The Speculist

Chapter 25

Part III

Chapter Twenty-Five

 

Darryl MacHale sat in a plastic chair outside a hospital room. He had been there for the better part of two days. Celia was allowed to sit in the room with the boy, but MacHale was not. He had been permitted only a few moments with Todd earlier that afternoon.

What exactly was going on, Darryl had no idea. He didn’t doubt Celia’s story that Todd had been attacked by ants, and that the other boy had been killed by them. But he knew there must be more to the story than that, just as he knew that there was more to Todd and the other children from the home than he had been told. He was not an impatient man. In the time he had spent with Todd and Celia, he had allowed the truth to present itself slowly, naturally. He knew he was confronting some great mystery, but he wouldn’t allow his curiosity to get the better of him.

There would be time, he had thought — plenty of time for everything.

Now he wished deeply that he had pressed Todd a little harder, or had been more direct with Celia. He felt weak and helpless in the face of a situation in which it seemed he could provide no real assistance. If he knew better what it was they were up against, maybe he could think of a solution.

But he didn’t know. He never got around to asking Celia directly what was going on before the tragedy had occurred, and now he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. He had had plenty of chances these past two days in the hospital to talk to her, to ask her anything he wanted to know. But whenever he got close to the subject, he sensed so much fear and dread in Celia that he had to leave it alone.

Again, his natural inclination towards patience, towards not trying to force the next step, kicked in.

Darryl stood up to stretch his legs. The unusually heavy and bulky object in his pocket shifted when he stood; he had forgotten that he was still carrying it around. He put his hand in his pocket and placed it around the small package.

He shook his head.

Madness, he thought. Utter madness.

It had all been Todd’s idea. The boy had brought it up so casually one day, and was so matter-of-fact in outlining his scheme, that Darryl couldn’t quite bring himself to be shocked.

He chuckled as he thought about it. The kid could sell a Frigidaire to Nanook.

But, no, it wasn’t just that. The plan had seemed right to Darryl. Crazy, perhaps, but no crazier than anything else: certainly no crazier than doing cutting-edge artificial intelligence research with some kid who lived in a secret enclave of child geniuses, disguised as a home for the disabled.

It had been Darryl’s job to launch the plan, to bring the idea to Celia. But now circumstances had intervened, and Darryl had no idea whether he would ever go ahead with the plan. And if he didn’t, he had no idea what he would do with the contents of the package.

He turned when he heard the door open. Celia stepped into the hallway.

“Any change?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“I just spoke to Caroline,” she said. “I have to get back.”

Darryl nodded. She was clearly exhausted.

“Is there a problem?”

“Apparently. She says there are some men there to see me.”

“Some men? Who?”

Celia rubbed her eyes.

“She didn’t say. Maybe the police. Maybe Social Services. Who knows?”

Darryl put his arm around her shoulder.

“Would you like me to drive you over there?”

“No. Stay here. As long as you can.”

He looked into her eyes, looking for even the faintest glimmer of the hope which once shined so bright. But it wasn’t there. All he could see was resignation.

Defeat.

“Celia, I…I want to tell you something. Something Todd told me a few days ago. Do you remember the day you discovered that he could hear?”

She nodded.

“Yes. What about it?”

“He told me that it was the happiest day of his life.”

Celia swallowed hard. She looked down the hall for a moment, then at the floor. She looked back up at Darryl, her eyes hard and cold.

“It was the happiest day of my life, too.”

“No, but…do you know why? I mean, for him.”

She shrugged.

“Because he couldn’t hear before, and then he could.”

She cleared her throat. She looked at her watch.

“I really have to go,” she said. She shrugged off his arm and started down the hall.

“Wait, that’s not it.”

She stopped. She turned back and looked at him, expectant. Impatient.

Darryl closed the gap between them. He took her hands in his.

“He told me that it was the happiest day of his life because he knew that he could tell you that he loved you. And that he had always wanted to do that.”

Celia closed her eyes.

“He’s a busy fellow,Todd” Darryl continued. He smiled slightly. “He has a lot on his mind. So maybe he never got around to telling you that.”

Celia shook her head. She opened her eyes, now wet with tears.

“He…hugged me,” she said.

Darryl reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek.

“I just thought you should know that,” he said. “And I think you should remember it.”

She nodded.

“Thank you.”

She turned to go.

“Uh, Celia?” he said.

She turned around again.

“Todd also told me that he was cured of autism around the same time he got his hearing back. When exactly did all this happen? Three, four years ago? Longer?”

Celia looked up, trying to remember. She wiped her eyes.

“A couple of months ago, I think.”

“A couple of months?”

She looked confused.

“Well, call it ten weeks. Give or take. I’m not sure.”

She continued down the hall.

MacHale stood and watched her go. He sat back down in the plastic chair and heaved a great sigh.

“I’m not surprised at all,” he said aloud, to no one. “Not at all.”

---

Celia sat at her desk facing a man she had known for years and one she had never met before. Outside her office stood an armed police officer, which seemed like overkill. Or maybe that was required when delivering a court order, she didn’t know.

The man she knew was named Jepson. He was the Superintendent of schools, Myra’s old nemesis with the fat face and receding hairline. The man she had never met was named Asher.

He was her replacement.

“An unfortunate measure, to be sure,” Jepson explained “but a temporary one. Mr. Asher will be here only as long as it takes to conclude our investigation and return the home to normal operations.”

Celia knew better. Talk of Raymond’s death and of mysterious goings-on at the home was all over town. Earlier that evening at the hospital she had run into Mrs. West, the missions representative from the Presbyterian church (the same “Mission Lady” who paid a weekly visit to the home) who warned her that a court order was pending. She had learned about it from her husband, a bailiff in the county courthouse. Apparently this was not the first time that Jepson had brought a petition against the home. He had been working for years to try to shut the place down. Maybe he had grown tired of arguing with Myra; maybe he had designs on the home’s grant for the school system.

Whatever his reason — and Celia didn’t actually care what it was — he had finally found his opening in what he described as “this week’s tragic turn of events.”

It had been only two days. That part was hard to imagine; so much had changed. Things had spun so badly out of control. Raymond was dead. Todd was in the hospital, catatonic. Prognosis uncertain. She had left him there just a few minutes earlier. The other children were experiencing varying degrees of shock.

And Corey had fallen asleep. He had now been asleep for 51 hours. Celia didn’t want him to wake up, didn’t want him to have to face what had happened. But she also didn’t want him to sleep. Or at least not to dream.

Not any more.

---

Grace sat quietly in bed, folding and re-folding a slick, colorful sheet of paper. She couldn’t sleep and she didn’t want to, anyway. Everybody was always trying to make her sleep. The paper was the cover of a comic book; she had secretly retrieved it from the kitchen trash when no one was looking.

Grace couldn’t read, but she knew the name of the comic book was Creepy Tales. Raymond had told her that when he showed it to her. He had found it in the neighbors’ trash a few days before. The cover was garish; it depicted a man being eaten by an enormous ant.

Stupid picture, she thought.

It was wrong. The ants in the Creepy Tales story weren’t giants like on the cover, they were just big like the ones on the porch. And smart like them, too. Raymond had read her the story and shown her the pictures. With Corey sitting there all the while.

He never even looked at the book, she thought.

But she knew that was wrong. Corey always looked at everything. You just couldn’t tell he was doing it, that’s all. Then yesterday Grace tried to explain what happened to Miss Gray — there was no getting to Miss Crawford right now. She told her how Corey had had a bad dream, just like everybody has sometimes. And she showed her the comic book, so she would understand.

But Grace wasn’t sure whether Miss Gray understood. Who could tell with grownups? She looked scared. Then she looked like she was going to cry.

Then she got angry.

“Give me that thing,” Miss Gray had said, snatching the comic book out of Grace’s hand. She stalked off to the kitchen and threw it in the trash.

Everybody was upset and scared. Corey was in trouble. Todd was sick and they didn’t know when he was going to get better. Maybe he wouldn’t. Grace missed Raymond. He was one of her friends; her friends weren’t supposed to go away. They were all supposed to stay together and find new fun stuff to do, like the play about the Mountain People.

Now there probably wouldn’t even be a play.

First she had helped Corey, and then Corey had helped all of them. But now it seemed that it was all over. Corey had been asleep for a long time, and there were no dreams. She wanted to talk to Corey. Maybe she could help him think of something to do.

Grace had an idea.

She got out of bed and crept quietly to the door of her tiny bedroom. She had never liked being moved to her own room. It was something they did because she wasn’t special. Or sometimes they said they did it was because she was special. Miss Crawford and Miss Gray could never quite get their story straight on that point, but Grace knew what it meant. She was different from the other kids.

But not any more. Corey had changed that. Maybe they would move her back to the dorm now.

She opened the door as quietly as she could and looked out into the dim hallway. Miss Crawford’s door was closed. Asleep, Grace thought. Miss Gray’ door was ajar, the light off. Grace knew that this meant that Caroline was still downstairs. She suspected that she was in the common room watching TV. She knew that Caroline liked to do this, liked to watch grownup shows after everyone else was asleep. A couple of times, Grace had managed to stay awake long enough to go downstairs and join her.

“Miss Gray, I can’t sleep,” she would say, and Caroline would let her sit in her lap for a while before sending her back up to bed. But that had been a while ago.

She stepped quietly out into the hallway and headed down the stairs. They were squeaky sometimes, but she knew to keep to the left side. The doors to the boys’ and girls’ dormitories faced each other, both closed for the night. Grace thought about going into the boys’ room and trying her idea with Corey herself, but she was afraid. She wasn’t allowed in the boys’ room.

Besides, she wasn’t sure it really was such a good idea. The others would know.

All was quiet in the girls’ room. Kathy, Estelle, and Lucinda occupied lower bunks. Only the older girls, Alice, Bettina, and Judy, were allowed to sleep in the upper ones. Grace approached Alice’s bed. She climbed the ladder at the side of the bed and nudged Alice as she slept.

“Alice,” she whispered. “Alice. Are you awake?”

The sleeping girl stirred.

“What?” she said impatiently, not opening her eyes.

“Wake up, I need to talk to you.”

“Grace, what are you doing?” It was Judy, awake and sitting up in the next bed.

“Go to sleep Grace,” Alice said loudly, annoyed.

“Quiet,” said Grace .

It took a moment for Alice to rouse herself. By then, Kathy and Estelle were also stirring. Lucinda remained asleep. Grace sat next to the older girl on her bed, their legs dangling over the lower bunk. Judy faced them from the opposite bunk.

“So you have an idea. What is it?” Alice whispered.

“I think we should talk to Corey.”

“We can’t,” said Judy. “Not until he has another dream.”

“Not unless,” Alice corrected. “Maybe he won’t have any more.”

“No,” said Grace. “No. ’Member how Corey made the pink cake and fixed the TV? I never asked him to do that in a dream. I asked him while I was awake.”

“Yeah, and he was awake, too” said Alice.

“Maybe he can hear anyway?” said Grace. “He never looks like he’s listening, but he always is.”

“Even when he’s asleep?” Judy asked.

“Maybe,” said Grace.

Alice shrugged.

“It’s worth a try, I guess. But what do you want to say to him?”

“I want to ask him to make Raymond better.”

Grace knew at once that she had said something wrong. Sometimes it was hard to know what the right thing to say was, but she could always tell when she missed the mark. Alice and Judy looked away uncomfortably.

It used to be easier talking to them, she thought. Before they got so smart.

“No,” Judy said after a moment.

“Absolutely not,” Alice agreed.

“But why? Corey can fix him good as new just like the TV. Then no one will have to be sad.”

“He can’t do it,” said Alice.

“Well, maybe he can,” said Judy. “But he shouldn’t. He mustn’t.”

Grace looked from one of them to the other.

“But how come?” she persisted.

Alice put her arm around Grace’s shoulder.

“It’s not allowed, sweetie.”

Alice had taken to calling Grace by the same pet names that Miss Gray used. Grace didn’t mind. Much. She could see that the children weren’t just getting smarter; they were getting older somehow. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she was no longer in charge.

She considered what Alice said. Not allowed was a powerful argument.

“But what if he does it and brings Raymond back? Miss Crawford will be mad that we broke the rules, but she’ll be real glad to see Raymond.”

“No, no,” said Alice. “That isn’t what I mean. It’s not against school rules. It’s against the laws of nature.”

Judy laughed. Alice looked at her, puzzled.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking the same thing — the laws of nature. I mean, isn’t it ironic that we of all people should be trying to enforce them? Everything Corey ever did was against the laws of nature. How do you think we’re even having this conversation?”

“Yeah,” said Grace. “See?”

Alice shook her head.

“You know what I mean, Jude. It’s against God’s laws.”

“No it isn’t,” Kathy said. She swung out from her lower bunk, followed by Estelle from the other side. The girls climbed up and seated themselves: Kathy next to Grace; Estelle next to Judy.

“You’re wrong about fixing Raymond,” said Kathy. “Then he took the child by the hand, and he said to her ‘Talitha Cumi.’ ”

Alice and Judy looked at each other, perplexed.

“It means ‘little girl, wake up’,” Estelle explained. “Mark Five, verse 41.”

“It’s a story the Mission Lady told us,” said Kathy. “Jesus brings a Centurion’s daughter back to life. He tells everybody that the girl isn’t really dead, she’s just asleep. They all laugh at him, but then he tells her to wake up and she does. We found it in the Bible and read it ourselves.”

“And you memorized it?” asked Judy.

Estelle gave the older girls an embarrassed smile. She drew in a little closer to the center, ready to share some confidential information.

“We memorize everything we read,” she whispered.

Judy looked at Kathy. She studied the younger girl for a moment.

“When did you two start reading?” she asked.

Kathy considered this.

“Five weeks ago.”

“And you remember everything you read?” asked Alice.

“ There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus—’”

“Okay, okay,” said Judy.

“Romans eight, verses one and two,” Estelle explained.

Judy laughed again.

“You mean you’ve both memorized the whole Bible?”

“Oh, no,” said Estelle. “Of course not. Just the New Testament.”

“And the Psalms,” Kathy added. “And Proverbs. That was all that little Bible in the library had. Anyway, I think it’s okay for Corey to bring Raymond back. Jesus did it.”

“See?” said Grace. “Jesus did it!”

Alice shook her head.

“That’s different. Maybe the girl wasn’t really dead. Jesus said she was just asleep. It could have been a coma or something.”

Kathy and Estelle shared a knowing look.

“Okay, then what about Lazarus?” Kathy asked. “He was dead for days. He smelled bad.”

“It’s different,” Alice insisted. “Those were miracles. The power of God. What Corey does is not the same thing. We can’t tamper with life and death.”

“Yes we can.”

It was Lucinda. Now awake, she stood at the foot of Estelle and Judy’s bed. None of them had heard her stir.

“When a doctor uses electric paddles to resuscitate a heart attack victim, isn’t that tampering with life and death?”

Grace didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she understood that her friend was taking her side. Lucinda — the little red-haired girl in the white flannel nightgown, the second youngest child in the home, Grace’s best buddy — rarely spoke, but when she did, the others listened. It was generally agreed that she was the smartest child in the home. Or perhaps second smartest after Todd.

“That’s different,” said Alice.

“You’re right, Alice.”

Lucinda raised her arms and took hold of the bed posts on either side of her. She seemed poised to perform some gymnastic feat. Then she thought better of it.

“It is different. History, medicine, religion…none of these can provide a precedent for the choice we’re making. This is Terra Incognita. It’s a brave new world that has such people in it.”

She let her hands drop.

“That’s right,” said Kathy, recognizing her line. She had played the role of Miranda in their production of The Tempest. “And so…we’re the people?”

Lucinda nodded.

“We are. Especially Corey.”

“So what are you saying?” asked Alice.

“I‘m saying that we have a choice. We can hide behind our fear of things we don’t really understand. Even when we have benefited from those things ourselves. Or we can put those fears aside and do what’s right.”

Alice thought about this for a moment.

“Okay,” she said. “But what’s right? How do we know what’s right?”

“Maybe we can’t know for sure. But I think it’s right for us to help our friends. Raymond and Todd. And Corey.”

“Yeah,” said Grace. “She’s right. We got to do the right thing.” She slid down the side of the bed, hitting the floor a little harder than she planned.

“Quiet,” Judy whispered.

Grace stood next to Lucinda, taking her hand.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Come on, everybody. We got to go talk to Corey.”

Posted by Phil at March 1, 2004 12:00 AM | TrackBack