Robin Cook: Acceptable Risk

Turning back into the room, Kim glanced again at Elizabeth’s portrait over the mantel and thought of Elizabeth’s gruesome, malformed fetus swimming in its jar of preservative. Kim shuddered anew. No wonder people in Elizabeth’s time believed in sorcery, magic, and witchcraft. Back then there was no other explanation for such disturbing events.

Advancing closer to the painting, Kim studied Elizabeth’s features. The woman’s assertiveness was apparent in the line of her jaw, the set of her lips, and the forthright stare of her eyes. Kim wondered if the trait had been temperament or character, inborn or learned, nature or nurture.

Kim pondered her own newly cultivated assertiveness for which she credited Elizabeth and wondered if she could maintain it. She felt she’d made a start by going to the lab that afternoon. She was certain she wouldn’t have been able to do that in the past.

As the evening progressed, Kim began to think about the possibility of changing careers and to question whether she had the courage to take the risk. With her inheritance she knew she could not use economics as an excuse. Such a life-style change was a daunting possibility, especially the idea of doing something artistic. Yet it was also alluring.

One of the unexpected consequences of Kim’s efforts at sorting the three hundred years of business documents in the castle was the realization of how little her family had contributed to the community. The hoard of papers and the tasteless castle housing them were the two major legacies. There’d not been one artist, musician, or author among them. For all their money, they’d developed no art collections, philharmonic endowments, or libraries. In fact, they’d made no contribution to culture unless entrepreneurialism was a culture in and of itself.

By nine p.m. Kim was beyond exhaustion. For a brief moment she entertained the notion of going back to the lab, but she quickly discarded it. If Edward had wanted to talk he would have come to the house. Instead she wrote him a note on a Post-It and stuck it on the mirror in the half-bath. It said simply: I’ll be up at five and we can talk then.

After taking the cat out for a brief sojourn, Kim climbed into bed. She didn’t even try to read nor did she even consider the need for a sleep aid. In a matter of minutes she was fast asleep.

Tuesday, October 4, 1994

A startlingly loud clap of thunder yanked Kim from the depths of a dream in the blink of an eye. The house was still vibrating from the horrendous noise as she realized she was sitting bolt upright. Sheba had responded to the cataclysm by leaping from the bed and diving beneath it.

Within minutes of the thunder came rain and gusty wind. Having held back for so long, the storm hit with unbridled ferocity. Droplets large enough to sound like hailstones battered the slate roof above Kim’s head. She also heard the rain beat against the screen of the westerly-facing open casement window.

Kim dashed from her bed to the window and began cranking it shut. She could feel the wind carry rainwater into her room. Just as she was about to lock the window in place, a flash of lightning struck the lightning rod on one of the castle’s turrets and filled the entire compound with a blue light.

In the instant the field between the cottage and the castle was illuminated, Kim saw a startling image. It was a ghostlike, scantily clad figure running across the grass. Although Kim couldn’t be certain, since she’d had only the briefest glimpse, she thought it might have been Eleanor.

Kim winced as another clap of thunder came close on the heels of the lightning flash. Ignoring the ringing in her ears, she strained to see out in the darkness. With the driving rain, it was impossible. She waited briefly for another flash of lightning, but none occurred.

Leaving the window, Kim ran through the connecting hall to Edward’s bedroom. She was convinced she’d not been hallucinating; someone was out there. Whether it was Eleanor or not was immaterial. No one should be out in that storm, especially when there was the added danger of the wild animal that had been plaguing the neighborhood.

Edward had to be told. Kim was surprised to find his door closed. He always had it open. Kim knocked. When there was no answer, she knocked louder. When there was still no answer, she looked down at the lock on the old door. A skeleton key protruded from the keyhole, meaning the door couldn’t be locked. Kim opened the door.

From where she was standing Kim could hear Edward’s stertorous breathing. Kim called out to him several times in a progressively louder voice, but he didn’t stir.

Another flash of lightning filled the room with light. Kim got a brief glimpse of Edward sprawled on his back with his arms and legs outstretched. He was clothed in his underwear. One pant leg had not been totally removed; his trousers were draped inside-out over the side of the bed.

Kim again winced in preparation of the thunder, and it didn’t disappoint her. It was as if the storm were centered on the compound.

Turning on the hall light, which spilled into Edward’s room, Kim hurried over to his bedside. She tried calling to him again. When that didn’t work she shook him gently. Not only didn’t he wake up, his breathing didn’t even alter. Kim shook him vigorously, and when that had no effect she began to be concerned. It was as if he were in a coma.

Kim turned on the bedside light to its brightest level. Edward was the picture of tranquility. His face had a slack appearance, with his mouth open. Kim put a hand on each shoulder and shook him insistently, loudly calling his name.

Only then did his breathing change. Then his eyes blinked open.

“Edward, are you awake?” Kim asked. She shook him again and his head flopped from side to side like a rag doll.

Edward appeared confused and disoriented until he noticed Kim. She was still holding his shoulders.

Kim watched Edward’s pupils suddenly dilate similar to those of a cat about to spring. Then his eyes narrowed to mere slits while his upper lip curled back like a snarling beast’s. Edward’s previously flaccid face contorted into an expression of sheer rage.

Shocked by this horrid, unexpected metamorphosis, Kim released his shoulders and backed up. She was stunned he could be so angry at being awakened. Edward let out a throaty sound akin to a growl and sat up. He was staring at her unblinkingly.

Kim bolted for the door, aware that Edward had sprung after her. She heard him fall to the floor, presumably tangled in his partially removed trousers. Kim slammed Edward’s bedroom door behind her, and, using the skeleton key, locked it.

After dashing headlong down the stairs, Kim ran to the phone in the kitchen. She knew that something was terribly wrong with Edward. He wasn’t just angry about being awakened. Something had snapped in his mind.

Kim dialed 911, but as the connection went through she heard the door to Edward’s bedroom splinter and then bang open against the wall. An instant later she could hear Edward snarling at the top of the stairs, followed by the sound of his coming down.

Frightened out of her mind, Kim dropped the phone and headed for the back door. As she reached it she glanced over her shoulder. She caught a glimpse of Edward crashing into the dining room table and throwing it but of his way in his haste. He was totally berserk.

Kim yanked open the door and dashed out into the rain, which was coming down in sheets. Her only thought was to get help, and the closest source was the castle. She rounded the house and struck off across the field, running as fast as she could in the soggy darkness.

A fearful bolt of lightning crackled out of the sky and illuminated the drenched landscape, briefly silhouetting the castle. The thunder followed immediately, reverberating off its looming facade. Kim did not break stride. She was thankful to see lights in some of the windows of the servants’ wing.