It's Alive! Read Online Free PDF Page B

. . . Nobody else was in here . . . No, officer, nobody knows anything . . . Headquarters is sending . . . No, the hole’s not big enough for a grown . . . I’m sorry, sergeant, but that’s all we . . . Yes, autopsies . . . Like claws, an animal . . . I don’t care what the press wants . . .”
    Frank opened his eyes. “Press?”
    A doctor stood over him, looking closely at a hypodermic needle as he depressed the plunger, sending out a tiny spurt of fluid. “This will calm you for a little while, relax you.”
    “I don’t want to relax! I want to talk to my wife.”
    “Plenty of time.” He wiped Frank’s arm with alcohol and stuck the needle in. “We all want to talk to her. She’s the only one who might be able to tell us what happened.”
    “But our baby, is it dead?”
    “No sir, I don’t think—”
    The other doctor in the room hissed.
    “That’s all I can say.”
    Frank felt the first waves of sleep advancing on him. He struggled to stay awake. “The press, I better talk to the press . . . I can handle them. I know just how to . . .”

    Lenore stared up through the fog at the two heads above her. One had a doctor’s green cap on it. The other was hatless. Gray curly hair. They were not familiar.
    “It hurt,” she said weakly, “it hurt very much. It was coming. The head was coming. Forceps . . . the doctor said. I must have passed out.” The faces stared at her, saying nothing. “Why . . . what’s wrong? Can I see my baby now? Will someone bring my baby?” She tried to rise, but had no strength. “Won’t somebody say something? There isn’t anything wrong with it, is there? Please answer me!”
    “Just be calm, Mrs. Davis. I’m Dr. Norten. This is Detective Perkins. Just tell us whatever you remember.”
    “Detective? Police? Why isn’t Frank here? My husband. He’ll tell me everything. He’ll tell you everything. Will someone—please get my husband?” She closed her eyes and her chest shook with sobs. “Tell me—that—my baby didn’t die! Please tell me it didn’t die!”
    “Mrs. Davis.” Detective Perkins, with his sad, furrowed face, leaned over her. “We believe your baby is very much alive. We need to know what happened to cause—”
    The doctor elbowed him sharply.
    Lenore looked at the detective. “I don’t know. Except I had my baby. Frank will know everything. Or Dr. Francis. Why isn’t Dr. Francis here?”
    The doctor gently pulled the detective away from the bed, far enough so that Lenore could no longer hear them. “I’m afraid she’s not going to be able to help, just now.”
    “But somebody’s got to—”
    “Lieutenant,” the doctor’s voice rasped impatiently, “we’ve got several people dead here. They are the only ones who would know what—”
    “But this one’s alive, doctor—the mother. And we’ve got another one alive, one ‘something.’ Out there somewhere. I can’t help the dead. I’ve got to know what we’re after.”
    “You’re after a baby, lieutenant, a baby that might have killed five people. That’s all anybody knows.”

    Several confused and alarmed ambulatory patients milled around the night receptionist’s desk. She shook her head and tried to calm them. “I’m sorry. Just our rules for tonight. No one’s allowed in the maternity section. You’ll have to return to your rooms.”
    Nurses had run up to the patients by now, and were leading them back to their rooms.
    A uniformed policeman came through the doors that led into the hallway of the maternity ward and helped the nurses herd away the frightened patients. “Sorry for the noise, folks. There’s been a slight accident. Nothing for you to worry about . . .”
    The receptionist was on the phone. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know exactly what’s going on. I have no information . . . That’s right, they don’t answer my questions either. A scare of some kind. But I’m sure it’s just a precaution. You know how doctors get, about staph infections