Instinct

by Mattie Dunman

  “Thank you. You saved me.” Opening my eyes, I reach out and take his hand, giving a grateful squeeze. His eyes blaze with emotion and he just nods, looking away after a moment and taking a deep, balancing breath.

  Having no idea how long I’ve been out or what’s happened since, I glance around the room as much as possible without moving. To my right, I can see Shockey and my vision nearly goes black with terror, but after a moment I register he is still unconscious, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. I almost ask if he is dead, but I remember what Jake first said and breathe easier. The computers on the desk above Shockey are a mess, on their sides, the keyboards drooping listlessly over the lip of the table. The desks along the front wall of the room are fine, untouched, and I pray my phone is still there.

  “Jake. My phone is over there, behind my computer. Can you get it?”

  He disappears and I can hear him fumbling around with the equipment before he drops back down next to me, holding the phone out. I take it carefully and look at the screen, blinking against the stab of light that seems to pierce through the soft tissue of my brain. The recorder is long since turned off, but I flip through the files until I find the one I need.

  I hit play and my own voice comes out clearly, starting the conversation that led to me lying battered and bruised on the floor. I mean to turn it off before it can get too far, but Jake hears the mention of Miranda and goes stiff, staring down at me incredulously. The recording plays through about half of my fight with Shockey before cutting off.

  Jake looks down at the phone for a moment and takes a deep breath. Without a word, he stands and takes a step toward Shockey’s inert body and I know without a doubt he is closing in for a killing blow.

  “Jake no, you don’t need to. He’s going to jail, he’ll be punished,” I croak, desperately trying to get to my feet, ignoring the sick spinning in my head and the spike of pain in my side. Before I manage to do much more than groan, another taller figure steps through the now-propped open door.

  “I am going to use this situation for my re-election campaign,” a commanding voice booms, halting Jake in his tracks as though he has walked into a wall. Geoffrey Wise towers over me, his designer suit without a crease or wrinkle, hair gelled back into a careful wave, making him look like he’s just walked off the factory line.

  “Jake, I said come here.” The words hit again with a mixture of dominance and an unexpected sense of contentment. Nothing can go wrong if I just listen to that voice.

  Jake slowly stirs, his feet dragging as he turns away from the body and toward his father, his movements almost robotic. When Jake is safely out of the way behind his father, Geoffrey turns his attention to me.

  “I’m glad to see you’re still with us, Derry. You’re far too valuable to lose through carelessness.” The tone of his voice is right, but words are jarringly callous. Still, my skin is quiet, and I know he means what he says.

  That’s what worries me.

  Glancing around, I realize who is missing. “Where’s Cole? He was supposed to be here, that’s why I…”

  “Yes, yes, well,” Geoffrey interrupts, ignoring the rumble of frustration from his son. “Cole got held up by the principal when he tried to sneak onto school grounds. By the time he arrived on the scene, Jake had already taken care of everything, so I told him to go home.”

  Betrayal and disappointment snake through my gut, almost overtaking the discomfort in my head and ribs. I never imagined Cole wouldn’t come for me, that he would let me down. Tears leak from my burning eyes and I close them, too tired to deal with any more drama, too tired to think of all the consequences.

  The sounds of rolling wheels and loud voices penetrate the haze of self-pity and I open bleary eyes to see a paramedic drop down next to me, checking my vital signs, prodding the knot on my head, pressing careful hands on my ribs.

  “Mayor Wise pays me to steal medical records,” the younger of the two says, his eyes soft and comforting despite the venal curve to his lips. The other EMT has finished examining Shockey, who is now making incoherent sounds of waking. My pulse leaps and I begin to shake, sending needles of pain through my chest and head.

  “Terry, get him out of here. I think she’s having a panic attack,” my paramedic says, gently putting an oxygen mask over my face and telling me to breathe.

  Things are blurry and fast for a while, and by the time I’m lucid again, I am on a stretcher, a neck brace tucked around me. Two police officers, one of whom took my statement about Nicole just the day before, are wandering around, taking notes and talking to Jake. The familiar officer, whose name I think is Sowers, catches my eye and gives me an encouraging smile.

  “The mayor is telling us how to handle the crime scene,” he says, giving me an awkward pat on the arm. I don’t know what to say in response, sure whatever he’s really telling me is not even close to what I heard. I glance around, looking for Jake and his father, but they are nowhere to be seen as I am rolled out of the room and down the hallway.

  “I don’t want to go to the hospital,” I whisper, but no one pays any attention to me and I am loaded unceremoniously into the ambulance.

  I thought my head was hurting before, but I have never felt pain like this, bumping unmercifully as the ambulance hurtles over every pothole with the speed of a wild horse. The sirens scream all around me, searing the inside of my skull with the kind of hurt that makes it impossible to think. I am beginning to wish Shockey had succeeded in killing me.

  As though thinking his name conjured him, I look to my right and see him lying there, strapped to his own gurney, a paramedic working to stabilize him. Evidently they are afraid he punctured a lung when Jake hurled him across the room.

  Even knowing Shockey is incapacitated, that handcuffs chain him to the gurney, I am chill with fear. His eyes are open and fixed on me with such intense hatred I know if he ever gets the chance again, he will murder me.

  My paramedic sees what I’m looking at and steps between us, tossing a glare over his shoulder. “I’m so sorry we had to bring him on the same trip; he’s banged up even worse than you and we didn’t want to wait. I won’t let him near you honey,” he says reassuringly. Despite what I know about his illicit activities for the mayor, I am comforted. He hasn’t left my side once and has kept up a steady train of pleasant chatter to distract me, whether I have been conscious or not.

  I give him a weary smile and then close my eyes, but I can still feel the heat of Shockey’s hatred eating up all the oxygen until there is nothing left to breathe but the poisonous remains.

  By the time we reach the hospital and I am processed, stuck back in the exact same room I occupied in the emergency room only a week before, I have reached a kind of numb acceptance. The nurses are calling it shock, but I know that’s not it. I was shocked when I found Nicole, when I dragged her dead body out of a frozen river. Nothing can shock me after that.

  My mother arrives before long, her face streaked with tears, a frenzied look in her eyes. Guilt stabs me through when I realize what she must have been through hearing I am in the hospital after nearly dying yet again. The nurses have to hold her back while they finish putting in IVs and getting ice for my throat. Once I’m relatively settled, waiting for them to bring in the portable x-ray machine to check my ribs and neck, Mom is allowed to take a seat next to me, her hand trembling as she takes mine.

  “I can’t survive losing you,” she says quietly, and I know whatever she has really said would mean less to me than these words. So often I feel that she only puts up with me because of my gift and the benefits it brings her. There are many times that I question whether she really loves me or if she resents me for being the tool that destroyed her marriage. But I see in her eyes, feel in the peace under my skin, hear in her accidental honesty she does love me, in her own way.

  “I love you too, Mom,” I whisper.

  “I’ll kill that dirty sonofabitch,” Mom growls under her breath as the doctor inventories my injuries, which are
n’t really all that bad considering. My neck is bruised and covered in small lacerations from Shockey’s nails, but thankfully he didn’t have enough strength to do any permanent damage to my trachea. I am covered in contusions and muscles I didn’t know existed are clamoring for attention, including my heavily bruised side, but the most serious injury is a mild concussion.

  “Yes, well,” the doctor says, looking uncomfortable at the naked fury in my mother’s eyes. “We’ll want to keep Derry here overnight, just for observation. She’ll need someone checking on her vitals periodically and can only sleep in short bursts for the next twenty-four hours.”

  With a groan I reach up my free hand to rub the bridge of my nose, although it brings me no relief. The last thing I want is to be stuck in this hospital again, particularly when the man responsible for me being here is somewhere down the hall, hooked up to his own life-saving machines.

  “Alright,” Mom sighs, getting to her feet. She follows the doctor out to sign the admission forms and I am alone for the first time since the fight. The pulse monitor hooked up to my middle finger beeps steadily, and after a while the repetition lulls me into a drowsy state of indifference. When Mom returns I am barely awake, so she sits in the chair next to my bed and in a soft voice tells me about the antiques auction she is going to next week, describing the pieces she’s going to try for, who she hopes to sell them to.

  Eventually I drop off, only to be woken an hour later to give my statement to Officer Sowers, who is much gentler with his questions than the last time.

  “And you say you have all of this on tape?” he asks eagerly.

  “Yes, on my phone. I don’t know what happened to it,” I reply with sudden anxiety.

  “It’s fine, we have it in evidence. You told us at the scene, though you were a little incoherent.” He gives me a kindly smile and I relax, knowing that recording is my ace in the hole.

  “Okay. Yeah, he told me about Cathy. And raping Miranda.” I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat. It hurts.

  “And then he attacked you?”

  “Right.” I force my attention back on the moment. “Some of the fight is on the recording too.”

  Sowers gives me a calculating look. “Why do you think he told you all that? I mean, it’s pretty unusual for someone to just dump a confession on a kid.”

  This is where things get tricky. “I don’t know really. I just asked, and he answered. People tend to tell me things,” I say, knowing I’m being cagey, but seeing no way around it.

  Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Sowers resumes his questions, retrieving details from me about the fight and how Jake fit into the picture.

  “How did Jake find me in time?” I asked, finally lucid enough to start wondering about his father’s presence at the school.

  “He said he left his backpack behind and came back for it. Apparently he heard sounds of a struggle and joined in just in time.”

  I remember Jake rushing after Cathy when the class ended and bless whatever hand of fate made him forget his bag. I have no doubt that I would be dead by now if he hadn’t returned, and as much as the debt makes me uncomfortable, I’d rather be alive to repay it.

  “Why was the mayor there?”

  Sowers shrugs and puts his notebook and pen away. “Apparently Jake called him after calling 911. His dad beat us there.”

  Unsure of how to respond to this information, I change tactics.

  “How’s the investigation into Nicole’s death going?” I ask, wondering if I might be able to get more out of Sowers than I have from Radcliffe, who has avoided me like the plague since our little conversation at the funeral home.

  “You know I can’t really talk to you about an ongoing investigation,” Sowers chides gently. I turn my bruised face toward him, my eyes full of plea. He sighs and leans forward, speaking quietly. “But between us, not so great. The coroner has removed the accidental death ruling, but unless we can find where Nicole was injured, or link it to someone it’s difficult to move forward.”

  I can hear the frustration in his voice and take heart. “What about Phillip? I’ve told you all that his car was there moments before I found Nicole; can’t you search it or something?”

  Sowers just shakes his head. “Your word is not enough for a warrant. There’s nothing that ties him to Nicole just now. We’ll keep an eye out, but it doesn’t look good.”

  Smiling sadly, I nod, recognizing without more evidence, I’m never going to see Phillip pay for what he did to Nicole and Miranda. “Thanks anyway,” I say, my eyes heavy from exhaustion and trauma. I know that in my dreams tonight, I will fight Shockey again and lose.

  “You take it easy and quit getting into trouble, you hear? Come down to the station when you’re feeling better so you can sign your statement.” Sowers gets to his feet, brushing invisible lint from his dark slacks. “And between you and me,” he adds softly, his eyes locking onto mine, radiating sincerity. “You watch out for that Phillip.”

  With a final nod to me, he leaves and the nurse enters to assault me with a penlight, the blinding light curling its way around my eyeballs and drilling into my skull.

  “Your mom left just before he got here,” the nurse hovering over me says, moving her finger back and forth, clearly asking me to follow it with my eyes. I oblige and submit to her other requests with as much grace as possible, which isn’t much considering all I want is to go back to sleep. “She said to tell you she’d be back in the morning.”

  I thank the nurse and sink back into the pillow, preparing myself for an uncomfortable night. My neck is a raw ache and every breath I take sends fresh agony through my side. Even with the lights out and the curtain drawn, the faint light from the IV monitor elicits a stab of pain from my bruised head. I close my eyes and drift, neither awake nor sleeping but somewhere in between.

  My eyes open and I sit halfway up before pain thrusts me down again. Blinking, I look around for whatever has woken me, but the room is drenched in shadow and my sleep-blurred vision makes everything muddled.

  Something shifts to my left and I swing my head over, nearly crying out when pain slams into my skull from the movement. A dark figure rises from the chair and I wonder for a moment if my mother has come back, but menace stretches out sticky fingers and wraps around my neck, making my breath shallow and stuttered.

  “You know, I bet I could smother you with that pillow before anyone would notice,” Phillip says, his voice smooth and calm.

  Dread pools in my stomach, frigid and deep. I reach to push the button that will call the nurse, but Phillip’s hand is abruptly there, stopping me, turning my wrist so my palm is facing up, the angle a distinct threat. He looks at it, considering, and then begins to bend the wrist backward, winning a harsh gasp from me.

  His shark’s teeth gleam whitely in the dim light and for a moment I am trapped in the nightmare I’ve had so many times, with his reptilian green gaze fixed on me hungrily.

  Phillip sighs and releases his aggressive grip, taking my hand in his like a lover’s. “But then I’d have to explain what I’m doing here after hours and there would be awkward questions…” His eyes tighten with annoyance. “And I hate awkward questions.”

  “What do you want, Phillip?” I rasp, my throat nearly closed in fear.

  “I want you to stop telling the police that I killed Nicole. They’ve been asking me about Miranda too, and I really don’t appreciate it.” His plastic face mimics a wounded expression. “I’ve been so nice to you. I don’t know why you’re acting like this.”

  His nonchalant mention of Nicole and Miranda stirs something in me. Fear burns away with mounting anger and I jerk my hand out of his, ignoring the slash along my side from the violence of my rejection.

  “You killed Nicole, Phillip. I know it. And you don’t scare me, not anymore.” My voice is cold and unyielding and a brief flicker of uncertainty races behind his eyes before the bland mask regains control. He releases my hand and takes a step back. I immediately punch the button that
will summon help and Phillip gives me a wry smile.

  “Please reconsider what you think you know, Derry. I’d hate to see anything happen to you. After all, we’re friends, aren’t we?” He melts into the darkness and slips past the curtain seconds before it swings back with a burst of light and the nurse appears, her smile tired but friendly.

  “I’m cheating on my husband,” she says inquiringly. Relief washes over me and I realize just how much fear I was suppressing, no matter how brave a face I had put on for Phillip.

  “Can I have some water?” I ask, conceding that there is little point in mentioning Phillip’s visit. It was a warning anyway; I haven’t pushed him to dire action just yet.

  But I’m close.

  Chapter 17

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” Mom asks again, biting her lip with indecision. I have a flash of déjà vu, remembering how we sat just like this in the car, waiting outside the school on my first day. The same sense of uncertainty, of hidden peril hovers outside the window, misted into the fog that has gripped the town since early this morning.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I assure her. On the whole, I’m being honest. My head is much better after three days of bed rest and my side barely twinges when I move now. Mom was reluctant to let me go back to school so soon, especially since I had only been back one day before being assaulted by my teacher. But I prevailed, mainly because I wouldn’t shut up about it.

  “Call me if anything happens or if you get scared.” She hesitates and then gives me a one-armed hug, pulling me in at an awkward angle that stretches my side uncomfortably. I ignore it and take in the embrace. They are too rare to cut short.

  “I will, I promise. I’ll see you later,” I say and jump out of the car before she has the chance to change her mind. After a final wave, I turn and climb the stairs, thinking I have known more sorrow and pain in this school than anywhere I’ve ever been.