by John Saul
Otto’s words rang in her ears. “I better not go,” he’d told them. “If I even see that son of a bitch Henderson, you’d be hard-pressed to keep me from tryin’ to kill him! You go ahead, and take care of Julie. I’m gonna call Mark Shannon—I told Henderson I was going to see him in jail, and by God, I meant it. And I got to get the hives straightened out, too.”
The hives, Karen thought. The hives that had almost killed Molly last week and Julie this morning. “We’ll have to get rid of the hives,” she said now, reluctantly abandoning the problem of Carl Henderson for the moment.
Russell shook his head at Karen’s statement. “We can’t just get rid of them,” he said. “We need them.”
“Need them?” Karen broke in. “With what’s happened? How can you even—”
“Now calm down,” Russell said, pulling into the clinic’s parking lot and sliding the car into a space near Carl Henderson’s Jeep. “Let’s just see what the situation is, okay?”
Karen said nothing, but as she got out of the car and hurried across the nearly empty lot, she knew she’d already made up her mind, no matter what arguments Russell might come up with.
By the end of the day, Carl Henderson would be in jail, and the hives would be off the farm.
The front door of the clinic stood open, but the waiting room—and the reception desk, too—were empty.
But of course they were—it wasn’t even seven in the morning yet!
“Where are they?” Kevin asked. “How come no one’s here?”
“They’ll be in the examining room,” Russell said, striding across the waiting area toward a closed door from behind which he could hear murmuring voices. Without knocking, he pushed the door open and went through, Karen right behind him.
Julie was stretched out on the examining table, Ellen Filmore hovering over her, checking her vital signs, just as a week ago she’d checked Molly’s.
Carl Henderson stood at the counter that ran the length of the far wall, his back to the door, his briefcase open in front of him.
I’ll know, Russell thought. The second I see his face, I’ll know if what Dad said is true. “Carl,” he said, his voice low.
Carl Henderson turned around. He’d known this moment was coming—had already been preparing for it in his mind even as he’d carried Julie into the clinic. Now he faced Russell and Karen, and knew by the looks on their faces that Otto had told them exactly what he’d seen. Instantly, he put on an expression of good-humored exasperation: just the slightest trace of a wry grin; a helpless shrug of his shoulders. “Obviously Otto told you about me raping Julie,” he said. As he’d hoped, both Karen and Russell looked totally nonplussed by the unexpected words. Henderson instantly pressed his advantage. “I think he may have actually gone around the bend this time.”
Karen opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly caught sight of Julie, lying on the examining table. Her words dying in her throat, she gazed at her daughter’s face.
It was flushed the same bright red as Molly’s had been a week ago, and three large welts were swelling on her neck. Her eyes were closed and her breath came in tortured gasps, just as Molly’s had.
“Have you given her anything yet?” she asked Ellen Filmore.
The doctor nodded. “The same things we tried on Molly last week.” Her eyes fixed on Julie. “She’s not responding to it any more than Molly did.”
Karen tried to stifle an anguished whimper as she relived in vivid detail Molly’s terrible ordeal on the day of the wedding. Next, they would take Julie to the airport and fly her to San Luis Obispo.
But even as the thought came into her mind, she heard Ellen Filmore speaking. “I need that antivenin now, Carl,” she snapped.
“Right here,” Carl said. He turned to his briefcase and handed Ellen Filmore a small, brown glass vial with a rubber top. Glancing briefly at the polysyllabic words identifying the vial’s contents, she looked up at Carl. “You’re sure this is it?” she demanded.
“I’m as sure as I can be,” Henderson replied. “It’s what the pharmaceutical guys gave me, and I was damned lucky to get it. It’s not supposed to be available except to the test hospitals for another three months, but when I told them about Molly, they let me have some in case she got stung again.”
Still, Ellen Filmore hesitated. If the stuff wasn’t even on the market yet, it meant the FDA hadn’t given final approval. And if something happened …
If Julie didn’t respond …
On the examining table, Julie’s whole body suddenly jerked spasmodically, and her breathing, which only moments ago had been labored but fairly strong, turned into the same kind of gasping rales that Molly had exhibited just before they put the airway in her throat.
Making up her mind, Ellen Filmore tore the paper from a disposable hypodermic, slid its point through the vial’s rubber cap, and drew a dose of the clear fluid into the instrument’s body. A moment later she slid the needle into the muscle of Julie Spellman’s upper arm and pressed the plunger.
All of them waited.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then Julie jerked again, and her chest heaved with her struggle to push air through her fast-closing throat.
Ellen Filmore picked up an airway that was already waiting on the counter.
“Is she dying?” Henderson asked quietly, barely able to mask the eagerness he was feeling. Die, Julie, die. Die, and I’ll be safe.
Not only safe, but with the monsters within him satisfied, at least for now.
“Not if I can help it,” the doctor replied. “But we might need your plane again.” Her eyes fixed on Julie for a second, and she shook her head. “If she even makes it that long,” she added, so quietly that only Carl could hear her. “Hold her head, Russell,” she said as she stepped back to Julie’s side. Russell moved into position at the end of the examining table, his hands on either side of Julie’s head, ready to hold it steady.
Karen, her face ghostly white, had taken one of Julie’s hands in both of her own. “Hang on, baby,” she whispered. “You can do it, Julie. Just keep listening to me!”
Then, just as Ellen Filmore was about to insert the airway through Julie’s mouth and down her throat, something changed.
The cherry-red color of her skin began to return to normal, and the swelling in her neck began to ease.
As the swelling went down, she began to breathe with a slow, even rhythm.
No more than ten seconds later, Julie’s eyes opened and she struggled to sit up.
“J-Julie?” Karen stammered, barely able to believe that the miracle was happening again.
Julie turned to look at her mother.
Something was wrong.
She felt hot, as if she were running a fever.
A high fever, the kind where your skin gets covered with sweat, and then suddenly you’re freezing cold.
But when she touched her own forehead, her skin felt dry.
Dry, and cool.
The chill hit her then, and she felt her whole body shiver.
A split second later the icy fingers released her from their grip.
And nausea clutched at her stomach.
What was happening to her?
Was she dying?
A terrible panic rose in Julie, and she opened her mouth to cry out for help, to beg the doctor to do something before she died.
But before the words could even be formed, Julie’s throat closed, and for a moment she thought she was going to strangle.
No! she screamed silently to herself. Don’t die! Relax … take a deep breath … Summoning her will to overcome the fear that was still building within her, Julie opened her mouth again, determined this time to get the words out, despite the horrifying strangling sensation that was once again gripping her throat.
“I—” she began. “I—” She reached out, and instantly her mother took her hand.
“What?” Karen asked. “Julie, what is it?”
Once again Julie tried to speak, and finally wor
ds came to her, words that she actually managed to utter.
Unbelievable words.
“I’m fine,” Julie heard herself say. Sliding off the examining table, she stood up. Immediately, her mother was at her side. A wave of dizziness hit her, but, like the horrible chill, it passed as quickly as it had come. “I—I just have to go to the bathroom.”
Once more feeling the heat of the fever, her stomach threatening to rebel at any second, Julie flung herself out of Karen’s embrace and hurried down the hall toward the bathroom. Karen rushed after her.
Molly and Kevin were waiting just outside the examining room door, and as Julie passed her, her younger sister looked up at her. “Are you going to have to spend the night in the hospital, like I did?” the little girl asked.
Her gorge rising, feeling as if she might faint at any second, Julie paused, but once more found herself saying words that had nothing to do with the reality of what was happening to her. “I’m fine,” she heard herself repeat. As her stomach heaved once more, she turned away. “I just have to go to the bathroom, that’s all.”
Moving past Molly and Kevin, with her mother right behind her, Julie rushed down the hall. “I’ll be okay, Mother,” she said when they were finally at the door to the bathroom. Worriedly, Karen searched her daughter’s face.
Was it really possible that she was all right? But only a couple of minutes ago … She left the thought hanging, unwilling to finish it, even in her mind. Then, as Julie was about to go into the bathroom, she once again remembered what Otto had told them just before they’d left the farm. “Julie,” she said, reaching out and laying a hand on her daughter’s arm. “Did Carl Henderson do anything to you?”
Julie gazed uncertainly at her mother. “Do something?” she repeated. “Do what?”
Now Karen hesitated, taking a deep, steadying breath. Julie was fifteen—nearly sixteen—and not naive. “Otto said when he found you, it looked as if Carl Henderson was trying to—well, trying to rape you.”
Julie’s eyes widened.
Rape her?
What was her mother talking about?
Why would Carl Henderson have tried to rape her?
“I really need to go into the bathroom, Mom,” she said.
“I’ll be right out.” Before her mother could say anything else, Julie slipped into the tiny cubicle that contained only a toilet, a sink, and a mirror, automatically locking the door behind her.
She knelt down on the cold tile floor, her head over the toilet, and felt bile rising in her throat.
In a second her mouth would fill with the foul-tasting fluid, and then the contents of her stomach would spew out from her mouth.
She waited, her mouth open, her body braced.
But the nausea passed as suddenly as it had come.
Julie waited a few moments, then stood up and stared at her image in the mirror.
Though she still felt hot with fever, though all her joints were aching, though she felt as if she were suffering from the worst flu she could ever remember—she looked absolutely normal.
Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks glowed with apparent good health.
She looked perfect.
But she felt terrible.
Then she remembered the strange words she’d spoken, telling everyone she was fine, even though she felt as though she was about to die.
What was happening to her?
Was she going crazy?
Her blood ran cold as a new thought formed in her mind.
Maybe she was crazy! Maybe she’d lost her mind.
A dream!
That was it! None of this was really happening at all! It was just some kind of nightmare, and if she pinched herself, she’d wake up!
She sank the fingernails of her right hand into the flesh of her left wrist, digging so deeply that the pain almost made her cry out.
A second later, though, as the pain began to fade, she still found herself caught in the nightmare.
She stared at herself once more.
Her eyes were still bright and clear, her skin still its normal color.
But inside, she felt as if some monster had taken over her body and invaded her mind, twisting at her guts and making her feel sicker than she ever had before, and attacking her brain, forcing her to lie, forcing her to pretend she was all right.
Then, still staring at her image in the mirror, she remembered what her mother had told her just before she’d come into the bathroom.
About Carl Henderson trying to rape her.
Suddenly she recalled the way he’d been staring at her at her mother’s wedding, and how creepy it had made her feel. But even then she hadn’t gotten the feeling that he was attracted to her.
In fact, it had been just the opposite—she’d felt, for some reason she couldn’t understand at all, that he hated her. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Carl Henderson raping her.
She couldn’t.
And yet, when she’d gone up to the hives looking for Otto, Carl Henderson had been there.
He’d been there, and … what?
He’d spoken to her, and she’d said something to him, and …
… and after that, all she could remember were the bees swarming out of the hives she’d knocked over, surrounding her.
Even now she could still hear the hum of their vibrating wings and feel them crawling on her skin.
She shuddered, instinctively trying to brush them away.
But they weren’t there! There was nothing there!
But she could feel them! She knew she could! Even as the panicky thoughts tumbled in her mind, the itchiness on her skin seemed to penetrate inside her, reaching all the way into her bones.
Terrified, she unlocked the door, pulled it open and stepped out into the hall, determined to tell her mother what was happening to her, how she felt, that she couldn’t remember if Carl Henderson had done anything to her.
As she started back toward the examination room, though, she felt her resolve already slipping away, as if something inside her were sapping her will as well as her strength. When she spoke, it was as if she’d lost control of her own words. “I’m done,” she said, her voice sounding unnaturally steady to her own ears, reflecting none of the turmoil that was churning within her. “Can we go home now?”
Karen hesitated. A wave of relief washed over her that her daughter looked none the worse for what had happened to her, but with part of her mind, she had a terrible feeling that something was wrong, that Julie couldn’t possibly have recovered so quickly. Then she thought she understood:
Shock.
Julie was in shock.
“In a little while,” she said gently. “But first, let’s have Dr. Filmore look you over, just to make certain you’re really all right, okay?”
A surge of hope rose in Julie. Despite her words, her mother hadn’t believed her. Now the doctor would find out how sick she really was and would help her! Eagerly, she smiled and nodded her agreement to the examination.
They went back to the treatment room. The men were no longer there, and Ellen Filmore was working on Julie’s medical record. Glancing up from her work, the doctor smiled briefly and was about to complete her notes when she suddenly found her eyes locking onto Julie, gazing at her in utter disbelief.
Only five minutes ago the girl had been on the examining table, unconscious, her neck grotesquely swollen, barely able to breathe.
Now she was standing in the doorway, smiling, and looking perfectly normal. This, as far as Ellen Filmore knew, was impossible. “Julie?” she asked. “How do you feel?”
Once again Julie struggled to tell the doctor the truth, carefully formulating the words in her mind.
Fever.
Chills.
Nausea.
But when she spoke, the nightmare world closed in on her once more: “I’m fine,” was all she could make herself say.
Ellen Filmore frowned. Fine? But that was impossible, given her condition a few minutes ago, and given what
Russell had told her while Julie had been in the bathroom. If Julie had been raped—or even come close to it—she might very well have gone into shock and closed down. “I think maybe I’ll be the judge of how ‘fine’ you are,” she told Julie gently, handing her an examination gown. “Why don’t you put this on and lie down again, and let me have a look?” As Julie started undressing, Ellen led Karen out into the hall and pulled the door closed. “Why don’t you stay with me while I look her over?” she asked. “And what, exactly, was Carl talking about when he said he guessed Otto had told you about him raping Julie?”
Trying to keep her emotions in check, Karen repeated what Otto had told them. “I asked Julie about it,” she said. “But she didn’t really answer me.”
“She could be in shock,” Ellen Filmore told her, confirming Karen’s own thoughts. “If what Otto said is true, she’ll remember it sooner or later, and I suspect I’ll also find some physical evidence of it. If not of actual penetration, at least there might be some soreness and bruises from a struggle.” She smiled encouragingly, but privately reflected that another possibility existed as well. There was still the chance that, as Carl Henderson had insisted, Otto Owen had completely misread the situation and there was no truth to his accusations at all. Together, the two women went back into the examining room, and Ellen Filmore began her examination of Julie, sticking a thermometer under her tongue and wrapping the cuff of a sphygmomanometer around her upper left arm.
She examined Julie’s tongue and peered down her throat.
She checked her eyes, and tapped her knees with a small rubber reflex hammer.
She examined her pelvic area for both penetration and bruises.
In the end Ellen Filmore shook her head.
“Well,” she sighed when she was finished, smiling wanly at Julie. “I’m not going to pretend I know how that antivenin worked, but you’re right. You are fine. And you’re darned lucky, too. If Carl Henderson hadn’t had that antitoxin, I’m not sure you would have made it at all, even if we’d been able to get you to San Luis Obispo.”
Julie felt a chill of pure terror pass through her.
The doctor must have found something! She must have! It wasn’t possible to feel this bad and look perfectly normal.