The Body Human Read Free Page B

Sylvia James. She says Sean is involved with the group that blew up the bridge, the ones who are trying to get Emerton Memorial closed, and…and killed Dr. Bennett.”
    Jack peels off his bench gloves, taking his time. Finally he looks up at me. “How come that bitch Sylvia Goddard comes to you with this? After all this time?”
    “Jack! Is that all you can think of? Sean is in trouble!”
    He says gently, “Well, Bets, it was bound to happen sooner or later, wasn’t it? He’s always been a tough kid to raise . Rebellious. Can’t tell him anything.”
    I stare at Jack.
    “Some people just have to learn the hard way.”
    “Jack…this is serious! Sean might be involved in te r rorism! He could end up in jail!”
    “Couldn’t ever tell him anything,” Jack says, and I hear the hidden satisfaction in his voice, that he doesn’t even know is there. Not his son. Dr. Randy Satler’s son. Turning out bad.
    “Look,” Jack says, “when the shift ends I’ll go look for him, Bets . Bring him home. You go and wait there for us.” His face is gentle, soothing. He really will find Sean, if it’s possible. But only because he loves me.
    My sudden surge of hatred is so strong I can’t even speak.
    “Go on home, Bets. It’ll be all right. Sean just needs to have the nonsense kicked out of him.”
    I turn and walk away. At the turning in the parking lot, I see Jack walking jauntily back inside, pulling on his gloves.
    I drive home, because I can’t think what else to do. I sit on the couch and reach back in my mind, for that other place, the place I haven’t gone to since I got out of Bedford. The gray granite place that turns you to granite, too, so you can sit and wait for hours, for weeks, for years, without feeling very much. I go into that place, and I become the Elizabeth I was then, when Sean was in foster care som e place and I didn’t know who had him or what they might be doing to him or how I would get him back. I go into the gray granite place to become stone.
    And it doesn’t work.
    It’s been too long. I’ve had Sean too long. Jack has made me feel too safe. I can’t find the stony place.
    Jackie is spending the night at a friend’s. I sit in the dark, no lights on, car in the garage. Sean doesn’t come home, and neither does Jack. At two in the morning, a lot of people in dark clothing cross the back lawn and quietly enter Dan and Ceci’s house next door, carrying bulky packages wrapped in black cloth.
     
    Jack staggers in at six-thirty in the morning. Alone. His face droops with exhaustion.
    “I couldn’t find him, Betty. I looked everywhere.”
    “Thank you,” I say, and he nods. Accepting my thanks. This was something he did for me, not for Sean. Not for himself, as Sean’s stepfather. I push down my sudden anger and say, “You better get some sleep.”
    “Right.” He goes down the narrow hallway into our bedroom. In three minutes he’s snoring.
    I let the car coast in neutral down the driveway. Our bedroom faces the street. The curtains don’t stir.
    The West River Road is deserted, except for a few eighteen-wheelers. I cross the river at the interstate and start back along the east side. Three miles along, in the middle of farmland, the smell of burned flesh rolls in the window.
    Cows, close to the pasture fence. I stop the car and get out. Fifteen or sixteen Holsteins. By straining over the fence, I can see the bullet holes in their heads. Somebody herded them together, shot them one by one, and started a half-hearted fire among the bodies with neatly cut fir e wood. The fire had gone out; it didn’t look as if it was supposed to burn long. Just long enough to attract attention that hadn’t come yet.
    I’d never heard that cows could get human diseases. Why had they been shot?
    I get back in my car and drive the rest of the way to Emerton Memorial.
    This side of town is deathly quiet. Grass grows u n mowed in yard after yard. One large, expensive house has old newspapers piled