The Taint (25 page)

EIGHTY-SIX

Jon had just arrived back at the office when the lights failed.

“What next,” he muttered and went to the windows, pulling back the wooden blinds and letting sunlight into the room. He stood, looking out.

Whoever it was wanted to play.

He could feel anger building and he repressed it. He had to remain in control, to keep his head, to be effective. Not that he was doing that well so far.

He looked at the stack of papers on his desk. Without much interest, he picked up an envelope from records and opened it.

A copy of title for that abandoned cabin where Melissa Davis had been found.

Owner was Nora Mae Samuels.

She was in the house.

The closet door had not just fallen open; somehow she got into that bedroom. A hidden door? It had to be.

She probably was hiding when the Davis girl had been killed; she might have seen the whole thing.

It was suddenly urgent that he find Nora Samuels.

EIGHTY-SEVEN

Joyce watched from across the room as Nathan slept fretfully, tossing and turning, his face damp with sweat. He had seemed to be better for a while but now there was little doubt that it wasn’t over yet.

She’d been giving him aspirin for the fever, and Penicillin for the infection on his wrist but she knew it was more than that. There was a look about him.

He belonged in the hospital. Particularly now, with the phone and the lights out, he needed to be somewhere with more sophisticated methods of treatment than she could provide.

She sensed that he was nearing a crisis point.

His blood pressure was up, his pulse quickening, his respirations rapid and increasingly labored.

He was quiet now but she knew better than to assume he would stay this way long.

But now, while he was still, she would go out to his truck and use the radio to call the hospital.

She crossed the room to the door and reached for the doorknob, looking back over her shoulder at him. He was not moving but she sensed an awareness, as though he knew what she was doing.

It frightened her. She pulled the door open and stepped outside, leaning against the door when it was closed and wishing absurdly that there was some way she could lock it.

There was no time to waste.

She went outside into the sun, somehow surprised that the morning could be so clear and beautiful even as she felt an increasing sense of danger.

The truck was unlocked and she climbed in, closing the door behind and now locking both doors, taking a second to look out at the world from her new-found haven. Nothing was moving; no wind-stirred branches, no birds in flight, nothing.

She picked up the microphone and turned the radio on, listening for a moment to the dead air.

What if she had to drive up the road to use the radio? She closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat.

As much as she loved him, she wasn’t sure she could go back in the house to get the keys. She could not deny her own fear.

Then she noticed that the band-indicator was on “comm” and she switched it to the hospital band, hearing at once the broken voices. She couldn’t really understand much of what they were saying but she hoped she would be able to transmit.

If not, she was staying where she was.

There was nothing she could do for him now.

EIGHTY-EIGHT

Rachel was half-way up the darkened hall when the emergency generator clicked on, supplying power to essential equipment and only a small number of lights.

“Dr. Adams,” Emma came out of Nora’s room, peering down the hall towards her. “Is that you?”

“What is it?”

“Nora . . . she’s worse.”

Light from the courtyard shone into the room, bathing Nora in a golden glow and Rachel stopped for an instant, struck by the sight.

“Nora,” she said, coming to the side of the bed and taking the frail wrist. The pulse was irregular and bounding. She turned to Emma. “Get the cardiac cart in here.”

Emma ran from the room.

“Don’t,” Nora said.

“Nora, I can help you.”

“No . . . it’s time.” She smiled weakly. “And . . . I don’t like needles.”

Rachel searched her face and was satisfied by what she saw. Emma burst into the room, pushing the metal cart and Rachel caught her eyes, shaking her head.

“Do you want something for pain?” Rachel asked, moving her hand down to cover Nora’s.

Nora’s lips moved, forming the word no.

“Then I’ll just wait with you.”

Nora didn’t answer and her eyes closed. Her breathing began to slow.

Emma stood at the end of the bed, her hands clasped in front of her, a smile on her face.

The light brightened, Nora’s white hair appearing like spun silver, the fine lines of her face softer and now she turned her head toward the light, toward Rachel.

Nora opened her eyes, which sparkled with curiosity and held no fear. She squeezed Rachel’s hand.

“I give it to you,” Nora said.

Warmth spread through Rachel’s body and she gasped.

Nora smiled and stopped breathing.

Rachel laid the lifeless hand beside the body and stood, waiting for the light to fade.

Emma was at her side and neither spoke, knowing no words equal to the moment.

Finally, they left the room, closing the door behind.

Then Emma went to tend the other patients and Rachel went to the radio console, preparing to call Jon with the name of the man she somehow knew without question was the killer in the woods.

EIGHTY-NINE

The cabin was exactly as he had left it and he went directly into the bedroom and opened the closet door, barely looking at the blood-stained floor.

He stepped into the closet and began to run his hands along the walls, feeling for a seam or a crack. The hinges obviously had to be on the other side. Nothing.

He looked down at the floor. If he hadn’t known what he was looking for, he would never have seen it.

The floor of the closet was wood squares, parquet, carefully inlaid into a bordered plank. It was almost impossible to see the lines along the hidden door.

He looked around the room for something to pry the door open and then smiled. Hanging on a hook at the back of the closet was an old-fashioned shoe horn. Just like Nora to leave it staring him in the face.

It was a perfect fit and he lifted the trap door and looked down into a very dark basement.

He went back to the truck for a flashlight and to check in with dispatch but the radio was silent.

He half-expected Nora to come darting out the door but there was no movement or sound as he re-entered the house.

As long as she wasn’t dead down there.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs and flashed the beam of light around the small room he was both relieved and puzzled. Relieved that she wasn’t dead and puzzled that she wasn’t there.

It was clear that she
had
been hiding in the room; cans and jars were opened and the remnants of the food were not spoiled yet.

He shone the light along the walls, wondering if she had yet another secret room but the bricks were solid when he tapped them.

Where had she gone?

As he turned to go back up the stairs he noticed some markings on the wall beside them. He stood and ran the light across them.

It appeared to be some sort of a code, with shapes and strange lines representing words. He read the words but there was no sense to them and he shrugged.

Nora and her magic.

He went back up the stairs, leaving the door open. The air was a little stale and he would give it a while to clear out before he came back and took a set of pictures.

Meanwhile, he would drive back down to the road to let them know where he was and what he’d found. Or didn’t find.

NINETY

Rachel pumped the accelerator in the Porsche, coaxing it to start. It caught once and died and she thought briefly that she should have bought something a little less temperamental. Then it caught again and the engine purred.

She waited impatiently for it to warm up.

Joyce had sounded panic-stricken over the radio. Little of what she said made sense but the desperation came through.

She should have known.

She eased the gearshift into reverse and backed up slowly, feeling the slight hesitation that warned her the car was not ready to be driven. But she gave it a little more gas and shifted to low, taking off with a spray of gravel behind.

Nathan’s infection was not airborne, as were the milder cases. The point of entry was the wound on his arm; very likely it was contaminated by the blood of one of the victims.

He would be in much more danger than the others.

Why hadn’t she realized this before?

She pushed steadily on the gas and began to speed down the deserted road toward the house, hoping that she’d make it in time.

Joyce was waiting, as she’d said she would be, in Nathan’s truck in the yard. Rachel parked alongside and got out, taking her medical bag with her.

“I’m sorry,” Joyce said, getting out of the truck.

“He hasn’t come out?”

Joyce shook her head no. “Are you going in there without help?” Her eyes were wide as she looked at the house.

“I don’t think I have any choice.” She put the medical bag on the car and opened it, reaching in and withdrawing a sterile-pack syringe. She tore the paper off and then looked through the bag for an eighteen gauge needle which she attached.

“What are you going to give him?” Joyce sounded a little calmer.

“A very strong sedative.” Rachel met her eyes. “There’s nothing else I can do, really, except keep him from hurting himself, or anyone else.” She withdrew a vial and pushed off the thin aluminum guard with her thumb. She pushed the needle through the rubber stopper and turned the bottle up, injecting air into the liquid to form a vacuum. Then she drew the drug down into the barrel of the syringe.

Joyce watched in silence.

Rachel capped the syringe and tossed the vial back into the bag.

“Do you want me to come?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Rachel slipped the syringe into her pocket, and felt the small black book there. She had almost forgotten it.

“I’ll come.” Joyce looked at the house and back at Rachel. “I don’t think I could wait out here, not knowing.”

Rachel pushed the front door open and stood listening. When she heard nothing she nodded at Joyce and stepped into the house.

There was, as Joyce said, a feeling in the air.

They moved stealthily up the stairs, taking each step slowly, careful not to make a sound. When they reached the top of the landing Rachel took the needle out of her pocket and shielded it in her hand.

Now they stood in front of the door to his room. There was little light in this part of the hallway and they were still, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dimness.

Rachel put her hand on the doorknob and twisted it slowly, hoping to muffle the click when it released. She felt it give way and she looked at Joyce whose face was deadly pale, and then she pushed the door open.

He was not in the bed.

She heard the sharp intake of breath beside her as her eyes searched the room. Joyce’s cold fingers closed around her wrist.

He was standing in the corner nearest the door, only a few feet away. His face was blank of recognition and his hair spiked wildly about his head. There was nothing in his eyes.

“Nathan,” Rachel said and stepped into the room, facing him.

He didn’t move.

She heard Joyce moan deep in her throat but she did not take her eyes from Nathan’s face.

He did not seem to see her.

In his hand he held a broken glass, the edges ragged and deadly. She could see blood running from a cut on the palm of his left hand.

She did not believe that he meant to use it as a weapon. She moved slowly toward him.

“Nathan,” she said again.

Now he looked at her as she came closer, making no move to raise the glass but not seeming to recognize her. Little drops of blood were dripping onto the floor.

She smiled at him and lifted her left hand up, open, drawing his eyes with it. She was very close now and she slipped a fingernail under the needle guard and pushed it off. Then under his dead gaze she took his right arm and injected the drug directly into the vein. Then she stood back.

The glass dropped from his hand as he slumped to the floor.

NINETY-ONE

Jon pulled out onto the main road, driving up until there was a clearing of trees and stopping there. The radio was now giving off the fine static of an open band. As he reached for the microphone he looked in the rearview mirror and was startled to see Earl driving up behind him. He pulled the emergency brake and jumped down from the truck.

“Jon,” Earl called out the window, waiting for him to walk back.

“What’re you doing out here?” Jon asked.

“I put those barricades up where the road gave way and while I was snooping around, look what I found.” He passed out a metal case.

Jon looked at him and took the case, flipping the catches and opened it up. A single stick of dynamite.

“Someone blasted the road,” Jon said.

“I didn’t think it had rained enough the other night to cause a slide,” Earl said. “But look at the case.”

Jon examined it. “Forestry?”

Earl nodded. “No seal but that’s what it is all right.”

“Interesting.”

“That got me to thinking; there’s a forest access road which runs down the back side of the mountain. I think I can get down that way to report the power failure and the rest of it. Maybe get a crew up here . . .”

“Go ahead, then.”

“The only problem is, if I go, you’re on your own. Neither Andy or Eric are radio-equipped, and with no phones . . .”

“Don’t worry about it. The sooner we can get some service restored the better.”

“All right . . . just don’t go taking any chances.” Earl shifted into reverse and pulled back, turning in the road and driving off with a wave.

Jon looked at the metal case.

He got back into the truck and put the case on the seat, hesitating as he reached for the radio mike.

Things seemed to be pointing toward the park.

He called dispatch, repeating his destination twice but there was no response. Sometimes the console was left unattended for a minute while nature called, but seldom longer.

He released the brake and began to turn in the road. He would start toward the park station, and call dispatch from there.

Nora’s secret would have to wait.