Blackout (10 page)

I liked the banner idea. I pictured the same
thing all over Southbridge. Not only sinners but criminals. I
should have named more names in my article.

They’d already tried to claim Kelsey asked
for it. I knew she didn’t, and that would be proven in court.
Glynis could testify that she was in no condition to give consent.
Furthermore, even if she asked for it, they didn’t have to give it
to her. Assuming they had a conscience, which they didn’t. I should
have put that in my article.

I listened for the sound of sirens. I would
hear them coming up from the bridge and then on down to Overlook,
where Glyn lived.

Fifteen minutes went by. Not a sound. Maybe
they weren’t using sirens so as not to alert the scumbags. Maybe
they were all too busy with the hostage thing. I wished Ben hadn’t
left. I could do with some company.

I tried calling Glyn. Her phone was busy. Was
she still connected to 911? Usually they keep you on the line until
help gets there. I was trying her cell. I didn’t know her home
phone and they weren’t listed.

As soon as I gave up, she called me.

“They’re gone,” she said.

“Who?” There were too many “theys.”

“Who do you think? Hey, a police car just
came. Now I have to tell them the jerks are gone. I feel
stupid.”

“Don’t. You can give them a report. Then
they’ll have it on record. Rick always says it’s better to feel
stupid than sorry.”

Sounds outside made me rush to the
window.

“Glyn! Glyn, are you still there?”

She wasn’t. I checked to make sure both the
front door lock and deadbolt were fastened. Then I rushed upstairs
and looked out my parents’ bedroom window. It gave me a good view
of our parking space. Two cars were there, and three guys.

They rang the front doorbell. Nobody thought
to look up and see me in the upstairs window. “You’re got some
nerve,” I muttered. They couldn’t hear me, either. How could they
possibly think they hadn’t done anything wrong?

Even if it didn’t
feel
wrong to their
psychopathic brains, they must have known that the law
disapproved.

With the deadbolt and all, I was pretty sure
they couldn’t get in. If they did, the dogs would eat them. How
long would they stay out there? Didn’t they have anything better to
do?

Petey and Pumpkin raged at the front door,
barking and snarling and tearing it to pieces. How did they know
these were bad guys? Was it my behavior? Or are dogs smarter than
we give them credit for?

OMG, they could do it again. He undoubtedly
told them to use a glasscutter, the way he did last year when he
made a hole in the window of the mudroom door. Then he reached in
and unlocked it. I had hurried downstairs to lock the inner door.
We should have replaced that window with plywood, but who’d have
thought it could happen again?

I stayed in the living room to keep an eye on
things, and called 911. Maybe the police were still at Glyn’s
house. It was a lot closer to me than the police station.

Maybe Rick would hear the bulletin wherever
he was. Not to abandon the hostages, but just so he’d know. And
think of me. And maybe worry a little.

I thought about that banner I’d suggested to
Glyn, about repent, you sinners. I could whip one up with an old
sheet and some markers, but it seemed kind of stupid now. I didn’t
want them to think I cared enough to bother.

They had disappeared from sight but their
cars were still there. I checked every window, all sides of the
house, to make sure they weren’t setting me on fire.

Before I got back to the living room, someone
knocked at the door. Then rang the doorbell. The door had a high-up
window that I couldn’t see out of.

Then I heard them rush to their cars. I
looked out another window in time to see their cars start up and
almost crash into each other trying to get out to Lake Road. A
moment later, a police cruiser arrived.

It was two officers, but not Rick and Rosie.
I told them what happened and got a rueful smile as they realized
it was the same crew they had just missed at Glyn’s house.

“I can give you their names,” I said, “if
that’s any help. They’re the ones who raped Kelsey Fritz the other
night.”

“How do you know it was the same guys?” they
asked.

“Glynis told me who they were. She was there.
I know it’s going to be hearsay because you’ll never get Kelsey to
talk. She’s too traumatized. And you’d better not believe their
story that it was consensual. There’s nobody in the world less
likely to do that than Kelsey. I’ve known her for years and I know
the guys, too. We all went to Lakeside. It’s a small place.”

No reaction. If nothing else, they would know
Lakeside was a small place.

“How’s the hostage situation?” I asked.

“Still going on,” they said, and left.

Poor Rick. He must have been exhausted.

I was, too. I couldn’t relax until my parents
came home, and that wasn’t until evening. When they did come, I
told them, “I really miss Ben.”

“So do I,” Rhoda said. “I hope you got a lot
done, anyway.”

“A lot of what? School hasn’t . . . oh.” My
campaign. To make half the world’s population more aware that the
other half are people, too. I’d forgotten all about it. Maybe
that’s what those guys were trying to do—make me forget.

They knew Glyn had talked to me. Was it
Kelsey they were trying to warn me about? Or did they know about my
article even though it hadn’t come out yet?

Either way, I was to keep my mouth shut.

Chapter
Eight

Velda breezed into the hospital room like a
breath of frosty air.

It was August. Where did the frost come
from?

Maybe not so much frosty as brisk. If truly
frost, then it was the kind that sparkled. Velda had always been
that way, clear and energetic.

“How’s my baby sister this afternoon? I’m
sorry I couldn’t come earlier. I was all engrossed. It’s a group
I’m working on. Three figures all connected. It’s intricate. Here,
I took a picture.”

Velda reached into her handbag. Kelsey tried
to pretend she was interested as the camera came out and Velda
scrolled through the photos on it.

Her family was so weird, with Velda trying to
pretend nothing had happened. Mom was sad and tried to hide a faint
reproach, as in how could Kelsey have let it happen to herself?
Stepdad was distant and taciturn. Angry and disapproving and trying
not to show it.

Maybe it really was her own fault. She
shouldn’t have drunk so much. She hadn’t realized how much it was
until she was too drunk to care. Certainly, she never dreamed they
would take advantage of her. So stupidly innocent.

Velda cranked her bed into a sitting position
and held the camera to her face. The figures stood back to back and
wore long draped garments that seemed to melt into each other. Only
their heads gave them away as distinct, androgynous beings.

“Mmm,” Kelsey said, and tried to form the
word “nice.” She didn’t really care, but had to say something.

No one seemed to realize that she had gone
beyond her everyday life. It didn’t interest her anymore, not even
the prospect of college. That made her shudder. All those people.
Maybe a convent would be better, even though she wasn’t Catholic.
Would they accept her after what happened? She couldn’t even accept
herself.

“Have you been up yet?” Velda asked. “Is it
okay for you to get up? We could walk around out in the corridor.
I’ll ask.” She reached for the call button near Kelsey’s hand.

Kelsey shook her head.

“Not okay?” Velda asked.

No one had talked about it, and anyway Kelsey
didn’t feel like walking. Or anything except lying in bed. No
visitors except the nurses, a doctor or two, and Mom and stepdad.
And Velda, in spite of her bubbling. Velda couldn’t help it. She
just didn’t understand. In fact, she tried very hard not to
understand.

Kelsey rolled her head toward the window.
“What’s out there?” It came out a monotone.

“What’s out there? The world!” Velda
said.

As if that would help. Velda brought her head
down to Kelsey’s level. “You can see the top of a tree.” She
straightened up and walked over to the window.

“It’s lovely. It’s a hill with a little rock
garden. As if the ground was chopped away to make it level for the
building and they planted a rock garden where it slopes up. When
you can get up and sit in the chair, then you’ll be able to see
it.”

Kelsey didn’t want to sit in the chair. She
knew patients were supposed to do that, as a first step toward
regaining their strength. But it would put her that much closer to
getting up and getting out. She wondered if there was any way she
could stay in the hospital forever.

Velda sat down again and leaned toward her.
“Can you read?”

“Mmm?”

“Books. Magazines. To entertain yourself.
Would you like to have the TV on? I suppose we have to get someone
to turn it on. It’s a franchise. I’ll pay for it.”

Kelsey shook her head. “Just want . . . to
sleep.”

Her sister looked alarmed. “That’s no good.
You need to work on staying awake at least for a while.” Velda
could be exhausting at times.

“I did,” Kelsey said. “I’m awake now. I want
to sleep.”

“That’s true, you are. You’ve been doing very
well, considering.”

Considering what?

The poison? Kelsey didn’t even know what she
took. A bunch of things. Whatever it was, it seemed to be working
until they interrupted her.

Velda stayed and stayed. Read her an article
about college because Kelsey didn’t have the energy—or the
interest—to read it herself.

She stayed until they brought her a liquid
dinner. Chicken broth. Strawberry Jell-O.

“Oh, look!” Velda exclaimed. “They sent you
some crackers to go with the broth. That’s progress, isn’t it?”

“Not hungry,” Kelsey said. “You can eat
them.”

“No, they’re yours, honey. You eat them and
get strong and healthy.”

Phooey. Nobody got strong and healthy on soda
crackers. She didn’t want to be there anyway. Never strong and
healthy again.

She was aware of Velda patting her arm and
saying goodbye. Good, she was leaving. Kelsey slept, but not long
enough. Her parents came.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom sighed.

Not again. Kelsey closed her eyes.
“Sorry.”

“Oh, sweetie, you know I didn’t mean
that.”

Clumsily, stepdad patted her shoulder. “The
police are working on it.”

Working on it. What was there to work on? She
had gotten herself drunk and she shouldn’t have done that.

They were her classmates. How could she have
known they would do what they did?

She knew it happened other times. But not to
her or anyone she knew.

Stepdad muttered something about “punks.” And
“not fast enough.”

It wouldn’t have happened if I stayed
sober.

Maybe it would have. How could she know? But
if she’d been sober she could have screamed and kicked and made a
huge fuss. It might have brought someone, maybe Glynis. Or Cindy
Brandon. She closed her eyes and thought of all the things she
could have done. And hadn’t. As Velda would say, “Hindsight is
wonderful.”

Her eyes stayed closed as she imagined a
world where everyone had a little handheld device that could take
you back to the point where you goofed and let you have another
chance.

Just one chance. There had to be limits. But
it wasn’t fair that you didn’t get any.

Ben Canfield would have liked that. She used
to talk science fiction with Ben, until things went bad. He had a
lot of interesting ideas. She wished she could tell him that
one.

If she could talk to him, which she couldn’t.
He had scared her so much. But it might not have been entirely his
fault.

She felt her mother’s lips on her forehead.
“We’ll be going now, sweetheart. You need your rest.”

Stepdad gave her shoulder another pat. “Get
well soon, baby.”

Like she could ever get well. Not from that,
she couldn’t. People just didn’t understand.

* * * *

When she woke again, her room was nearly
dark. A dim nightlight shone from a fixture at the head of her bed.
The other times she’d been awake, it was mostly in a semi-conscious
haze.

The door to her room stood ajar. A private
room. She was glad of that. The hall outside was lit but even those
lights were dimmed. It was too dark to read the wall clock, but it
must have been somewhere in the small hours.

She rolled over to be sure everyone was gone.
There had been some talk about a private duty nurse but she didn’t
see anyone. She was alone.

Her watch was gone along with everything
else. It all seemed very quiet except for some distant voices and a
burst of laughter. She knew she was alive. She wasn’t supposed to
be. All she remembered was a policeman, an ambulance, and then
Velda. And a lot of people hovering around jabbing her with
needles. She hurt, even though they weren’t doing it now. Hurt all
over, not only where the needles went. Where did they go? That
part, she couldn’t remember. It was as though it all happened to
somebody else, but she knew it was herself.

The door swung open, letting in more light.
She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

It didn’t fool them. There must have been
two. One of them said, “We’re just going to take your blood
pressure, honey.”

She felt a hand on her forehead. A cooling
hand. They lifted her arm and she felt the blood pressure cuff.
What could they tell from her blood pressure? They didn’t know what
was on her mind. Or how it felt to be her. She could have asked for
a painkiller but that wouldn’t do any good. The pain was
everywhere, in her heart and soul as well as her body.