by Lynn Bohart
Rosa screamed again. Her labor pains were coming closer together. It wouldn’t be long now. The man in the white coat had his hands in between her legs, presumably trying to determine how far she was dilated. Just then “Rock Around the Clock” rang out and everything in the room ground to a halt.
“What the hell is that?” Mr. Brown said. “Is that your phone?”
I merely shrugged as if I hadn’t any idea what he was talking about. He reached down and shoved me to one side and stuck his hand into my pocket as the hit 1950s song kept jingling away. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Damn it, Mother!
He looked at the readout and frowned. Then he glanced again to his left. Someone was hidden just beyond the ring of light.
“It says ‘Out of Area,’” he said.
“Hang up,” the voice instructed.
He flicked it off, and dropped it into his pocket.
I tried to place the new voice, but it was unclear whether it was a man or a woman.
The phone rang again, and Mr. Brown pulled it out and flicked it off again. This happened twice more before the voice finally snapped, “Answer the damn thing.”
When he did, the look on his face betrayed his confusion. Then he looked at me.
“She says she’s your mother.”
“What?” a familiar voice said.
I couldn’t stifle the gasp that erupted when Libby turned around. When our eyes met, she seemed to shrink back. I thought I saw disappointment reflected there. Or perhaps it was regret. Either way, I was sure we were both in a situation we never thought we’d be in, and there would be no going back.
“That can’t be her mother,” Libby said. “Her mother is dead,”
“Well, she says it is,” Brown snapped. “Here, you talk to her.”
He handed the phone to Libby, who clearly didn’t want it. She put it reluctantly to her ear and listened. After a moment, her eyes grew wide, and she dropped the phone. Apparently my mother had said something she recognized.
“It is your mother,” she said in a whisper, a look of fear etched into her bland features. She turned to the voice in the shadows. “I’d know that voice anywhere.”
“That’s nonsense,” the voice said.
And then it all made sense as Sybil stepped into the light.
I felt the blood drain from my face. She stared at me in a way that should have turned my heart to stone, but it didn’t; it pissed me off instead. That bitch! I thought. She’d played me for years, pretending to be my friend, acting like an airhead.
“Give it to me!” Sybil ordered.
Libby picked up the phone and handed it over.
“Who the hell is this?”
Sybil spoke without any hint of the accent she’d spoken with for years. But even that horse face couldn’t conceal the surprise in her eyes when she heard my mother’s voice. In an instant, the fear was gone, however, and the steely-edged look was back.
“You’re not Cecile, and you don’t know where we are. This is all a bluff. Now, I have to hang up so that we can finish here and be gone.”
She hung up the phone just as Rosa screamed again.
“The baby is breach,” the doctor said behind her.
She turned to him.
“Then turn it,” she demanded, as if that were the simplest thing in the world to do.
“No, no,” he prattled on nervously. “She needs to be in a hospital. Don’t you understand? A hospital.”
“That baby is already spoken for, which means you’ll lose your hefty cut if we can’t save it.”
The doctor adjusted his glasses nervously. Rosa was groaning in pain. Libby turned back to the gurney and bathed her forehead with a wet cloth. I wondered why Rosa didn’t just roll off the table, and then realized she was strapped down.
“Hold her knee,” the doctor said to Libby. “Grab her other one,” he said to someone on the other side of the table.
When Father Bentley’s face appeared from the gloom beyond the gurney, I wanted to cry out in desperation. Was there no one I could trust anymore?
The not-so-good Father avoided looking over at me and grabbed Rosa’s left knee.
“Let’s get this over with,” he grunted to the doctor, that insipid New Orleans drawl still apparent. At least he wasn’t a complete phony.
The doctor turned to a side table where there were a series of bottles and medical instruments. He grabbed a pair of tongs. I cringed when I saw them, because I knew what he had to do with them. I prayed that Rosa would survive this.
Libby held one knee back, while Father Bentley held the other leg. Then the doctor used the tongs to enter the womb and try to turn the baby. Rosa’s screams brought tears to my eyes and I began to shake.
Mother’s phone rang again, but this time Sybil threw it to the floor and stomped on it. It kept ringing.
“Shit! I hated your mother when she was alive. But I hate her even more now that she’s dead.”
Then she returned to the shadows, while her minions worked to deliver Rosa’s baby.
It was only a few seconds before a second phone rang. But this time it was Mr. Brown’s. With a quizzical look, he reached into his shirt pocket and extracted it, probably thinking it would be someone other than my mother. Too bad for him.
“Shit!” He exhaled, his eyes displaying the first fear. “It’s her again.”
I smiled despite my situation. Clearly, my mother had increased her ghostly skills and had learned how to dial other people’s phones. Sybil strutted over and yanked the phone from Mr. Brown’s hand and held it up to her ear.
“Who is this and what stupid game are you playing?”
Suddenly the arc lights flickered and everyone looked around nervously. Sybil glanced up, but wasn’t buying it.
“You’re not scaring us, and I’m tired of playing along,” she said. “You what? Fine. It won’t make any difference.” Sybil glanced at me. “She wants to talk to you. But if you so much as utter a word that would give her a clue as to where we are, James here will put a bullet in your head immediately.”
I looked at him. James Brown? Really?
He moved into position as if to make good on her threat.
“Go ahead,” Sybil said to my mother.
She pressed a button, and despite Rosa’s groaning, my mother’s voice came through loud and clear on the speaker phone.
“Julia, are you okay? I know you’re in danger, but I can’t see you.”
“Yeah, I’m okay, Mom.”
“Who is it? Who’s there with you?”
“Sybil,” I answered.
She exhaled. “Bitch. I should’ve known.”
I was watching Sybil, and she smiled at that.
“I’m not worried, Mom. I’m her only bargaining chip,” I said, keeping my eye on her.
The change in Sybil’s expression was enough to tell me I had hit a nerve. Keeping the ex-wife of the Governor alive might get her out of a tight spot.
“Say goodbye, Mother,” Sybil said, raising her thumb to click off the phone.
“Mom! Find Elizabeth!” I yelled, just before Sybil pressed the off button.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Sybil said to me. “As soon as we get that MP3 player, you’re the most expendable person here. Did you check her purse?” she said to Mr. Brown.
“It wasn’t there,” he replied.
“Well, we’ll deal with that later,” she said as she turned away and started back toward the gurney.
Libby turned and looked at me over her shoulder, but remained silent. Had she been the one to take the player off the counter? If so, would she out me?
“Just the MP3 player?” I said to Sybil’s back.
Sybil turned and stared at me for several seconds, causing my heart rate to speed up. I stared back without saying a word.
“What do you mean?” she said in a low, steely voice.
I allowed a smile to slowly spread across my swollen face.
“Rudy and Doe found a flash drive in that b
ox of pictures you so kindly directed me to. Martha must have downloaded the same information that was in the book—along with some pictures.”
She advanced so quickly that I flinched back.
“Damn you!” she said, reaching down and grabbing the front of my jacket. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Her face was only inches from mine. The smell of garlic washed over me.
“Ask your hit man over there.” I nodded to Mr. Brown. “You were there the whole time, weren’t you? In the hospital room? You heard me talking with Rudy just before you knocked me out.”
She snapped her head around to look at him. He looked suddenly very uncomfortable.
“She was on the phone with somebody,” he said, stammering. “I don’t know what they were talking about…but I did hear her mention a flash drive.”
She straightened up.
“I’m getting very tired of you, Julia. Don’t push your luck.”
“You said Mrs. Applegate wouldn’t get hurt,” Libby said, still holding Rosa’s leg. “You said no one would get hurt!”
I began to wonder about Libby’s involvement with all of this. She didn’t look like a very willing participant.
“Shut up and do your job!” Sybil said, stepping towards Libby. “Don’t forget about your darling son who’s up to his eyeballs in gambling debt.”
Rosa screamed again, nearly wrenching her knee free from Libby’s grasp. Her agonizing cries heightened the already razor sharp tension in the room. As Sybil turned away from her, Libby continued to defend me.
“You don’t have to kill anyone else,” Libby pleaded.
Sybil turned again in a rage.
“Shut up, you moron! Or you might find out who does and who does not have to die around here.”
Suddenly, Sybil’s own phone rang, and she yanked it out of her coat pocket, her mouth set in an angry line.
“What? Damn!” she yelled.
“Mother doesn’t give up easily,” I said with a smirk.
“It’s not your mother!” she screamed, throwing the phone across the room. “And I’ll kill you if I damn well please!” She suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the gun from Mr. Brown.
“No!” Libby cried, from behind.
Libby spun around and grabbed for the gun. The two women struggled briefly before the gun went off. I flinched and Mr. Brown jumped forward, but it was too late. The bullet tore through Libby’s chest. Sybil stepped out of the way as Libby stumbled forwards and crumpled on top of me. Her eyes glazed over as blood bubbled from the open wound in her chest.
I gasped, choking back tears, while Sybil turned to Mr. Brown.
“Shit! One more body to get rid of,” she said, nearly throwing the gun back to him. “Shoot that woman if she so much as flinches,” she said, pointing at me.
“Mrs. Moore,” the doctor called with a panicked edge to his voice. “I can’t do it. She needs a hospital.”
“No hospital!” Sybil said as if she were spitting. “I told you. She delivers the baby here, or we leave her.”
“You can’t do that,” I cried, tears flowing down my cheeks. “She’ll die.”
Sybil glared at me. “So what? It’s not like her life will be worth much after this, anyway.”
“What do you mean?” I blubbered through tears.
She laughed derisively. “What do you think we were going to do? Set nice little Rosa up in her own apartment? She has only one value to us. She’s young, and she’s pretty.”
The weight of that statement settled around me like fog, and I remembered what Rudy had said about the suggestive pictures. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh give it up, Julia,” she said with a callous toss of her big head. “You’re not that stupid.”
She sneered as if a human life was worth nothing, and suddenly at least three phones started ringing.
“What the hell?” Mr. Brown pulled his out of his pocket again, read the display and dropped it as if it was on fire.
Father Bentley let go of Rosa and practically threw his phone out of his pocket, his eyes wide.
“Who is this woman who keeps calling?” he shouted. “Is it really your mother, Julia?”
“You knew my mother, Father. And you know what she’s like when she gets mad.”
Mr. Brown looked at me, his intense blue eyes flaring with fear. “Is your mother really dead?”
“Tell him, Father. Tell him how you spoke at her funeral last year,” I replied, tears still stinging my eyes. I turned to Brown. “You should have read the brochure when you checked into the inn! It’s haunted. It has been for over forty years.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Sybil said, warning them.
“You know it’s haunted, Sybil,” I said quickly. “Why do you think cupboards always open and slam shut when you’re there?”
“Shut up! That’s all part of your stupid scam,” she screamed, her ugly, misshapen face twisted with rage.
“No scam. Elizabeth doesn’t like you. She never has,” I said, getting an idea. “Maybe she’s here with us now,” I said, looking up and around.
Inwardly, I was hoping she really was there. But nothing happened, and my heart sank.
Sybil turned suddenly and stomped towards the stairs where an old shovel leaned against the railing. She grabbed it and turned back to me, her face unrecognizable in her hatred. I cringed.
“I think I’m done with you, Mizzzz Applegate,” she said, in her fake Southern drawl again.
She started forward, raising the shovel over her head, when out of nowhere a paint can flew out of the dark and hit her in the side of the face. She spun in that direction, but there was no one there. Then a rake lifted up off the floor unaided and danced crazily toward her. I could just barely see Elizabeth’s hazy outline holding the tool. Sybil backed up, inhaling deeply, staring at it. Mr. Brown looked like he was about to shoot it, while Father Bentley and the good doctor just stared open-mouthed.
Sybil spun towards me.
“Do it,” she screamed at Mr. Brown. “Shoot her.”
He turned to me, the gun shaking in his hand. He raised it.
“Mom! Get the lights!” I yelled.
The lights buzzed and crackled, and the room was plunged into absolute darkness.
I tried to roll away so that Mr. Brown couldn’t hit me even if he tried, but Libby had me anchored to the spot. Damn! Where were those ruby slippers when you needed them? I ducked my head underneath Libby’s shoulder just in case.
It wasn’t necessary.
There was an enormous explosion from somewhere above us. It sounded as if a bomb had gone off at the front of the building. There was shuffling and cries all around me in the dark, along with the metal twang of the shovel when it bounced off the cement floor. I pictured them all running into each other like the Keystone Cops, while I was stuck right where I was.
Before I knew it, there were new voices rising above those in my immediate vicinity. And then the lights went back on—all of them, even the room lights. It caught everyone by surprise, and they all froze in momentary flight. Mr. Brown and Sybil had made it to the staircase, while the doctor and Father Bentley had gotten stuck on the far side of the room. The sound of trampling feet on the wooden floor of the gym above us was enough to make Sybil frantic.
“Get out of here!” she screamed.
She ran toward the back door, while Mr. Brown darted up the stairs and out of sight. A moment later, I heard a grunt, and he flew backwards down the stairs, landing with a thud at the bottom. Detective Abrams was right behind him with his gun drawn. He quickly retrieved Mr. Brown’s gun. As he did, the doctor and Father Bentley made a run for the back door.
“Don’t move!” Detective Abrams yelled, pointing the gun at them. “I’ll shoot.”
They froze with their backs to him. Two more officers scrambled down the stairs to take them into custody, while Detective Abrams secured Mr. Brown. I suddenly realized that Angela was by my side, trying to lift Libby off me.
“Mom, oh my God! Are you okay?” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Detective Abrams passed Mr. Brown off to another officer and came over to roll Libby to the side. He checked for vitals, but it was a wasted effort. Meanwhile, Angela had pulled me to a sitting position and was hugging me fiercely.
“Stop, you’re killing me,” I said, wincing. “I’m okay. Just cut me loose.”
Detective Abrams drew out a short knife and quickly cut through the zip-tie at my ankles. Angela pulled me to my feet, and he did the same thing to undo my wrists. In the background, officers were marching Mr. Brown and his merry band of mad men out of the room. Sybil was nowhere to be seen.
“Do you need a doctor, Ms. Applegate?” the detective said, real concern reflected in his eyes.
“No, but Rosa does,” I said. “Quickly. She needs to get to a hospital.”
He turned as if he hadn’t even seen Rosa. During the melee, the gurney had been pushed into the corner. She was still tied to the bed, but had stopped groaning and now lay still as a corpse.
“Oh my God,” I cried, limping over to her.
Detective Abrams pulled out his cell phone, while Angela and I untied the straps that held her to the gurney. I looked around for some water, but before I knew it, two EMTs were hustling down the stairs with their bags and a stretcher. I looked over at the detective.
“We had them on standby,” he said almost shyly. “We weren’t positive you were in here, but if you were…well, we had them in case you needed help.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
Angela and I stepped back to let them do their work.
“C’mon, Mom,” Angela said, drawing me away. “She’ll be okay. Let’s get you out into the fresh air.”
She pulled me toward the stairs, but I stopped her.
“Let’s go out the back,” I said, moving towards the back door. Besides, I could see puffs of dust floating down the stairs, which I presumed were from the explosion.
We stepped outside into the early morning light, and I squinted, pulling my chin down to allow my eyes to adjust. I heard squeals and then…
“Julia!” Rudy called.
