A Living Nightmare

by Darren Shan

I thought they'd take us with them in the ambulance, but they said there wasn't room. They got Steve's phone number and the name of his mom, but she wasn't home. One of the attendants asked my mother if she'd follow them to the hospital, to fill out as many of the forms as she could, so they could make a start. She agreed and bundled me and Annie into the car. Dad still wasn't home, so she called him on his cell phone to explain where we'd be. He said he'd come right over.

  That was a miserable ride. I sat in the back, trying not to meet Annie's eye, knowing I should tell the truth, but too afraid to. What made it even worse was, I knew if I was the one lying in a coma, Steve would own up immediately.

  "What happened in there?" Mom asked over her shoulder. She was driving as fast as she could without breaking the speed limit, so she wasn't able to look back at me. I was glad: I don't think I could have lied straight to her face.

  "I'm not sure," I said. "We were chatting. Then I had to go to the bathroom. When I got back…"

  "You didn't see anything?" she asked.

  "No," I lied, feeling my ears reddening with shame.

  "I can't understand it," she muttered. "He felt so stiff and his skin was turning blue. I thought he was dead."

  "I think he was bitten," Annie said. I almost gave her a dig in the ribs, but at the last second remembered I was depending on her to keep my secret.

  "Bitten?" Mom asked.

  "There were a couple of marks on his neck," Annie said.

  "I saw them," Mom said. "But I don't think that's it, dear."

  "Why not?" Annie asked. "If a snake or a… spider got in and bit him…" She glanced over at me and blushed a little, recalling her promise.

  "A spider?" Mom shook her head. "No, dear, spiders don't go around biting people and sending them into shock, not around here."

  "So what was it?" Annie asked.

  "I'm not sure," Mom replied. "Maybe he ate something that didn't agree with him, or had a heart attack."

  "Children don't have heart attacks," Annie retorted.

  "They do," Mom said. "It's rare, but it can happen. Still, the doctors will sort all that out. They know more about these things than we do."

  I wasn't used to hospitals, so I spent some time looking around while Mom was filling out the forms. It was the whitest place I'd ever seen: white walls, white floors, white uniforms. It wasn't very busy but there was a buzz to the place, a sound of bed springs and coughing, machines humming, doctors speaking softly.

  We didn't say much while sitting there. Mom said Steve had been admitted and was being examined but it might be a while before they discovered what was wrong. "They sounded optimistic," she said.

  Annie was thirsty, so Mom sent me with her to get drinks from the machine around the corner. Annie glanced around while I was putting in the coins, to make sure nobody could overhear.

  "How long are you going to wait?" she asked.

  "Until I hear what they have to say," I told her. "We'll let them examine him. Hopefully they'll know what sort of poison it is and be able to cure him by themselves."

  "And if they can't?" she asked.

  "Then I tell them," I promised.

  "What if he dies before that?" she asked softly.

  "He won't," I said.

  "But what if "

  "He won't!" I snapped. "Don't talk like that. Don't even think like that. We have to hope for the best. We must believe he will pull through. Mom and Dad have always told us good thoughts help make sick people better, haven't they? He needs us to believe in him."

  "He needs the truth more," she grumbled, but let the matter drop. We took the drinks back to the couch and drank in silence.

  Dad arrived not long after, still in his work clothes. He kissed Mom and Annie and squeezed my shoulder. His dirty hands left grease marks on my T-shirt, but that didn't bother me.

  "Any news?" he asked.

  "None yet," Mom said. "They're examining him. It could be hours before we hear anything."

  "What happened to him, Angela?" Dad asked.

  "We don't know yet," Mom said. "We'll have to wait and see."

  "I hate waiting," Dad grumbled, but since he had no other choice, he had to, the same as the rest of us.

  Nothing else happened for a couple of hours, until Steve's mom arrived. Her face was white like Steve's, and her lips were pinched together. She made straight for me, grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me hard. "What have you done to him?" she screeched. "Have you hurt my boy? Have you killed my Steve?"

  "Hey! Stop that!" Dad gasped.

  Steve's mom ignored him. "What have you done?" she screamed again, and shook me even harder. I tried to say "Nothing" but my teeth were clattering. "What have you done? What have you done?" she repeated, then suddenly stopped shaking me, let go, and collapsed to the floor, where she bawled like a baby.

  Mom got off the couch and crouched beside Mrs. Leonard. She stroked the back of her head and whispered soothing words to her, then helped her up and sat down with her. Mrs. Leonard was still crying, and was now moaning about what a bad mother she'd been and how much Steve hated her."

  "You two go and play somewhere else," Mom said to Annie and me. We started away. "Darren," Mom called me back. "Don't pay attention to what she was saying. She doesn't blame you. She's just afraid."

  I nodded miserably. What would Mom say if she knew Mrs. Leonard was right and I was to blame?

  Annie and me found a couple of video games to keep us busy. I didn't think I'd be able to play but after a few minutes I forgot about Steve and the hospital and got caught up in the games. It was nice to slip away from the worries of the real world for a while, and if I hadn't run out of quarters, I might have stayed there all night.

  When we returned to the waiting room, Mrs. Leonard had calmed down and was off with Mom, filling out forms, Annie and I sat and the waiting began all over again.

  Annie began yawning about ten o'clock and that set me off, too. Mom took one look at us and ordered us home. I started to argue but she cut me short.

  "You can't do any good here," she said. "I'll call as soon as I hear anything, even if it's the middle of the night, okay?"

  I hesitated. This would be my final chance to mention the spider. I came very close to spilling the beans, but I was tired and couldn't find the words. "Okay," I said glumly, then left.

  Dad drove us home. I wondered what he'd do if I told him about the spider, Mr. Crepsley, and the rest. He would have punished me, I'm sure, but that's not why I didn't tell him: I kept quiet because I knew he'd be ashamed of the way I'd lied and put my own well-being before Steve's. I was afraid he'd hate me.

  Annie was asleep by the time we got home. Dad lifted her in from the backseat and took her to bed. I walked slowly up to my room and got undressed. I kept cursing myself under my breath.

  Dad looked in as I was putting my clothes away. "Will you be okay?" he asked. I nodded. "Steve will recover," he said. "I'm sure of it. The doctors know their stuff. They'll bring him around."

  I nodded again, not trusting myself to answer. Dad stood in the doorway a moment longer, then sighed, left, and stomped downstairs to his study.

  I was hanging my pants up in the closet when I noticed Madam Octa's cage. Slowly, I pulled it out. She was lying in the middle, breathing easily, calm as ever.

  I studied the colorful spider and wasn't impressed by what I saw. She was bright, yes, but ugly and hairy and nasty. I began to hate her. She was the real villain, the one who bit Steve for no good reason. I had fed her and cared for her and played with her. This was how she repaid me.

  "You stupid monster!" I snarled, shaking the cage. "You ungrateful creep!"

  I gave the cage another shake. Her legs gripped the bars tightly. This made me madder and I yanked the cage roughly from side to side, trying to make her lose her grip, hoping to hurt her.

  I spun in a circle, whirling the cage around by the handle. I was swearing, calling her every name under the sun, wishing she was dead, wishing I'd never set eyes on her
, wishing I had the guts to take her out of the cage and squeeze her to death.

  Finally, as my rage reached its boiling point, I hurled the cage as far away from me as possible. I wasn't looking where I was throwing, and got a shock when I saw it sail through the open window and out into the night.

  I watched it flying away, then hurried after it. I was scared it would hit the ground and break open, because I knew if the doctors weren't able to save Steve by themselves, they might be able to with the help of Madam Octa: if they studied her, they might find out how to cure him. But if she escaped…

  I rushed to the window. I was too late to grab for the cage but at least I could see where it landed. I watched as it floated out and down, praying it wouldn't break. It seemed to take forever to fall.

  Just before it hit the ground, a hand darted out from the shadows of the night and snatched it from the air.

  A hand?!

  I leaned forward quickly for a better view. It was a dark night and at first I couldn't see who was down there. But then the person stepped forward and all was revealed.

  First, I saw his wrinkly hands holding the cage. Then his long red clothes. Then his cropped orange hair. Then his long ugly scar. And, finally, his sharp toothy grin.

  It was Mr. Crepsley. The vampire.

  And he was smiling up at me!

  I STOOD BY THE WINDOW, expecting him to turn into a bat and come flying up, but he did nothing apart from shake the cage gently to make sure Madam Octa was all right.

  Then, still smiling, he turned and walked away. Within a matter of seconds he had been swallowed from sight by the night.

  I shut the window and fled to the safety of my bed, where my mind turned inside out with questions. How long had he been down there? If he knew where Madam Octa was, why hadn't he taken her before this? I thought he'd be furious, but he seemed amused. Why hadn't he ripped out my throat like Steve said he would?

  Sleep was impossible. I was more terrified now than I had been the night after stealing the spider. Back then I could tell myself that he didn't know who I was and therefore couldn't find me.

  I thought about telling Dad. After all, a vampire knew where we lived and had reason to bear a grudge against us. Dad should know. He should be warned and given a chance to prepare a defense. But…

  He wouldn't believe me. Especially not now that Madam Octa was gone. I imagined trying to convince him that vampires were real, that one had been to our house and might come back. He'd think I was insane.

  I was able to snooze a little when dawn rolled around, because I knew the vampire couldn't launch an attack until sunset. It wasn't much of a sleep, but even a small amount of rest did me good and I was able to think clearly when I woke. I realized, as I thought it over, that I had no reason to be afraid. If the vampire had wanted to kill me, he could have done it last night when I was unprepared. For some reason, he didn't want me dead, at least not yet.

  With that worry off my mind, I could focus on Steve and my real problem: whether to reveal the truth or not. Mom had stayed at the hospital all night, taking care of Mrs. Leonard, calling around to let friends and neighbors know of Steve's illness. If she had been home, I might have told her, but the thought of telling Dad filled me with dread.

  Ours was a very quiet house that Sunday. Dad cooked eggs and sausages for breakfast, and burned them as he normally does when he cooks, but we didn't complain. I hardly even tasted the food as I gulped it down. I wasn't hungry. The only reason I ate was to pretend it was any other average Sunday.

  Mom called as we were finishing. She had a long talk with Dad. He didn't say much, only nodded and grunted. Annie and I sat still, trying to hear what was being said. He came in and sat down when he was finished talking.

  "How is he?" I asked.

  "Not good," Dad said. "The doctors don't know what to make of it. It seems Annie was right: it is poison. But not like any they know. They've sent samples to experts in other hospitals, and hopefully one of them will know more about it. But…" He shook his head.

  "Will he die?" Annie asked quietly.

  "Maybe," Dad said, being honest. I was glad for that. All too often adults lie to kids about serious matters. I'd rather know the truth about death than be lied to.

  Annie started to cry. Dad picked her up and perched her on his lap. "Hey, now, there's no need to cry," he said. "It's not over yet. He's still alive. He's breathing and his brain doesn't seem to have been affected. If they can figure out a way to fight the poison in his body, he should be fine."

  "How long does he have?" I asked.

  Dad shrugged. "The way he is, they could keep him alive for a long time with machines."

  "You mean like someone in a coma?" I asked.

  "Exactly."

  "How long before they have to start using machines?" I asked.

  "A few days, they think," Dad answered. "They can't say for sure, seeing as how they don't know what they're dealing with, but they think it will be a couple of days before his respiratory and coronary systems begin to shut down."

  "His what?" Annie asked between sobs.

  "His lungs and heart," Dad explained. "As long as those are working, he's alive. They have to use a drip to feed him but otherwise he's okay. It's when if he stops breathing by himself that the trouble really begins."

  A couple of days. It wasn't much. The day before, he'd had a whole lifetime to look forward to. Now he had a couple of days.

  "Can I go see him?" I asked.

  "This afternoon, if you feel up to it," Dad said. "I'll feel up to it," I vowed.

  The hospital was busier this time, packed with visitors. I'd never seen so many boxes of chocolates and flowers. Everybody seemed to be carrying one or the other. I wanted to buy something for Steve at the hospital store but had no money.

  I expected Steve to be in the children's ward but he was in a room by himself, because the doctors wanted to study him, and also because they weren't sure if what he had was catching. We had to wear masks and gloves and long green gowns when we entered.

  Mrs. Leonard was asleep in a chair. Mom made a sign for us to be quiet. She gave us hugs, one by one, then spoke to Dad.

  "A couple of results have come in from other hospitals," she told him, her voice muffled by the mask. "All negative."

  "Surely someone knows what this is," Dad said. "How many different types of poison can there be?"

  "Thousands," she said. "They've sent specimens to foreign hospitals. Hopefully one of them will have a record of it, but it's going to be some time before they get back to us."

  I studied Steve while they were talking. He was tucked neatly into the bed. A drip was attached to one arm, and wires and stuff to his chest. There were needle marks where doctors had taken samples of his blood. His face was white and stiff. He looked terrible!

  I started crying and couldn't stop. Mom put her arms around me and hugged me tight, but that only made it worse. I tried telling her about the spider but I was crying too much for my words to be heard. Mom kept hugging and kissing and shushing me, and eventually I quit trying.

  New visitors arrived, relatives of Steve's, and Mom decided to leave them alone with him and his mother. She led us out, removed my mask, and wiped the tears from my face with a tissue.

  "There," she said. "That's better." She smiled and tickled me until I grinned back. "He'll be okay," she promised. "I know he looks bad, but the doctors are doing all they can. We have to trust them and hope for the best, okay?"

  "Okay," I sighed.

  "I thought he looked pretty good," Annie said, squeezing my hand. I smiled thankfully at her.

  "Are you coming home now?" Dad asked Mom.

  "I'm not sure," she said. "I think I should stick around a little longer in case "

  "Angela, you've done enough for the time being," Dad said firmly. "I bet you didn't get any sleep last night, did you?"

  "Not much," Mom admitted.

  "And if you stay on now, you won't get any today either. Come on, Angie,
let's go." Dad calls Mom "Angie" when he's trying to sweet-talk her into something. "There are other people who can look after Steve and his mother. Nobody expects you to do everything."

  "All right," she agreed. "But I'm coming back tonight to see if they need me."

  "Fair enough," he said, and led the way out to the car. It hadn't been much of a visit but I didn't complain. I was glad to get away.

  I thought about Steve as we drove home, how he looked and why he looked that way. I thought about the poison in his veins and felt pretty sure the doctors would fail to cure it. I bet no doctor in the world had ever come across poison from a spider like Madam Octa before.

  However bad Steve had looked, I knew he'd look a lot worse after another couple of days. I imagined him hooked up to a breathing machine, his face covered with a mask, tubes sticking into him. It was a horrible thought.

  There was only one way to save Steve. Only one person who might know about the poison and how to beat it.

  Mr. Crepsley.

  As we pulled into the driveway back home and got out of the car, I made up my mind: I was going to track him down and make him do what he could to help Steve. As soon as it got dark, I'd sneak out and find the vampire, wherever he might be. And if I couldn't force it out of him and come back with a cure…

  … I wouldn't come back at all.

  I HAD TO WAIT UNTIL ALMOST eleven o'clock. I would have gone earlier, while Mom was at the hospital, but a couple of Dad's pals came around with kids of their own and I had to play host.

  Mom returned home at about ten. She was tired, so Dad quickly cleared the house of visitors. They had a cup of tea and a chat in the kitchen, then went up to bed. I let them drift off to sleep, then snuck downstairs and let myself out the back door.

  I sped through the dark like a comet. Nobody saw or heard me, I moved so fast. I had a cross in one pocket, which I'd found in Mom's jewelry box, and a bottle of holy water in the other, which one of Dad's pen pals had sent to us years ago. I wasn't able to find a stake. I'd thought about bringing a sharp knife instead, but probably would only have cut myself. I'm clumsy with knives.