angered him. He didn't like feeling he was the prey, he was being pursued. He didn't like running from anything. His pride was too grand for such a concept. Everything and anything should be running from him.
Yet, the instinct to survive would not be silenced and was far more muscular than his pride. Like it or not, he would eventually obey and he would move on. Defiantly, he vowed he would stay as long as he could.
He gazed back over the pond where now the moonlight turned the surface into a yellowish white layer that looked like ice. He thought that was wonderful, but then a thin, slithering gauzelike cloud slipped between the moon and the earth and cut a shadow over the jeweled water. He wanted to shake his fist at it and scare it off. He felt that powerful, but it moved on at its own pace and left him like some ingrate raging at the world he had been given.
All this was interrupted by the real sound of an automobile crunching the gravel drive that led up to the tourist house. The police car did not have its bubble light on, but it looked ominous enough to cause him to rise and move quickly into the darkness. Was this the danger he had sensed?
He watched two patrolmen and a third man in a sports jacket and tie emerge and walk to the front entrance of the tourist house. He knew the old lady was already asleep and would not be answering the door so quickly.
He watched them knock, wait, and then try the door. It was open so they entered. He drew closer to the house, close enough to look through a side window and see the lights go on in the sitting room. The old lady wearing a dull brown robe turned to the three men and listened. Then she brought her hands to her face and the one in the sports jacket put his arm around her shoulders and guided her to the sofa.
What was going on? he wondered.
SEVEN
Terri filled in a report for the police. The officers who arrived afterward wanted to know what she thought killed the woman.
"It's too soon to tell. The edema she suffered could have a number of causes, including kidney disease or some form of poisoning. It could also be the result of severe allergic reaction," she added. "We'll have to wait for the autopsy."
The hard disc in her computerlike memory suggested another probable cause, but she rejected it instantly. She was tempted to follow the ambulance to the hospital, but then thought, what for? There was nothing left to do for this woman except invade her body and search for the story of her death. Instead, she went home and decided to take a hot shower. She knew of a Jewish custom that required people who had been to funerals to wash their hands before they entered their homes. It was so silly, a superstition that suggested death was on your hands and you could bring it into your home and infect your loved ones.
And yet, she had to get the feeling off her. She had to wash away the morbid air, the memory of that cold glint that had come quickly into the young woman's eyes. Could it be that she did touch death, even for an instant? Did it pause to gloat and run itself through her just once, causing her to shudder and causing her heart to stop and then start?
You doctors,
it said disdainfully,
you think you will defeat me with your chemicals and your electronics, but in the end, you will always bow your heads at the vain attempts, at the failures. I play with you. I let you think you have staved me off, driven me back, and then I return, perhaps through a different avenue, around some corner you did not anticipate, and I pluck the victory out of your hands repeatedly.
But keep trying. I so enjoy the contest.
She shook her head at her own imagination and made herself a cup of warm milk. I'm a twenty-first century physician and I rely on my grandmother's old remedies. It made her smile and she needed to smile just now. She sat at her kitchenette and thought about her grandmother, about the nights they sat and talked when she was only a little girl. She had a way of
Yet, the instinct to survive would not be silenced and was far more muscular than his pride. Like it or not, he would eventually obey and he would move on. Defiantly, he vowed he would stay as long as he could.
He gazed back over the pond where now the moonlight turned the surface into a yellowish white layer that looked like ice. He thought that was wonderful, but then a thin, slithering gauzelike cloud slipped between the moon and the earth and cut a shadow over the jeweled water. He wanted to shake his fist at it and scare it off. He felt that powerful, but it moved on at its own pace and left him like some ingrate raging at the world he had been given.
All this was interrupted by the real sound of an automobile crunching the gravel drive that led up to the tourist house. The police car did not have its bubble light on, but it looked ominous enough to cause him to rise and move quickly into the darkness. Was this the danger he had sensed?
He watched two patrolmen and a third man in a sports jacket and tie emerge and walk to the front entrance of the tourist house. He knew the old lady was already asleep and would not be answering the door so quickly.
He watched them knock, wait, and then try the door. It was open so they entered. He drew closer to the house, close enough to look through a side window and see the lights go on in the sitting room. The old lady wearing a dull brown robe turned to the three men and listened. Then she brought her hands to her face and the one in the sports jacket put his arm around her shoulders and guided her to the sofa.
What was going on? he wondered.
SEVEN
Terri filled in a report for the police. The officers who arrived afterward wanted to know what she thought killed the woman.
"It's too soon to tell. The edema she suffered could have a number of causes, including kidney disease or some form of poisoning. It could also be the result of severe allergic reaction," she added. "We'll have to wait for the autopsy."
The hard disc in her computerlike memory suggested another probable cause, but she rejected it instantly. She was tempted to follow the ambulance to the hospital, but then thought, what for? There was nothing left to do for this woman except invade her body and search for the story of her death. Instead, she went home and decided to take a hot shower. She knew of a Jewish custom that required people who had been to funerals to wash their hands before they entered their homes. It was so silly, a superstition that suggested death was on your hands and you could bring it into your home and infect your loved ones.
And yet, she had to get the feeling off her. She had to wash away the morbid air, the memory of that cold glint that had come quickly into the young woman's eyes. Could it be that she did touch death, even for an instant? Did it pause to gloat and run itself through her just once, causing her to shudder and causing her heart to stop and then start?
You doctors,
it said disdainfully,
you think you will defeat me with your chemicals and your electronics, but in the end, you will always bow your heads at the vain attempts, at the failures. I play with you. I let you think you have staved me off, driven me back, and then I return, perhaps through a different avenue, around some corner you did not anticipate, and I pluck the victory out of your hands repeatedly.
But keep trying. I so enjoy the contest.
She shook her head at her own imagination and made herself a cup of warm milk. I'm a twenty-first century physician and I rely on my grandmother's old remedies. It made her smile and she needed to smile just now. She sat at her kitchenette and thought about her grandmother, about the nights they sat and talked when she was only a little girl. She had a way of
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