by S. E. Hinton
It wouldn't be so hard to believe. Unless you knew Katie.
Katie shuddered violently.
"I guess they'll wonder all their lives...." Her voice trailed off. Jamie's throat was so tight he couldn't speak. "Jamie," she said suddenly. "Make love to me."
"W-w-what?" he stammered, drawing back from, searching her eyes.
"Make love to me. Now."
"Katie, don't, come on, don't... I told you, I can't let you go." It killed him, that she'd try even this, she'd be this desperate to escape.
"I know. It's not that—I don't expect—I only have a short time to be alive—I can be alive, Jamie, not much longer! I want to feel all I can, do all I can, be alive all I can. There's so many things I wanted to do! I thought I had the time ... go back to school, maybe try to write ... get married, have lots of babies ... I wanted to ice-skate in downtown New York at Christmas ... I wanted to know what it was like, making love ... And now, there's no more time ... That... thing is going to ... I won't let him be the first!"
Her eyes were feverish as she clutched his arm.
"B-b-but Katie, you don't love me."
Jamie knew that was important to nice girls, important that they were loved in return. He never understood why they had to play that game, it was so pathetic, how they didn't seem to realize "love" was an easy word from a man with a hard-on. But now, when it was true, he was too scared to speak....
"No, not like I do Mitch...," she was saying, "but in a way, I do—in a way I always have; I've always known you were lonely, Jamie, and somehow, we've been together, now ... I do love you Jamie, a little...."
"I couldn't. It'd be like raping you or something, taking advantage ... Katie, I don't want to do wrong stuff anymore, and I'm having a tough time figuring out what's right."
"Jamie, please ... don't let him be my first time. Let me get to choose...."
She was unbuttoning her shirt, it hung open, she released, removed her bra. "Katie, don't—"
Her lips on his stopped his breath. So soft. So gentle...
He groaned as his hand slid almost involuntarily inside her shirt, found and caressed her breast, the nipple hardening in his hand....
It had been so long ... and Jamie hadn't even been sure he'd be able to again, had thought maybe that part of him had died.... He'd lived so long with cold and death and darkness ... Katie was warmth and life and light....
She fit in his arms like she belonged there. Her kiss said more than words. Slowly, he pushed her back down. She drew him to her. He kissed her eyes and cheeks, went back to explore her mouth....
She took in his tongue, gently sucked it. Her hands caressed his back. He had never dreamed such tenderness ... she did love him, just a little....
He'd always wondered what the girl felt, how it was for them, and it was like Katie was telling him ... he knew what she was feeling, what should come next... he forgot what he'd learned from other women. There was only Katie now. In a way, it was his first time, too ... he felt alive ... so much alive....
She gasped when he put his mouth to her breast, removed her jeans, settling between her legs. He couldn't stop kissing her.
Their hearts seemed to beat together, their minds intertwined as well. A comfort, a healing, a sharing ... alive ... alive ... alive....
The welcoming movement her body made as he entered her made him sob aloud.
Katie Katie Katie
When they climaxed together, their tears mingled on their faces, Jamie thought his heart would crack.
He lay on top of her, his face buried in her neck. Oh, God he loved her....
Her arms tight around him, she whispered, "I'll never forget you, Jamie, never ... no matter what."
(And always, when he dreamed of this, and he did as long as he lived, the dream was kind—not till this moment would he awake, her voice still in his ears.)
He rolled over, drew her head to his shoulder. They lay in silence.
He's not going to do this, Jamie thought. I won't let him. He'll have to kill me first.
How strange that he was happy... but true ... here and now he was truly happy....
Katie raised her head.
"Did you hear something?"
"No. You think he's comin'?"
Jamie stood, adjusting his clothes, listened. Usually he felt it, when the Monster left the coffin.
Sometimes It had a job for him right away, commands would flood his brain. Sometimes he was there before the coffin finished opening...
"No." Katie stood, looked around. "I just thought I heard a voice ... a woman's voice."
Jamie whirled around. "Don't listen to her! Get out of here, you goddamn ghost!" he shouted.
He clamped his hands over Katie's ears. The only sound was their harsh breathing. Gradually, he relaxed enough to let go.
"How much ... longer?"
"'Bout an hour, I think," Jamie answered. He and Katie wrapped their arms around each other. Their hearts still beat together. Alive Alive Alive He was resolute. Not this. Not her.
It would have to kill him first.
"That can be arranged."
Grenville stood before them. Katie made a small sobbing sound, frozen where she stood.
Grenville glanced at her, then turned to Jamie.
"I believe you were musing on your death?"
Jamie said, "You can't do this. Not to her. It's not right."
"And how do you propose to stop me?" The Vampire took one step, his cold finger brushed Jamie's head.
Jamie's knees gave out, he rolled helpless on the floor. Grenville turned again to Katie. She still stared, openmouthed, her eyes wild and empty.
"Come, my heart," the low voice beseeched the air. "Come and join me."
"All right!" Jamie shouted as he struggled back up. "You go ahead and do this, kill Katie, I can't stop you. I seen people kill before—for money, God, or country, and you with your 'necessity for existence.' I even did it myself once. But don't you call it love! This isn't love!"
If a dog had suddenly sat up and spoke, Grenville would not be more astonished.
"No, my dear, my dearest love."
It wasn't Katie's voice. A low cool voice, musical and vibrant.
They both turned to the young woman. Jamie shivered. There was a glow to Katie's face, her features indistinct in a shimmering mist, her clothes blurred into a gown.
A low groan escaped Grenville's throat, and Jamie saw tears run down his face.
"Sophia Marie." He took her in his arms, stared down at her, as if he stood on the edge of hell, and she his hope of heaven.
"I am with you, always." She gently placed her hand on the side of his face. For a moment it seemed as if that face would shatter, then he groaned again and nuzzled into the caress.
"Always," he said, his eyes closed.
"But not like this, dearest heart."
He opened his eyes in instant comprehension.
"I cannot bear it," he whispered, holding her nearer.
She pulled back a little, stroked his face as if in wonder.
"Ah ... love."
Their lips met, and Jamie turned away.
The shimmer faded, the glow dissipated ... the word "always" echoed in the air. Jamie, startled, looked back.
Katie hung limp in the Vampire's arms. The Vampire touched her hair. Once again her eyes were empty....
"Take her and go." Grenville almost tossed the limp body at Jamie. "Both of you, go!"
Jamie found he could use his legs again. He scrambled to his feet, half carried, half dragged Katie with him.
He didn't know how they got out of the house. He ran, dragging Katie by the wrist, looking down at the muddy road just in front of him—scared to look behind, to see if they were being followed, scared to look up, in case It stood before them. It was very fast, when necessary, faster than any human.
Safely across the peninsula, where the town's main street met Hawkes Hall Road, near the marshes and old docks, Katie stumbled, bringing Jamie down with her,
his foot twisting under him as he fell. Exhausted, he lay there for a moment, then raised his head.
His heart pounding. Katie's gasping sobs. He listened intently. Nothing else.
No birds. No crickets. No frogs. No sound at all.
He had a strange flash of memory—clear water, white sand, but no bright fish—
He pulled Katie to her feet.
"Go on!"
Her slack face frightened him—had she lost her mind? Jamie remembered the Vampire, touching her hair. He pushed at her, hobbling.
"Run!"
A dark form took shape from the shadows. Katie collapsed to the ground.
"So it was you after all, you little bastard." Mitch Morgan had his rifle to his shoulder. Holy shit!
Suddenly the dark seemed to be teeming with life, like a kicked anthill.
"Mitch! Don't!" another voice called.
A policeman was bending over Katie.
She's safe. Katie's safe. Jamie turned to run.
The first bullet hit six inches left of his neck, jamming into his collarbone. He staggered but kept on going. Bullet number two cracked a rib, damaged his left lung.
Three shattered his right shoulder blade.
In all, it was twenty seconds between the time the first shot echoed and when Jamie plowed facedown into the mud.
But his mind had long since left. Other than the blows of impact of bullets one and three, he felt no pain at all.
Instead, a sensation akin to the bliss of release.
It's over.
It's over. It's finally. Over.
Main Street, Hawkes Harbor, Delaware April 1968
"There's that Jamie Sommers. You know, when I see him staring at you like that I just want to go bust his chops."
"Oh Mitch, don't... I really do think he's harmless. Maybe he just found me in the woods, the way he said."
"Harmless, hell, what was he doing that night? And the way he's stalked you since Grenville Hawkes got him out of the nuthouse ..."
"He hasn't stalked me, he's just tried to be friendly. I'm sure he doesn't mean to frighten me."
"Well, he had something to do with your kidnapping. I'm convinced of it."
"I don't think so...."
"Why? Because you're sorry for him?"
"No, though I am—when I see Jamie, I'm just not frightened ... I just feel... sad."
"Well, I guess every town needs a village lunatic—Hey, let's celebrate getting the loan. How about a picnic Saturday? You can fry up some chicken...."
"Or you can fry up some fish!"
Katie never did remember what had happened while she was missing.
And over the course of years, the course of her rich, full life, it grew of less and less importance. A mystery, but one that didn't seem to matter much anymore.
(Though once, while ice-skating in downtown New York, with her husband and her troop of little boys, there was something in the solemn smile of the smallest as he trudged by her, that made a memory, light as a floating snowflake, brush her mind before melting away forever. Tears jumped to her eyes, though she could not say why—she was so happy.)
Gradually, touched by his quiet devotion, she came to regard Jamie Sommers as one of her dearest friends. Even Mitch finally knew he meant Katie no harm. And made no objection when Katie named their youngest James.
Katie lived life with a fierce enthusiasm, joyed in love, embraced her sorrows, felt every sensation, even tragedy, to the utmost—she might have anyway, it was her nature.
Katie was very lucky. But it was debatable whether she was luckier than Jamie, who treasured his shattered shards of memory.
Who always loved the dream.
Leaving Terrace View
Terrace View Asylum, Delaware January 1968
Dr. McDevitt sighed as he shut his door behind the prospective patient and her mother.
He had become a doctor largely because of his desire to help people—it was hard to admit there were some he would rather refer to others.
Why did they do it? This young lady thought lysergic acid diethylamide would let her see God—whatever she saw, it wasn't God, and she might see it for the rest of her life.
The human mind was as fragile as the human body. Dr. McDevitt felt toward those who deliberately risked it as he would toward someone who jumped off a building to learn what the sensation of falling was like.
The sensation of falling might not last nearly as long as the sensation of hitting the ground.
They want to see God, let them get up and watch the sunrise, he thought.
He would accept her here as a patient but refer her to another doctor—perhaps Dr. Stanley. He was young, building a career, maybe he could understand better why the young people today thought their minds expendable. Dr. McDevitt had to deal with too many of the walking wounded, crippled by the blows of life. Why ingest poison...?
Dr. McDevitt sat for a moment. He had weaned himself from cigarettes two years ago—the medical evidence against smoking was so overwhelming he found it hard to believe it wasn't public yet—but at times like these, the urge was so strong....
Drug addict, he chided himself.
"Dr. McDevitt!" Nurse Whiting came rushing in without her usual knock.
"Did you know Dr. Kahne is here?"
"Louisa? Here? Now?"
Once the shock passed, Dr. McDevitt was glad—he wished she'd given him notice, he could have had an organized agenda for her, but there was so much to discuss. It had been a long time since she'd been there—thanks to her grandfather, she was supposed to be head of the board, yet Dr. McDevitt had to make the decisions.
"Did you know she's releasing Jamie Sommers?"
Dr. McDevitt was jarred out of his listmaking.
"She and Mr. Sommers's employer arrived about an hour ago—they visited Jamie for a few minutes and now she's in the office filling out the release forms."
"You must be mistaken." Dr. McDevitt leaped to his feet. He knew she wasn't. He had long suspected the young nurse of having more than a professional interest in Mr. Sommers.
"I'm not!" she asserted, almost tearfully. "Jamie's in his room, packing, he's so excited ... it's the first time I've seen him happy."
Dr. McDevitt rushed past her. If this were true—it was pure madness....
He went first to Jamie's room.
Jamie had his battered duffel on his bed and was stuffing it with anything at hand.
He looked up at Dr. McDevitt.
"Grenville came to get me," he said. "He didn't forget. He was just waitin' till I got well—I get to live in the Hall again."
Dr. McDevitt bit his lip. Louisa Kahne had caused this—let her handle it.
There was no way on God's green earth Jamie Sommers was leaving Terrace View. Not in his condition.
"Jamie," he said kindly. "Don't pack all your clothes. If you get to leave, you don't want to be wearing your pajamas."
Jamie didn't catch the word "if."
He looked down at what he was wearing.
"Hey, Doc." He laughed. "Thanks. Don't want to leave in this fuckin' robe. Hell, I gotta start watchin' my mouth. Grenville don't like bad language. Man, I was so surprised to see him...."
"I'm going to go speak to Dr. Kahne. Jamie, do you really want to leave? You never wanted to before." Jamie stopped, confused. "Where was I gonna go?"
Louisa Kahne was in the billing office, where the clerk was filling out forms.
"Dr. Kahne," he said. "May I see you a moment?"
He knew now—she'd come to get Jamie Sommers, nothing more. She'd hoped to avoid Dr. McDevitt altogether.
She gave a few quick instructions to the clerk, then went to Dr. McDevitt's office with him.
"What is the meaning of this?" he said abruptly.
Louisa tilted her chin defensively.
"I had an interview with Jamie this afternoon, and—"
"If you so much as said hello to him you know he is in no condition to leave this hospital."
"I will
continue to oversee his treatment, on an outpatient basis—"
"You? You didn't so much as oversee his transfer from Eastern State—they sent him in a police car, in a straitjacket! You've never even visited the man. How on earth can you oversee treatment for him?"
"You yourself have said in his progress reports that he is making rapid improvement."
"Rapid improvement from a state of near catatonia is not the same as saying he can function outside this hospital! Louisa, what are you thinking? The man is prone to hysteria, paranoia, even occasional hallucinations. He's emotionally a child, as well as mentally unstable. He is not capable of making a trustworthy decision. His short-term memory impaired, his long-term memory very questionable—some days he doesn't even know where he is."
"From what I saw this afternoon, he will be fine in a supervised environment."
"Hawkes Hall?" Dr. McDevitt asked.
He had his suspicions about the benevolent Mr. Hawkes and the stories of the strange Hall gave him the creeps.
"Mr. Hawkes will gladly take responsibility for Jamie. He lives very quietly—Jamie will be subject to no undue stress."
She fiddled with her bone-colored gloves, unable to meet his eyes.
"Mr. Hawkes is anxious to have Jamie back, Jamie obviously wants to go ..."
"Louisa, if I released every patient who wanted to go home, to every family anxious to have them, there would be no one here tomorrow. You know better than to weigh in that factor."
Louisa said nothing. She still looked down.
"What caused Jamie's breakdown? He was living in this supposedly quiet, nonstressful environment where you must have seen him occasionally—what could have caused a mental collapse that severe? Surely you have an opinion."
"You saw the report—he was shot three times by the police. He came out of the coma into extreme pain—his mind was gone at that point."
"I've talked a great deal with Jamie Sommers—the fact that he'd end up shot by the police doesn't seem to surprise him in the least. He has made remarkable progress, physically, I'll grant you, this is a tough kid. But he'll never be what he once was, physically or otherwise."