{"id":4941,"date":"2026-01-04T00:56:53","date_gmt":"2026-01-04T00:56:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/last-breath-hill-joe\/"},"modified":"2026-01-04T00:56:53","modified_gmt":"2026-01-04T00:56:53","slug":"last-breath-hill-joe","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/last-breath-hill-joe\/","title":{"rendered":"Last Breath – Hill, Joe"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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LAST BREATH<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/h2>\n<\/div>\n
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A<\/span><\/span><\/span> family walked in for a look around, a little before noon, a man, a woman, and their son.<\/span> They were the first visitors of the day\u2014for all Alinger knew they would be the only visitors of the day, the museum was never busy\u2014and he was free to give them the tour.<\/span><\/p>\n

He met them in the coatroom.<\/span> The woman still stood with one foot out on the front steps, hesitant to come in any further.<\/span> She was staring over her son\u2019s head at her husband, giving him a doubting, uneasy look.<\/span> The husband frowned back at her.<\/span> His hands were on the lapels of his shearling overcoat, but he seemed undecided whether to take it off or not.<\/span> Alinger had seen it a hundred times before.<\/span> Once people were inside and had looked beyond the foyer into the funeral home gloom of the parlor, they had second thoughts, wondered if they had come to the right place, began to entertain ideas of backing out.<\/span> Only the little boy seemed at ease, was already stripping off his jacket and hanging it over one of the child-level hooks on the wall.<\/span><\/p>\n

Before they could get away from him, Alinger cleared his throat to draw their attention.<\/span> No one ever left once they had been spotted; in the battle between anxiety and social custom, social custom almost always won.<\/span> He folded his hands together and smiled at them, in a way he hoped was reassuring, grandfatherly.<\/span> The effect, though, was rather the opposite.<\/span> Alinger was cadaverous, ten inches over six feet, his temples sunk into shadowed hollows.<\/span> His teeth (at eighty, still his own) were small and gray and gave the unpleasant impression of having been filed.<\/span> The father shrank away a little.<\/span> The woman unconsciously reached for her son\u2019s hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood morning.<\/span> I\u2019m Dr.<\/span> Alinger.<\/span> Please come in.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh\u2014hello,\u201d said the father.<\/span> \u201cSorry to bother.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo bother.<\/span> We\u2019re open.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou are.<\/span> Good!\u201d he said, with a not quite convincing enthusiasm.<\/span> \u201cSo what do we\u2014\u201d And his voice trailed off and he fell quiet, either had forgotten what he was going to say, or wasn\u2019t sure how to put it, or lacked the nerve.<\/span><\/p>\n

His wife took over.<\/span> \u201cWe were told you have an exhibition here?<\/span> That this is some kind of scientific museum?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Alinger showed them the smile again, and the father\u2019s right eyelid began to twitch helplessly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAh.<\/span> You misheard,\u201d Alinger said.<\/span> \u201cYou were expecting a museum of science.<\/span> This is the museum of silence<\/span>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHmm?\u201d the father said.<\/span><\/p>\n

The mother frowned.<\/span> \u201cI think I\u2019m still mishearing.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, Mom,\u201d said the boy, pulling his hand free from her grip.<\/span> \u201cCome on, Dad.<\/span> I want to look around.<\/span> I want to see.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease,\u201d Alinger said, stepping back from the coatroom, gesturing with one gaunt, long-fingered hand into the parlor.<\/span> \u201cI would be glad to offer you the guided tour.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

THE SHADES WERE<\/span> drawn, so the room, with its mahogany paneling, was as dim as a theater in the moment before the curtain is pulled back on the show.<\/span> The display stands, though, were lit from above by tightly focused spotlights, recessed in the ceiling.<\/span> On tables and pedestals stood what appeared to be empty glass beakers, polished to a high shine, bulbs glowing so brilliantly they made the darkness around them that much darker.<\/span><\/p>\n

Each beaker had what appeared to be a stethoscope attached to it, the diaphragm stuck right to the glass, sealed there with a clear adhesive.<\/span> The earpieces waited for someone to pick them up and listen.<\/span> The boy led the way, followed by his parents, and then Alinger.<\/span> They stopped before the first display, a jar on a marble pedestal, located just beyond the parlor entrance, set right in their path.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s nothing in it,\u201d the boy said.<\/span> He peered all around, surveying the entire room, the other sealed beakers.<\/span> \u201cThere\u2019s nothing in any of them.<\/span> They\u2019re just empty like.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHa,\u201d said the father, humorlessly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot quite empty,\u201d Alinger said.<\/span> \u201cEach jar is airtight, hermetically sealed.<\/span> Each one contains someone\u2019s dying breath.<\/span> I have the largest collection of last breaths in the world, over a hundred.<\/span> Some of these bottles contain the final exhalations of some very famous people.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Now the woman began to laugh; real laughter, not laughter for show.<\/span> She clapped a hand over her mouth and shivered, but couldn\u2019t manage to completely stifle herself.<\/span> Alinger smiled.<\/span> He had been showing his collection for years.<\/span> He was used to every kind of reaction.<\/span><\/p>\n

The boy, however, had turned back to the beaker directly before him, his eyes rapt.<\/span> He picked up the earpieces of the device that looked like but was not a stethoscope.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d he asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe deathoscope,\u201d Alinger said.<\/span> \u201cVery sensitive.<\/span> Put it on if you like, and you can hear the last breath of William R.<\/span> Sied.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs he someone famous?\u201d the boy said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alinger nodded.<\/span> \u201cFor a while he was a celebrity\u2026in the way criminals sometimes become celebrities.<\/span> A source of public outrage and fascination.<\/span> Forty-two years ago he took a seat in the electric chair.<\/span> I issued his death certificate myself.<\/span> He has a place of honor in my museum.<\/span> His was the first last breath I ever captured.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

By now the woman had recovered herself, although she held a wadded-up handkerchief to her lips and looked as if she were only containing a fresh outburst of mirth with great effort.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did he do?\u201d the boy asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cStrangled children,\u201d Alinger said.<\/span> \u201cHe preserved them in a freezer, and took them out now and then to look at them.<\/span> People will collect anything, I always say.\u201d He crouched to the boy\u2019s level, and looked into the jar with him.<\/span> \u201cGo ahead and listen if you want.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The boy lifted the earpieces and put them on, his gaze fixed and unblinking on the vessel brimming with light.<\/span> He listened intently for a while, and then his brow knotted and he frowned.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t hear anything.\u201d He started to reach up to remove the earpieces.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alinger stopped his hand.<\/span> \u201cWait.<\/span> There are all different kinds of silence.<\/span> The silence in a seashell.<\/span> The silence after a gunshot.<\/span> His last breath is still in there.<\/span> Your ears need time to acclimate.<\/span> In a while you\u2019ll be able to make it out.<\/span> His own particular final silence.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The boy bent his head and shut his eyes.<\/span> The adults watched him together.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then his eyes sprang open and he looked up, his plump face shining a little with eagerness.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDid you hear?\u201d Alinger asked him.<\/span><\/p>\n

The boy pulled off the earphones.<\/span> \u201cLike a hiccup, only inside-out!<\/span> You know?<\/span> Like\u2014\u201d He stopped and sucked in a short, soundless little gasp.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alinger tousled his hair and stood.<\/span><\/p>\n

The mother dabbed at her eyes with her kerchief.<\/span> \u201cAnd you\u2019re a doctor?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRetired.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you think this is a little unscientific?<\/span> Even if you really did manage to capture the last tiny bit of carbon monoxide someone exhaled\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDioxide,\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt wouldn\u2019t make a sound.<\/span> You can\u2019t bottle the sound of someone\u2019s last breath.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he agreed.<\/span> \u201cBut it isn\u2019t a sound being bottled.<\/span> Only a certain silence.<\/span> We all have our different silences.<\/span> Does your husband have one silence when he\u2019s happy and another when he\u2019s angry with you, missus?<\/span> Your ears can discern even between specific kinds of nothing.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t like being called missus<\/span>, narrowed her eyes at him, and opened her mouth to say something disagreeable, but her husband spoke first, giving Alinger a reason to turn away from her.<\/span> Her husband had drifted to a jar on a table against the wall, next to a dark, padded loveseat.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you collect these breaths?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWith an aspirator.<\/span> A small pump that draws a person\u2019s exhalations into a vacuum container.<\/span> I keep it in my doctor\u2019s bag at all times, just in case.<\/span> It\u2019s a device of my own design, although similar equipment has been around since the beginning of the nineteenth century.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis says Poe,\u201d the father said, fingering an ivory card set on the table before the jar.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Alinger said.<\/span> He coughed shyly.<\/span> \u201cPeople have been collecting last breaths for as long as the machinery has existed to make my hobby possible.<\/span> I admit I paid twelve-thousand dollars for that.<\/span> It was offered to me by the great-grandson of the doctor who watched him die.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The woman began to laugh again.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alinger continued patiently, \u201cThat may sound like a lot of money, but believe me, it was a bargain.<\/span> Scrimm, in Paris, recently paid three times that for the last breath of Enrico Caruso.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The father fingered the deathoscope attached to the jar marked for Poe.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSome silences seem to resonate with feeling,\u201d Alinger said.<\/span> \u201cYou can almost sense them trying to articulate an idea.<\/span> Many who listen to Poe\u2019s last breath begin in a while to sense a single word not being said, the expression of a very specific want.<\/span> Listen and see if you sense it too.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The father hunched and put on the earpieces.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is ridiculous,\u201d the woman said.<\/span><\/p>\n

The father listened intently.<\/span> His son crowded him, squeezing himself tight to his leg.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCan I listen, Dad?\u201d the boy said.<\/span> \u201cCan I have a turn?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSh,\u201d his father said.<\/span><\/p>\n

They were all silent, except for the woman, who was whispering to herself in a tone of agitated bemusement.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhiskey,\u201d the father mouthed, just moving his lips.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTurn over the card with his name on it,\u201d said Alinger.<\/span><\/p>\n

The father turned over the ivory card that said POE on one side.<\/span> On the other side, it read \u201cWHISKEY.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He removed the earpieces, his face solemn, eyes lowered respectfully to the jar.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOf course.<\/span> The alcoholism.<\/span> Poor man.<\/span> You know\u2014I memorized \u2018The Raven,\u2019 when I was in sixth grade,\u201d the father said.<\/span> \u201cAnd recited it before my entire class without a mistake.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, come on,\u201d said the woman.<\/span> \u201cIt\u2019s a trick.<\/span> There\u2019s probably a speaker hidden under the jar, and when you listen you can hear a recording, someone whispering whiskey<\/span>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t hear a whisper,\u201d the father said.<\/span> \u201cI just had a thought\u2014like someone\u2019s voice in my head\u2014such disappointment\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe volume turned low,\u201d she said.<\/span> \u201cSo it\u2019s all subliminal.<\/span> Like what they do to you at drive-in movies.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The boy put on the earpieces to not-hear the same thing his father had not-heard.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre they all<\/span> famous people?\u201d the father asked.<\/span> His features were pale, although there were little spots of red high on his cheeks, as if he had a fever.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot at all,\u201d Alinger said.<\/span> \u201cI\u2019ve bottled the dying sighs of graduate students, bureaucrats, literary critics\u2014any number of assorted nobodies.<\/span> One of the most exquisite silences in my collection is the last breath of a janitor.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCarrie Mayfield,\u201d said the woman, reading from a card in front of a tall, dusty jar.<\/span> \u201cIs that one of your nobodies?<\/span> I\u2019m guessing housewife.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Alinger said.<\/span> \u201cNo housewives in my collection yet.<\/span> Carrie Mayfield was a young Miss Florida, beautiful in the extreme, on her way to New York City with her parents and fianc\u00e9, to pose for the cover of a woman\u2019s magazine.<\/span> Her big break.<\/span> Only her jet crashed in the Everglades.<\/span> Lots of people died, it was a famous air disaster.<\/span> Carrie, though, survived.<\/span> For a time.<\/span> She splashed through burning jet fuel while escaping the wreck, and over eighty percent of her body was burned.<\/span> She lost her voice screaming for help.<\/span> She lasted, in intensive care, just over a week.<\/span> I was teaching then, and brought my medical students in to see her.<\/span> As a curiosity.<\/span> At the time, it was rare to view someone, still alive, who had been burned that way.<\/span> So comprehensively.<\/span> Parts of her body fused to other parts and so on.<\/span> Fortunately I had my aspirator with me, since she died while we were examining her.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s the most horrible thing I\u2019ve ever heard,\u201d said the woman.<\/span> \u201cWhat about her parents?<\/span> Her fianc\u00e9?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey died in the crash.<\/span> Burned to death in front of her.<\/span> I\u2019m not sure their bodies were ever recovered.<\/span> The gators\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t believe you.<\/span> Not a word.<\/span> I don\u2019t believe a thing about this place.<\/span> And I don\u2019t mind saying I think this is a pretty silly way to scam people out of their money.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNow, dear\u2014\u201d said her husband.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou will remember I charged you no admission,\u201d Alinger said.<\/span> \u201cThis is a free exhibit.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Dad, look!\u201d the boy said, from across the room, reading a name on a card.<\/span> \u201cIt\u2019s the man who wrote James and the Giant Peach<\/span>!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Alinger turned to him, ready to introduce the display in question, then saw the woman moving from the corner of his eye, and swiveled back to her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI would listen to one of the others first,\u201d Alinger said.<\/span> She was lifting the earpieces to her head.<\/span> \u201cSome people don\u2019t care much for what they can\u2019t hear in the Carrie Mayfield jar.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She ignored him, put the earpieces on, and listened, her mouth pursed.<\/span> Alinger clasped his hands together and leaned toward her, watching her expression.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then, without warning, she took a quick step back.<\/span> She still had the earpieces on, and the abrupt movement scraped the jar a short distance across the table, which gave Alinger a bad moment.<\/span> He reached out quickly to keep it from sliding off onto the floor.<\/span> She twisted the earpieces off her head, suddenly clumsy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRoald Dahl,\u201d the father said, putting his hand on his son\u2019s shoulder and admiring the jar the boy had discovered.<\/span> \u201cNo kidding.<\/span> Say, you went in big for the literary guys, huh?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like it here,\u201d the woman said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her eyes were unfocused.<\/span> She stared at the jar that contained Carrie Mayfield\u2019s last breath, but without seeing it.<\/span> She swallowed noisily, a hand at her throat.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHoney?\u201d her husband said.<\/span> He crossed the room to her, frowning, concerned.<\/span> \u201cYou want to go?<\/span> We just got here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care,\u201d she said.<\/span> \u201cI want to leave.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Mom,\u201d the boy complained.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI hope you\u2019ll sign my guest book,\u201d Alinger said.<\/span><\/p>\n

He trailed them to the coatroom.<\/span><\/p>\n

The father was solicitous, touching his wife\u2019s elbow, regarding her with dewy, worried eyes.<\/span> \u201cCouldn\u2019t you wait in the car by yourself?<\/span> Tom and I wanted to look around a while longer.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI want to go right now,\u201d she said, her voice toneless, distant.<\/span> \u201cAll of us.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The father helped her into her coat.<\/span> The boy shoved his fists in his pockets and sullenly kicked at an old, worn doctor\u2019s bag, sitting beside the umbrella stand.<\/span> Then he realized what he was kicking.<\/span> He crouched, and without the slightest show of shame, unbuckled it to look at the aspirator.<\/span><\/p>\n

The woman drew on her kidskin gloves, very carefully, pulling them tight against her fingers.<\/span> She seemed a long way off in her own thoughts, so it was a surprise when all at once she roused herself, to turn on her heel and fix her gaze on Alinger.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re awful,\u201d she said.<\/span> \u201cLike some kind of grave-robber.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Alinger folded his hands before him, and regarded her sympathetically.<\/span> He had been showing his collection for years.<\/span> He was used to every kind of reaction.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, honey,\u201d her husband said.<\/span> \u201cHave some perspective.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m going to the car now,\u201d she said, lowering her head, drawing back into herself.<\/span> \u201cCatch up.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWait,\u201d the father said.<\/span> \u201cWait for us.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t have his coat on.<\/span> Neither did the boy, who was on his knees, with the bag open, his fingertips moving slowly over the aspirator, a device that resembled a chrome thermos, with rubber tubes and a plastic face mask attached to one end.<\/span><\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t hear her husband\u2019s voice, but turned away and went out, left the door open behind her.<\/span> She went down the steep granite steps to the sidewalk, her eyes pointed at the ground the whole way.<\/span> She was swaying when she did her sleepwalker\u2019s stroll into the street.<\/span> She didn\u2019t look up, but started straight across for their car on the other side of the road.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alinger was turning to get the guest book\u2014he thought perhaps the man would still sign\u2014when he heard the shriek of brakes, and a metallic crunch, as if a car had rushed headlong into a tree, only even before he looked he knew it wasn\u2019t a tree.<\/span><\/p>\n

The father screamed and then screamed again.<\/span> Alinger pivoted back in time to see him falling down the steps.<\/span> A black Cadillac was turned at an unlikely angle in the street, steam coming up around the edges of the crumpled hood.<\/span> The driver\u2019s side door was open, and the driver stood in the road, a porkpie hat tipped back on his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

Even over the ringing in his ears, Alinger heard the driver saying, \u201cShe didn\u2019t even look.<\/span> Right into traffic.<\/span> Jesus Christ.<\/span> What was I supposed to do?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The father wasn\u2019t listening.<\/span> He was in the street, on his knees, holding her.<\/span> The boy stood in the coatroom, his jacket half on, staring out.<\/span> A swollen vein beat in the child\u2019s forehead.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDoctor!\u201d the father screamed.<\/span> \u201cPlease!<\/span> Doctor!\u201d He was looking back at Alinger.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alinger paused to pick his overcoat off a hook.<\/span> It was March, and windy, and he didn\u2019t want to get a chill.<\/span> He hadn\u2019t reached the age of eighty by being careless or doing things in haste.<\/span> He patted the boy on the head as he went by.<\/span> He had not gone halfway down the steps, though, when the child called out to him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDoctor,\u201d the boy stammered, and Alinger looked back.<\/span><\/p>\n

The boy held his bag out to him, still unbuckled.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYour bag,\u201d the boy said.<\/span> \u201cYou might need something in it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Alinger smiled fondly, went back up the steps, took it from the boy\u2019s cold fingers.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d he said.<\/span> \u201cI just might.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Book Preview LAST BREATH A family walked in for a look around, a little before noon, a man, a woman, and their son. They were the first visitors of the day\u2014for all Alinger knew they would be the only visitors of the day, the museum was never busy\u2014and he was free to give them the … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4940,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[332],"class_list":["post-4941","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-joe-hill"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4941","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4941"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4941\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4940"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4941"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4941"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4941"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}