Death Watch

by Jack Cavanaugh

  “Clap for Mommy,” Hunz said to Stacy, bouncing her up and down.

  Stacy clapped happily.

  Skip Hirshberg crossed the floor to Cheryl’s podium. “May I?” he said, placing a hand on her belly before she could respond.

  Cheryl smiled, though Sydney could tell she was uncomfortable with the master of ceremony’s presumption.

  “You do understand, don’t you, that if you deliver the baby during the next hour, the child automatically becomes the official property of Wonder Wheel!”

  Skip flashed an enormous grin, playing to the cameras.

  Cheryl forced a smile. Sydney admired her for it. Had she been in Cheryl’s shoes, she probably would have decked him.

  “And now, America, let’s play Wonder Wheel!”

  Skip Hirshberg returned to his podium, which was but a few steps away. Sydney remembered her reaction the first time she saw the size of an actual news studio in Iowa City. It was much smaller than it looked on television. This set was just as compact.

  The three contestants stood in a row behind a podium bearing his or her name and two electronic displays, one for category and another for winnings to date. The three studio contestants faced the master of ceremonies.

  Appearing between the contestants and the master of ceremonies on the back wall, suspended by wires against a black backdrop, was the Wonder Wheel—three stationary concentric circles with flashing lights that moved in alternating directions. Beneath the wheel was a display with ten digits for area code, prefix, and four-digit telephone number.

  The Wonder Wheel came alive, the outer and inner circles flashing clockwise, the middle circle flashing counterclockwise. It had a mesmerizing effect.

  “Round and round she goes!” Skip cried. “Each contestant will get a chance to answer a question and earn big money depending on the alignment of the Wonder Wheel. The outer wheel determines the question value with a number from zero to ninety-nine. The middle wheel determines the category of the question. And the inner wheel determines the difficulty factor, from zero to nine. The question value and difficulty factor are multiplied together to determine the dollar value of each question. The greater the difficulty, the more money a contestant wins for a correct answer!

  “The contestant who spins the. highest dollar value goes first. A right answer wins the money. A wrong answer and the dollar amount will be deducted from the contestant’s score, and a call-in contestant will be given a chance to win his money, so get ready, America!

  “The Wonder Wheel will select tonight’s area code and prefix. So television viewers, if you see your area code and prefix displayed, be the first person to call and you can win!

  “And remember, contestants. This isn’t your grandmother’s game show! Wonder Wheel rewards only the best! It’s winner-take-all. One of you will go home tonight with everything, while two contestants will leave with only the fond memory of having once shared the stage with Skip Hirshberg.”

  He paused so the audience could laugh.

  “Light up the wheel! It’s time to play Wonder Wheel!”

  Applause.

  “Contestants! The wheel’s in motion. You have five seconds to lock in your selections!”

  The Wonder Wheel theme music began. The colored lights on the three concentric wheels began to accelerate. The studio audience was deafening.

  Junior hit his contestant button quickly, locking in his choices. Barb was next. Cheryl stared at the flashing lights. She looked confused. The music was coming to its conclusion.

  “Choose quickly, Cheryl,” Skip encouraged her.

  Cheryl hit the contestant button on the podium an instant before the computer locked it out.

  The results appeared on the contestants’ podiums.

  BARB

  SAYAHH

  $30,800

  JUNIOR

  SINGING FOR YOUR SUPPER

  $28,000

  CHERYL

  ROCKS OF AGES

  $6,600

  “Barb, you scored the highest dollar value with a question value of eighty-two and a difficulty factor of four for a total of $32,800. The category is Say Ahh, anatomy for amateurs. Do you wish to play or pass?”

  Barb Whitlock winced. “Ouch,” she said, which got a laugh. “I never was good at anatomy, Skip. And though it’s hard to pass up that kind of money, I think I’m going to have to pass.”

  “Junior, you’re second highest with a question value of fiftysix and a difficulty factor of five for a total of $28,000. Your category is Singing for Your Supper, famous actors in musical theater. Play or pass?”

  “Oh, man,” Junior groused. “Musical theater? Now if the category was about supper, I’d have a fighting chance. Pass.”

  “Well, Cheryl, that brings it down to you. You scored the lowest total value with a question value of twenty-two and a difficulty factor of three for $6,600. A rookie mistake. The Wonder Wheel favors the bold, Cheryl, but it looks like things may have worked out for you this time. Your category is Rocks of Ages, history set in stone. Will you play, or are we going to give our first caller of the night a chance to win some money?”

  Cheryl fidgeted, but only for a moment. “I’m going to play, Skip.”

  “Your question is: Which of these presidents does not have his likeness carved in stone on Mt. Rushmore? (a) Thomas Jefferson, (b) Franklin D. Roosevelt, (c) George Washington, (d) Theodore Roosevelt.”

  Cheryl didn’t hesitate. She smiled and said, “B. Franklin Delano Roosevelt.”

  “It looks like the schoolkids of Evanston, Illinois, are in good hands,” Skip shouted. “Franklin D. Roosevelt is correct, and Cheryl McCormick is our first contestant on the Wonder Wheel board tonight with $6,600!”

  Amidst the applause, Sydney’s cell phone rang. Studio personnel within earshot looked alarmed, then angry, cocking an ear to locate the intrusive chirping.

  “Sorry.” Sydney pulled her phone from her pocket. “Sorry, sorry.” She skulked to the back of the studio, under the unforgiving glare of the floor director, cameramen, and sound technicians. “I’ll turn it off,” she mouthed to them.

  She pressed the answer button to stop the ringing but didn’t speak until she was well out of earshot.

  Pressing the phone to her ear, she heard, “Syd? Syd? Are you there?”

  “Hello?”

  “Syd? Josh. We have to talk.”

  “Yes, we do,” she said, instantly angry at hearing his voice. She hadn’t forgiven him for selling her out in Helen Gordon’s office. Cori may have been the mastermind behind it, but that didn’t excuse Josh for being part of it.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  She told him.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I have to talk to you.”

  “What? Now? Josh, we can talk in the morning.”

  “No. I really need to talk to you now, Syd.”

  He sounded strange. Upset. Well, he should be upset, she thought. That makes two of us.

  “Promise you won’t leave until I get there,” he said.

  Sydney hit the disconnect button, then programmed the phone to silent mode. She really didn’t want to talk to Josh tonight; there was already too much going on with getting Cheryl to the airport and chauffeuring Hunz.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Grateful for pink packing peanuts, Billy Peppers slouched against the side of his four-by-four-by-four wooden traveling compartment. At times the ride was rough, tossing him around as easily as the peanuts. Three times he slammed his head against the top of the crate. Now, pulling the jacket tight around him, he tried to stop shivering. Frozen fingertips clutched an angel figurine.

  He had more pressing problems than staying warm.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  Billy slung his head back, desperately trying to pull air into his lungs. The effort was strenuous, the reward small, like trying to suck liquid through a pinched straw.

  Pressing the figurine against his chest, skirting the edge of consciousness, Billy pray
ed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “What did I miss?” Sydney asked. She approached Hunz to thunderous applause. Neither Hunz nor little Stacy were clapping, so the ovation was not for Cheryl. A quick look at the contestants’ podiums revealed the damage. Barb Whitlock had taken a commanding lead with $66,500.

  “A Bible history question,” Hunz shouted over the din. “Burial place of the patriarch Abraham and his wife, Sarah.”

  Barb Whitlock was pleased with herself. “I knew attending church would pay off someday, Skip,” she said.

  “What was the answer?” Sydney asked Hunz.

  He looked at her strangely. “You don’t know?”

  “Why would I know?”

  Hunz shrugged. “Just thought you’d know, that’s all,” he said. “Hebron. The city of Hebron.”

  He handed Stacy to Sydney. “I need to make a phone call,” he said.

  At first Stacy objected. Hunz assured her he’d be gone for just a moment.

  Skip Hirshberg summed up the contestant standings. “Barb Whitlock is our current leader with $66,500, Cheryl McClintock is in second place with $6,600, and Junior has yet to make an appearance on the money board. As for all of you in our television audience, your chance may be coming up right after this commercial break, because anything can happen on America’s favorite game show, Wonder Wheel! We’ll be right back.”

  A pause, then the set crew and makeup artists streamed onto the set, applying fresh powder to the contestants, and going over notes for the next segment with Skip.

  “Mommy!” Stacy reached for her mother.

  “Not yet, honey,” Sydney said. “Mommy still has more game to play, more money to win, won’t that be fun?” She hefted the girl onto her hip. The studio lights and a warm child pressed against her was a hot combination.

  Cheryl appeared to be holding her own on the set. In her unguarded moments, she appeared troubled. The gaudy artificial surroundings of the game show were insufficient to mask the death sentence hanging over her. Cheryl scanned the audience for Stacy. From experience Sydney knew she couldn’t see anything beyond the studio lights.

  “Thirty seconds, people,” someone called.

  Little Stacy watched the lights of the Wonder Wheel going round and round, oblivious to the fact that in two days she would be an orphan.

  The floor director started the countdown. “And we’re live in five, four, three, two… ” His finger signaled one, then pointed at Skip Hirshberg.

  “And we’re back!” Skip said to the cameras. “Let’s put that big money wheel in motion one more time! Contestants, you have five seconds.”

  This time Cheryl hit her button immediately, as did the other two contestants. The results flashed on the podiums before the theme music finished.

  “Cheryl McCormick, you’re our high roller!” He leaned toward her confidentially. “It pays to take advice from the ol’ Skiperoo, doesn’t it?”

  Cheryl smiled, happy to have a chance at some serious money. She readied herself for the question.

  Hunz returned. Stacy leaned so far out of Sydney’s arms to get to him she knocked Sydney off balance. Hunz caught the little girl with an ooofff. There was no joy in it.

  “What’s wrong?” Sydney asked.

  “Nothing.” But it was a lie. Sydney could tell. “Looks like Cheryl has a chance to pull into the lead,” he said, diverting her attention back to the game.

  Skip was crossing the stage, something he never did in the middle of a show. “Let me tell you something about this brave little lady,” he said, approaching Cheryl. He took, her by the hand.

  Cheryl looked at him warily.

  “I’m sure all of you are aware of the current terrorist threat we face in America known as Death Watch.”

  “Oh no,” Sydney said.

  “It’s a horrible, horrible scourge, and we can only pray that our leaders will find who’s behind it and bring them to justice soon. Despite this little lady’s expectant condition, last night she beat two other contestants to the Excelsior Hotel to qualify for tonight’s program. Then, within minutes of her arrival, Cheryl McCormick received a death watch notice.”

  The audience gasped.

  “I thought she didn’t want anyone to know,” Hunz said.

  “She doesn’t,” Sydney said. She had her suspicions who did this.

  “In the face of this dastardly threat, we at Wonder Wheel would have understood had Cheryl chosen not to appear tonight. However, she insisted. And here she is, Ladies and Gentlemen. Even threat of death cannot keep people from playing America’s favorite game show, Wonder Wheel! Bless you, my dear. Bless you.”

  Skip Hirshberg kissed her hand, then returned to the master of ceremonies podium.

  Cheryl was shaken. She was trying to see past the studio lights. Looking for Sydney. She was angry.

  “I didn’t tell them,” Sydney said to Hunz. “Honest. I didn’t!”

  “Scoring the highest dollar value with a question value of ninety-four with a difficulty factor of eight for a total of $75,200 and the lead, the category is Rocks of Ages—the second time for you tonight. It was a lucky category for you before, Cheryl, do you want to play or pass?”

  “Um…” Cheryl looked shell-shocked. “The difficulty factor is eight?”

  “Correct. Play or pass? You have three seconds, Cheryl.”

  “Um… um… play. Play.”

  “Here’s your question. Possibly the earliest tangible evidence linked to Jesus of Nazareth is a limestone ossuary, or burial box, with the inscription, ‘James, son of Joseph, brother of Jesus.’ For $75,200, in what language was the inscription written? (a) Hebrew, (b) Latin, (c) Aramaic, (d) Greek.

  Cheryl stared at her hands. They were trembling.

  “She doesn’t know,” Hunz said.

  “She’s a schoolteacher. Schoolteachers know everything,” Sydney said.

  “Well,” Cheryl said, “James and Joseph and Jesus were Hebrew, but the language of commerce in those days was Greek. The New Testament was written in Greek.”

  She was thinking out loud.

  “I’m going to need an answer, Cheryl.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m going to say Greek, Skip. D.”

  A buzzer sounded.

  “Ooooooo, I’m sorry, Cheryl. The correct answer is (c) Aramaic. We’re going to have to deduct $75,200 from your score, which will put you in the negative column.”

  Skip Hirshberg’s disappointment lasted only a moment.

  “But it is great news for someone at home! Let’s go to the phones!”

  The display beneath the Wonder Wheel began flashing.

  727 319-WIN!

  “Our computer has randomly selected tonight’s at-home contestant location. Here it is! Area code 727. Prefix 319. Seminole, Florida, it’s your turn to play Wonder Wheel! The first caller from Seminole, Florida, has a chance to win $75,200!”

  Cheryl didn’t hear any of this. It was obvious she was wrestling with her disappointment, an opponent that was growing stronger by the second. Her expression said it was all she could do to keep from walking off the set. Her situation was hopeless. She was $68,600 in the red. Even assuming Barb Whitlock failed to answer any more questions correctly, Cheryl would have to win $135,100 just to catch up with her. And even if she managed to climb out of this hole and post some positive numbers, it was winner-take-all. All she’d be doing is winning more money for Barb Whitlock and Sir Talks-a-Lot.

  Watching from the vomitory, Sydney felt like crying. She knew that for Cheryl this was no longer a game show but a chance to provide for her children after she was gone. With only hours left to live, she’d gambled on staying in LA and lost precious time. She still had to get back to Evanston, convince the doctor to induce labor, and give birth to a child before her time was literally up.

  The way Cheryl kept trying to see past the studio lights, Sydney knew Cheryl blamed her for leaking the news of her Death Watch.

  CHAPTER TWENT-SEVEN

 
Josh Leven arrived at the studio midway through the airing of Wonder Wheel.

  “Syd,” he said, walking up behind her and looking at the contestant totals. “She’s not doing too well, is she?”

  The podiums told the story. Cheryl had managed to regain a portion of ground—by correctly identifying the meaning of the word obfuscate, to darken, to make obscure—which brought her total to minus $22,600, but the gap between her and Barb Whitlock still seemed insurmountable.

  Barb was playing it safe. She passed on two difficult questions and correctly answered one low-risk question—in what town was Jesus born?—to pad her lead by $8,100, bringing her total to $74,600.

  Junior, meanwhile, had fallen to minus $39,600 and third place with two incorrect answers. He had yet to answer a question correctly.

  The contestants had just locked in another round. Barb Whitlock passed on the number of players on an NFL team roster. “My husband will kill me when I get home,” she said. And Cheryl passed on the atomic weight of silver.

  “Which brings it down to you, Junior,” Skip said. “And I have to say, this is a first for Wonder Wheel. Never in the history of the show have we had a contestant spin a combination so low. With a question value of one and a factor of difficulty zero, for $100 the category is Hysterical History. Pass or play?”

  Junior’s eyes did his gasping thing. He hesitated. “I’m . . I’m gonna play, Skip.”

  “Here’s your question: For $100, what color was George Washington’s white horse? (a) Dapple gray, (b) Black, (c) Chestnut brown, (d) White.”

  Junior gripped the side of his podium, his head lowered in thought, his eyes squeezed shut.

  “Three seconds.”

  Junior was in agony.

  “I have to have an answer,” Skip said.

  Junior bit his lower lip. His eyes popped open so wide it looked like they were going to disgorge from their sockets.

  “D. White!” he shouted, just as the buzzer sounded.

  “Judges, did he get in under the wire?”