Jack Ketchum - Right to Life

God knows what he’s hacking into now, he thought. The FBI? He decided he didn’t want to know.

In that way they were a lot alike. Sandy never even watched the TV news. For a guy with the ability to do damn near anything computer-wise, to peer into any electronic corner, he had very little curiosity. Which made him fine for Stephen’s purposes.

“Okay, then this Glover guy. What’s he do for a living.”

“Already found that. He and his wife run a travel agency in Rye. The company’s online.”

“His wife? He’s married?”

“Her name’s Diane.”

“They have kids?”

“I don’t know but I can find out for you. What’s this all about, anyway? Why are you so interested in these fucking people? Playing amateur detective?”

“You really sure you want to ask me that, Sandy?”

He laughed again. “Nah. What’re friends for, right?”

“It’s nothing illegal. I can tell you that much.”

“Did I ask if it was illegal? So. Anything else?”

And that was the extent of Sandy’s curiosity.

“Yes. Two names. Annie Graham at 914-332-8765. And I guess this is a sister or maybe an aunt — Linda Schap. 603-434-9943.” They were the only two names listed in the book without an accompanying address so he guessed she must know them by heart. That meant these two were probably close to her. He needed people who were close.

“That last one’s a New Hampshire exchange,” Sandy said.

“Okay, but I need the addresses and anything else you can find out for me. I also need her teaching schedule at Winthrop. And list of her students if possible.”

“Easy. School computer. Hey, just like old times, buddy boy!”

“Just like old times.”

He hung up and joined Kath on the couch for the tail-end of the movie. Gory shit.

Not bad.

She’d finished the goddamn chips though.

June 9, 1998

4:02 a.m.

She dozed and woke, dozed and woke again over and over as though she were in the grip of a high fever, her mind shut down to expectations, possibilities, danger, even to the reality of where she lay. It was as though she were waiting for something, some sign that life could once again return to normal. Until then she would remain dreamless, thoughtless, suspended in the moment. It was not something her will imposed. Her body imposed it for her.

On the last of these wakings she heard a sound, dim yet oddly familiar, seeming to come from directly above her, yet so low it might have come from anywhere in the house over whatever distance to eventually reach her here in her coffin.

A rumble. Something trembling. Yet she felt no vibration.

She pressed her ear to the rough wood.

Continuous, almost musical.

She listened. And when finally she identified the sound she fell back into the first true sleep of the morning. Her body and mind finally settling in, attempting to replenish themselves after a day in which both had burned to exhaustion.

Until well after dawn the cat remained lying just above her heart atop the Long Box.

And for most of that time continued purring.

3:30 p.m.

At least she was drinking and eating a little. American cheese on white bread. Hunger kicking in, jarring loose the survival systems. At least she wasn’t going to die on them.

Like the other one.

Stephen had her tied to the chair, just blindfolded this time so she could eat, not inside the headbox. He said it was time Kath made her presence known, time for her to begin. So that was what she was doing.

Light from the single bare 100-watt bulb that dangled from the ceiling made weird ugly shadows in the corners as though things were crouching there, hemming them in. She would never get to like this room. No matter how much time she spent here.

She took the empty plate and patted Sara’s hand.

“Good,” she said. She walked to the back of the room and put the plate on the worktable and sat down in the director’s chair in front of her.

“Who are you?” Sara said. “Why am I here?” The voice wasn’t strong but it wasn’t exactly meek either.

“The Organization wants you here. Same as me.”

“You?”

“That’s right.”

She watched the woman consider it.

“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe in any Organization.”

She laughed and bent over and took her hand in both of hers, a little surprised when she didn’t try to pull away. Maybe this was going to be easier than she’d thought.

It was still too early to tell.

“You’d better believe. Look, I’m not supposed to be saying we know this but I will. Your father’s a retired high school principal. I forget what year he retired. Your mother never worked again after you were born. Strictly a homemaker from then on. She took care of you and your sister Linda who lives in Hanover, New Hampshire. She’s forty-three and single and works as a nurse on the pediatrics ward in the hospital there. You have a good friend named Annie Graham who lives in Harrison, New York, not far from where Greg lives. Greg runs a travel agency in Rye with his wife, Diana. They have a son, Alan I think his name is, who’s ten. We know your teaching schedule at Winthrop and we know all your students’ names and addresses. They’re upstairs on the kitchen table. Want me to go get them?”

She saw that Sara was crying softly, could tell by the way she was breathing. Scared crying.

“I don’t understand,” she said. And now the voice was small.

Kath gently squeezed her hand.

“You will. It’ll take a little while but trust me, you will.”

“He said something about a baby.”

“There’s plenty of time to talk about that. Just remember that the Organization’s been watching you real close and for a very long time. Same thing with us, even though we’re a part of it. They’re watching us too, see, not just you. They want to find out how this goes. It important. Believe me, Sara, I know exactly what you’re feeling. I felt the same way once. I really did. It’ll pass. You just have to give it time.”

“Why do I have to be naked? Why did he beat me?”

She withdrew her hands.

“It’s the way the Organization wants it to be. I already told you. You’ve got to go with whatever they want from you. Really, truly smit. With all your heart and soul. Just like I did. Then nobody else will get hurt. Nobody. Not even you anymore.”

“But I don’t…”

She got up. “We’ll talk again soon, I promise. But right now I’ve got a billion things to do. The place is a goddamn mess. So you just sit there awhile and think about what I said. Think real hard.”

“I don’t… I don’t even know your name.”

She almost laughed. “Don’t worry. There’s time for that too. Think of it as being on a need-to-know basis. Like in the movies, right?” She picked up the plate and flicked the wall switch and left her there in darkness thinking, first step taken. Stephen will be pleased.

It was important to please him.

4:45 p.m.

The headbox seemed to have gotten smaller. That was impossible she knew but the damp darkness seemed more enclosing than before. The musty-carpet smell thicker. She tried to move her head as though movement could clear the air, circulate the air inside but she could only move it slightly, half an inch or so in either direction because the back was latched to the X-frame. She was spread-eagled on the X-frame. Facing outward to whatever, whoever was out there.

She had been here about half an hour now. That was what she guessed. Guessing the time was her one form of recreation. It held no rewards because she never knew if she was right or wrong. But it was better than thinking.