John Saul - Comes the Blind Fury

“How terrible,” she said softly. “But don’t worry — he’ll probably be fine.”

“No, he won’t,” Michelle said hollowly. “He’s dead. I know he’s dead.”

It was like a recurring nightmare.

Cal crossed the schoolyard in a daze, as though his feet were dragging him back, even as he tried to run. The seconds it took him to reach Billy Evans seemed like hours, and his mind was flooded with the sure foreknowledge of what he would find.

He reached Billy at last and knelt by the boy’s limp body. He glanced at Billy’s face, noted the broken neck, then automatically took the child’s wrist between his fingers.

There was a pulse.

Cal thought he was imagining it at first, but a moment later he knew: Billy Evans was still alive.

Why can’t he be dead? Cal silently asked. Why does he have to depend on me?

He leaned over Billy reluctantly, forcing himself to examine him.

He was going to have to move the boy.

He hesitated. Only a few weeks earlier he had gathered up his own child. Now she was crippled. Panic rose in him, and for a split second he felt paralyzed. Then, slowly, his mind began to reason.

When the ambulance arrived, the attendants would move Billy. Perhaps he should wait.

But he was a doctor. He had to do something.

Besides, if he didn’t, he was sure that Billy would be dead by the time the ambulance arrived — he could see the constriction in the boy’s neck, see him slowly strangling. If Billy was to survive, Cal had to straighten out his neck.

He began to move Billy’s head.

As the flow of air passed more freely into his lungs, Billy’s complexion began to change. The blueness faded. Then, as Cal watched, the child began to breathe more easily.

Cal began to let himself relax.

Billy Evans was going to live.

In the distance, the wail of the ambulance started up. To Cal, the sound was a symphony of hope.

• • •

As the sound of the ambulance grew louder, June stood up and went to the window. From where she stood, she could see nothing — only one corner of the backstop, ominously visible, the rest of it blocked from her view by the building.

“I can’t stand it,” she said. Tim, go see what’s happening. Please?”

Tim Hartwick nodded. He started out of the office, then paused at the door.

“I told Mrs. Evans to come here. You’re sure you don’t want me to wait with you?” He glanced pointedly at Michelle, who was sitting on a straight-backed chair, her gaze fixed in midair, her face frozen in an expression of shock.

“If she gets here before you get back, I’ll handle it,” June insisted. “Just find out — find out if he’s alive.”

Half an hour later, only Michelle, June, and Tim were left at the school. The ambulance, with Billy and Cal in the rear, had departed for the clinic, and Billy’s mother had followed, insisting she could drive herself once she was assured that her son was still alive. The small crowd that had gathered in the schoolyard had quickly dispersed, the people leaving in small groups, whispering among themselves, and occasionally glancing back toward the school, where they knew Michelle Pendleton was still sitting in Tim Hartwick’s office.

Tim signaled June to join him in the hall for a moment. When they were alone, he told her that he would like to talk to Michelle.

“So soon?” June asked. “But — she’s too upset!”

“We have to find out what happened. I think if I talk to her now, before she’s had much of a chance to really think about it, I’ll get the closest thing to the truth.”

June’s maternal instincts leaped to her daughter’s defense. “You mean before she’s had a chance to make up a story?”

“That’s not what I said, and it’s not what I meant,” Tim said quickly. “I want to talk to her before her mind has had a chance to make whatever happened seem logical to her. And I want to find out why she was so sure Billy was dead.”

“All right,” June said at last, reluctantly. “But don’t push her. Please?”

“I never would,” Tim said gently. He left June alone in the hall while he returned to Michelle.

“Why did you think Billy was dead?” Tim asked gently. It had taken him ten minutes to convince Michelle that her friend hadn’t died, and he still wasn’t sure she believed him. “He didn’t fall very far — just a few feet, really.”

“I just knew it,” Michelle replied. “You can tell.”

“You can? How?”

“Just — just by — things. You know.”

Tim waited a moment, but when Michelle didn’t go on, he decided to ask her to tell him again what had happened. He listened without interrupting while she recited the story again.

“And that’s all?” he asked when she was finished.

Michelle nodded.

“Now I want you to think very carefully,” Tim said. “I want you to go over it all once more, and try to remember if you left anything out.”

Michelle began going over the story again. This time Tim stopped her occasionally, trying to prod her memory for detail.

“Now, when Billy started walking along the top of the backstop, where were you standing?”

“At the end of it, right where he climbed up it.”

“Were you touching it? Leaning on it?”

Michelle frowned a little, trying to remember. “No. I was using my cane. I was leaning on my cane.”

“All right,” Tim said “Now, tell me again what happened while Billy was walking the rail.”

She told it exactly as she had before.

“I was watching him,” Michelle said. “I was telling him to be careful, because I was afraid he might fall. And then he tripped — he just tripped, and fell. I tried to catch him, but I couldn’t — he was too far away, and I — well, I can’t move very fast anymore.”

“But what did he trip on?” Tim asked.

“I don’t know — I couldn’t see.”

“You couldn’t see? Why not?” A thought occurred to him. “Was it foggy? Did it get foggy?”

For a split second there was a flicker in Michelle’s eyes, but then she shook her head.

“No. I couldn’t see because I’m not tall enough. Maybe — maybe there was a nail sticking up.”

“Maybe so,” Tim agreed. Then: “What about Amanda? Was she there?”

Again, for just a split second, there was that flicker in Michelle’s eyes. But, again, she shook her head.

“No”

“You’re sure?” Tim urged her. “It could be very important.”

Now Michelle shook her head more definitely. “No!” she exclaimed. “There was no fog, and Amanda wasn’t with me. Billy tripped! That’s all, he just tripped. Don’t you believe me?”

Tim could see that she was on the verge of tears.

“Of course I do,” he said, smiling at her. “You like Billy Evans, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Did he ever tease you?”

“Tease me?”

“You know — the way Susan Peterson did, and some of the other kids.”

“No.” Again, Tim thought he noticed a hesitation.

There was more to the story than Michelle was telling him, but he wasn’t sure that he would be able to get it out of her. Something was holding her back. It was as if she was protecting something. He thought he knew what it was.

Amanda.

Amanda, the dark side of Michelle, had done something, and Michelle was protecting her. Tim knew it would be a long time before he would be able to convince Michelle to abandon her “friend.”

As he was wondering what to say next, Michelle suddenly met his eyes.

“He’s going to die,” she said softly. Tim stared at her, not sure he had heard her right. Then, her voice still soft, but very definite, Michelle repeated the words.

“I know Billy’s going to die.”