Authors: Andrew Neiderman
At one point she heard Tracy' s laugh and then silence, so she stopped
and waited to be sure they weren't getting up. They began to talk
again. There was the clink of dishes. She continued on. She nearly
forgot the small table in the hallway by the door and almost bumped into
it, which would surely have sent the vase on it crashing to the floor.
She stopped just in time, felt for it, and then made her way around.
When she reached the door, she hesitated, listened again, and then
turned the knob in tiny increments so the click of the lock would be
unheard.
Everything squeaked in this house, she thought as she started to open
the door. She had to wait for them to raise their voices. Fortunately
Tracy laughed again and at that moment Jessie opened the door and
slipped into the hallway. The moment she did so, terror filled her
heart because images from her nightmare returned.
Was the creature on the stairway? What about old man Carter?
She listened and waited in anticipation, half expecting some cold wet
hand to seize her by the neck and pull her down. However, the dank
stench wasn't strong.
Nothing happened. All was still. Relieved, she moved to the heavy oak
door and, just as before, took her time opening it. She no longer could
hear Tracy and Bob speaking, so there was nothing she could do at this
point but take her chances with the squeaks. They wouldn't be able to
hear it anyway, she realized. Even so, she didn't open the door an inch
more than she had to in order to slip out and onto the porch.
As soon as she was outside, she hurried to the stair way, took hold of
the short railing, and stepped down quickly. A wave of nausea washed
over her, nearly bringing her to her knees. Her stomach churned. It
felt as if the ground beneath her feet was softening. When she
straightened up and began to step forward, she had the sense she was
walking over a giant mattress, her feet sinking here and there, each
time threatening to topple her anew.
Reciting the map of the front yard over and over to herself, she moved
as quickly as she could down the slate walk. Lee had described the road
and the surroundings in detail to her. Now she had to recall it
accurately. At the end of the walkway she made a sharp right turn and
stood up straight. She inhaled the cool night air, gasping like a
person just saved from drowning. The chill felt good, felt refreshing,
helped to revive her. More confident now, with her head high, she took
firm steps down the side of the road, estimating the distance she was
covering. Every once in a while she stopped and groped in the darkness
to see if she could feel the stone arch. She was terrified she would
overstep it, get lost, and the cabdriver would miss her and leave.
Finally, realizing she had to be close, she took chance, stepped off the
side of the road, and waved her hands in small circles until her fingers
found the rough granite surface of the stone arch. She was standing at
the entrance to the cemetery. She breathed relief and turned back
toward the road to wait. Almost immediately she heard it.
The silence of the night was broken by that ghoulish all-too-familiar
sound of the shovel striking the earth, lifting, dumping, and striking
the earth again. They're preparing for Lee, she thought. They're
coming for him She cowered against the stone arch. Moments later she
heard the sound of an automobile and she stepped for ward, hoping and
praying it was the taxi and not Dr. Beezly or one of the poor souls he
had successfully claimed as his own.
Jessie held her breath as the car pulled to a stop in front of her. For
a moment she didn't move a muscle. She heard a door open and someone
get out.
You Mrs. Overstreet? a deep, male voice asked as the man approached.
Yes. -Well, I'm Mickey Levine, the cabdriver. You wanted a cab, right?
he asked. She sensed how the setting and situation had confused and
unnerved him.
Yes, yes, she said, and held her hand out. Mickey hesitated and then
took it and led her to the taxi.
Kind of cool out tonight. Don'tcha have a jacket or nothin'? he asked
as he opened the door. I'm fine, she said, and got in. Please, she
said, sensing he was standing there and looking around. Hurry Right. He
walked around the cab quickly and got in. Community General Hospital?
Yes. My husband's been in a car accident.
Oh, he said. Sorry. Mickey dropped the transmission into drive and
shot off. As soon as the car began to move, Jessie sat back in relief.
She had made it; she had gotten away. Now she would be able to help
Lee, she thought.
Was it a bad accident? Mickey asked.
Yes. He's in a coma.
Oh boy. That's serious stuff. I know your husband, he added quickly. I
mean, I don't know him personally, but I know him. I was to that ball
game the other night, the one with all the fights.
So was I, she said. It was horrible.
Yeah. So how come you was waitin' all alone by the cemetery? Mickey
asked.
It's a long story, she replied. She certainly wasn't going to start
telling it now, and if she did, he might think her crazy and not take
her to the hospital.
I'll bet, he said.
They were quiet the rest of the way, the only sounds being those that
came over the squawk box. just before they turned up the drive to the
hospital, Mickey radioed his location. He brought the cab to a stop in
front of the main entrance and hopped out to help her.
Please, take me to the receptionist, she asked. He led her into the
hospital and brought her to the circular desk in the lobby, presently
manned by one of the volunteers from the service organization known as
the Pink Ladies because of the pink cotton coats they wore over their
dresses and slacks.
This is Mrs. Overstreet, Mickey announced as they approached an elderly
volunteer. A name tag over her left breast read Rose. Her husband was
in an accident,"
he added.
Oh dear. Let me see.... Rose flipped the pages of her directory.
He's the high-school basketball coach, Rose, Mickey said as if he
expected everyone would know that.
Yes, he's in the intensive-care unit.
Well, someone's got to help her, he added before Jesse could speak for
herself. She realized Mickey Levine had taken her on as his
responsibility. He leaned closer to Rose. She's blind.
Oh dear, Rose repeated. Now completely flustered she began to push
buttons on her intercom, finally coming up with another volunteer, who
said she would be right there to help escort Jessie.
Okay, Mickey said, turning back to Jessie. I hope things go well.
Thank you, Jessie said.
I got a ten-dollar fare to collect, he added after a moment.
Oh . . . in my haste I forgot to take any money.
I'm sorry. I'll get the money to you as soon as It don't bother me, but
Tony, he's a pain in the rear if you know what I mean. Maybe someone
can loan you some money.
He looked at Rose, but she still looked overwhelmed.
I don't know anyone here, Jessie said. I'll get it to you. I promise.
I'll call Tony and see what he wants me to do.
Mickey shook his head and walked off to radio the dispatcher. A moment
later a tall, thin black woman in her early thirties arrived to escort
Jessie. She took her to the elevator and they went up to intensive
care, where she introduced Jessie to Sue Martin, the head nurse.
How is he? Jessie asked frantically.
I'm afraid there's not much of a change. He suffered a serious head
injury. You will have to wait for Dr Beezly to return in order to get
more detailed information she added. He's gone to confer with the
radiologist NO, Jessie cried, pulling back.
Pardon?
Jessie's sudden outburst caught the otherwise efficient and
imposing-looking head nurse by surprise. She was a tall, lean woman
with sharp facial features.
I don't want Dr. Beezly near my husband. I don't want him near him. DO
YOU UNDERSTAND? Jessie shouted. She had her hands clenched into fists
and pressed them against her bosom.
Please, Mrs. Overstreet, Sue Martin said, regaining her composure
quickly. Keep your voice down. You're in the intensive-care unit.
These patients are critical, she snapped, her voice hard, cold.
I'm sorry, Jessie said, catching her breath. I'm sorry. I just want it
understood that Dr. Beezly is not to go near my husband.
It was my understanding that he was your family doctor, Sue replied.
That's not true. Take me to my husband. Please. Take me to him, she
begged.
I'll take you to him, but I must insist you control yourself. You can
easily disturb one of our other patients.
I'll behave. I promise, Jessie said.
Sue Martin seemed content with her assertion of authority. She took
Jessie's hand and walked her down to the end of the intensive-care unit
and turned her into a room.
Please, Jesse said. Put my hand on his.
Sue did so and then brought her a chair.
Thank YOU.
Isn't someone here with you, Mrs. Overstreet? Sue Martin asked.
No, Jessie said, her voice cracking. Lee's palm still felt warm, but
the tips of his fingers felt cold. Death was creeping over him slowly,
she thought. And then she thought, This is Dr. Beezly's doing.
Whatever's happening to Lee now is his design.
Lee, she whispered. She ran her fingers up his arm until she reached
his face and touched his lips. They felt so dry and cool. Fight back,
honey. Don't let them take you from me? Fight them, Lee. Please
listen to me darling, please, she said.
Sue Martin, listened for a moment and then smirked before turning away.
She walked back to her station shaking her head. The escort had
remained to talk to - Janet Paulet, another nurse.
How did she get here? Sue asked her.
Taxicab. She didn't have any money to pay him either and he's fit to be
tied. His boss told him to stay here until he gets paid, Janet said.
This is ridiculous, Sue Martin said. A hysterical blind woman wandering
about on her own, she muttered, and went back to her reports.
Occasionally she looked up to gaze toward Lee and Jessie. Jessie had
her forehead on Lee's arm now and looked like she was chanting
something.
Sue Martin lifted the phone and dialed radiology.
Is Dr. Beezly still there? she inquired quickly. After a moment she
added, Well, would you please tell him Mrs. Overstreet has arrived and
has given me instructions not to let him near her husband. The woman
looks like she is on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Sue hung up the receiver. Jessie was standing now and holding Lee's
hand against her bosom. She had her head back and looked like she was
praying. A moment later the door was opened and Tracy and Bob Baker
entered. Tracy spotted Jessie first and the two started toward her.
Just a minute, Sue Martin said, coming around her desk. Can I help you?
We've come after Mrs. Overstreet, Bob said. We were looking after her
and didn't know she had gone off on her own.
Oh. I was wondering why a blind woman was by herself like this.
She's not very well, Tracy said softly. Sue's eyes grew narrow. She's
recently suffered a nervous break down and now this.
I thought so. She came in here quite hysterical and demanded I keep Dr.
Beezly away from her husband, Sue said.
Oh no. Lee Overstreet always had a high degree of respect and
admiration for Dr. Beezly. In fact, they've become good friends, Bob
said. I can vouch for that.
He teaches with me at the high school.
Well, I was surprised when Mrs. Overstreet was so adamant. I had never
heard a complaint about Dr. Beezly before.
As if he were waiting in the wings to hear his name mentioned, Dr.
Beezly came through the door.
He exchanged a quick, icy gaze with Bob before smiling at Tracy and the
head nurse.
What seems to be the problem? he asked, approaching Apparently Jessie
called a cab without our knowing and then snuck out of the house and
came here. She's made a bit of a scene already, Bob explained.
I handled it Sue Martin assured them, but if she's having a nervous
breakdown . . .