“Just let me see Ned Schultz, okay? The hospital PR. Get Ned out here, okay?”
The officer shut the door and retreated. A few moments later a dapper man in a blue blazer, with slicked-back black hair, came to the door. “You wanted me, Buzz? You can’t get in, just can’t. Everything’s havoc in here.”
The reporter beckoned him outside, and the PR man stepped out. “Buzz, there’s nothing I can say, absolutely nothing. It’s a madhouse. You’ll have to deal with the cops on this one.”
The reporter stuck out his hand. “You always play ball with us, Ned. And we always stick by you.”
The PR man nodded, and they shook. Schultz’s hand closed over a $20 bill. He leaned forward to speak confidentially. “Look, Buzz, I’ll do what I can, okay? But you got to protect me, right? Nothing gets traced back to me. I don’t know what I can get for you, but I’ll get something. Move your car, okay? Around the corner . . .”
Led by a police officer and a nurse, Frank approached a door on which hung a red sign: “Absolutely No Visitors.”
Another policeman standing outside the door nodded at them and pushed the door open.
Frank went immediately to Lenore’s bedside.
Two men stepped up to him. “I’m Dr. Norten,” said the man in green, “chief resident of the hospital. This is Lieutenant Perkins, a detective. She’s coming out of sedation now, Mr. Davis.”
Frank ignored them both and leaned over the bed. “Lenore honey, can you hear me?” She opened her eyes gradually. “Don’t be afraid, sweetheart.”
“Why didn’t they let you come to me before?” Her voice was languid with weariness and drugs. “Did they tell you what—”
“Just rest, darling. There’s been an awful mix-up. Somebody might have . . . left with our baby, and I’m holding this hospital responsible.” He glanced around angrily at the two others in the room. He hadn’t meant to bring up the subject like this. “But it’s okay, honey, I’ll get it straightened out.”
“You might as well know, Mr. Davis,” said Detective Perkins in a low, firm voice, “nobody took your baby. That hole in the skylight wasn’t large enough for any adult to get through.”
Dr. Norten gritted his teeth as he eyed the detective. “Actually, that’s correct, Mr. Davis. Apparently it exited through the skylight. There’s no other way out of the delivery room, except the door, and there were people out there at all times.”
Frank looked from one face to the other. “What do you mean? What are you saying?”
“We’re saying,” Perkins explained, his face stony, “that your baby, whatever it is, got out by itself. After attacking the others.”
“No . . .” Frank stared at them, shaking his head, “no, what the hell are you—”
“I’ve been hearing things, Frank,” Lenore said slowly, “through the door. When they thought I was asleep. Crazy things. Frank . . .” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Why would anything like this happen? Happen to us—” Sobs stopped her voice.
Frank caressed her forehead. He looked up at the doctor. He swallowed hard. “What’s going on, doctor? Has everything gone crazy? Go ahead and tell us, tell us what happened.”
Norten frowned. “This, uh, baby, Mr. Davis, this baby of yours, is apparently some kind of, uh, well . . .”
“Just tell us, for chrissake!”
“. . . a very peculiar being, apparently. Quite singular. Small enough to be born of your wife, obviously. Yet strong enough to attack grown people, to reach the skylight . . .”
“They’ve been calling our baby a monster, Frank.” Lenore’s face reflected her own terror at the words.
“Monster?” Frank looked at Lenore, then at the doctor, then at the detective. His eyes were pinched in attempts to comprehend. “I don’t see—”
“It appears that it killed five people in that room, Mr. Davis,” said Detective Perkins, “tore their throats out.”
“No, no . . .”
Lenore sobbed silently.
“And escaped through the skylight, on its own. Of course, that’s still speculation, partly. But that’s what we got so far.”
“But, but, why do you call it a monster? Did anybody see it?”
Dr. Norten cleared his throat. “ ‘Monster’ would not be my word, Mr. Davis. Some kind of mutant, perhaps. Nobody alive has seen it. So we’re guessing, to some degree. We want to find out, just as you do, what it is.”
“But, killed? It couldn’t kill. Doctor, a baby couldn’t kill!”
“We don’t know this baby’s physical and psychological makeup. We are all creatures of flesh and blood, including this offspring. That’s why I must ask you and your wife to submit to certain tests, Mr. Davis.”
“I won’t!” Frank clenched his fists as he wept. “I refuse! I won’t have anything to do with it!”
“We think,” Dr. Norten went on, “that you have an obligation to medicine, to science—to say nothing of the law—to help us determine what might have caused this, ah, mutation.”
“But this, this is insane!” Frank bit his lips, his eyes beseeching the others in the room. “This whole night is an insane dream!”
“You don’t think it was anything in us, do you, doctor?” Lenore’s eyes were suddenly clear, her voice stable. “You see, we have another child. He’s eleven years old and he’s perfectly normal. All his fingers and toes . . .”
Frank searched her eyes, and didn’t recognize them. “. . . And the two of us, you can see we’re perfectly normal too. Why, we’re the most normal people in town. Frank is in public relations, and I teach school part-time. We’re just fine.”
Dr. Norten took a step closer to her, a sheaf of papers in his hand. “You’ve never been exposed to radioactivity, that you knew of, Mrs. Davis? Or undergone particularly extensive X-ray treatments? Or perhaps suffered an accidental overdose of something?”
“No!” Frank stepped between the doctor and Lenore. “None of that. Nothing. Balderdash!”
“Possible genetic damage can’t be ruled out, Mr. Davis,” the doctor said, blinking once.
“Nothing can be ruled out at this point in time,” said Detective Perkins.
“Must I stay here, Frank?” Lenore smoothed the blanket on top of her. “I’m feeling much better now. Why can’t I just go home?”
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Norten said, “but we can’t release you just yet.”
“I’ve gotta get my wife outta this hellhole.”
Perkins expanded his chest. “I must remind you, Mr. Davis, that the hospital has the legal right to detain Mrs. Davis, under the circumstances.”
“She’s not a prisoner, dammit! I’m paying the bills here.”
“Tut-tut, Mr. Davis.” The doctor examined his papers. “We’re not worried about the bills, I’m sure. I see here you’ve got all the proper insurance. Oh no, it’s not the bills.”
“Manslaughter,” Detective Perkins said stiffly, “crime scene. This whole place is a crime scene. Roped off. Nobody enters or leaves without my say-so.”
Dr. Norten patted the detective on the shoulder. “I’m sure Lieutenant Perkins doesn’t mean to sound harsh. Nonetheless, we have a very serious and difficult problem on our hands. May I ask you, Mrs. Davis, how long had you been taking birth-control pills before this pregnancy?”
“Several years, doctor. But I stopped taking them a couple of years ago. For a while, more recently, I took fertility pills. But I’d stopped them too, before I got pregnant.”
“Oh? That’s quite odd.”
“Look, doctor,” Frank said, “no need to get personal.”
“Only in the sense that I am, after all, a physician. Now, Mrs. Davis, the files of the late Dr. Francis indicate that you inquired about an abortion eight months ago.”
“Dr. Francis is dead?”
“I’m afraid, madam, he was one of those attacked. And, yes, he is.”
“Doesn’t everybody consider abortion nowadays?” Frank asked, surprised at his own matter-of-fact tone. “It was just
a question of convenience, and then we decided we wanted the baby.”
Detective Perkins harrumphed. “We all make mistakes— Uh, I apologize for that.”
Frank glared at him.
“So now,” Dr. Norten went on, “let me make sure I have this. First you didn’t want a child, hence the birth-control pills. Correct? Ah-hah. Then you wanted a child quite badly, hence the fertility pills. Correct? Just so. Then you considered an abortion—”
“Correct, dammit!” Frank felt like spitting, but figured he’d be arrested. “We haven’t done anything most people don’t do. We’re perfectly normal. This is all quackery. Can’t you see what we’ve been through?”
“I don’t like it here anymore,” Lenore said softly. “The walls, the smells, the sounds in the corridors, the stories, the questions, the hurts, the bright lights—the lights scared us, in the delivery room. Everything reminds me of what happened—what you say happened. I’d like to go home now. You people can call me there, or at school.”
Her tone was bland, cold. Frank didn’t like it. She sounded like a recording. “Doctor, my wife is . . . This hospital will be to blame for her mental state. If you force her to stay here against her will, you’ll have to answer for what happens.”
The doctor turned to Perkins. “May I talk to you outside, lieutenant?”
“Yeah.”
They nodded at Frank, and went out the door, leaving him alone with Lenore.
“Come over here, Frank. You haven’t even touched me.”
He bent over her and caressed her forehead, as he had done before, when she was waking.
“That feels good. You’re not afraid of me, are you, Frank?”
He forced a chuckle. “I’ve always been afraid of you, especially those eyes.”
“Strange to think of that, that you might be afraid of me—now.”
“Afraid? Nutty idea. Why should I be afraid? There must be some rational explanation for all this.”
“Yes. If it matters. Explanations don’t always matter. I tried to tell you, all along. How many did it kill, Frank? Four?”
“Look, honey, I don’t believe any of that—”
“Was it four?”
“Five, they said. Including Dr. Francis. But those oafs don’t know what they’re talking about. A newborn baby couldn’t—”
“Dr. Francis. He said it was a very large baby. I remember he said that. Before he saw it. When it was still inside me. You found them, didn’t you? All of them. You were the first one in there, somebody said.”
“Please, Lenore.” He held her hand tightly. “Don’t talk about it.”
“Did you see it, Frank? You can tell me. I won’t tell anybody. Didn’t you see at least a glimpse? Did it have our eyes?”
“I didn’t see anything. It was gone.”
“It climbed all the way up to the skylight?”
“Lenore, please, there’s no need to torture yourself about—”
“Isn’t that what they said, to the skylight?”
“Yes.” Frank thought he saw the briefest glint of a smile on her lips, and he shuddered.
“It must be very strong for such a little thing. Frank, doesn’t anybody know what it looks like?”
“No, I guess not. Not yet. Everybody who could have seen it was . . .”
“Of course not. Nobody knows yet. But soon, everybody will know, isn’t that right, Frank? Everybody will know just what our baby looks like.”
He shuddered again, and gripped her hand.
“You know what, Frank? I don’t think it’s ugly.”
“Lenore, for goodness sake, stop talking about it.”
“It’s just different from other babies. It’s afraid and doesn’t want to be hurt. It’s stronger than other babies, and it gets violent when it’s afraid. But I don’t believe it’s ugly. You don’t either, do you, Frank?”
“You’re exhausted, honey. You don’t know what you’re saying. Maybe it would be better if you stayed here, just one more day.”
She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “I want to know, do you think our baby’s ugly?”
“I don’t know, Lenore. I guess it’s in the eyes of the beholder. And I haven’t seen it.”
“You don’t want me to come home.”
“Of course I do.” He rubbed her cheek. “You know I do.”
“You don’t want me to come home because I had an ugly baby.”
“No, no, I do, I don’t care about the baby, I—”
“You don’t care about our baby?”
He shook his head rapidly. “I do, I do! I’m going around in circles.” He kissed her on the cheek and turned toward the door. “I’d better go out and check on those two, the doctor and the cop. I don’t trust them. Can you imagine those jerks, trying to blame us?”
“Well,” Lenore murmured softly, “we are the parents.”
The strange smile again flitted across her face.
“Let’s not argue,” Frank said. He blew her a kiss and stepped out into the corridor.
The doctor and the lieutenant stopped whispering when they saw him.
“We’ve decided that your wife can go home,” Dr. Norten said, “tomorrow morning. Or, that is to say, later this morning.”
“So you needn’t bother bringing your lawyer into this,” added Detective Perkins.
“Who said anything about my—”
“I’m sure you realize,” the detective went on, pulling his ear, “that it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep this quiet for the time being. In your business, I’m sure you understand about the timing of, er, publicity. So let’s just keep this between us, at least until we find out what’s become of the, er, infant.”
“Christ, no word yet? Strange that nobody’s seen—”
“I don’t see how it could survive the night,” said Norten, “without nourishment or clothing.”
“Yeah,” said Perkins. “Like any animal, though, it’s probably holed up somewhere.”
“It’s not an animal!” Frank snarled. “Whatever it is, you can’t classify it as an animal. It’s human, buster, and that’s disgusting to you, isn’t it? Isn’t it, Dr. Norten?”
“Um, ‘disgusting’ isn’t a word I would use.”
“Kills like an animal,” huffed Detective Perkins, “according to what I’ve seen. And when we find it, we’ll have to destroy it like a crazed animal.”
Frank suddenly felt beaten. “I don’t care. I suppose you have to do whatever is necessary. I don’t want to hear about it, or think about it, or have anything to do with it.”
“Glad you feel that way,” said the detective. “Makes our job easier.”
“And I hope your wife understands, as well,” Dr. Norten added.
“What’s to understand? It’s better not to think about it.”
“But we have to think about it,” the detective said, “in our business.”
“Of course.”
Dr. Norten edged toward Lenore’s door. “I’ll just peek in and say good night to your wife, Mr. Davis.”
“I’ll drive you home, Mr. Davis, if you got nothing against a prowl car.”
“No thanks. I’ve got my car.”
“Don’t leave town.”
“What? Of course not. I’ll be home, if you need me. Or at my office.”
Frank stepped into Lenore’s room behind Dr. Norten.
Lenore was sitting up in bed, combing her hair. “I’m feeling better now.”
Frank took her hand. “We’ve resolved our little conflict. I’ll be picking you up around eleven this morning, to go home.”
“That’s fine.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, honey.”
She giggled.
“What’s the matter?”
“I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl. That was so important to us, wasn’t it? And now we may never find out. Good night, love.”
Frank stepped into the corridor and almost tripped over two orderlies who were mopping the floo
r. He grimaced in disgust, imagining what they were mopping up. He strode briskly past the receptionist and out the front door, which one of Perkins’s men opened for him.
His Corfams clopped on the concrete entranceway, echoing against the building. He stopped and listened—he didn’t know for what. Police cars were parked all around, the dark forms of their drivers inside. They paid him little notice; evidently Perkins had got word outside that he should be permitted to leave Community Hospital. It was quiet out here. Slowly he scanned the thick hedges that ringed the hospital. He shook his head and continued to his car, still where he’d left it, directly in front of the hospital entrance. Police cars were parked behind it. On his windshield, glistening with dew, was a parking ticket. He snatched it and ripped it up, scattering the pieces into the street.
He slid into the driver’s seat and put the key into the ignition. Then he sat still, turning his head to look into the backseat. He stared at the emptiness. Then he sighed, started the motor, and drove away.
A block down the street he passed another row of thick hedges. A segment of the hedge moved. The movement followed the path of his car for a few feet, then stopped.
Frank drove nervously, stopping abruptly for red lights, bucking forward when they changed. He spun the radio dial back and forth, and finally got a news broadcast:
“. . . Police still offer no explanation for the mysterious five deaths that occurred last night at Community Hospital in Westwood. Informed sources at the hospital allege that the deaths followed the birth, only moments before, of an infant in a mutated form. KBOP has acquired exclusive information naming Mr. and Mrs. Frank Davis, of Westwood, as the parents of the infant in question. The whereabouts of the newborn child are not known—”
Frank viciously switched off the radio and slammed his fist into the dashboard. “They named us! The bastards named us! Don’t they have any PR guy at that stinking hospital?”
He pulled into his driveway, his lights picking up a glint off the backyard swimming pool. Though dawn streaked the sky at the horizon, it was still quite dark. He got out of the car and stood, slowly letting his eyes fall around the lawn, the bushes, the perimeter of the house. There was no sound save that which his hard-soled shoes made on the macadam and, as he approached the house, on the manicured grass.
It's Alive! Page 4
