The Dead Zone(37)

She froze, and he could hear an ivory dick as her teeth came suddenly and violently together. Her hand pressed against her chest just above the swell of her br**sts. A small gold crucifix hung there. '0-my-God,' she said. 'You're awake. I thought you looked different. How did you know my name?'

'I suppose I must have heard it.' It was hard to talk, terribly hard. His tongue was a sluggish worm, seemingly unlubricated by saliva.

She nodded. 'You've been coming up for some time now. I'd better go down to the nurses' station and have Dr. Brown or Dr. Weizak paged. They'll want to know you're back with us.' But she stayed a moment longer, looking at him with a frank fascination that made him uneasy.

'Did I grow a third eye?' he asked.

She laughed nervously. 'No ...of course not. Excuse me.

His eye caught on his own window ledge and his table pushed up against it. On the ledge was a faded African violet and a picture of Jesus Christ - it was the sort of picture of Jesus his mother favored, with Christ looking as if he was ready to bat dean-up for the New York Yankees or something of a similar clean and athletic nature. But the picture was yellow. Yellow and beginning to curl at the corners. Sudden fear dropped over him like a suffocating blanket. 'Nurse! he called. 'Nurse!'

In the doorway she turned back.

'Where are my get-well cards?' Suddenly it was hard for him to breathe. 'That other guy's got ... didn't anyone send me a card?'

She smiled, but it was forced. It was the smile of some one who is hiding something. Suddenly Johnny wanted her by his bed. He would reach out and touch her. If he could touch her, he would know what she was hiding.

'I'll have the doctor paged,' she said, and left before he could say anything else. He looked at the African violet, at the aging picture of Jesus, baffled and afraid. After a little while, he drifted off to sleep again.

4.

'He was awake,' Marie Michaud said. 'He was completely coherent.'

'Okay,' Dr. Brown answered. 'I'm not doubting you. If he woke up once, he'll wake up again. Probably. It's just a matter of...

Johnny moaned. His eyes opened. They were blank, half rolled up. Then he seemed to see Marie, and his eyes came into focus. He smiled a little. But his face was still slack, as if only his eyes were awake and the rest of him still slept. She had a sudden feeling that he was not looking at her but into her.

'I think he'll be okay,' Johnny said. 'Once they clean that impacted cornea, the eye'll be as good as new. Should be.'

Marie gasped harshly, and Brown glanced at her.

'What is it?'

'He's talking about my boy,' she whispered. 'My Mark.'

'No,' Brown said. 'He's talking in his sleep, that's all Don't make a picture out of an inkblot, Nurse.'

'Yes. Okay. But he's not asleep now, is he?'

'Marie?' Johnny asked. He smiled tentatively. 'I dozed off, didn't I?'

'Yes,' Brown said. 'You were talking in your sleep. Gave Marie here a turn. Were you dreaming?'

'No-oo... not that I remember. What did I say? And who are you?'

'I'm Dr. James Brown. Just like the soul singer. Only I'm a neurologist. You said, "I think he'll be okay once they clean that impacted cornea." I think that was it, wasn't it, Nurse?'

'My boy's going to have that operation,' Marie said. 'My boy Mark.'

'I don't remember anything,' Johnny said. 'I guess I was sleeping.' He looked at Brown. His eyes were clear now, and scared. 'I can't lift my arms. Am I paralyzed?'

'Nope. Try your fingers.'

Johnny did. They all wiggled. He smiled.

'Superfine,' Brown said. 'Tell me your name.'

'John Smith.'

'Good, and your middle name?'

'I don't have one.'

'That's fine, who needs one? Nurse, go down to your station and find out who's in neurology tomorrow. I'd like to start a whole series of tests on Mr. Smith.'

'Yes, Doctor.'

'And you might call Sam Weizak. You'll get him at home or at the golf course.'

'Yes, Doctor.'

'And no reporters, please ... for your life!' Brown was smiling but serious.

'No, of course not.' She left, white shoes squeaking faintly. Her little boy's going to be just fine, Johnny thought. I'll be sure to tell her.

'Dr. Brown,' he said, 'where are my get-well cards? Didn't anybody send me a card?'

'Just a few more questions,' Dr. Brown said smoothly. 'Do you recall your mother's name?'

'Of course I do. Vera.'

'Her maiden name?'

'Nason.'

'Your father's name?'

'Herbert. Herb. And why did you tell her no reporters?'

'Your mailing address?'

'RFD #1, Pownal,' Johnny said promptly, and then stopped. An expression of comic surprise passed across his face. 'I mean ... well, I live in Cleaves Mills now, at 110 North Main Street. Why the hell did I give you my parents' address? I haven't lived there since I was eighteen.'

'And how old are you now?'

'Look it up on my driver's license,' Johnny said. 'I want to know why I don't have any get-well cards. How long have I been in the hospital, anyway? And which hospital is this?'