Evil Dreams (8 page)

She shook her head slowly. “Maybe I’m imagining things,” she said weakly. “I could have sworn—”

“Lay off the swearing,” he said, grinning. Sobering, his mood changed. “God, sweetheart! There’s nothing wrong with me. The doctors found nothing. Besides, I wouldn’t let anything go wrong. You know that.”

Allowing herself to be embraced, she had impulsively thrown her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, darling,” she had said, but decided to call Doctor Dayton Monday morning.

Her gaze, traveling up his quiet form lying in the hospital bed, stopped to study his handsome features. The half light created an illusion of puffiness and lines in his face. The feeble glow shone on his right eye and forehead while darkness covered the left side of his upper face. Directly above his mouth the shadow of his nose gave him the appearance of wearing a small moustache. Despite her concern, she managed a fragile smile. Then the door opened and the light from the hallway spilled in.

Trina turned to find a heavyset nurse framed in the doorway.

“Mrs. Ward?” the woman asked.

Trina walked toward her and into the hall when the woman motioned for her to follow.

“I’m Selma Overton. Doctor Lehigh asked me to visit with you for a moment. He was on his way here but was called to an emergency operation. Doctor has looked at the results of the tests your husband underwent when he was admitted this afternoon. Everything seems to be within normal ranges. However, he has suggested Mr. Ward undergo another angiogram.”

Trina cringed inwardly at the thought. She remembered Jon’s trepidation about the angiogram he had had administered the previous week. Although the possibilities of a reaction or blood clot existed, nothing adverse had happened. Now, he would apparently have to have another of the tests.

“Is it necessary?” she asked.

“Doctor seems to feel that since it is so close timewise to his having experienced the dream, something might show up on this test that didn’t before.”

Trina nodded, understanding the logic, but fearing Jon’s attitude.

“Doctor also suggested that you go home and get a good night’s rest. Your presence here will not help your husband at this time.”

“When will the angiogram be administered?” she asked.

“Very early, tomorrow morning. I believe he’s scheduled for seven.”

“I’ll have to call in early so the school can get a sub for me but I’ll be here. Probably earlier than that.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Ward. Your husband should sleep the whole night through with no effort. We have orders to check on him every fifteen minutes. If he should wake up, we’re to notify the doctor on duty immediately. As a result, he’ll be under observation all night.”

Trina studied the older woman. An air of professional conduct prevented her from smiling even though laugh lines were in evidence at the corners of her eyes. Her ruddy complexion contrasted sharply with her white uniform while dark eyes peered steadily at Trina.

“His vital signs are all normal, Mrs. Ward,” she continued. “Right now, he’s sleeping. Everything should be fine for tonight.”

“If you’re certain it’s all right,” she said.

“You won’t be worth anything to him when he’s awake in the morning if you stay up all night, Mrs. Ward. Please. A good night’s sleep will work wonders for you, as well as for your husband.”

“Very well. I’ll get my purse and be on my way,” she said, moving to the door.

It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the half light of the room before she walked to the side of the bed. Jon still lay on his back, asleep. Bending down, she tenderly kissed him. “I’ll see you in the morning, darling,” she whispered.

Leaving his side to retrieve her handbag from the bureau, Trina moved silently to the door. Before she left, she turned to look at her husband once more. The shadows still painted his face in a surrealistic manner. Quietly opening the door, she stepped into the hall.

Only Jon’s steady breathing disrupted the silence in the room. Then his eyes opened and an evil smile curled his lips.

CHAPTER 4

Trina hoped Jon had not noticed her haggard appearance. She vaguely remembered the clock in the living room striking four before dropping off to sleep, and then, in what seemed like seconds, the alarm clock had rung. Her thoughts, filled with concern for him, had managed to keep her awake most of the night. Suddenly, the closeness of the elevator seemed to press in on her. She wanted to speak to Jon but felt she could not in the presence of the two strangers who stood with them.

Studying Jon lying on the gurney convinced her that he was still confused about the experience he had suffered yesterday. The thought of blood pouring from his head had dominated her nighttime reflections. Had she imagined the whole thing? Was his dream beginning to affect her in some strange way? He had screamed just like he did whenever he had suffered the nightmare. She remembered throwing the door open to see him fall from his chair. She remembered the blood. No one could ever convince her that she had not seen it. She didn’t care if it had disappeared, leaving no trace or stain of any kind. She had seen it.

Taking her eyes from him, she looked covertly at the two orderlies who were taking Jon to the radiology department. She found the young man and woman lost in whispered conversation.

When she felt Jon pull on her arm, she looked down at him.

He mouthed the words, “I’m doing this for you,” and smiled.

She nodded and lovingly touched his hand.

The car gently settled to a stop, its doors sliding open without a discernable sound. Trina followed her husband’s cart into the hall. Several turns through the labyrinthian corridors brought them to a double door and the woman turned to face her.

“We’ll let you know when you can come in for a few minutes, Mrs. Ward.” Without waiting for a reply, she left her standing alone in the hall.

Trina leaned against the cool, tile wall. For some inane reason, she felt guilty about all of Jon’s problems. But, why now, of all times? Her own sense of responsibility and concern had vacillated from deepest worry to full acceptance of anything the doctors might find. At least if the cause of the dream were known, it could be countered intelligently. She smiled ruefully. Why should she feel as though she were committing some abominable crime for having her husband’s welfare foremost in her mind? Would the doctors discharge Jon with a clean bill of health, only to insist that she seek help either for her eyes or her imagination? Doctor Lehigh, the resident internist, had irked her when she told him of the blood shortly after they had arrived at the hospital.

“Really, Mrs. Ward, what you’re telling me is something completely out of the range of normal medicine. I wasn’t prepared for something like
disappearing blood
while I was in school,” he had said curtly.

When he appeared to have dismissed it as the product of an overwrought imagination. Trina decided not to mention the incident again.

The double doors opened and the woman who had accompanied her and Jon in the elevator appeared, motioning for her to enter.

Jon blinked at the brightness of the room. Lights placed every foot-and-one-half around the room’s perimeter were enhanced by more ceiling lights. The orderlies transferred him to a table and before settling down on the hard surface, he stretched lazily. A male nurse deftly shaved, then scrubbed a small area next to the previous test site, on the inside of his right thigh. Suddenly aware of another person standing behind him, Jon turned his head and saw Dr. Orval Rodgers.

Rodgers, a huge man, had appeared portly in his suit and tie the first time they met, but now had taken on an ungainly mien in his green surgical scrubs, just as he had during the first angiogram.

“Good morning, Mr. Ward,” he said softly. “We’ll be ready to start as soon as we make our incision.”

Rodgers turned, passing out of his range of sight, but Jon could see the young man and girl who had accompanied him on the elevator going through the door by which he had entered. Then Trina came in.

In seconds she stood at his side. “Everything will be all right, darling,” she said quietly.

“I know it will.” He took her hand, squeezing it is his. “Don’t be upset with me. Don’t worry about me.”

“I will worry. It’s my prerogative.” She flashed her best
I love you
smile.

He grinned, pointing to his head. “I don’t think they’ll find anything new except more jumbled up plot lines and some pretty wild characters I haven’t put down on paper yet. That and a lot of thoughts about you.”

She bent, lightly kissing him on the mouth.

“You’ll have to leave, Mrs. Ward,” the male nurse said. “You can wait down the hall or return to your husband’s room. We shouldn’t be too long.” He smiled confidently, dispelling any last minute fears for either patient or spouse.

She calmly returned the young man’s look and waved to Jon. ” ‘Bye, honey, see you soon.”

He watched Trina crossing the room and relaxed with the thought that tonight, tomorrow at the latest, he would be able to go home.

The male nurse stepped aside when the other nurse came forward to cover Jon’s lower extremities with a green cloth. He could see a small hole when the woman flared it out to settle in an open position. Moving it around, she placed the opening over the area that had been prepared.

Dr. Rodgers came into view again and the two nurses stepped back. He examined the opening and grunted, “Xylocaine.” In seconds, one of the nurses appeared, handing him a vial.

The doctor shot a stream of anesthesia away from the table, expelling any remaining air from the syringe. Jon felt a prick as the needle entered his leg, a comforting sensation of numbness spreading quickly.

“Feel this?” Rodgers asked after several minutes, pinching the flesh through the cloth close to the exposed spot.

Jon shook his head.

“Get me an Amplatz needle, Joanie,” the doctor ordered. The young nurse turned to an instrument tray, quickly handing the device to him.

Jon spotted a monitoring TV set and could see the incision being made. He turned his head away just as Rodgers inserted the large needle.

Rodgers positioned the X-ray tube over Jon’s head. Satisfied it was set properly, he went to the machine which would record the journey of the dye about to course through the patient’s head.

“First, a test dose,” he said from across the room. The woman tending Jon’s incision, responded to the order.

Jon tried not to pay attention to the terse dialogue. He had blotted the room out of sight by closing his eyes tightly. Now, he would only have to concentrate on shutting out the voices of the doctor and nurses.

“Inject the first dosage, Joanie.” Rodger’s voice seemed distant, remote.

Jon felt queasy, a wave of nausea firmly entrenching itself when he heard the voice of the radiologist say, “Inject the IRS again and—” When the voices faded, he tentatively opened his eyes. He remembered when he had had the same test last week that there had been several injections. The sensation of heat emanating from his face and head would feel highly concentrated as the iodinated radiopaque substance passed through the blood vessels in his skull. Maybe there would be complications this time. He should have rebelled at the idea of a second test. Hadn’t he been warned the last time that something could go wrong? But he hadn’t really been consulted about this test. He had slept the whole night and awakened to find Trina at his bedside. She had told him of the impending test and in his bewildered state, merely nodded. Hadn’t the doctor said last week the possibility existed that—what was it he had said? He couldn’t concentrate.

He had to stop thinking about the scalding effect. But, how could he? Searing fire seemed to singe his face and head. His throat burned as though he were exposed to a blast furnace. He knew it would pass but would he be able to stand the pain this time?

Closing his eyes again, he tried to block the white room from sight. The cold, sterile walls should have helped him fix his thoughts on something other than those of discomfort and burning fever. But they hadn’t. He didn’t think he could stand it. He opened his mouth to scream.

“But I still live!”

Jon’s eyes flew open, searching. Who had said that? He hadn’t. Had he thought it? No. It was more of a voice within him that had uttered the words. But how? Who? His eyes darted from the ceiling to the X-ray machine above his head. To the nurse standing near his lower extremities who cared for the incision in his leg. To the flickering screen that displayed his groin area. There were no indications that the woman standing near him had said or heard anything. The monotonous hum of the machine was the only sound in the room. Every once in a while, the radiologist spoke, giving an order to one or the other of his assistants, but Jon could not understand the words.

The warmth of the baking heat that filled his head suddenly felt comforting. The room blended into a swirl of shadows and whiteness before an opaque curtain settled before his eyes. Was he dying? If this were death, it felt good. He welcomed it as relief from the misery to which he had been subjected. Now the heat flared again and he decided his face and shoulders were actually smoldering. Opening his eyes, he saw below him the trees turned into people burning, mouthing their silent screams of agony and death. For an instant, he savored the experience of hovering near the ceiling, dangling in mid air.

His head felt fragmented, the ache pounding more severely than the previous afternoon. There were no feelings of anger or injury or desperation once he acknowledged the pain in his skull. At first he wanted to scream, just as he always did whenever awaking from the nightmare, but a sensibility of peace enveloped him offering warmth, security. A new sensation of freedom washed over his being and a sense of floating startled him. He no longer had the fiery burning in his face and head and when he looked down, he gasped. The dying people had vanished and in their place he saw his own body lying on the X-ray table, the attendant nurse standing next to his right leg where the incision had been made. The doctor continued making notes as the machinery of modern medicine hummed its one note litany.