and so did the people. Hendricks, an M.D. from Alabama who claimed he was "just passing through," saw no reason to move on when he caught sight of the sickly state of those who'd stubbornly refused to leave Milestone in the great exodus of '79, and when he heard the asking price for a house nobody wanted.
As we pull into the drive that slopes upward to the block-shaped two-story house, there are no lights in the windows, which doesn't come as a surprise. I find myself wondering, if we had kept going instead of turning into Hendricks' drive, how long it would have taken us to come upon the twisted wreck of Eleanor Cobb's Taurus.
Despite the forbidding darkness of the house that looms over the car, Kyle's already hurrying to get the girl out. Not the smartest move considering the Doc might not even be here, so I leave him to his grunting and trot to the door.
Knock, knock. No sound from within.
"Leave her there," I call back to Kyle, who's as good as invisible behind the car's lights.
"What?"
"I said leave her be . If Hendricks doesn't answer, what good will dragging her out in the rain do?"
"What else can we do?"
"I don't know. We'll deal with that if and when— "
"Sheriff?"
The front door is open; the storm deafened me to the approach of the bespectacled man now standing there squinting out. "That you, Tom?"
He's a reed-thin man and heavily bearded. I've always suspected that, just like the deceased Reverend, vanity has driven the doctor to dying his hair to keep from looking his age. And though in this light he doesn't look much healthier than the girl in the back of my truck, I'm glad as hell to see him.
I summarize the situation as calmly as I can. It doesn't sound calm in the least by the time it reaches my lips, but Hendricks steps back, his face a knot of concern. From upstairs, his wife calls out a demand to know what's going on. The doctor turns on the hall light. It's the warmest looking light I've seen in quite some time, and the shadows it casts are gentle. "Bring her in. I'll see what I can do." He reaches the stairs and yells up, "Queenie, I'm going to need your help down here."
And in what seems like a heartbeat, the doctor is bent over the girl where she lies prone on the couch and swaddled in comfy looking blankets. The towels wrapped around her head make it look as if she's being prepped for a massage, nothing more. The blood running between her eyes spoils that illusion though. She's shivering, which is good. Means she's still breathing. "Lost a lot of blood," Hendricks says, pressing the cup of his stethoscope to her chest. "You said an auto wreck?"
"Yeah."
"Anyone else hurt?" He appraises Kyle and me. "How about you guys? You look pretty shook up."
"We're fine," Kyle says. "She going to be all right? She's pregnant, you know."
Hendricks frowns.
"She told us," I add quickly, covering Kyle's blunder. "Right before she passed out."
I can't tell whether or not he's buying it, but he says nothing, just presses that stethoscope to the girl's breast and breathes through his nose. His wife stands off in the corner, arms folded over her dressing gown. She looks pissed, and I can't blame her.
When at last the doctor looks up, his face is grave. "I'm sorry to say I don't think there's a whole lot I can do for her, boys. The baby's gone. That I can tell you right now for certain, and it's only a matter of time before she follows. I'd have to open her up to say for sure, but my guess is she's busted up pretty bad. Judging by that blood and the way she's breathing, seems she's got a punctured lung too. Pupils are dilated. Head's cracked open almost clean through to the bone. Frankly I'm amazed she's not dead already." At the looks on our faces, he continues, "But you fellas did real good. Wasn't much more you could have done for her. She'd have appreciated it, I'm sure."
Another life lost. For nothing. Though at least when I dream of this one I'll know it wasn't entirely my
As we pull into the drive that slopes upward to the block-shaped two-story house, there are no lights in the windows, which doesn't come as a surprise. I find myself wondering, if we had kept going instead of turning into Hendricks' drive, how long it would have taken us to come upon the twisted wreck of Eleanor Cobb's Taurus.
Despite the forbidding darkness of the house that looms over the car, Kyle's already hurrying to get the girl out. Not the smartest move considering the Doc might not even be here, so I leave him to his grunting and trot to the door.
Knock, knock. No sound from within.
"Leave her there," I call back to Kyle, who's as good as invisible behind the car's lights.
"What?"
"I said leave her be . If Hendricks doesn't answer, what good will dragging her out in the rain do?"
"What else can we do?"
"I don't know. We'll deal with that if and when— "
"Sheriff?"
The front door is open; the storm deafened me to the approach of the bespectacled man now standing there squinting out. "That you, Tom?"
He's a reed-thin man and heavily bearded. I've always suspected that, just like the deceased Reverend, vanity has driven the doctor to dying his hair to keep from looking his age. And though in this light he doesn't look much healthier than the girl in the back of my truck, I'm glad as hell to see him.
I summarize the situation as calmly as I can. It doesn't sound calm in the least by the time it reaches my lips, but Hendricks steps back, his face a knot of concern. From upstairs, his wife calls out a demand to know what's going on. The doctor turns on the hall light. It's the warmest looking light I've seen in quite some time, and the shadows it casts are gentle. "Bring her in. I'll see what I can do." He reaches the stairs and yells up, "Queenie, I'm going to need your help down here."
And in what seems like a heartbeat, the doctor is bent over the girl where she lies prone on the couch and swaddled in comfy looking blankets. The towels wrapped around her head make it look as if she's being prepped for a massage, nothing more. The blood running between her eyes spoils that illusion though. She's shivering, which is good. Means she's still breathing. "Lost a lot of blood," Hendricks says, pressing the cup of his stethoscope to her chest. "You said an auto wreck?"
"Yeah."
"Anyone else hurt?" He appraises Kyle and me. "How about you guys? You look pretty shook up."
"We're fine," Kyle says. "She going to be all right? She's pregnant, you know."
Hendricks frowns.
"She told us," I add quickly, covering Kyle's blunder. "Right before she passed out."
I can't tell whether or not he's buying it, but he says nothing, just presses that stethoscope to the girl's breast and breathes through his nose. His wife stands off in the corner, arms folded over her dressing gown. She looks pissed, and I can't blame her.
When at last the doctor looks up, his face is grave. "I'm sorry to say I don't think there's a whole lot I can do for her, boys. The baby's gone. That I can tell you right now for certain, and it's only a matter of time before she follows. I'd have to open her up to say for sure, but my guess is she's busted up pretty bad. Judging by that blood and the way she's breathing, seems she's got a punctured lung too. Pupils are dilated. Head's cracked open almost clean through to the bone. Frankly I'm amazed she's not dead already." At the looks on our faces, he continues, "But you fellas did real good. Wasn't much more you could have done for her. She'd have appreciated it, I'm sure."
Another life lost. For nothing. Though at least when I dream of this one I'll know it wasn't entirely my
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