Nate Kenyon - The Reach

But she couldn’t keep the chills from running up and down her spine, or the quivers from her muscles. It was almost as if she had experienced Annie’s fear, had been inside the woman’s mind.

According to her mother, that scream was the first sound that Annie Voorsanger had uttered in almost three years.

“So what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Jess said. She did not want to look away from the road, but finally she did.

Shelley sat up straight in the passenger seat and was looking at her with the calm and considered gaze of a doctor. “Give me an opinion.”

“She’s obviously disturbed. Beyond that—she’d need to be examined more fully.”

“You can see how it was,” Shelley said. There was a gleam in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Sarah was alone with them and I wanted to get her out as fast as I could. They agreed to give me full legal responsibility and the state signed the paperwork. If she ever got to the point of leaving my care I would contact them.”

“Would you have?”

“I doubt it.”

Take her, I told you, Mrs. Voorsanger had said, turning to Shelley as they left, as her daughter’s screams had finally turned to low moans. You remember. Care for our Sarah, I said. But never forget what she is.

And what was that?

A child with the power of the devil in her hands.

“You think they’re all insane?”

“I didn’t say that. If there’s one thing I’ve learned,” Shelley said, seeming to choose her words carefully, “it’s that the mind is capable of amazing feats. But what they’re asking us to consider here is in the realm of parapsychology. Pseudoscience. You understand what I’m saying.”

Something that was not logically possible, according to all the laws of physics. A child of the devil? Certainly not. That went far beyond anything she was willing to believe. A lapsed Catholic, she was not a particularly religious woman. Only in times of great stress had her mind searched for belief in a higher power, and afterward she always felt slightly embarrassed, a little childish, as if someone might have seen what she had been thinking and thought less of her for it.

But there had been studies, she knew, examining just this kind of phenomenon. ESP. Psychokinesis. Some of them were fairly persuasive.

And yet. All those years of training in the science of everything, an unwavering belief in everything explained, rationalized, dissected. Things like this just didn’t happen, or if they did there was a logical explanation. Did she believe it now? Could she believe it?

“That wasn’t the whole story,” Shelley said quietly, interrupting her thoughts. “I want you to understand that we acted in the true interests of the child. There was evidence of physical abuse when we took her in. Bruises, a slight concussion. We think it was the husband, Ed, though it could have been any of them.”

“They were hurting her?”

“Something happened to that little girl, and it wasn’t falling out of her crib. Remember that when you’re thinking about what we just heard.”

They reached the airport. Jess ignored the appreciative glances from the two men who filled the plane’s gas tank, their eyes moving across her face and breasts like men considering a purchase. She felt a cold dark emptiness, as if she were outside herself looking in.

Soon she was looking down the wing as they turned to circle back over a tiny toy airport and flash of hills, a ribbon of road through green trees and grass, lines of houses drawn in neat patterns and squares. From above, everything looked as if it had been fashioned by giant hands, laid out in neat geometric shapes.

The distance gained was more than physical. There were many times in her teenage years when she had felt the lift of the wings like a sudden unburdening, and the whoosh of air sounded like something chasing her from the ground.

It was still that way, she decided. No matter how hard she tried she could never outrun what was chasing her. She always had to land.

“Maria’s given her notice,” Dr. Wasserman said, leaning forward in his chair and fixing Jess with an intent and serious gaze.

This time his tic did not show itself, but his nervous energy remained. He picked up a sharpened pencil, tapping the eraser against the resignation letter on his desk, like someone knocking to get in. “It’s a tragedy of course, a terrible setback for the hospital. Maria was one of the few I trusted to tend to our more difficult patients… Are you all right?” Wasserman was looking at her curiously now.

“I’m fine.”

“Did you notice anything when you were here last? Did she seem unhappy, angry?”

“She did seem a little upset.”

Wasserman shook his head. “It was very abrupt. I tried to speak with her….”

“I’m not exactly sure what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Wasserman leaned back in his chair, then forward again, as if trying to get comfortable. “It’s unfortunate, but I cannot allow it to adversely affect what we’re trying to accomplish here.” He paused as if to emphasize his point. “I have to say that Sarah has made a rather remarkable improvement. She’s more alert, docile, cooperative. We’ve adjusted her medication, but I’ll admit that your visits may have had something to do with it.”

“I wanted to speak to you about that, actually, Dr. Wasserman. I wondered if it might be possible to take Sarah outside the quiet room for a few hours, maybe a couple of times this week. I think she might benefit from a more interactive environment.”

For the past several days Jess had been trying to decide how to approach the situation. The one conclusion she seemed able to reach was that she wanted to help Sarah at whatever the cost. It was obvious she would have to do some damage control with Wasserman after the last visit, but kissing ass had never been her thing. Especially a slimy one. No matter how hard she tried, she could not get an image of him out of her head: Wasserman sitting in his office after her first meeting with Sarah, grinning at her when she told him she was going to report what she considered abuse. Like a teacher with an unruly student. And now that image had grown, twisted, so that he was leering at her inside her mind, openly mocking.

Go on. Get it over with.

But Wasserman surprised her. There was something different about him today, Jess noticed, something that went beyond Maria’s resignation. He seemed more uncertain, a look in his eyes as if he were uncomfortable with her presence. Had something else happened? she wondered. Whatever it was, it couldn’t possibly last.

“From what Jean has told me, you visited the family and you have some idea what we were dealing with so many years ago. I hope you can understand why it was necessary to take her away from that situation. And also why confidentiality was such an issue.” He sighed and shook his head. “Strange people. I can’t say I ever met them in person, but I did talk to her grandmother at the time of Sarah’s admittance. The experience was unsettling.” He was staring out and beyond her now. “A woman with strange ideas.” He focused on her suddenly and smiled, but there was no warmth held there. “Silly, isn’t it? Childish superstitions.”

“Dr. Wasserman, about Sarah. Now, you’ve brought me in here to try a different approach, you’ve agreed to give this a chance.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Just that I need you to trust me enough to let me try to get through to her.”

“Hmmm. You don’t make it easy for me, now, do you? We have rules here for the health of each patient. I don’t just make them up to amuse myself. Sarah was restrained for her own well-being, and for the good of the staff. We’re all just lucky something terrible didn’t happen.”