Jack Cavanaugh - Death Watch

The chattering in his earpiece increased.

Hunz pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket. “As improbable as all this sounds,” he said as he unfolded it, “the death watch attack is a spiritual one; therefore, to neutralize it, we must use spiritual weapons. Just hours ago, I learned the truth. Minutes ago, the truth was confirmed.”

Reading from the handwriting on the paper now:

“’For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.’”

Hunz’s voice broke. Until now he’d managed to run ahead of his emotions. They just caught up with him.

Sydney stepped in. “A message that shouldn’t come as any surprise,” she said. “As Billy Peppers told me, ‘It doesn’t make sense to believe in a supernatural God and not believe in the supernatural.’”

The camera lights switched off.

“Save it,” Dorian said.

For Hunz and Sydney the room went black. It took several blinks before shapes began to appear, and when they did, they were of the news crew packing up the equipment.

“The station pulled the plug,” Dorian said.

While the cameraman and Joanna stowed the lights for transport, Dorian took the microphone and the earpieces from Hunz and Sydney and coiled the wires.

“You know, that was pretty low,” Dorian muttered. “I mean, handing out tracts at the airport, holding up signs at football games…that stuff’s annoying, but this? This was low, man.”

In the bedroom, Hunz’s cell phone rang. He went to answer it. A moment later, Sydney’s cell phone rang in her purse. It was Helen. No hello. Just shouting.

Hunz walked out of the bedroom, his hand over the phone. “Sol,” he said.

They held separate conversations as the WBBT crew exited quickly without further comment.

They cut them off!” Josh said, jumping out of his chair and pointing at the television screen.

The WBBT anchors appeared on-screen seated behind the studio news desk. Hal and Carol exchanged nervous glances.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Carol said with a self-conscious chuckle.

Hal, a middle-aged man with thick silver hair, spoke directly to the camera.

“On behalf of WBBT and our affiliates, we want to apologize for what you have just witnessed and state for the record that the views expressed on this program do not represent the views of this station or its owners.”

Carol nodded her agreement. “Because of past abuses, we have attempted to introduce measures that would allow us to protect our viewers from this kind of unseemly behavior on live TV. However, in this case, a five-second delay has proved inadequate. And, for that, we apologize.”

In the hospital room, Josh was beside himself. “Can you believe that?” he cried. “They’re apologizing that Hunz didn’t die!”

Back to Hal at the studio. “Furthermore, we wish to apologize to all groups who find the content of Mr. Vonner’s commentary offensive, particularly our Jewish and Islamic friends.”

Carol continued. “Please believe us when we say we were caught completely off guard. Hunz Vonner came to us with impeccable credentials from the EuroNet broadcasting system.”

“A highly respected international news source,” Hal added. He turned to his coanchor. “I don’t know about you, Carol,” he said, “but I feel like I’ve just been bushwhacked.”

“Bushwhacked?” Josh shouted at the screen. He turned to Cheryl. “Bushwhacked! Did he just say bushwhacked? I can’t believe it.”

Using the remote control, Cheryl clicked off the television set. She stared at the blank screen.

She said, “I wonder how Sydney’s holding up under all this, poor dear.”

Sol wants us back in Los Angeles, ASAP.” Hunz flipped his phone closed.

“I’ve never heard Helen use language like that,” Sydney said. “What are we going to do?”

“We should probably do what they say.”

“Yeah.”

Hunz looked at Sydney. “We’re not, are we?”

“I don’t know about you,” Sydney said, “but I’m not leaving Chicago until I talk to Cheryl and Josh.”

Don’t dawdle,” Dora said, waving them down the deserted hallway. Sydney, Hunz, and Josh stepped lively, their shoes squeaking on the polished white tile floor of Prentice Women’s Hospital.

It was the second time Sydney had stepped foot in the hospital. Both times had been an experience.

Yesterday, not long after Hunz’s broadcast, when they walked through the sliding glass hospital doors into the lobby, they were recognized immediately. Over a dozen people populated the lobby, filling out admission forms, waiting for news of loved ones. Some booed when they saw Hunz and Sydney. Others were more articulate with their opinions.

“Shoulda known. Nothin’ but a cheap stunt.”

“You owe me, man. The station promised us a death.”

“Yeah. And what do we get instead? Billy Graham!”

Now, the morning after the broadcast, Sydney made her second entrance into the hospital as an adventurous and sympathetic nurse sneaked them into Cheryl’s room.

Dora Evans didn’t put much stock in visitors’ hours or the rules restricting the number of people allowed in a pregnant woman’s room.

“Don’t dawdle! Don’t dawdle!” she said, with the vigilance of a sheepdog.

“Good morning,” Cheryl greeted them from her bed. “Just in time.”

The off-duty news trio circled her bed. She held up a hand. Josh seemed to know just what to do. He took it and got a squeeze.

Stacy lay next to her mother in the bed, asleep.

From the door, Dora said, “Keep it down, okay?” She started to leave, then stopped to say, “If this don’t beat all. I’ve seen death watch vigils for terminal patients plenty of times, but this is the first life watch vigil I’ve ever seen.”

She closed the door. The two couples and Stacy were alone.

“Should we wake her?” Sydney asked.

Cheryl lovingly straightened the bangs on her daughter’s forehead. “No, let her sleep,” she said. Tears came.

“Oh, honey.” Sydney took Cheryl’s free hand. “Are you scared?”

Cheryl smiled bravely. “A little,” she said.

Hunz checked his watch, comparing it to the wall clock.

9:26 a.m.

“Two minutes,” Cheryl said. “The time on the letter was 7:28 a.m., but that was Pacific Time.”

“Are you ready for this?” Hunz asked.

Cheryl knew what he was asking. They’d had a long talk during his visit yesterday.

“Can a person ever be 100 percent certain?” she asked.

“You have to put your trust in the One doing the rescuing,” Hunz replied.

Cheryl nodded. “Then I’m ready.”

9:27 a.m.

Cheryl looked up at Sydney. “I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if it wasn’t for you,” she said.

Sydney kissed her hand. “Who would have thought God would use Wonder Wheel to bring people together,” she said.

Cheryl smiled. She looked at each of them in turn.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you all for being here.”

“Thank Hunz,” Sydney said. “He’s the one who negotiated an extra night’s stay in Chicago with our producer.”

“Negotiating is too noble of a word to describe what I did,” Hunz said sheepishly. “Making excuses is closer to the truth. It bought us last night and a couple of hours this morning.”

“However you arranged it, thank you,” Cheryl said.

“Josh, what about you?” Sydney asked.

“It was easy for me.” Josh shrugged. “I just told them I had a death watch notice and they placed me on extended leave. New KSMJ policy.”