars,
advertising neon signs.
The uniformed doorman of the hotel personally loaded her luggage and parcels into the trunk for
her, smiling with such hearty encouragement that she gave him an enormous tip before she drove
away. No one tried to stop her, and that amazed her; they did not even raise an eyebrow. I guess
they know he'll pay, she decided. Or maybe he already did when he registered for us.
While she waited with other cars for a streetlight to change, she remembered that she had not
told them at the desk about Joe sitting on the floor of the room needing the doctor. Still waiting up