Sheila Connolly: Let's Play Dead

“Has anyone called 911 yet?” I hollered. “Tell them we need an ambulance!’

“They’re on their way.” The other worker approached, slipping a cell phone back under his coveralls. “What the hell happened? Is he…?”

“He was fiddling with the weasel and something seems to have shorted out.” That summed up all I knew.

“And whatever he did completed the circuit,” the man said. “I’m an electrician. Joe Murphy. I was just helping out with the painting ’cause the wiring was pretty much done. But I swear to God, we checked out all the connections, up one side and down the other! No way this should have happened. He gonna be all right?”

How was I supposed to know? Jason didn’t look any better: he was pale and breathing shallowly, and showed no signs of waking up.

I was startled when Arabella said, “Don’t touch anything,” in a calm, clear voice. “We don’t know if the circuit’s still live. You, too, Joe-just leave it alone until we can figure out what happened. Luckily Jason fell clear of it, or you might have been shocked, too, Nell.”

I hadn’t even considered that, in my hurry to reach Jason, but she was right. I sat back on my heels. “Should we cover him or something?”

“Good idea. If he’s in shock he’ll be losing body heat. Hand me one of those tarps, will you, Joe?”

Joe swooped down and bundled up a tarp. He and Arabella together laid it carefully over Jason’s nearly still form.

“Is the power out throughout the building?” I asked. I thought I could see lights coming from the open stairwell.

“Shouldn’t be,” Arabella said. “We installed a separate circuit for the exhibition this time around, since we had the walls open anyway, and we knew the electrified animals would draw a lot of power. But we went over the plans more times than I can count! There should have been no way that this could happen. The codes for this sort of exhibit are very strict, and of course we’ve had every inspection the city requires. It would be devastating if anything happened to a child. Not that it should happen to anyone.”

I felt a sense of relief. Gone was the fluffy Arabella, replaced by a competent leader, and I was happy to let her take charge.

“Mother, are you up here?” A female voice drifted from the front of the building. “What’s going on with the lights?”

Arabella stood up abruptly and headed for the sheeting that hid the exhibit. “Darling, don’t…” She was too late to intercept the young woman, who pushed the sheets aside and then shoved past her mother. “What…?” She took in the scene-me squatting next to prostrate Jason, Joe standing anxiously behind, all of us in the dark-and then she wailed, “Oh, no! No! Jason!” Despite her mother’s restraining hand, she rushed over to Jason and knelt down beside me. She reached out to touch him-his face, not his pulse. “Jason, wake up, please!” Then she looked at me, her eyes filled with tears. “Is he…?”

“I think he’s had a bad electrical shock, but he’s breathing,” I said. “We’ve called for an ambulance.”

She kept her hand on Jason. “Who are you? Do I know you?”

“I’m Nell Pratt, from the Pennsylvania Antiquarian Society. You’re Arabella’s daughter?” When she nodded, I explained, “Your mother invited me to preview the exhibit.”

“Oh.” She lost interest in me and turned back to Jason.

Arabella had caught up with her, and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Caitlin, darling, come away. Help is coming.”

Once again Caitlin threw off her mother’s hand. “No. I’m staying with Jason. I want to be sure he’s all right. What happened?” Her gaze swiveled wildly between her mother, me, and Joe.

Arabella and I exchanged a glance. I wasn’t sure that Jason was going to be all right-shouldn’t he be conscious by now? But I wasn’t going to say anything to make this situation any worse. I was relieved to hear the sound of an approaching siren.

“We don’t know yet, Caitlin. Joe, can you go down and let them in, and bring them up here, please?” Arabella asked.

Joe, looking relieved at having something to do, said, “Sure,” and headed quickly for the stairs.

I stood up, since Caitlin had taken over the task of watching Jason breathe.

Arabella noticed my movement. “You don’t have to stay, Nell,” she said.

“Maybe I should, since I was here when this happened,” I told her. “In case the police have any questions.”

Arabella looked bewildered. “Why would the police have any questions? Something must have gone wrong with the wiring. It was an accident.”

Was it? Any hint of carelessness could do serious damage to the reputation of Let’s Play. What if it was something worse than carelessness? No, I was probably just being paranoid. First, see that Jason got to a hospital and, God willing, recovered. Then, make sure all the wiring was checked out-and then checked again. And pray that it was no more than an accident.

We sat frozen for long minutes, awaiting the arrival of the EMTs. I could track their progress aurally: the siren swelled in volume, then stopped abruptly when they arrived in front of the museum. There was commotion at the front door; Joe directed them up the stairs, and I heard their equipment clanging as they made their way up. Someone called out from the head of the stairs, and Arabella replied, “In here! Behind the plastic.”

Finally the EMTs appeared. Arabella tugged her daughter away from Jason’s still form. Caitlin came reluctantly, and Arabella wrapped an arm around her shoulders-or at least she tried, since she was at least six inches shorter than the younger woman. I wondered irreverently how such a short round woman could have produced such a tall willowy child. The EMTs set to work with grim efficiency. They managed to work and spit out questions at the same time. “What’s his name?”

“Jason Miller,” Arabella responded.

“What was he doing here?”

“He works here. He’s been painting part of the exhibit.”

“What happened? He fall?”

“No, we were having trouble making the electronic weasel work. Jason just touched it, and something went wrong.”

“It looked like he was hit with an electrical shock,” I volunteered. “He touched something, then he fell down all at once, and he hasn’t been conscious since. The lights up here went out at the same time.”

The EMTs exchanged a glance, then looked at Arabella. “You been working on the wiring lately?”

“Yes. But we’ve passed all our inspections, and everything was fine. The exhibit’s complete except for some painting and touching up. And the other figures were working fine yesterday. I tried them out myself.”

Arabella had been answering the questions with admirable calm, all the while holding on to her daughter-or maybe holding her up. Caitlin hadn’t said a word since her first outburst, and she was deathly pale, twisting her hands together. Hadn’t Arabella said Jason was Caitlin’s boyfriend? She certainly looked upset, maybe more so than Arabella. I felt like a fifth wheel, watching the professionals at work. What had happened here? Arabella had just said that the animals in the exhibit had been working fine yesterday, and today obviously they weren’t. What had changed? And why?

The EMTs straightened and extended the legs of their gurney. “Elevator?” one barked.

“I’ll show you,” Arabella said.

“I want to come with Jason,” Caitlin said abruptly.

“You a relative?”

“He’s my… fiancé,” Caitlin said defiantly. Arabella shot her a startled glance but said nothing.

“You can’t ride with us. You can follow if you want, but you may have to wait awhile.”

“Okay. Will he be all right?”