The Fever (6 page)

"Didn't you learn anything last night about disobeying doctor's orders?" Cynthia asked brusquely. "Honestly, Duffy, you are the worst patient in the world!"*

And Amy added hesitantly, "Duffy, you can't take a shower with that IV in your arm."

^They're going to take it out. Dr. Morgan said

so."

Cynthia shrugged. **Well, do as you please, Duffy. You will, anyway. But don't blame me if

someone catches you in the act and yells at you."

"You'd better not rat on me," Duffy warned. "Any of you. If you do, and I miss my shower, I'll jump off the top of this stupid building. And then I'll haunt you guys for the rest of your natural lives."

Jane laughed. "Oh, Duffy, you're the least hkely person in the world to jump off a building. . . unless it's because you've rigged up some fancy parachute and you want to try it out."

When the three had gone, promising to return that afternoon, Dylan arrived, bearing a healthy green plant in a white ceramic swan, purchased in the downstairs gift shop.

After thanking him for it, she asked him about the out-of-order sign. "Did you put it on the elevator at four o'clock, when Smith told you to?" she asked.

"Of course I did!" Dylan's words oozed injured pride. "Why? Did Lewis say I was goofing off?"

"No, and don't be so touchy. Did you put the sign on the first elevator or the second?"

"The second. That's the one Lewis said wasn't working. Why are you asking so many questions? What's going on?'*

"No one told you I almost fell into the empty shaft of the broken elevator last night?" Duffy knew the story had circulated through the hospital rumor mill. That was how Cynthia and Amy had heard it.

"I just got here," Dylan answered. "I haven't talked to anyone. I went to the gift shop and then came straight here."

She told him about her narrow escape. And then.

while he sat, shocked and silent on her bed, she added Smith's theory about how the sign had been innocently switched.

"Ehner Dougherty was off on Thursday,'' Dylan mused. "I think Pete Ramsey was, too. And Smith could be right. Neither of them would have expected the first elevator to be fixed so fast, especially when they weren't here to do it. They don't think much of the other two maintenance guys. They're always complaining about them. So yeah, Ehner or Pete could have moved my sign." Dylan looked at Duffy, concern in his blue eyes. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." That wasn't true. She wasn't fine. Every time she thought about how close she had come to diving into that deep black hole her heart pounded and she felt dizzy and breathless. She didn't think that feeUng would ever go away completely.

"Thanks for the plant," she told Dylan. "You'd better get to work. I don't want to get blamed if you're late."

He surprised her by kissing her before he left, bending to touch her cheek lightly with his lips. "You do feel a little bit cooler," he said as he straightened up. "Maybe they'll let you go home

soon."

"The sooner the better. I've ah-eady made up my mind that I'm taking a shower whether anyone says I can or not. Tonight. Even if I have to sneak down the halls like a criminal."

"Good idea. It'll help you keep cool. Take it easy."

When Dylan had gone, Duffy lay with her eyes wide open, wondering why Smith hadn't come back to tell her who had moved the sign.

When the nurse came in to take her temperature, she beamed down at Duffy and said, "I've got good

news."

"My temperature's normal and I can get dressed and go home," Duffy offered, a false note of hope in her voice. She didn't feel that cool.

"No, afraid not. But I have orders to remove your rV. That should cheer you up. Your doctor wants to try you on antibiotic capsules in place of the intravenous. So I can take this nasty thing out of your arm. That should be a relief."

It was. Free of the painful pinching sensation, Duffy gently rubbed the football-shaped black-and-blue mark left by the needle.

"Here," the nurse said, shaking a tiny fluted paper cup, **these should do the trick. Take two now, and I'll give you more when it's time."

"So when do I get sprung?" Duffy asked when she'd obediently swallowed the capsules.

**That's up to your doctor. I think he's waiting to see if you develop additional flu symptoms, just to be sure that's what you've got. So far, your blood tests have been negative." She glanced out the window. "The doctor even said you could go outside if you wanted, get some fresh air. Get one of the orderlies to take you. In a wheelchair, of course. And don*t get out of the chair. Not yet. It's too soon."

When the nurse had gone, Duffy aimed her own gaze out the tall, skinny window. It was a sunny,

blue-skied early spring day. She was sick to death of her grim prison. If she could get someone to wheel her outside . . .

Her legs were newborn-weak when she slid from her bed. But since she would be in a wheelchair, it didn't matter that her legs, like everything else in this hospital, weren't functioning properly.

The only orderly out in the hall was Smith. He was advancing toward her, pushing a wheelchair.

**You're supposed to take me outside," DufPy commanded as he reached her doorway. She was annoyed with him for not getting back to her with the information she wanted. She still didn't know for certain that he was right about how the sign on the elevator had been switched.

Smith laughed. "No kidding? And here I was planning on pushing this empty chair up and down the halls all day, because it's so much fun. Now you've gone and spoiled my plans."

'Why didn't you come and tell me who switched that sign?" Duffy hissed, climbing into the chair. "I've been waiting for hours!"

"Because I didn't find out anything," he answered amiably, coming around behind her to begin pushing her down the hall. "No one could remember moving the sign. Or maybe they were afraid to say, considering what almost happened. Probably thought they'd be in hot water if they admitted moving it. Sorry."

Duffy sulked in disappointment. She had hoped to prove that Dylan hadn't made a mistake. She didn't like thinking that he'd put the sign on the

wrong elevator. "Maybe you didn't ask the right questions," she accused.

But before he could answer, she realized that they were headed toward the elevator.

Her body began trembling violently, rocking the wheelchair.

**Whoa!" Smith said, leaning down to look into her face. "You okay?"

"No," Duffy whispered. "No. I can't go in there. I can't ride in that elevator. Take me back to my

room."

"Look," he said patiently, **you want to go outside, right? You have to go downstairs to do that, right? The only way I can get you downstairs is on the elevator. C'mon, relax! I'll park your chair back against the wall and make absolutely sure the cage is there before I push you over to the door, okay?"

Duffy couldn't control her shaking or the trembling of her lower lip or the nausea that rose in her stomach. The thought of those big metal double doors opening again terrified her.

But she wanted so much to go outside, to get out of this building, out of her room.

"Don't move it one inch away from the wall until you're sure that cage is there," she ordered from between teeth chattering with anxiety. "Promise?"

**I promise. Try to relax, okay? You shouldn't be getting upset like this. Could send your temperature up again and you'll never get out of here."

When he parked her chair against the wall, several feet from the elevator doors, she closed her eyes. When she opened them the cage was there,

just as it should be. Smith wheeled her in, and kept one hand on her shoulder the whole way down. That helped.

"I can't stay out here with you," Smith said as he wheeled her around a comer of the building. "I've got things to do. But I'll be back in half an hour or so. I'm supposed to remind you not to move from that chair. Doctor's orders. So, no jogging, okay?"

Her bad mood broken by the bright sunshine and blue, cloudless sky and the faint April breeze, Duffy nodded. "I won't move, I promise. Park me anywhere here." Then, feeling guilty for her earlier rudeness, she added gratefully, "And thanks. The fresh air feels great."

"It'll probably do more good than those capsules you're taking," Smith agreed. Then he set the brake on her wheelchair and, whistling, left her alone.

Duffy relaxed in the old wooden wheelchair. She was seated at the top of the steep slope carpeted in bright-green new grass. Other patients sat in similar chairs, reading or talking to one another. Far below her, where the slope ended, she could see silvery-blue water glistening in the sunshine. The lake — the only pretty part of the hospital grounds. Several children were sailing boats in the water and a pair of workmen in jeans and white T-shirts were planting new shrubbery around the lake's shoreline.

It felt wonderful to be part of the real world again. I almost feel human, Duffy thought, a half smile on her face. My IV is gone, and I'm actually outside, away from that horrible room and those grungy halls. I wish I could wheel this chair all the

way home and never come back here again.

She couldn't do that. But she could relax and eiyoy the time she had outside.

She slid down in the chair, trying to find a comfortable sitting position so that she could tilt her face up toward the sun in hopes of getting an early start on her tan.

A noise that startled her came from somewhere behind her. Just as she turned her head to locate its source, the wheelchair jerked abruptly, lurched forward, and began slowly moving down the slope.

Duffy bolted upright in the chair. It wasn't supposed to be moving. It was supposed to be parked. Sitting safely in a stationary position. Safe. Safe and unmoving.

Instead, the wheels continued to revolve. As they turned, they picked up speed.

"Hey!" a student nurse studying in the sun cried out in surprise as she glanced up and saw the wheelchair bearing down upon her. "Hey, stop that thing!"

Duffy, her mouth open in shock, had no idea how to stop it.

The student nurse managed to throw herself out of the way just in time. A second later, the heavy chair careened across the blanket she'd been sitting on. "Hey!" she shouted after it, "what's the big idea?"

Other shouts joined hers as the wheelchair, with DuflPy in it, rolled faster and faster down the hill. When it reached the steepest part of the slope and tilted precariously forward, Duffy had to cling to

the wooden arms with every ounce of her strength to keep from being thrown out across the hill. Slamming out onto the ground now would break every single bone in her body.

With a sinking heart, Duffy realized her mistake. She should have jumped from the chair the second it began to move. At the top of the slope where the ground was level, she would have sustained only a few minor bumps and bruises. But she had been so startled by the sudden, unexpected movement, that she hadn't been thinking clearly.

Now, it was too late. Her hands fumbled frantically near the wheels, searching for the brake, but she couldn't find it. And the fear of crushing her fingers in the speeding wheels brought her hands back up to clutch the chair arms again.

She tried to scream. But the wind ripped viciously at her mouth, stealing her voice.

"Help me, help me, help me," she mouthed desperately as the chair tore down the slope. Her terrified heart pounded in her chest, her knuckles turned white on the wooden arms, her Hps moved soundlessly, frantically, as she tried in vain to scream for help.

The lake, glistening in the sun, beckoned below. Duffy was headed straight for it. The water, this early in spring, would be freezing cold. If the chair dove into the lake, it would sink like a stone, and she with it. Even if someone saved her from drowning, exposure to that freezing water would set her illness back weeks. It might even kill her.

Suppose she got tangled in the wheels, underwater?

Here and there across the hillside, people raced to her rescue, waving their arms and shouting.

None was close enough to reach her in time.

Why couldn't she scream? Why was the wind stealing her voice? "Help, help, help," she mouthed over and over again as the chair sped down the slope, closer and closer to the icy waters of the lake.

The two workmen glanced up in astonishment and, without dropping their shovels, dove out of the way of the heavy wooden chair barreling down upon them like a missDe.

In utter despair, Duffy moaned helplessly and closed her eyes.

Chapter 8

As the runaway chair, holding Duffy prisoner, continued its suicidal dive toward the chilly waters of the lake, she gave up hope. She was going into that lake ... no way to stop it... no way ... so cold ... it would be so cold. . . .

Eyes closed against the terrible reality of it, lips mouthing frantic prayers, she shrank into a little ball curled up against the back of the chair and clenched her teeth. She would have to swim for it.

Duffy opened her eyes and was instantly blinded by the glare of the water just inches away fi*om the speeding chair. She sprang upright, leaning forward, preparing to dive the instant the chair left land.

And she nearly catapulted out over the water as the wheelchair jolted to an abrupt, grinding halt at the very edge of the lake. Her head snapped to one side. She gasped as the chair jerked backward, tilted slightly, its wheels spinning frantically, and then settled shakily onto the sand.

When the chair finally sat sullenly and completely

still, Dufiy sagged against its back. Her chest heaved in an effort to restore normal breathing.

"You okay?" Dylan's voice whispered in her ear. **You okay, Duff? All in one piece?" And then he was there, kneeling beside her, taking her shaking hands in his, gazing up into her face with worried eyes.

She couldn't speak. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her eyes remained fastened in bewildered horror on the cold, silvery water. Then tears of hysteria began pouring down her cheeks, spilling over her lips and chin. **0h," she whispered numbly, "oh, oh . . ."

"Man, that chair weighs a ton!" Dylan exclaimed as staff members and patients alike began to gather around Duffy, expressing concern for her safety. "No wonder you couldn't stop it on your own. For a minute there, I didn't think I was going to be able to, either."