Couldn’t she hear me? Or was she just not listening?
“I didn’t forget it. I have insurance. I don’t have the card with me. My husband will give you the information. My daughter needs a doctor. Now.” How the hell long does it take to park a car?
“I’ll have someone here soon to evaluate her. Is there anybody who can bring your card to you?”
“Listen up, Amber. I don’t have it. My house burnt down last night. Insurance card? Ashes. Drivers license? Ashes. My husband-the-Boy-Scout still has all that stuff. He will be here in a minute. Get someone out to see my daughter now.”
“Problem here?” A large orderly and a security guard appeared next to me.
Amber looked up from her computer screen. “A fire? Are you—”
“Amber. Joe. Perkins.” Jim nodded greetings. “What’s the hold up here?”
“I was just doing my job,” Amber said.
“I hope you have your wallet,” I said to Jim.
There were benefits to being married to a cop. Amber knew him. Joe knew him. Perkins knew him. The staff all knew him. We were in a room with Abby in no time.
Jim had his wallet. He gave it to his mother and sent her off to appease Amber.
• • •
UNLIKE AMBER, the nurse who joined us was sympathetic or at least acted like it.
“Be careful,” I said when she picked up the blood pressure cuff. “She’s autistic. She doesn’t like to be touched.”
“She doesn’t seem to be minding.”
“That’s part of the problem.”
I told her everything I’d seen. Jim didn’t have much to add.
“What happened before she started screaming? Any physical changes?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. They were watching TV. Little House on the Prairie.” Irrelevant, but all I knew.
Jim suggested she talk to Evelyn.
“I’ll do that, and a doctor will be in soon.”
When she left the room, Jim started to follow her.
“No. Stay with us,” I said.
Abby lay on the gurney, stiff and unmoving. If not for the slight rise and fall of her chest, it would have been hard to tell she was alive.
“She looks so small,” Jim said.
“She’s still screaming,” I said. “We just can’t hear her.”
• • •
THE NURSE CAME back, alone.
“Where’s the doctor?” I said.
Before she could answer, an alarm went off. The noise startled me, but the smooth electronic tones weren’t frightening. Jim’s reaction was.
He tensed beside me, and he and the nurse exchanged looks. Some secret hospital code.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
“No—”
“I promise. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll stay with you,” the nurse said.
She’d introduced herself, but I couldn’t remember her name. “What’s going on?” I don’t want you. I want my husband.
“No!” Abby screamed. Her arms shot out from her sides and her back arched. She flailed her arms and bent her knees.
“Abby!” Convulsions. She’s having convulsions.
Her lips turned blue.
The nurse—Jenna, that was her name—leapt into action. She must have hit another alarm. I didn’t hear it, but two more nurses and a man in a lab coat—finallyadoctor—burst into the room.
“Get her out of here,” Lab Coat ordered.
Where are they taking her?
He meant me, not Abby. A nurse—not Jenna—took my arm and dragged me away from my daughter.
“No—what’s happening?”
Jenna turned Abby on her side.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Shhhh. We need you to stay calm and wait outside. It’s the best way you can help her.” The nurse pulled me into the hall and shut the door.
“Nononononononono. . .” The door between us muffled Abby’s cries, but I heard and felt each one.
“Can I wait here?”
“No.” Not-Jenna grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the door.
One step down the hall, she shoved me against the wall.
Two EMT’s, accompanied by lab coats and nurses raced toward us. A gurney. They pushed a gurney. Red. Why are they using red blankets?
They closed in on us, and the thing on the gurney laughed. As they passed us, it screamed.
“Hey Little Piggy! How ya feeling now?”
My knees buckled.
Livvy. It was Livvy’s voice.
[39]
The Ceiling Man
“COOL,” BLEVINS SAID.
Cool wasn’t an understatement. It was wholly inaccurate.
Legs apart, he leaned forward and braced himself against the dumpster behind the hospital. He panted and gasped, not minding the stench of garbage that filled his nose, his mouth, his throat. Flames rippled through his body, counteracting the bitterness of the falling snow. He imagined the chill metal of the dumpster glowing red beneath his hands.
Not Cool.
Intoxicating.
Invigorating.
Arousing.
The pleasures of human flesh held no interest for him—not in the usual sense. His hungers lay elsewhere.
As he’d ridden the girl’s pain, his own strength blossomed and grew. It rose and expanded, unconfined, until he thought he’d burst.
He didn’t. He flew, unfettered, from mind to mind throughout the hospital. Anywhere he wanted to go. He brought shivers to those normally out of his reach. He felt their discomfort and relished it. And, when he found the quilt woman—he’d left less of her alive than he intended, nothing for him to control, and it didn’t matter. He didn’t quite reanimate the dead, but close enough. His thrust inside her brought sensation so intense he couldn’t help but laugh. He said his piece and slipped out. He left her useless, and he was stronger than ever.
The mother’s fear—just the memory caused a stir between his legs.
“Whoa. That hasn’t happened in a looooong time,” Blevins said.
«You have no idea.»
The girl wasn’t just a watcher—she was a catalyst. An energy source. Everything he’d ever done or been paled in comparison to the power and exhilaration he found when he mounted her fear. And he’d done it all from outside the building and across the parking lot.
He was invincible.
He wouldn’t kill her quickly. Not until he’d wrung everything he could out of her and absorbed it. Made her his. Made her him.
She was damaged. Broken. She no longer had the strength to interfere with his plans. Her mother would bring her to him, and it would be her own idea. Once he had the girl, what she had would be his. If she could do this to him—for him—over distance and through walls, what would it be like when she was his? When she stood before him in agony?
The volcano inside roared, and its molten heat flowed. He trembled. Blevins groaned.
He’d drain her. Everything she had would be his. Then, he’d take her, consume her, and leave nothing behind.
“Can we have some fun with her first? My kind of fun?”
«Don’t be crass.»
“Be a shame to waste that big honkin’ thing in our pants.” Blevins’s usual mocking snarl was little more than a rasp.
«Oh, my pet. This is going to be so much better.»
The girl was still inside the building. He had time to go back for another taste. An appetizer. Something to tide him over until the main course.
He swelled in anticipation, and Blevins moaned.
[40]
Carole
“ARE YOU OKAY?” THE NURSE propped me up.
I couldn’t answer. The walls rippled. The room—hallway—where was I—vibrated.
“Carole?” Jim reached for me, and I shrank into the wall.
Daddy is the Woodsman. Breathe. The floor quit moving.
“Why is the hallway red?”
“We need to get her to a
chair,” the nurse said.
Jim grunted, and together they led me down the hall to the waiting area.
“I don’t want to sit.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Jim said.
Daddy is the Woodsman.
“I’ll send someone out to check on her as soon as I can.” The nurse disappeared.
I collapsed against my husband, and he held me until I stopped sobbing.
“Abby. What’s happening with Abby?” I said.
“I don’t know. No one’s told me anything.”
“They wouldn’t let me stay with her. They dragged me out. And Livvy. Jim, what happened to Livvy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me.” I always knew when he was lying.
He let go of me and backed away. He stared at my feet, not my face, and in a monotone, he relayed the news. Pete was dead, and Livvy—she was in the trauma room. Other than that, he didn’t know anything. His contacts had a limit.
He wasn’t lying, but he held something back. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to know, at least not yet.
“It was Blevins,” I said.
“I already told them to look for him.”
“You believe me?”
“Shit. I don’t believe any of this, but. . .I don’t know.”
“How did Abby know?”
Neither of us had an answer.
“How long have we been out here?” I searched for a clock. The walls of the spartan waiting room were bare. Not that it would have done me any good to find one. I didn’t know what time they threw me out of Abby’s room. Two people sat in the plastic chairs. One was Evelyn.
I’d forgotten about her. Her usual perfect posture was gone. Huddled and forlorn, she appeared to have aged ten years. I felt sorry for her.
“Jim. Your mother.”
He flinched. Guilt. He forgot about her too. There was no triumph in the thought.
Together, we went to her.
“We were only watching TV.” For the first time since I’d met her, she both looked and sounded like an old woman.
“It’s not your fault.” I sat down next to her and took her hand.
“I’ll go see if I can find out anything,” Jim said and left us alone.
“Why aren’t you with Abby?” Evelyn said. Not an accusation, a simple question.
“She. . .they are taking care of her. They said I need to wait out here.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know.” The lie was for both of us.
“It was only Little House on the Prairie.”
“It’s okay. She loves that show,” I said.
We ran out of small talk. What’s taking Jim so long?
The waiting area might have aimed for cheerful, but it missed. A sickly shade of pale yellow covered the concrete brick walls. The orange of the hard chairs was cautionary rather than bright. In the corner, an old man in filthy clothing slept off a drunk. He mumbled and fidgeted in his sleep. Even passed out, he looked uncomfortable. I knew how he felt.
Evelyn slapped at the back of her neck and shivered. “How can this place have mosquitos at this time of year? We should have gone to Mercy County.”
“This was closer.” Evelyn had a point. People threatened to have In case of emergency, take me anywhere but PMMC tattooed on their bellies. I’d made that threat.
Livvy had made that threat.
The drunk in the corner grew louder. I thought I heard him mutter something about Little Piggy and burn your house down. It had to be my imagination.
Livvy. I couldn’t think about her. Or Pete. What ever happened to them, it didn’t have anything to do with Abby. It couldn’t.
The large orderly—I never found out whether he was Joe or Perkins—and a young woman entered the room. Instead of bringing me news, they headed for the pop machine. The woman wore burgundy scrubs. Red enough to make my heart pound.
I couldn’t look at her, but I listened.
“I don’t care. I won’t be here tomorrow,” she said.
“You can’t just walk out with no notice,” Joe-or-Perkins said.
“When I leave tonight, I’m outa here. People dead. People missing. That couple tonight? They lived across the street from that house that burned down. Where Jason died. This town is fucked up.” Her nasal voice rose and carried, full of anger or hysteria or both.
“Keep your voice down,” Joe-or-Perkins said.
She had a point. Focused on Abby, I never gave a thought to anything else, other than how it related to me and mine. The list of deaths and weird events was long, longer than Ms. Burgundy Scrubs knew, and I was afraid it all related to me and mine.
“What are they gonna do? Fire me? I’ll stay ’til the end of my shift. But that’s it. When I get in my car, I’m outa here. Straight to my mom’s in Cleveland. Not even going home.”
“Evelyn. We need to leave,” I said.
“What about Abby?”
“No. I mean leave Port Massasauga. When we get out of here, we need to take Abby and go to my parents.” They were in Cincinnati. Farther away from Port Massasauga than Cleveland. We should have gone there weeks ago. “You can come too.”
“What does Jim say?”
“I haven’t told him yet. No matter what he says, Abby and I are leaving.” Running away wasn’t his style, but he had to see it was the best thing. The only thing. We didn’t even need to go back to Evelyn’s. We could leave the hospital and drive.
“What about Abby?”
“She’ll be okay.” Please. Please let her be okay. “And there are doctors in Cincinnati too.”
“You always say she doesn’t like change.” Evelyn’s arguments were halfhearted. Habit, not conviction. I didn’t like the sad old woman persona. I didn’t want her to sound weak. I wanted her to be Evelyn. Disapproving, scornful, Evil-lyn. I wanted her to blame me, not herself. I missed my nemesis. I wanted things to be normal.
“She’ll be okay. She loves her grandparents. All of them.” I squeezed Evelyn’s hand. “Come with us.”
“We’ll see.”
“Little Pig, Little Pig! Let me come in!” The drunk was awake and yelling.
Joe-or-Perkins and Burgundy Scrubs ran to him. He vomited on the orderly.
I wanted to find Jim, but couldn’t make my legs work to get out of the chair. My stomach churned, and not just from the smell of puke.
Little Pig. He heard Livvy’s scream. Somehow, it penetrated his alcohol-soaked fog and made its way back out. That was all. Nothing else.
“I am so fucking out of here,” Burgundy Scrubs said.
Me too, lady. Me too.
“Are you okay?” Jim stood in front of me.
“We need to get Abby and go.”
“The doctor’s coming out to talk to us.”
“We need to leave Port Massasauga.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s not safe here.”
“We’ll talk about this later.” I couldn’t tell if he thought I was crazy or was considering leaving.
I recognized the doctor—the man who threw me out of Abby’s room. He introduced himself. Dr. Horvath. I stood and leaned against Jim. Whatever he had to say, I wasn’t going to listen to it sitting down.
“We sedated her. The seizures have stopped, but she’s still agitated. She’s asking for you. We want to do an EEG, but she won’t let us. She keeps pulling the electrodes off her head. Even after we restrained her, she wouldn’t stay still.”
“Restrained her? Did anyone tell you she’s autistic?” The image of Abby, restrained and wired to a machine infuriated me.
“That may explain some of her behavior. You’re sure this is the first time she’s had seizures? Are you her main caretaker?”
I hoped he was a good doctor, because otherwise he was a pompous prick in a lab coat.
“I’m her mother. And yes, this is a first. Can I see her now?”
“I’d like to get a CT scan, but don’t know if she’ll c
ooperate.”
“Is she still restrained? I want to see her.” I hated the smug bastard.
“Wait here and I’ll get an aide to take you back.”
“I’ll just follow you.” I was fed up with waiting. Waiting for whomever was supposed to check on me and never showed. Waiting for the doctor. Waiting for anybody to tell me anything. I wasn’t going to wait to see my daughter.
Dr. Officious didn’t want me tailing him. “Britanny!”
Burgundy Scrubs appeared. She hadn’t left town yet.
I followed her to Abby. Jim followed me. Evelyn didn’t. The walls of the hallway stayed where they belonged.
[41]
Carole
“HI, MOM. WE NEED TO GO HOME NOW.” Abby tried to get out of bed, but her wrist and ankles were tethered to the bed rails.
“Let her loose.”
“We didn’t want her to injure herself.” Not Jenna, a different nurse.
“Where’s Jenna?”
“She’s with another patient. Dr. Horvath wants to—”
“Untie her or I’ll do it myself.”
“We need to go home now,” Abby said.
The nurse didn’t move. I freed Abby’s feet. It wasn’t hard. I was angry enough to rip the restraints apart if I needed to, but they were padded leather fastened with buckles. Easily undone.
She sat up before I had her last wrist free.
“We need to leave now,” she said. She sounded fine. Looked fine. Alert, obsessive, and repetitive. Her usual self.
“Dr. Horvath said you sedated her. What did you give her?” The Abby we brought in acted more drugged than the one in front of me.
“The doctor needs to give you that information,” the nurse said.
“The doctor’s an ass.”
“Carole, take it easy,” Jim said, not very convincingly.
“We need to leave now,” Abby said.
“We are.” I undid the last cuff, and she started to climb out of the bed.
Jim put his hands on her shoulders and gently sat her back down.
“Too late. The Woodsman cannot help,” she said.
“The doctor wants to do some tests, to make sure you are okay,” he said.
“Livvy’s gone. We cannot stay here.” She tried to get up, but Jim held her down.
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