From the Edge
Please see the disclaimer on the Synposis page.
Annie was shaken by the old man's words. Peter, die? She could not, would not believe it.
"You can't possibly know. You're not a Doctor. His wounds are . . ."
"Are not healing the way they should."
"How do you know?" Annie demanded.
The old man led Annie by the arm and approached Peter's bedside. He guided her hands not to his brow but to where his wounds were located. A look of shock came over Annie when she sensed heat was coming from the wounds. Infection? If Peter's wounds had become infected, why hadn't Doctor Randell treated them? Annie's features turned to puzzlement.
"The Doctor does not wish your son to live."
"No." Annie denied.
"You know this to be true."
At that moment, they were both drawn to Peter as he tossed and turned as one more nightmare took hold. "No, Pop, please stop it. It hurts. The pain. No, don't leave me. You can't leave me." Peter's words, though low, were filled with anguish.
"You must remove him from this place before it is too late."
Annie tried to get away from the strange old man who insisted that Peter's life was in danger.
"Let me go."
The old one blocked her path with arms that appeared frail, but were as strong and solid as an ancient oak. "You must listen. This young man has a destiny that will never be fulfilled if he remains here."
Annie stopped her struggling and listened. The words of the old man started to sink in, but fear prevented her from acting. She just did not want to believe that Doctor Randell was trying to harm her son. "But how do you know?" she insisted on knowing.
"I cannot explain further. You must trust me."
Annie pondered what the old man was telling her. Not long ago, Paul had tried to tell her the same thing, but she would not listen. Now this friend of Paul's, a stranger to her, was trying to tell her the same thing. Maybe there was some truth to what they were saying. Maybe Peter was in danger. But how were they going to help him? She certainly could not move him by herself. Or could she. Annie picked up the phone. Her own sensitive fingers and memory helped her to dial the number she recalled.
"I need to speak to Doctor Sabourine," Annie waited for what seemed like an hour but only took a few moments. "What do you mean she isn't available? She's out of the country at a conference? When is she expected back? Not until next week? No, no message, thank you."
Annie felt for the cradle and replaced the handset in its proper place. Behind her dark amber glasses, though she could not see, her eyes still revealed what she was feeling. And at the moment, she was grateful for those amber shields. For if she were to take those lenses off, she would reveal the anger that she felt at that moment, anger for feeling helpless that she may not be able to help her son. Anger at a doctor who would dare to harm him in any way. And anger at herself for allowing it to happen.
"I know of someone who may be able to help," the old man stated. "I will tell you of my plan, then you must inform your husband. What happens after, you both must not let on what you know."
"What are you planning on doing?"
"Saving the life of your son."
End of Part 7
Alisa Joaquin Copyright@2001.
This story cannot be reprinted or sold in any other form without strict permission from the author. It is being distributed here solely for your enjoyment.
Synopsis / Next Part
Back to Temple Tales / Contact
Alisa