The Dark Half Read Free

Pritchard?”
    â€œHe still steady?”
    â€œYet. ”
    â€œCome on, then. It’s one to tell your grandchildren about. But be quick. ”
    While Loring had his look, Pritchard turned to Albertson. “I want the Negli,” he said. “I’m going to open him a little wider. Then we probe. I don’t know if I can get all of it, but I’m going to get all of it I can. ”
    Les Albertson, now acting as head O. R. nurse, slapped the freshly sterilized probe into Pritchard’s gloved hand when Pritchard called for it. Pritchard—who was now humming the Bonanza theme-song under his breath—worked the wound quickly and almost effortlessly, referring to the dental-type mirror mounted on the end of the probe only occasionally. He worked chiefly by sense of touch alone. Albertson would later say he had never witnessed such a thrilling piece of seat-of-the-pants surgery in his entire life.
    In addition to the eye, they found part of a nostril, three fingernails, and two teeth. One of the teeth had a small cavity in it. The eye went on pulsing and trying to wink right up to the second when Pritchard used the needle-scalpel to first puncture and then excise it. The entire operation, from initial probe to final excision, took only twenty-seven minutes. Five chunks of flesh plopped wetly into the stainless-steel pan on the Ross tray beside Thad’s shaven head.
    â€œI think we’re clear,” Pritchard said at last. “All the foreign tissue seemed to be connected by rudimentary ganglia. Even if there are other chunks, I think the chances are good that we’ve killed them. ”
    â€œBut . . . how can that be, if the kid’s still alive? I mean, it’s all a part of him, isn’t it?” Loring asked, bewildered.
    Pritchard pointed toward the tray. “We find an eye, some teeth, and a bunch of fingernails in this kid’s head and you think it was a part of him? Did you see any of his nails missing? Want to check?”
    â€œBut even cancer is just a part of the patient’s own—”
    â€œThis wasn’t cancer,” Pritchard told him patiently. His hands went about their own work as he talked. “In a great many deliveries where the mother gives birth to a single child, that child actually started existence as a twin, my friend. It may run as high as two in every ten. What happens to the other fetus? The stronger absorbs the weaker. ”
    â€œAbsorbs it? Do you mean it eats it?” Loring asked. He looked a little green. “Are we talking about in utero cannibalism here?”
    â€œCall it whatever you like; it happens fairly often. If they ever develop the sonargram device they keep talking about at the med conferences, we may actually get to find out how often. But no matter how frequently or infrequently it happens, what we saw today is much more rare. Part of this boy’s twin went unabsorbed. It happened to end up in his prefrontal lobe. It could just as easily have wound up in his intestines, his spleen, his spinal cord, anywhere. Usually the only doctors who see something like this are pathologists—it turns up in autopsies, and I’ve never heard of one where the foreign tissue was the cause of death. ”
    â€œWell, what happened here?” Albertson asked.
    â€œSomething set this mass of tissue, which was probably submicroscopic in size a year ago, going again. The growth clock of the absorbed twin, which should have run down forever at least a month before Mrs. Beaumont gave birth, somehow got wound up again . . . and the damned thing actually started to run. There is no mystery about what happened; the intracranial pressure alone was enough to cause the kid’s headaches and the convulsion that got him here. ”
    â€œYes,” Loring said softly, “but why did it happen?”
    Pritchard shook his head. “If I’m still practicing anything more demanding than my