A young orderly came out of one of the storage closets, pushing a cart of supplies. She glanced at Charlie, stopped her cart, then looked at him again before moving on.
“That chick was totally cruising you!” exclaimed Diego.
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t know what “cruising” means? It means she was checking you out. She thinks you’re hot.”
“Na-ah.”
“Uh-huh!”
Diego punched him in the shoulder. Charlie tried to laugh it off, but something about the way the orderly had stared at him seemed strange.
After the physician’s assistant finished with the cast, Randall signed a stack of paperwork, making more right-handed jokes. Diego went to get the car, and Charlie waited near the nurse’s station.
“I have a message for you,” a voice said behind him.
He spun on his heels, only to find the same orderly staring at him from less than a foot away. She was bird-thin, quite short, and her eyes were caked with blue makeup. She looked to be about twenty years old.
“Can I show you?” she asked, gesturing to a patient room.
He turned and walked across the hallway after her.
‘Don’t go in that room!’ a voice inside his head screamed. Ignoring it, he followed her through the doorway.
Once inside the room, she closed the door. Her mouth lit into a strange smile, exposing tiny, plastic-looking green braces on her teeth. Charlie looked around. The two hospital beds were empty. There were machines plugged into the wall, and an I.V. stand stood in the corner. On the far wall, a window was open, and the blinds swung in the afternoon breeze, repeatedly hitting the window frame.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
“Grace said to say hi,” the orderly whispered. Then she threw herself at Charlie.
Before he could react to her attack, her bare fingers grasped his forearms and began to squeeze. She hissed her hot breath on him, and immediately he felt disoriented. He had the sense that he was falling, even though he was leaning back against the closed door. Darkness began to seep in around his eyes, and he thought he was going to pass out.
“Defend yourself!” he heard Daniel Burman’s voice shouting in his head.
Another voice answered, prim and reprimanding. “You’re not supposed to hit girls.”
He knew he should do something, but dizziness covered him as if someone had thrown a thick blanket over his head. He couldn’t think clearly.
The woman inhaled, preparing to breathe on him again.
“Now!” Rita Lostich screamed at him.
The Words came from nowhere, finding his mouth, moving his lips. He bared his teeth and shoved forward with all his might. Light from his hands flashed up into the orderly’s face, and her head jerked back as if she’d been punched in the chin.
Her grip on his arms, however, remained vice-like. She fell backward and pulled Charlie on top of her. He could not free his hands. As they tumbled to the floor, the woman opened her mouth and lunged at his face, trying to block his Words. Without thinking, he jerked his head to the side and pulled back. Her teeth, snapping at his neck, missed their mark and instead sank into Charlie’s right shoulder, biting through the cotton of his sweatshirt right down into his flesh.
Her head shook and she made grunting noises as she tore at his skin.
Nausea, and blackness. The pain was all-encompassing, as if it were a sound blasting through his ears, rendering him helpless. He opened his mouth and made a gargled screaming noise, which quickly faded as his remaining strength disappeared.
He knew that if he didn’t do something soon, she was going to kill him, this stupid, skinny orderly in an empty hospital room while his uncle waited for him out in the hallway. But the paralyzing effect of her spell, combined with the horrific pain of her teeth clamping onto and tearing at his shoulder, overpowered everything.
He tried to let the Words find him again, tried to concentrate the way Beverly had shown him. But the orderly’s grotesque biting, her grunts, her fingers draining his energy from him, the pain and shock blasting through his body, all of it rendered him helpless.
Then the door to the hospital room opened.
The orderly jerked her head away from his shoulder.
“Charlie, what are you…?” he heard Randall say behind his back as the man stepped into the doorway.
The orderly released her grip on Charlie’s forearms, slid out from underneath him, and shot four feet into the air, her body twisting and coiling like a rope tossed from a boat. She flung herself at Randall, who stood with his eyes wide open and mouth agape, unmoving, his left arm with its blue cast hanging at his side.
The nanosecond her fingers released Charlie’s arms, his mind cleared. Words found his mouth, and he felt a surge of white heat course through his body as his arms extended outwards from where he lay on the floor.
Just before the orderly’s outstretched fingers could grab Randall, the I.V. stand from the corner lurched forward and struck her in the hip, stopping her trajectory and sending her spinning into the far wall.
Charlie hopped to his feet and reached for Randall, pulling him inside the room and shutting the door.
The orderly’s body rebounded off the wall and shot headfirst toward Charlie’s chest.
More Words. Her body rose above their heads just before her shoes could crack into Randall’s skull. She was thrown against the opposite wall, toppling one of the bedside machines with a loud crash.
“What the…” Charlie heard Randall exclaim from behind him.
The orderly tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t function. A gash above her right eye bled, sending a thin red line down her cheek.
Surgical tape from a nurse’s tray sped through the air as Charlie’s lips continued to move. It made a loud ripping sound. In seconds, several lengths of the tape wrapped themselves around the woman’s hands, then bound her feet.
“You bastard!” she hissed at him. “We will eat you alive!”
More ripping, and the tape stuck itself in crude loops around her mouth, pinning her limp hair to the back of her head.
Charlie remembered something Rita had taught him. “It’s a good way to render someone helpless without hurting them,” she’d said.
The orderly’s voice now muffled by the tape, Charlie walked over to her and touched her pink-soled shoe the way Rita had taught him. Her body jerked once, then she sighed through her nostrils and fell unconscious against the bed.
“Charlie!” Randall said, his voice loud. Charlie turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, staring in disbelief.
“Quiet!” he hissed back at his uncle. “We’re leaving. Stay close to me as we walk down the hall. Don’t say anything to anybody.”
“But…but…where’s Diego?”
“He went to get the car. Follow me and don’t say a word!”
Charlie pulled his uncle behind him, opened the door, and looked out. He briefly wondered if Randall would protest Charlie taking charge, but then tossed the thought aside. Three nurses sat at their station, chatting and reading charts. They did not look over at the doorway. It appeared that no one had heard the crashes inside the room.
Charlie reached behind him and grabbed onto Randall’s good arm, pulling him swiftly from the room and its odor of musty wood. They walked down the hallway in the opposite direction of the nurses’ station.
Avoiding the elevators, the pair snuck through a door marked EXIT and walked down the back staircase, the squeaky sound of their sneakers echoing off the walls. The smell of fresh paint in the stairwell nearly made Charlie gag. It seemed like the flights of stairs would never end. Step after interminable step, his senses buzzed on high alert for any sound or movement ahead of or behind them. Charlie was sure that at any minute a group of witches would jump from around the corner, teeth bared, biting and tearing into Randall’s and his shoulders until they were reduced to bloody corpses on the floor. It took all his willpower not to run screaming down the stairs an
d out of the hospital.
But Randall’s heavy breathing behind him helped him to focus, and reminded him of his main responsibility: to get his uncle safely out of the building, to make sure Diego was alright, then to get the three of them in the car and back to West Seattle as quickly as possible.
The relief he felt when they stepped outside into the gray afternoon light was so great that he gasped.
He pulled Randall forward until they were walking side by side.
“Just keep moving. Look normal. Stay by my side and we’ll find Diego,” Charlie muttered to his uncle, who nodded.
They walked along a cement path that led through a small garden, and then rounded a corner to the emergency entrance.
Diego leaned against Randall’s parked car, tapping his foot and looking up at the hospital’s upper floors. One of his arms was crossed over his chest, while the thumb of his free hand pressed keys on his mobile phone. He appeared to be completely safe.
More relief. A part of him wanted to run to the boy and throw his arms around him. But he knew he couldn’t arouse any suspicions, and, so far in their relationship, Charlie had never run to Diego and begged for a hug like a frightened child. It would definitely look strange. Instead, he scrunched up the shoulder of his sweatshirt to hide the hole that the orderly had made, and walked to the car.
“What took you guys so long? I’ve been texting you. Why are you coming out the side door?”
“Oh, uh, Randall had a strange reaction to the medicine,” Charlie said. “It made him start groaning and shaking.”
He looked at his uncle, who was staring straight back at him. Charlie nudged him in the side.
Randall’s face, which looked shell shocked, softened. He made a semi-convincing groaning sound, then moved his shoulders in a way that Charlie supposed could have looked like a shudder.
Diego bought it hook, line, and sinker. “Oh my God! What are you doing outside the hospital? Shouldn’t a doctor be looking at you?”
“No, it’s all right,” Randall said. His voice was actually shaking for real this time, adding authenticity to the charade. “They uh, told me to go home and…”
“And rest. They told him to go home and rest,” Charlie continued. “They said it’s normal, and he’ll be, uh….”
“Right as rain,” Randall finished.
Diego drove them home, mostly in silence, though he told a few family stories, of uncles or cousins who had broken arms and legs while working on the farm in Yakima. “You should be fine,” Diego said at the end of each story, as if the fact that his own family members had survived meant a sure recovery for Randall.
“Yeah, should be just fine.” Randall’s face clouded as he watched the trees going by.
Chapter 74
The pain in Charlie’s shoulder lessened as Beverly fed him a hot broth and rubbed his skin with a pale-colored unguent. “She did break through the skin, but there’s no bone showing, and I don’t think she tore any muscle. This stuff will stave off infection, as well as rabies. You should be okay,” she said, peering closely at his bare chest.
Charlie was relieved. It felt like the orderly had ripped his shoulder to shreds. Beverly placed her hands on the sides of his head and shut her eyes.
“Other than draining you some, she didn’t leave a trace of anything in you. This broth will help you regain your strength and take away most of the pain.”
In a way, Randall was lucky. The attack on Charlie diverted Beverly’s attention to her nephew. She seemed to have momentarily forgotten about her husband’s antics and how they resulted in a broken bone. All she did when they arrived home was give him a quick look, touch his arm with her hands, then nod.
“The doctors did a good job,” she said to her husband, her tone icy, before turning her back on him and ministering to Charlie’s injury.
When Charlie finished his soup and put his shirt back on, the three of them talked about what happened at the hospital. Beverly was most concerned with how the orderly flew through the air, bouncing off walls without seeming to be injured.
“It’s not like witches have indestructible bones,” she said, glancing at Randall’s wrist with narrowed eyes. “We’re just like you in that regard.”
“But I thought you told me certain witches could fly,” said Charlie. “Why does this surprise you, then?”
“Because witches like that are quite powerful in their own right. They tend to live clustered together, or far away from most humans. Their abilities far surpass just being able to fly. They wouldn’t be working in a minimum-wage job at a hospital.
“Besides,” she continued, glancing at Charlie’s shoulder, “if she really were that powerful, you would have been no match for her.”
“So she must be one of the echoes in Grace’s network,” Randall said.
“That’s what I think too. And,” his aunt took a breath and turned to her husband, “if you hadn’t broken your damned wrist, you wouldn’t have put the boys and yourself in harm’s way!”
They began to argue, which Charlie took as a cue to go upstairs and lie down on his bed. He was tired from the afternoon’s activities, in more ways than one. His eyelids felt heavy.
He had had his first real fight with someone. It was terrifying. But he had to admit that it was exciting too. He wish he’d been faster when she lunged at him, but was glad to know the reason his reactions were slow was because she’d drained him, not because he choked in fear. He could still feel how his instincts kicked in once she let go of his arms and stopped the drain. All that training he’d been doing in the last month had paid off.
Beverly thanked him profusely for saving Randall’s life and for fighting so well. Her praise was tempered by her concern for any injuries he might have sustained. But it was good to hear. He couldn’t wait to tell Rita and Daniel how he fought the witch and eventually subdued her, and how their voices were in his head, helping him. Well, he’d tell Rita, anyway. He could imagine her giving him high fives and making the “Woot! Woot!” noises she did to encourage him. Daniel, on the other hand, would probably just stare him down before saying, “You were lucky. Next time there might be five attackers. What will you do then?”
He yawned and stretched out on his bed, letting his eyes close.
In the dream, he stood in the doorway looking in at his first grade classroom back in Clarkston. His uncle Randall was the teacher, though his face kept changing, turning into Old Mailman Bob who used to deliver to their house when Charlie was little. Bob used to slip Charlie a candy or two from his pocket whenever his mom wasn’t looking.
Randall/Mailman Bob walked over to him and invited him into the classroom.
“But the desks are too small,” Charlie said.
“No they aren’t. See for yourself.”
Charlie poked his head inside, and saw many adults from the witch community sitting at full-sized desks, taking notes and looking very serious. But somehow Charlie knew it wouldn’t work for him.
“Don’t be so shy,” said Randall/Mailman Bob, handing him a green apple candy.
“I’m not shy anymore,” Charlie answered, popping the candy in his mouth and stepping into the classroom. As the sweetness spread out along his tongue, he moved to an empty desk in the back. When he looked down at his feet he saw that he was wearing roller skates.
“It’s a good way to get around school,” said Diego, who was sitting in a desk to his right. He wore nothing except for a pair of white underpants. Charlie wanted to tell him to put his clothes on, but the candy had stuck to his tongue, preventing him from opening his mouth.
He tried to sit down, but just as he’d feared, the desk was too small. His knees wouldn’t fit under the table. He ended up sitting atop the desk with his legs hanging over the side.
When he looked up, he saw that all the other students in the classroom, except for Diego, had become little kids. They were taking a test.
“Keep your eyes on your own paper, only answer questions in Sections Three and Fou
r, and whatever you do, no witchcraft,” said the teacher from the front of the room.
The teacher was now the orderly from the hospital, her braces gleaming bright green under the fluorescent lights. Randall/Mailman Bob was nowhere to be seen. The orderly walked up and down the aisles, watching the children as they filled in little circles on their exam papers with Number Two pencils. Occasionally she would bend over and bite one of the kids on the shoulder, causing them to burst and then deflate like a popped water balloon. Each time a kid exploded, all the other children would laugh and point at the pile of wet, deflated skin on the floor.
Horrified, Charlie wanted to do something, to somehow protect the kids, but the sticky candy prevented him from opening his mouth to find any Words. Furthermore, he found that he’d sunk down into the seat of the desk, and had become completely entangled. He couldn’t move his arms or his legs, and the roller skates on his feet kept sliding out from under him each time he tried to stand up. He wiggled back and forth, trying to break free.
Hearing a noise to his right, he looked over and saw the orderly with her mouth locked on Diego’s. They were kissing. Charlie could see their tongues going in and out of each other’s mouths. Diego pulled his head back and looked at him.
“I’m not gay anymore,” he whispered to Charlie, just as the orderly sank her teeth into Diego’s shoulder. Charlie watched in terror as he burst in an explosion of water. His skin shrank and slithered to the floor like a wet plastic bag.
“Now we can talk,” the orderly said to him.
Charlie bolted upright in bed. He looked around for the biting witch, but saw only his bedroom. As the details of the dream began to fade, he tried to hold on to them. He’d seen something, or nearly seen something. Something important. It was like the dream he’d had about the kids on the truck being chased by the German shepherds. Something was going to happen, but he didn’t know what.
“Ding-dong,” rang the front door. He heard voices in the hallway downstairs.
Chapter 75
“What I don’t understand is where the hell you’ve been!” Beverly was saying as Charlie stood inside his bedroom doorway and listened to the voices in the foyer. He wondered who she was talking to.
The Boy Who Couldn't Fly Straight (The Broom Closet Stories) Page 43