A Show of Hands

by David Crossman

  Crisp nodded again, then started blinking.

  “What is he saying?” Pagitt asked.

  It took a minute for Crisp to get the whole message out and Matty to interpret. “He says she was tryin’ to frame Neddy McKenniston.”

  “It worked,” said Pagitt. “If that’s the case.”

  “What’s goin’ to happen to Winston?” Matty whispered. “That first shot . . .”

  “He should be dead,” Pagitt replied. He looked at the bottle. “It’s antivenin. Lifesaving in small doses, but too much . . .” He shuddered. “That would be an awful way to die.”

  It was, thought Crisp.

  “The only thing I can think is that it must have lost its potency. Still, I’m amazed.” He’d been taking Crisp’s pulse unconsciously. “His pulse is a little more regular. Must have been pretty bad, Professor,” he said. Crisp slowly closed and opened his eyes in response.

  “The worst is over,” said Pagitt. “You’ll have some pretty bad cramps, but nothing like what you’ve been through.”

  “Well, you showed up just like the cavalry,” said Matty. “How?”

  “The phone rang a while ago at the house,” Pagitt replied. “Jennine answered it. But nobody was there. She said all she could hear was this ticktock, ticktock in the background.” He smiled.

  “The grandmother clock!” said Matty. She patted the doctor on the shoulder.

  “I was afraid something might be wrong. I couldn’t imagine what, but I hopped in the ambulance and came up.”

  “And Leeman and Luther?”

  Pagitt’s smile broadened. “I had the whirly lights on. They wouldn’t miss it.”

  Crisp gurgled to get attention and began blinking.

  “What’s he saying?”

  “He says he thinks the story’s in the bag.”

  “In the bag? What bag?”

  Matty picked up the shopping bag. “This?” Crisp nodded. She opened it, reached in, and took out the tape recorder. She held it up. “It’s still goin’,” she said.

  “You mean it’s been on all this time?” said Pagitt, taking it from Matty and turning it off. “Play and record,” he said, looking at the buttons. “It got everything.”

  Crisp closed his eyes. If he woke up in this world, he’d never see Amanda again. He knew that. If he woke up in the next, she’d be there. Whole. Alive in one way or another. So would he.

  You showed me in the shadow of myself

  A love that can exist by simply seeming.

  I know that as I close my eyes to sleep

  I awake again to sleep from dream to dream.

  There would be no dreams tonight.