Superheroine - Chapter 5
As the ambulance sped through the city streets, Beth looked down at John. He had awakened, if only barely, and met her gaze with fearful, tired eyes. Tubes ran from machines into his arms, and a breathing mask covered his mouth.
Competing odors assailed Beth's nostrils. Most prominent was an antiseptic smell, like from a bleached and sanitized shower stall. But combatting it was a putrid stench, like that of meat left out on a hot summer day until an army of flies buzzed around it. The further they drove, the more the putrid smell seemed to win out.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and the exhilaration of power from just an hour earlier was gone. In its place, anchors of impotence and guilt weighed on her psyche. As strong as she had become, she could do nothing to help John. And she had put him in this spot. If she hadn't insisted on sneaking into the Fizzure building, none of this would have happened.
When the ambulance arrived at the hospital, nurses whisked John away, leaving Beth to wander the crowded emergency room to find a seat. As she stood staring at the wall across from her, her head snapped back with the realization she hadn't contacted John's parents. It had been a crazy night, but there was no excuse for the oversight. They lived nearby and would want to see him.
As she dialed his parents, she shook her head in disgust at her forgetfulness. When John's father answered with his booming voice, she held a hand over one ear to block out the noise in the room. She spoke in monotone, telling them John was very ill. Stanley and Betsy Devor arrived less than thirty minutes later, rushing into the waiting area, their faces tight with stress. They both gave Beth tight hugs.
Stanley Devor looked older than his years, with wiry grey hair sticking out in odd directions. Mrs. Devor was slender, with her brown and grey hair tied neatly in a bun on her head. Mr. Devor went to the front desk while Mrs. Devor sat in the chair next to Beth and took her hand.
"What is it?" the older woman asked, keeping her voice quiet.
Beth glanced over at Stanley, who stood talking to an older man wearing a name badge. Beth wondered if Stanley' decision to go to the desk showed he had passed judgment on her. She shook her head as she stared at the floor.
"I don't know, Mrs. Devor," she answered, the words spilling from her in a hurried, clipped tone. "He was in pain, then got better, then got really sick. I shouldn't have left him alone. I thought he was fine. He said he was fine. I should have known better. He didn't want to come to the hospital. I should have made him. We should have been here an hour ago. Maybe that would have helped."
Beth realized she was babbling, nearly incoherently, so she stopped. Mrs. Devor squeezed her hand but said nothing. Mr. Devor returned a few moments later, moved to a quiet corner of the room, and motioned Beth and Mrs. Devor to his side.
"The doctors are with him now," he began after they reached him. His voice, deep and authoritative, didn't match his frazzled, unkempt look. As he spoke, his wiry hair bobbed along on top of his head, as if riding waves in tune with his words. His hand wandered to his hair, patted it as if to remind it to stay in place, and returned to his side. "Nobody has anything to tell me yet, and they won't let me see him. Beth, can you tell me everything that happened?"
Beth took a deep breath. His presence calmed her. "Sure, Stanley," she said. She had always called him by his first name, for a reason she couldn't even remember. "This was all my fault."
After glancing around to make sure nobody was within earshot, she discussed the events of the evening. She left nothing out. Beth talked about sneaking into the facility, hiding in the cylinder, and running for their lives. She even mentioned the strange abilities she had displayed during their escape, and how the necklace seemed to be the source of her fantastic powers.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice cracking. "I should have listened to him. We shouldn't have gone there." She looked down as she spoke. When she looked up, she saw Mrs. Devor staring at Stanley with what almost looked like an accusation in her eyes. Not an accusation directed toward Beth, but an accusation directed toward her husband. A palpable tension hung in the air between the married couple.
Stanley turned back to Beth.
"Beth, this isn't your fault," he said. "What do you think happened to give you these powers?"
"Isn't it obvious?" she asked. "That cylinder was part of some experiment, like in one of John's comic books. It made our fantasy become reality. I was the superheroine, and now have the powers of one. John was a zombie, and now . . ."
She couldn't say the words, and her voice trailed off. Beth noticed Stanley watching her closely, as if studying her and accessing something. She wasn't sure why, but she got the sense there was something he wasn't telling her.
"Stanley?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Sorry, just thinking."
"We need to tell the doctors what happened," Beth said, pushing her thoughts aside. "It might help. And we need to call the police."
Stanley pursed his lips, looking pensive.
"First, Beth, I need to repeat that this is not your fault," he said. His deep voice sounded more like a command than an observation. "This is the fault of those bad people. We need to keep you out of this. I'll talk to the doctors. They can know what happened to John without bringing you into it. That will be dangerous enough."
"Dangerous enough? What do you mean?"
"These Fizzure people are dangerous, Beth."
"Obviously. They shot at us."
"More than that. If they figure out who was on their premises tonight, you could be in danger." He nodded his head with emphasis as he spoke, causing his hair to bob about wildly.
"It would serve me right," Beth muttered. "But that's why we need to go to the police."
Stanley shook his head and shot Beth a stern look. "Beth, you need to listen to me on this. If they shot at you that means they have something they would kill to keep secret."
"How do you know all this about them?"
His slight smirk in reply told her all she needed to know.
"Your job?" she asked.
Stanley had his own private investigation company, but it wasn't a normal private investigation company. His clientele was usually very rich, very well connected, or both. And he always seemed to be in the middle of big, important matters.
He nodded. "I've been investigating them. I can't get into everything, and I have no evidence, but they seem like they're up to no good."
"That's what John said," she replied, wondering how much of John's opinion was his own, and how much had been formed by his father. "All the more reason we need to go to the police."
Stanley pursed his lips once again.
"Let me talk to the police," he said. "I have contacts in the right places, who will keep their mouths shut. They don't need to know you were there tonight. And I can convey how important it is that they don't reveal to anyone that John was there."
"I — " Beth began, before stopping and giving a nod. "Okay, Stanley. You usually know best."
"Was John exhibiting any signs of sickness in front of the people who were shooting at you?" he asked.
Beth thought back to their escape, replaying the events in her head.
"Nothing too obvious, aside from being a little slower than normal. Why?"
"Even if they don't know who they were chasing, they might stake out this hospital if they know somebody was really sick."
"Why would someone being sick raise red flags for them?" she asked.
Approaching footsteps interrupted their conversation. Beth looked up to see a doctor walking toward them. He was a skinny middle-aged man with thinning hair, and a tired look to his eyes.
"Are you John's parents?" he asked when he approached. Mrs. Devor and Stanley nodded.
"I'm Dr. Montgomery. Please come with me to the side room over here to talk," he said, gesturing to a door to his right.
"Beth, you come, too," Mrs. Devor said. "You're family."
These weren't just words by Mrs. Devor to make Beth feel better. From almost the beginning of her relationship with John, which started three years earlier, Stanley and Mrs. Devor had treated her like their own. Perhaps this was because they had no other family. Neither of them had any siblings, John was their only child, and their parents were deceased. Even their parents had been only children, so they had no aunts, uncles, or cousins.
The three of them walked ahead of the doctor to the side room. He closed the door and gestured for them to sit on a sofa along the far wall. They did as instructed and he pulled a chair up across from them. He sat, and his grim face told all.
"It's bad, isn't it?" Mrs. Devor asked.
"Yes, it's bad. Folks, my style is to be a straight shooter. Some of this will be difficult to hear."
"We'd rather you just tell us, and not worry about how we'll take it," Stanley said.
"Very well. Your son is in bad shape, and he's gotten worse since he arrived."
"Worse?" Beth asked, her voice cracking. "How?"
"There's no way to sugarcoat this, so I'll just say this. His skin is rotting. Most of his symptoms resemble that of necrotizing fasciitis, also known as flesh-eating disease. Red and purple skin, severe pain, fever, and vomiting."
"Most of his symptoms?" Stanley asked.
"I've never seen anything like this. He also has symptoms of a couple other things. First, he's got a fever and the chills, along with a heart murmur and pain in his chest when he breathes. The differential diagnosis suggests infective endocarditis."
"Infecta — what?" Beth asked, wrinkling her nose.
"An infection of the lining of the heart's chambers. But we won't know for a bit longer. We've been drawing blood regularly. We'll be putting it in special culture bottles that allow bacteria to grow, so we can test the bacteria to see which antibiotics will kill them."
"What is his prognosis?" Stanley asked.
"Unfortunately, there's more. I'm not done going through his symptoms and diagnoses yet. He also has symptoms resembling bacterial meningitis. He's got all the symptoms I've already mentioned, plus while he was here, he got a headache and stiff neck. He's also confused. It could just be a head or neck injury, but I'm worried. The blood tests will help pin it down. I should have more news in a few hours."
"Is it contagious? Can we see him?" Mrs. Devor asked.
"Despite what you see in the movies, necrotizing fasciitis isn't contagious, and it's hard to catch bacterial meningitis. Still, until we get a handle on exactly what is going on, you should wait here."
The doctor answered a few more questions from Stanley and Mrs. Devor before leaving. When they were alone, Beth and the Devors said nothing for a few minutes. Beth spoke first.
"This is my fault," she said again.
"Beth, stop," Mrs. Devor said. "You had no way to know." As Mrs. Devor spoke, Beth saw her cast another glance at Stanley.
"This is crazy," Beth said. "It's like whatever went on in that room brought our costumes to life."
"Beth, there's a hotel next to the hospital," Stanley said. "Go home, get some things, and check yourself in for a few nights."
"I'm not leaving here. And even if I did, my apartment isn't that far from the hospital."
"Beth, I want you away from your apartment and from John. I doubt these people even know you exist, but it's better to be safe."
Beth thought about the gunshots and saw the seriousness in Stanley's eyes. She knew the people from the facility would kill her if they found her.
"You'll tell me right away if there are any developments here?" she asked. "Or if I can see John?"
"I will. Now get some rest."