“They’re Mom’s rules. I try to respect them. Because I love her. Isn’t that why you followed your mother’s rules?”
“Yes. But my mother would never sacrifice my life for a book. She saved my life.”
“Have you ever considered that’s what you might be doing?”
Emma stared at Joanna for a moment, but the young woman’s face betrayed nothing. “No, that can’t be. Isis is going to kill her.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Do you know?”
“We’ve already been over that.” Joanna patted Emma’s shoulder. “I brought you here because I knew you needed hope. Everything’s not lost. Not yet. There’s still time.”
“Time. You could send me back to my time and maybe I could stop her before this.”
“I can’t do that. Things have to play themselves out.”
“It was just a thought.”
Joanna smiled slightly in response to this. “I wish things could be so easy.” She helped Emma stand up again. “I won’t lie to you. It’s not going to be easy. But if you persevere and remember what I told you, then you can still beat her.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Emma looked down at the sandbox. “I guess it’s time for me to go back then. Thank you for all of your help.”
“It’s been my pleasure.” Her pale cheeks turned red. “Talking to you is like having Mom back—at least for a few minutes.”
Emma tried to think of something to say, but then decided to give Joanna a hug instead. The hug went on longer than she intended; Joanna kept hold of her even after she was ready to let go. Then the younger woman must have realized what she was doing and finally took a step back. “Good luck,” she said.
Emma stepped into the sandbox and felt the sand pull her down. She managed a slight wave to Joanna before she disappeared. The girl waved back, tears in her eyes.
***
When she opened her eyes, she expected to feel the same haze of pain as before she’d passed out in the museum. Instead, she found her body as numb as when she’d fled from the assassin at the Plastic Hippo. Her head felt as if it were filled with helium while her mouth felt as dry as Joanna’s sandbox.
She stared at a beige wall with a window in the center of it. At the moment tan curtains kept more than a dull yellow glow from getting through. At first she thought the beeping and hissing she heard was from outside, but then she realized it was much too loud for that. With a colossal effort she managed to tilt her head a few degrees to see the machines beside her.
She was in the hospital. That came as somewhat of a surprise given the state Isis had left her in at the museum. The thought of Isis prompted her to try to sit up, but she couldn’t do more than raise her head an inch above the pillow.
Through the numbness she felt a hand touch her head. “Easy now,” Dr. Pavelski whispered into her ear. “It’s going to be a long time before you get out of bed.”
Emma tried to say something, but she couldn’t make more than a sort of dry retching sound. A few moments later she saw Dr. Pavelski squat down level with her and hold out a cup of water with a straw. The doctor guided the straw to Emma’s mouth so she could gulp down the water. Emma pulled on the straw until she sucked the cup dry.
Her throat felt moist enough then that she could say, “What happened?”
“Your friends found you at the museum and brought you here. Someone beat you up pretty bad. We did what we could for you.”
This last sentence sounded ominous to Emma’s ears. She thought of the numbness she felt in her body and compared this to what Isis had said. “How bad?”
“I’m not going to lie, Emma. It’s pretty bad. So bad I’m surprised you’re alive right now, let alone conscious and talking. By all rights you should be on a cart in the basement or at least on life support.” The doctor smiled. “You’re one tough chick.”
If she could have, Emma would have shaken her head. It wasn’t that she was tough; Isis wanted her to live and to be fully aware so she could watch her friends die—and then Louise. “Louise?”
“She’s outside, with the others. She’s been here the whole time.”
“How long?”
“Sixteen hours.” Dr. Pavelski shook her head. “You should have been out a lot longer than that, trust me.”
“Thanks for cheering me up.”
“Yeah, well, I wish I had better news for you.” The doctor took a deep breath. “I’m afraid there’s a lot of nerve damage. Your spine was completely severed below the fifth and sixth vertebrae.”
Emma knew what this meant. With those nerves severed, she wouldn’t be able to walk. She was crippled. Tears formed in her eyes but she couldn’t do anything to wipe them away. Dr. Pavelski did this for her and shed a few tears of her own. “I’m so sorry, Emma.”
“Not your fault.”
“It’s not all bad. Once the wounds have healed and the swelling goes down, we might be able to repair some of the damage. And there are robotic enhancements, stem cells, and experimental procedures we can try. So, this doesn’t have to be forever, OK?”
“I understand.”
“I’m going to send Louise in for just a few minutes. Then I want you to get some rest. Later, once some of these drugs we pumped into you have worn off, we’ll talk about your options.”
“Thank you.”
The doctor nodded to her and then stood up to leave. Emma heard her footsteps retreat followed by the door creaking open. Her options. While she appreciated Dr. Pavelski’s attempt to cheer her up, she knew she wouldn’t get time to employ any of these options. Isis would kill her long before that.
She thought back to her conversation with Joanna and tried to tell herself all wasn’t lost yet. This didn’t provide much comfort at the moment.
***
In the ten hours since Mom had gotten out of surgery and been moved to intensive care, Louise had gotten to know every inch of the waiting room. For an entire hour she’d stared at a spot of coffee on the blue tile floor shaped like a fish.
Renee stayed with her throughout her vigil; she usually kept an arm around Louise’s shoulders. A few times Renee had gotten up to fetch coffee or sandwiches from the cafeteria. Louise drank the coffee but refused the sandwiches, not at all hungry. “You should eat something,” Renee told her. Louise only stared at the floor in response.
She felt partially responsible for what had happened. Just that night she’d been worried her mother worked too hard; she should have made sure Mom didn’t go back to the museum. Instead she’d been out with Renee at the Brass Drum and then at the diner, where she’d fallen asleep while someone broke into the museum and beat Mom to a pulp.
Everyone had tried to tell her it wasn’t her fault: Renee, Aggie, and even that fat traitor Becky. The latter had shown up a few hours ago after she took a redeye flight from Washington. Megan Putnam was in the waiting room too, along with her friend Amanda, though they largely kept to themselves.
The only one who hadn’t shown up yet was Dan. Aggie had tried to call him, but no one answered the phone. Louise figured he was probably out with his new daughter with his phone turned off. Or so she hoped. The other scenario was that whoever had attacked Mom might have kidnapped Dan—or killed him. Amanda had sent a car over to his house, but they hadn’t found any sign of him; the detective promised the police would continue to look.
As the hours crept by, the pragmatic side of Louise’s brain set to work on the horrible calculations. How long could she keep Mom in a coma before she pulled the plug? That was one of the scenarios they had discussed along with the disposal of Mom’s remains. “I don’t want to be a vegetable,” Mom said.
“I wouldn’t pull the plug on you. I couldn’t kill you.”
“It wouldn’t be killing me. I’d already be dead.”
Louise had to grudgingly agree with this. Mom’s brain had always been her primary attribute; what would she be without it? That in turn prompted Louise to worry about what would happen if Mom
lived but suffered brain damage. What if she couldn’t feed or dress herself or do any number of “normal” things again? How would Louise take care of her? That was a decision she’d hoped to put off for another twenty or thirty years, but she might have to face the grim reality much sooner.
As she looked at the fish-shaped spot on the floor, Dr. Pavelski squatted down in front of her. The doctor had visited them a few times to update them on Mom’s condition, mostly to tell them they would have to wait and see. This time Dr. Pavelski smiled slightly at her. “She’s awake,” the doctor said.
“She is?”
“Yes.”
“And is she…normal?”
“From what I can tell there isn’t any brain damage, but it’s really too early.”
“Oh. Can I see her?”
“Yes, but just for a few minutes. She’s still very groggy.”
“I understand.”
Louise tried to stand up, but Dr. Pavelski grabbed her shoulder to push her back down. “There’s something you have to know first.”
“What is it?”
“Well, like I was telling her, she’s suffered a lot of nerve damage. Her spine—”
“She’s paralyzed?”
“Partially.”
“How partially?”
“Her legs at least. It’s too early to tell about her upper extremities.” Louise sat in stunned silence while Dr. Pavelski said, “There are treatments we can try after the wounds have healed. Robotic enhancements—”
“Mom’s not going to want those.”
“There are stem cell treatments and other options.” The doctor sighed and shook her head. “Look, this isn’t final. Not with someone as strong as your mom. There’s every chance she can beat this thing to live a normal life.”
When she looked into the doctor’s eyes, Louise saw how red they were from the hours of surgery and monitoring Mom’s condition, and some tears as well. And here she was still trying to cheer Louise up. Louise felt a surge of guilt for how critical she’d been of Dr. Pavelski in the past. “Thanks, Doctor.”
Dr. Pavelski let her finally stand up. Renee gave her a pat on the back as if she were a baseball player going up to pinch-hit. Louise’s legs stiffened as she walked across the room, so that she limped along almost like Mom had before the attack—something she might never do again.
Louise tried not to dwell on this. As Dr. Pavelski had said, there were options. This didn’t have to be forever. With a deep breath, she turned the knob to open the door.
They had Mom on her side to face away from the door. This allowed Louise to see the bandages that showed through the flimsy back of Mom’s gown. Some of those bandages were still stained with blood. This prompted Louise to put a hand to her mouth. She froze in place, suddenly unsure of what to do.
“Louise?” Mom called out softly.
“I’m here, Mom,” she said. She forced herself to go around the bed to face her mother. Despite the damage to the rest of her body, her face had remained almost untouched. The only change was that they’d hastily chopped off her hair so it wouldn’t interfere with the surgery to her back. Louise bent down to stroke the gray down that remained on her mother’s scalp.
She knew better than to ask how Mom felt. That was self-explanatory from the bandages, the shorn hair, and the machines around her bed. She also knew better than to say things would be all right, despite what Dr. Pavelski had said. “I’m here,” she said again.
“Louise—”
She waited for her mother to say something else, but she didn’t. “What is it, Mom?”
“You can’t do it. Promise you won’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“Follow the voices. Don’t follow them.”
“Voices? What voices?”
In her mother’s eyes, Louise saw something much worse than The Glare. This was a look of pure terror. “Someone you love—someone gone—will talk to you. Don’t follow them. Promise you won’t.”
“Mom, I don’t understand.”
“You can’t make the mistake I did. Promise you won’t.”
“I promise, but I don’t understand—”
“Tell Aggie to find a safe place for you.”
“Aggie? But—”
“Tell her!” This was the first time Louise had ever heard Mom raise her voice, which convinced her things were even worse than they appeared. The outburst caused Mom to cough until Louise grabbed a cup of water from beside the bed. She put the straw to Mom’s lips and wondered if this was how things would be forever, or at least the foreseeable future. Mom drained the cup and then said, “She can help you.”
“OK, Mom.”
Mom managed to nod her head slightly and then closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, baby,” she said. If not for the steady beep of the heart monitor, Louise would have thought her mother had passed away. And maybe she had; maybe she wouldn’t wake up this time.
Louise tousled Mom’s hair one last time and then leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “It’s going to be all right,” she whispered. She hoped Mom heard her.
When she returned to the waiting room, she knew something was wrong when she saw that cow Becky sobbing on Aggie’s shoulder. Before Louise could ask what had happened, Amanda put a hand on her shoulder. “The word just came over the radio. They found Dr. Dreyfus’s body.”
Chapter 18
After her first full day of work at Harmon-Farmer, Cecelia’s body—Maria’s body really—felt worse than when she’d jumped out of a Blackhawk helicopter over Mogadishu and broken her left arm, leg, and collarbone. All she wanted was to soak in a tub of hot water, but she knew Sue’s apartment wouldn’t have such a thing. If she had more money she could rent a real hotel for the night, but then if she had more money she wouldn’t have bothered with this job.
Instead of home, Sue dragged her to the corner and then hailed a cab. When Cecelia tried to protest, Sue said, “Come on, when was the last time you ate a real meal?”
“I don’t remember.”
“We’ll go get both of you a square dinner.”
“I can’t afford much—”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve socked away plenty of cash.”
Once they were in a cab, Cecelia asked, “If you have money, why are you living in a dump in the Trenches?”
“I don’t really need anything more than that.”
“But still, aren’t you afraid of getting mugged or something?”
“Are you trying to say you want to stay somewhere else tonight?”
Yes! Cecelia wanted to scream. She thought it best not to alienate her only ally, though. “No, I’m just worried about you.”
“That’s sweet, kid, but I’ve been taking care of myself longer than you’ve been alive.”
Cecelia doubted that, but didn’t say anything. She adjusted herself on the seat and tried to find a comfortable position for her swollen body.
“Hey, kid, are you all right?” Sue asked.
Cecelia turned to see the older woman give her a concerned look. Cecelia flashed what she hoped was a comforting smile. “Sorry, I’m a little tired.”
“Well come on, you can take a load off inside.”
Cecelia recognized Malloy’s Steakhouse, once the premiere eatery in the city. At this time it hadn’t yet begun its long decline until it eventually shut its doors in the ‘70s. To get a table at Malloy’s at this time would require a call days in advance. She stayed close to Sue, who strolled right up to the maitre d’ and said, “Hey, Burt. I need an extra chair tonight.” Sue glanced at Cecelia from the corner of her eye. “Maybe make it two extra chairs.”
Cecelia braced for Burt to laugh Sue out of the restaurant, but he only nodded and said, “Right away, Miss Johnson.”
Burt led them to a corner table at the back of the restaurant. Not ideal real estate for most people, but for a trained assassin its location in the back and its placement near the kitchen made it an excellent table. Sue took the chair that faced the other diners, the chair C
ecelia would have preferred so she could see any threats approach. She had to sit to Sue’s right, where she was about five steps from the kitchen should she need to make a quick getaway. Though with how tired and swollen her feet felt, she doubted she could make it.
A middle-aged waiter came up to the table with a mug of beer. “Your usual, ma’am.” The waiter turned to her. “Could I fetch something for the young lady?”
Cecelia would have liked a mug of beer, or preferably something stronger, but she was pregnant. Though she doubted the waiter or Sue would so much as raise an eyebrow in this time, she figured Maria Costopolous’s kid would have it rough enough already without adding fetal alcohol syndrome to the list. “A glass of milk, please.”
“Right away.”
Once the waiter had gone, Sue took a sip of her beer. “So, you have any other problems with Gert today?”
“No,” Cecelia said. After lunch, Gert had stayed away from her, though Gert had given her the evil eye a couple of times. This didn’t bother Cecelia, who knew how to really give someone the evil eye.
“Maybe she’ll come around in time.”
“I doubt it.”
“You aren’t much better than her if you think that.”
“You want me to be some kind of sap? People don’t change.” She’d prayed for years that her foster parents would change, that her father would stop his abuse or her mother might wake up to save her. That never happened. In the end she had to save herself, though it was really the Headmistress who saved her that night.
“That’s pretty cynical for a girl your age.”
“Maybe I’m wise beyond my years.”
“Yeah, I thought that when I was your age too.” Sue took another sip of beer. “Then I learned better.”
“So what do you think I should do? Bring her flowers?”
“Just be patient with her. With all the others.” Sue leaned back in her chair to yawn, which only reminded Cecelia of how tired she felt. “It hasn’t been easy for any of them. A lot of them have husbands, boyfriends, sons, or what have you in the war. And not everyone’s been as good as Dugan in rolling the red carpet out for us.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little ironic then?”
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis Page 83