In Limbo (26 page)

Chapter
 
39

             
It was well past eight in the morning when I finally woke up.  My back felt stiff and I was totally disoriented for a few moments.  But then it all came back to me.  What a mess!  I rolled over and snuggled up to Tom, who was also just starting to wake up.  We just lay there for a little while.

              “We really need to get going,” he finally said.  “We need to get into Holsum, stop by and see Ralph, and pick up our truck.  Sandy probably needs a ride to get to theirs, and then we are going home.  I can't wait to get there.”

             
The delicious smell of fresh coffee drifted into the bedroom, and I heard a male and a female voice talking.  I couldn't understand what was being said, but it was a comforting sound.  I stretched and poked Tom in the belly, then went to the kitchen to get coffee.

              Sam and Ginny were at the table, involved in a seemingly-serious conversation.  I wasn't awake enough for that yet.  I threw them a “morning” and delivered Tom's black coffee.  I went into the bathroom with mine.  The sound of running warm water seemed to come from heaven.  I shampooed my hair at least three times.  My fingertips were wrinkled when I finally stepped out of the shower, just in time for Tom to use the little bathroom.  Yes, life was returning to normal. 

             
I dressed in the clothes we had borrowed from Doc Humphrey.  The old, well-worn t-shirt felt unbelievably soft, as did the faded jeans shorts.  Then I joined the others in the kitchen. Now I was awake and ready for the world.  Apparently the discussion had centered on what to do about Marty.  Sam needed closure.  He needed to be able to bury Marty.  But he couldn't just walk into a Sheriff's office and hand them a bag full of dust and say, “this is the body of my wife, and let me tell you how she died.”  We had to agree with that.  But then, what could we do?
 
Marty needed to die in order for Sam to have closure.  We all must have thought it, but only Ginny spoke up.

              “
Go home, Sam, and let it be known that you are planning a little excursion with some friends.  Then you rent a boat, maybe a house boat, on the lake, and you and Tom and Chris spend the weekend. 

             
“Some time in the wee hours of Sunday you radio the Water Patrol that your wife is missing.  Tell them that she had said something about wanting to go swimming in the moonlight and that you're worried.  She may have had a little too much to drink.  We know they won't find a body.  But you'll have a record of the accident, and then after a while they will declare her dead.  I don't mean to sound cold, but you'll have a little funeral service and eventually life will return to normal.  You can bury the remains out at my place.  There's an old cemetery way out on that property.” 

             
Sam's face was pale, his efforts to control his emotions an exercise in futility. 

              “I can't do this.”  He said, emphatically over and over.  “I just can't plan this.”

              Ginny hugged him.  “You're not planning anything.  You're working on a solution that brings peace to everyone, especially Marty.”  He nodded, hiding behind a now wet paper towel.

             
While Tom, Sam and Doc worked out the details, Ginny agreed to run me over to Holsum to retrieve the Blazer from Sandy, and if necessary, ferry Sandy to get their car.  When we got to the hospital the nurses told us that she had already left with her sister to retrieve her car.  We were given an opportunity to visit Ralph briefly, and I'm glad we did.  He was sleeping, but I managed to glance at a worksheet one of the nurses must have left behind on his bedside table.  That didn't look too bad.  The previous shift had recorded a fever but, all things considered, that wasn't too bad.  They had him on pain medication, a decent antibiotic and were closely monitoring him.  I tore a piece of paper out of my notebook and wrote on it : 

              CAME BY TO CHECK ON YOU, GOT THE TRUCK AND ARE HEADED BACK NOW.  CALL!  C &T. 

             
I laid the note on the nightstand, by the phone.  When I turned around to leave the ICU, I was startled to see a janitor just standing in the doorway to Ralph's cubicle staring at me. I looked at him closer.  I did not know him, I was sure of that.  So I just said “excuse me” and went past him. I caught a whiff of an expensive men's cologne.  I couldn't recall the name. When he pushed the unit's door open for us, I was quite surprised to see a fancy gold watch on his wrist.  I turned around once more, but he was already gone and the door was slowly closing.  Ginny had noticed all this, too. 

             
“They must be paying their janitors very well in this place,” she said, and we both laughed. 

             
We looked for the Blazer in the visitor parking lot but didn't see it.  It was just by chance that I looked downhill and spotted it sitting in the employee parking lot.  I wondered why Sandy had parked there.  I just couldn't give her credit for being sensible.  My questions were answered when I turned the key and saw the gas gauge.  Ginny, ever prepared, had a can of fuel in her vehicle and we were able to leave the hospital premises without attracting any more attention.

                                                             *

             
The janitor made rounds once more through the ICU, diligently emptying the trash in all
areas.  He lingered just long enough to glance at Ralph and to peek at the nurse's work sheet as she entered Ralph's cubicle to check on him.  Last temperature was above 101 degrees, blood pressure hovering around 100. 

             
He left the ICU, pushed his cart back into the utility closet, and rushed to one of the big picture-windows looking out over the parking lot.  He saw the two women who had been in Ralph Holtzer's cubicle putting fuel into a four-wheel-drive vehicle.  He could not read the license plate or clearly identify the vehicle.  Before he made it as far as the elevator, both women pulled out of the parking lot and disappeared.  Ron swore loudly, racing down the stairs two at a time, but it was to no avail.  Their vehicles were out of sight when he reached the hospital's entrance.  He decided to hang around for a little while longer, sitting in his car, at times dozing off.  Then he watched Sandy return in the old, slightly banged-up pickup truck.  Still wearing a scrub-suit she had borrowed, she entered the hospital without even glancing at him.  That pleased him, and he smiled as he followed her into the hospital.

             
Sandy headed straight to the ICU.  Her stomach growled, and after she checked on Ralph, she would get a bite to eat.  He was sleeping when she got there.  His face looked flushed and his skin felt hot and dry.  She pushed the call button at the side of his bed and quietly asked the nurse how he was doing.  The nurse was a young brunette, with medium length hair that she wore pulled back in a simple ponytail.  The maroon scrub uniform did not hide her obvious pregnancy, her name tag identified her as Mary RN.  Mary stepped into the cubicle and glanced at Ralph.  “Hmm,” she said with a frown.  “I've been keeping an eye on his monitor out at the desk.  He was sleeping, and I didn't want to wake him up.  But I think we need to.  I'd like to check his temperature.  He looks a little flushed to me.”

             
His temperature had risen to 104.4 degrees.  He didn't really wake up, but just mumbled when Mary called his name.  Sandy got about the same reaction, although he did turn his head
toward the sound of her voice.  Sandy felt panic rising within her.

              “What's happening here?”

              “Well, his temp is pretty high, higher than it has been just a little while ago, and people do get delirious with a high fever.  Mrs. Holtzer, I need to check a few more things, but you can stay right here by his side.  He would probably like that a lot.  Then I'll call the doctor and then we'll know more, okay?” 

             
Sandy didn't answer.  She just sat down.  Don't say “okay,” she thought.  It's not okay, nothing connected with this weekend has been okay.  This is how Marty started, only sooner.  She was confused and feverish, and from there went downhill.  If Ralph dies, then I know I'll be next.  Then it will be Tom and Chris, and eventually Sam.  I wonder who will be last?  Whoever that is, he or she will bury all of us first.

             
She didn't notice the nurse leaving the cubicle, but she suddenly became aware of her voice, obviously talking to someone on the phone.  Then Mary returned.

             
“Ok, I just spoke with the on-call doctor.  He wants us to do some blood cultures, and then he'll have the ER doctor come up and put in a central line.  It's faster that way than waiting for him to drive over here.  He'll be here himself in a little while.”

             
“Blood cultures?” asked Sandy.  “Central line?  What for?”

              “Oh, we'll do blood cultures to see if the infection in his wound has perhaps gone into his blood.  That could be causing this high fever.  And then he would need to get lots of medication.  Some of that can be pretty irritating to the blood vessels, so we like to run it through a big vein. Unfortunately, all the good big veins are deep inside the body, and that's why its called a central
line.  Now, excuse me a moment while I get my stuff together.” 

             
Sandy sat stunned. The she quietly began to cry.  She stroked Ralph's hand.

              “Don't you dare croak on me!” she whispered.  “Who will I fight with?”

              The nurse returned and arranged several items on the bedside stand, then she put on gloves. 

             
After putting a tourniquet around Ralph's upper arm, she drew two vials of blood.  These she handed to a young tech who had appeared behind her 

              “Tony, tell the lab this is stat.  And I mean STAT.”

              Sandy fled from the ICU.  In the little waiting room, she curled up in the recliner she had slept in and tightly wrapped the blanket around her, rocking back and forth.

             
A tabloid tossed on a table caught her eye, the headline screaming something about aliens. 

              She sat staring at it.  Under more normal circumstances, she would not have given the headline a second glance.  These past couple of days had been anything but normal.  At the bottom of the article about people who had encountered aliens was a phone number and the request to call if you had an unusual event you could not explain. 

             
Sandy did not think twice.  She walked over to the phone and dialed the toll free number.  It did not take long to get someone to listen to her story, and she turned her back toward the waiting room door and told about the weekend, about Marty's death, and about Ralph's being
shot.  With her back to the door, she did not see Ron enter and stand listening.  They wanted details, and Sandy was ready to deliver.  How long would she be at the hospital?  At least 24 more hours, she told them.  They would send a couple of people over.  Satisfied, Sandy returned to the ICU to check on Ralph.

                                      
*

              The night had not brought them much rest.  Dave Smith and Jeff Craft were impatiently waiting for daylight.  At five a.m., the phone finally rang.  The message was short and to the point: Be at the Camp Crowder airstrip by six o'clock sharp.

              Both were bleary-eyed and unshaven when they arrived, David carrying a large folded up map of the area.  They found a young pilot waiting for them.

             
“Mornin',” he said, entirely too awake and cheerful.  “Are we ready to roll?” 

              Smith and Craft nodded.  Craft was a bit disappointed.  He had expected the corporate
helicopter.  He wanted to keep an outside agency out of this.  It would be so difficult to observe and take notes with some outsider right there.  How would he explain what he anticipated?  The young man calmly went through his takeoff checklist.     

             
“Okay, lets talk about where we will be going.  If you put these helmets on, you will have headphones and microphone readily available to you, and we can communicate with each other.  I control the switch to communicate with the tower.  As I understand it, you have some campers in a restricted area, and we will be flying over the area to see what we can find.  We have a couple of ground crews out there also, but they are probably still sipping their coffee and trying to clear the cobwebs from their heads.”