John Saul - Creature

ChuckLaConner, the memory of his son's distorted features still etched deeply in his mind, forced himself to look directly at Charlotte as he once more repeated the story he and Ames had agreed upon late the night before. He rationalized to himself that at least she would be spared having to see what Jeff was turning into. Better she should live in ignorance than have that terrible image engraved on her heart forever. "It wouldn't do you, or him, any good," he said once more. "Char, he wouldn't even recognize you."

"But it's not possible," Charlotte whimpered, cowering away from his words as if she'd been struck. "I'm his mother, Chuck-he needs me!"

"He needs rest," Chuck insisted. "Honey, I know it seems crazy, but sometimes these things happen. Jeff's been under a lot of pressure lately-"

"And is that my fault?" Charlotte suddenly flared. "I wanted him to quit the team, remember?"

Chuck swore silently to himself. Remember? How could he forget? The argument had gone on almost every day since she'd gone to visit that boy in the hospital, and he still hadn't been able to convince her that whatever had happened wasn'tJeffs fault. Then he realized that perhaps there was a way to turn her own words against her and once and for all put an end to this discussion. "Did it ever occur to you that your nagging might have contributed to what's happened?" he asked, deliberately putting an icy edge on his words. As she recoiled, he repeated to himself yet again that all this was for her own good.

Charlotte dropped limply onto the sofa and stared at him bleakly, "is that what he said?" she asked in a hollow voice. "That all this is my fault?"

Chuck licked nervously at his lips. "Perhaps not in so many words," he temporized. "But what it comes down to is, for the moment the best thing we can do-both of us-is let the doctors take care of Jeff. And it's not forever, honey," he went on. "After a while, when he gets better…"

He let the words trail off. Part of his mind told him that he had just told his wife an outright lie; Jeff was never going to get better. But there was another part of him that wanted to believe that somehow Marty Ames would come up with a solution to the terrible thing that was happening to their son.

The important thing right now, though, was to keep Charlotte from finding out exactly how bad Jeff's situation was. Of course, he would never forgive himself for what had happened, never forgive himself for enrolling Jeff in a medical program that carried any risks whatsoever, no matter how slight they might have been.

He'd lost his son. He'd understood that in the dark hours before dawn this morning, when Marty Ames had finally let him see Jeff. His first instinct had been to turn on Ames, to strike out at the man who had done this. But in the end, as always happened with him, reason had prevailed. He'd come to understand that in the final analysis it was he himself who was culpable, he who had made the final decision to allow Jeff to be treated with Ames's experimental compounds.

He'd wanted it to work so badly, wanted so much for Jeff to be like all the other boys-especially like all the other boys in Silverdale-that he'd deliberately shut his mind to the possible side effects of Ames's treatment.

And so he'd lost his only child.

And if Charlotte found out what he'd done, found out what had really happened to Jeff, he'd lose her, too.

But it didn't have to be that way, he thought. If he could only convince her that Jeff's problems weren't physical at all, convince her that their son had simply suffered a mental breakdown and needed a period of rest, perhaps she would never have to know the truth.

Perhaps Ames would find a cure and Jeff would be fine.

Or perhaps…

He deliberately shut his mind to the other possibility, telling himself that it wouldn't happen. It would be just as Jerry Harris had told him that afternoon.

"I don't want you to worry about a thing," Harris said after calling Chuck into his office. "I've talked to Marty Ames, and he thinks there's a good chance of turning this around. And you can count onTarrenTech. Whatever Jeff needs, he's going to get." They'd talked for a while, and Harris assured him that no matter what happened, both Jeff and theLaConner family would be taken care of. "And after this is over," Harris had said, "you can take Charlotte anywhere you want to go. I can't imagine you'll want to stay in Silverdale, not after this. But it's a big world, and we're a big company. And we take care of our own."

Even through his grief and guilt, Chuck had understood the message perfectly. What had happened to Jeff was going to be swept under the carpet, and neither the situation-nor his part in it-were ever going to be made public.

For a moment he'd hated Jerry Harris, hated him as much as he'd ever hated anyone in his life. But then, once more, that pragmatic core deep within him-the cold, analytical aspect of his personality that had not only made him valuable toTarrenTech over the years, but had led him to weigh the odds for Jeff three years ago and then take what he had thought was an almost risk-free gamble with his own son's life-came to the fore.

There was no point in hating Jerry. After all, hadn't Jerry himself taken the same gamble with Robb's life? And Tom Stevens, with Randy? And how many others?

They were the same, all of them. All of them had the same hopes and aspirations for their sons; the same ambitions for themselves. All of them had gambled.

Most of them had won.

Tom Stevens had lost.

Now he had lost.

But he didn't have to lose everything. He still had his career, and he still had his wife. And he intended to lose neither of those, no matter what it took.

He went to Charlotte and slipped his arms around her. "He'll get better," he promised. "And as soon as he does, then I know he'll want to see you. But for now we just have to let him be." He hugged her close and felt her draw in a deep breath.

"I'll try," she promised. She gazed up at him, her eyes flooding with tears. "But I miss him, Chuck," she went on, her voice bleak. "I miss him so much, and he's only been gone one day."

Chuck said nothing, suddenly unable to speak to her again or even look at her.

Mark closed the book he'd been reading and sprawled out on the bed, his eyes closed. He hadn't been able to concentrate on his homework, and knew he'd have to read the same section over again tomorrow night.

But he didn't care, for while his eyes had been scanning the pages, seeing the words but not really taking them in, his mind had been going back again and again over the events of last night and today.

He remembered the fight-remembered every humiliating moment of it. He'd never had a chance, not from the very beginning, when Jeff had first tackled him. And when it was finally over and he was in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, he'd felt like he was going to die. Nor had he felt much better when he woke up this morning.

But now, after the hours at the sports clinic, he felt fine. Sure, he had a few marks on his face, but the pain was gone, and the wounds seemed to be healing rapidly.

He'd come to a decision sometime during the morning: never again would he allow himself to be beaten up the way JeffLaConner had beaten him up. Even now the memory of it made him angry, and he clenched his right hand into a fist and punched his left palm with a sharp smack.

Startled by the sound,Chivas growled softly. Mark sat up and swung his feet off the bed.

"Things are going to change, boy," he muttered to the big dog, and reached down to scratch the animal's head.Chivas's ears dropped back against his skull. He whined softly, then slithered away from Mark's touch. Mark frowned, annoyed with the dog. But then, noticing the snow for the first time, he forgot his annoyance and went to the window to gaze out at the backyard.