AS THE RUNAWAY CHAIR, holding Duffy prisoner, continued its suicidal dive toward the chilly waters of the lake, she gave up hope. She was going into that lake…no way to stop it…no way…so cold…it would be so cold.…
Eyes closed against the terrible reality of it, lips mouthing frantic prayers, she shrank into a little ball curled up against the back of the chair and clenched her teeth. She would have to swim for it.
Duffy opened her eyes and was instantly blinded by the glare of the water just inches away from the speeding chair. She sprang upright, leaning forward, preparing to dive the instant the chair left land.
And she nearly catapulted out over the water as the wheelchair jolted to an abrupt, grinding halt at the very edge of the lake. Her head snapped to one side. She gasped as the chair jerked backward, tilted slightly, its wheels spinning frantically, and then settled shakily onto the sand.
When the chair finally sat sullenly and completely still, Duffy sagged against its back. Her chest heaved in an effort to restore normal breathing.
“You okay?” Dylan’s voice whispered in her ear. “You okay, Duff? All in one piece?” And then he was there, kneeling beside her, taking her shaking hands in his, gazing up into her face with worried eyes.
She couldn’t speak. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her eyes remained fastened in bewildered horror on the cold, silvery water. Then tears of hysteria began pouring down her cheeks, spilling over her lips and chin. “Oh,” she whispered numbly, “oh, oh…”
“Man, that chair weighs a ton!” Dylan exclaimed as staff members and patients alike began to gather around Duffy, expressing concern for her safety. “No wonder you couldn’t stop it on your own. For a minute there, I didn’t think I was going to be able to, either.”
Dylan had saved her life. He’d risked being pulled into the water right along with her and the runaway chair. He had saved her. If only she could stop shaking and crying long enough to thank him.
“Thanks,” she whispered, her tear-streaked face crumpling as the realization that she was safe began to sink in. “Thanks, Dylan.” Then she hid her face in her hands, her body trembling from head to toe.
The group of onlookers, uneasy with their inability to comfort her, murmured among themselves. One said in a low voice, “She needs a doctor,” and turned to run up the hill.
Smith Lewis, followed closely by Amy Severn, came running down the hill. “What’s going on?” Smith asked angrily as they arrived at the foot of the hill. “I thought I told you to stay where I put you,” he began to accuse Duffy, and then realized the state she was in. “What happened?” he asked Dylan. ‘What’s wrong with her? How did she get down here?”
“Take it easy, Lewis,” Dylan warned, putting his hands protectively on the back of the wheelchair. “Duffy’s had a really bad time. Did you check the brake on this chair before you left her?”
Smith flushed angrily. “Of course I did, Rourke. I checked it twice.” His voice rose. “What happened?”
Then everyone began talking at once, a jumble of excited voices. None of it made any sense. Smith looked more confused than ever.
Duffy, her eyes glazed with shock, said numbly, “The chair ran away. It just…took off. If it hadn’t been for Dylan, I’d…” Fresh tears began to flow. “If it hadn’t been for Dylan, I’d be in the lake right now.” Her voice broke, “Oh, God, I came so close…”
Smith looked stupefied. “Ran away?”
“Yeah,” Dylan said. “Took off. Escaped. Straight down the hill. With Duffy still in it.”
“Dylan saved my life,” Duffy said softly. “Can I go back to my room now, please?”
Smith’s flush changed to pallor as he lifted his head to survey the steep distance the chair had covered so quickly. “You…you came down that hill in a wheelchair?”
“Yes, she did,” Dylan answered emphatically, “and I think she should have her doctor check her out. Everyone move out of the way, please, so I can take her back inside.”
“Yes,” Duffy said, trying in vain to tear her gaze away from the sun-glistening lake. “Yes. I want to go back inside.”
“Duffy,” Smith said quietly, looking down at her with guilt-filled eyes, “I was sure I checked that brake. I’m sorry.”
A fellow orderly standing by offered loyally, “Wasn’t your fault, Lewis. Those brakes aren’t much good. The chairs are ancient. Old Man Latham donated them years ago when he first came on the hospital board.”
But Smith looked unconsoled.
Duffy wanted to tell him to forget it. But how could she, when she knew she never would. Never…never. That race down the hill…feeling so helpless, so terrified…she knew she would feel the harsh wind slapping against her face in nightmares for a long time to come.
I’m not dead, she thought with a sense of morbid wonder. I’m not dead…but I almost was. Again. For the second time in two days, I almost died.
How was that possible in a place where she had come to get well?
Duffy’s doctor found no sign of physical damage, but the look on the nurse’s face when she removed the thermometer from Duffy’s mouth signified bad news.
“Your temperature’s shot back up,” she said briskly, shaking the glass tube back down to normal before replacing it in its antiseptic holder. “Small wonder, after what you’ve been through. The whole hospital’s abuzz. Here,” extending one of the tiny paper cups with pills in it, “take these and try to get some rest. I’ll look in on you in a little bit.”
Amy and Cynthia stayed with Duffy until her parents and Jane arrived.
Amy’s eyes were wide with shock. “Oh, Duffy,” she whispered in awe when the nurse had gone, “you must have been terrified! I can’t believe how lucky you were!”
Cynthia, sitting at the foot of the bed, nodded in agreement.
Duffy settled more deeply beneath the covers, hoping to still her trembling limbs. She stared at Amy. “Lucky?” she whispered. “Lucky?” She closed her eyes, trying to blot out the sight of that lake rushing closer and closer to her.
Amy turned a deep pink. “Well, I know it was terrible, what happened to you,” she stammered. “What I meant was, you didn’t go into the lake. Dylan stopped you, just like Smith stopped you from stepping into the empty elevator shaft. That’s what I meant by lucky.”
“Amy,” Duffy said, her voice quivering, “this place isn’t safe for me. I have to go home, right now, before something else terrible happens to me. Ask my doctor, okay? Tell him…tell him it’s absolutely crucial that I not spend another night in this horrible place.” Tears of fear and despair filled her eyes. “Please, Amy?”
Matching drops of saltwater trembled on Amy’s own pale lashes. She couldn’t speak.
“Duffy,” Cynthia said, folding and refolding an edge of Duffy’s yellowed blanket. “I know you’ve been through some really awful stuff. But it isn’t the hospital’s fault. The hospital isn’t out to get you. You’ve just had a couple of accidents, that’s all. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have happened to anyone.”
“But it didn’t.” A sudden wave of nausea washed over Duffy, and her head began to ache. “It happened to me. And…and I just remembered…there was this weird noise…right behind me…just before the chair took off down the hill. I’d forgotten…but I remember now. This sound…”
Amy leaned forward. “Noise? What kind of noise?”
Duffy needed to sleep. She could barely keep her eyes open. She struggled to remember what kind of noise it had been. “I’m not sure…like someone was tiptoeing up behind me…you know, the way people walk when they don’t want to be heard? And then…a little creaking noise…the sound those old chairs make when the brake is put on…or…off.” Duffy’s eyes flew open. “Amy! That is the sound I heard…the brake being released on my chair!”
Amy and Cynthia exchanged glances.
“Duffy,” Cynthia said patiently, “that’s silly. I know you’re upset, but you’re really beginning to sound paranoid. Anyone fooling around with your chair would have been seen by the other people outside.”
Duffy fought rising nausea. “Maybe not. I was at the top of the hill. Alone. Everyone else was on the slope. Why would they be watching me? Someone could have run up behind me, released the brake, and then run away.”
“Duffy!” Amy exclaimed in horror. ‘That’s crazy! Why would anyone do such a horrible thing?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Cynthia agreed. “It’s just your fever talking. The nurse said it was up again. You have to stop this, Duffy: hating the hospital, not letting yourself feel safe here. It’s keeping you from getting well. You have to relax.”
Duffy made a rude sound. “Relax? Are you crazy? How can I relax?”
“Maybe what happened,” Cynthia proposed calmly “is, a student nurse came along and intended to take you inside. She released the brake, and then something caught her attention…another patient needing something…and she forgot she’d released the brake. I’ll ask around, okay? Will that make you feel better?”
Duffy felt tears of frustration threatening again. And she realized then what felt so wrong about the way people were reacting: They were all so sure the chair’s race down the hill had been an accident. How could they be so sure? How could they?
She wasn’t.
Frustrated and feeling extremely ill, she muttered, “You won’t get any answers from anyone, Cynthia. Smith didn’t when he asked about the sign on the elevator door. No one will admit to releasing that brake. Forget it.”
Her parents arrived then. She could tell by the look on her mother’s face that they had already heard about the runaway chair. Maybe now they’d take her home.
Amy gestured to Cynthia that they should leave. “We’ll come back later,” she told Duffy. “You’ll be feeling better then.”
That was Amy. Always looking on the bright side.
Was there a bright side?
The only bright side, it seemed to her, was that her parents might take her home now, agreeing that she wasn’t safe here.
That idea was quickly squelched. While her parents were upset about the downhill race, they were not only convinced that it had been an “unfortunate accident,” but their total faith in Twelvetrees Community Hospital and Dr. Jonas Morgan remained unshaken. If they had a concern, it seemed to be that their very imaginative daughter might be overreacting.
“Honey, you have to calm down,” her mother said. “Although,” she added, “I do think someone could have stayed with you out on that slope. It’s so steep.”
And her father said, “Duffy, of course it was an accident. What else could it be? You wouldn’t be reacting this way if you weren’t so sick.”
When they had gone and Duffy was waiting for Jane to arrive, she tried to tell herself her parents were right. It had simply been an accident.
Because she couldn’t think of a single thing she had ever done to anyone that would make them deliberately send her flying down a steep hill, trapped in a wheelchair. So if there was no reason, there was no plot to kill her. It had been an accident, period.
But…she felt the wind again ripping at her face, felt the horror of being trapped in the speeding chair, saw the icy waters of the lake approaching…and heard again, as clearly as if she were once again out on the top of that hill, the sound of stealthy footsteps approaching behind her, the creak of the brake being released.
Accident?
How could she be sure?
She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.