The Meridians(10)

He was in front of Scott now, and gingerly stepped over Scott's body to stand - to loom - over Scott's head. Then the killer leaned down and put his gun on Scott's forehead.

"Yeah, you were good," said the gray man once again. "Very good. I was supposed to give you a message from Swampy, but I don't think I will. I'll let you go without that indignity. No one has to know," he added, as though he were granting Scott some signal honor.

Scott hacked, and summoned up all his strength to cough - right into the face of the man who was about to kill him. Blood spewed, covering the gray man's face in dark red fluid. The hitman cursed, then kicked Scott in the side angrily.

Scott didn't even feel it. He just laughed.

The killer leaned back down and replaced his gun in the position it had been in just a few moments before. "Fine," he said. "Swampy said to tell you he'd be out in a few weeks, and you and your family will be dead forever. He said to tell you that before I killed you."

And with that, the gray man pulled the trigger. Time slowed down once more, and Scott heard the agonizingly slow explosion of a round being fired point-blank into his forehead.





***





5.

***

It didn't take Doctor Cody and the nurse long to verify what Lynette already knew: there were no bullet wounds on her body. She had never even seen a gun, outside of television, let alone been shot by one. Still, it was the most frightening time she had ever passed in her life, being examined by the doctors for a gunshot wound that they apparently believed Robbie had been responsible for.

A few minutes after they finished their exam and let her get dressed again, Robbie was ushered in by the same two policemen who had taken him out in the first place.

"What the hell is going on here?" bellowed Robbie, rubbing at his wrists as they released him from his handcuffs.

The police were silent, deferring to Doctor Cody, who sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Please understand," he said. "Everything today has been extremely irregular. First your manner of being admitted. You had an amniotic fluid embolism followed by a cardiac arrest and, not to shock you, but you were clinically dead when the paramedics reached you. It was probably only through the fast acting of your husband in calling nine one one and then performing CPR that you survived at all."

"And to repay him, what? You were going to throw him in jail?"

"Not at all. Indeed, as I said, the hospital staff were all quite impressed with him and with his apparent affection for you. But we had hardly the time to deal with that due to the fact that we were busy saving your life...and the life of your unborn son."

"What's going on with him?" asked Lynette, her concern for Robbie momentarily pushed aside now that he was with her and no longer in shackles. Rather, she wanted to know what was going on with the baby.

With Kevin.

"He seems to be responding to the transfusions and the medicine that we've given him," said Doctor Cody. But he didn't seem at all happy. Rather, he delivered this news as though he was giving positively horrifying information.

Robbie apparently picked up on that, too, for he said, "If he's responding well to the course you've set for him, then why do you look like your favorite dog just got run over by the neighbor's lawnmower?"

It was a tribute to how tense Robbie was, Lynette realized, that he had verbalized such a crass image, and had done so with neither apparent embarrassment after the fact nor any kind of remorsefully apologetic glance at her.

The doctor didn't answer for a long moment, merely looking at his feet.

"What is it?" asked Robbie. Still Doctor Cody didn't answer.

Finally, Lynette leaned forward as far as she could. By doing so, she could barely - barely - reach the doctor's arm. She patted him as best she could, trying to communicate patience and hopeful confidence with the gesture.

Apparently it worked. Cody looked up, first at her, then at Robbie, as though not just gauging them as recipients of possible bad news, but as humans in the eyes of God.

"The complications attendant with your pregnancy and with the baby's birth are likely just a precursor," he finally managed.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Robbie quietly. "Is this going to happen again?"

"No, no," hastened the doctor, shaking his head hurriedly. "Most obstetricians go their entire practices without seeing an amniotic fluid embolism. It's not that. Rather...."

Again, he seemed at a loss. And now Lynette knew. Or at least, she thought she did.

"It's the baby, isn't it?" she said. "It's little Kevin."

Robbie looked over at her sharply at the name, as they had never really decided on one, thinking they still had weeks to determine such a thing, but said nothing so apparently thought it was all right - or at least didn't think it was worth fighting about right at this instant.

Doctor Cody nodded.

"So, what are you saying?" asked Robbie. "Is he going to die?"

"Perhaps," said the doctor simply, "though I tend to think that he's made it this far, so his prognosis is actually dramatically improved from what it was only a few hours ago. But what is more concerning to me right now is his future."

"You mean," said Lynette, and felt her breath hitch inside her pain-wracked body. "You mean, something's wrong with him?"