The Meridians(11)

The doctor said nothing for a moment, then shrugged. "We don't know," he said, "and we likely won't for some time. But the fact is that he was without oxygen during your cardiac infarction, and children whose mothers suffer an amniotic fluid embolism often have...effects. Long-term effects."

"Like...he's going to be mentally handicapped?" asked Robbie. Lynette cringed. Not because she thought Robbie was being cruel in asking the question; she knew he held nothing but the same love and concern for Kevin that she did herself. No, she cringed because the question itself had to be asked.

"He's most likely going to suffer from developmental disabilities of some kind or other, yes," said the doctor.

"Thank God," whispered Robbie.

The doctor looked at Lynette's husband so fast that she thought he might get self-inflicted whiplash. "Did I just hear you correctly?"

"Doc," said Robbie, and what he said next was enough that, even if Lynette hadn't already loved him body and soul, she would have fallen in love with him right then and there, "if he's going to have 'developmental disabilities' then that means he's going to be alive. And however our son is, if he's alive, then that's enough. I was worried we were going to lose him."

"I was more worried about your wife, but yes, the baby's situation also posed a very real threat."

"Why were you more worried about me?" asked Lynette.

"No one told you?" asked the doctor.

"I don't know...did they?" asked Lynette, amused.

Doctor Cody smiled, the movement lighting up his otherwise dour face and making it nearly handsome. "You're right, that was a rather silly question, wasn't it." He took off the wire-rimmed glasses he wore and rubbed them between his lab coat. "The fact is, women who suffer from your condition have about a thirty percent mortality rate."

Lynette heard Robbie gasp beside her and felt his hand clutch for hers. She held it tightly for a moment to reassure him that she wasn't going anywhere, then asked the question that had not been satisfactorily answered.

"So if the baby's going to live, and I'm going to live, what was all this about a bullet wound? And why did you cart Robbie off?"

The doctor looked suddenly nervous, glancing at the nurse, who studiously avoided his gaze, and at the policemen, who almost glared at him as though his presence was an affront to nature.

Doctor Cody harrumphed, then said, "Well, the fact is, it seemed like the most likely explanation."

"What did?" said Robbie, frustration peering around the corners of his normally calm and soothing voice.

"It seemed most likely that someone had shot her, and given the fact that she had never gone to a hospital - at least not one that we could find a record of - to take care of the wound, and given the further fact that you failed to mention the wound when you admitted her, the hospital's Social Services division thought it most prudent to contact the police and detain Mr. Randall until we properly checked you out, Mrs. Randall," he said, nodding at Lynette.

"Why would you think that someone had shot me?" asked Lynette, equally horrified at the idea that someone could have shot her and at the idea that anyone could think Robbie would have done such a horrendous thing.

"Because you had a bullet in you," said the doctor simply.

Lynette felt her jaw drop nearly to her chest. "A bullet in me?" she repeated.

Doctor Cody nodded. "And not just in you, but in your womb."

"What?" demanded Robbie.

Again, the doctor nodded. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small baggy. Inside was a small piece of metal, twisted and misshapen.

A spent bullet.

Lynette's mouth once again gaped. "My womb?" she repeated.

"Yes." Doctor Cody once again looked at the nurse, and once again the nurse failed to look back at him. "And even more oddly..." he began, but Lynette knew what he was going to say before he said it. Because just as she had dreamed of having a son, she realized she had also dreamed of this. "...it came out with your baby. Clutched in his little hand, in fact."

After that, there was really not much to be said. The police shuffled out, saying that someone might be in contact with them and to stay near their home for the next few days. Doctor Cody clearly wanted to ask more questions, but he pushed the nurse out a few minutes after the police left, just as clearly seeing that Lynette wanted to be alone. To sleep. To hold Robbie's hand. To dream.

And to wonder how a bullet had come to be in her unborn child's hand.

And how she had dreamed of it before hearing of it from anyone.





***





6.

***

When the end came, it didn't come as Scott had expected it. He had thought that the end would come with a cool blast, followed by nothing. Instead what happened when the killer pulled the trigger was that Scott felt an intense heat on his face, and felt his eyes sting as something hit them.

And in the next instant, he felt...something. Something strange, as though the world had just twisted inside him and around him, space bending and curving around like putty.

And he was still alive.

"What the fu -" began the killer, and backed away, looking at his gun.

Scott watched him back away. Watched him move away from him as though the killer had just seen Satan jump out of the pits of hell and beckon to him. He realized that the killer was looking at something beside him. With great effort, Scott looked to his right, and saw the last thing he ever expected to see.