After Life (24 page)

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 . . .