Title: The Doom Stone
Author(s): Paul Zindel
Publisher(s): Hyperion
Pages: 192
Year: 2004
Format: EPUB
Language: English
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A doctor in fatigues knelt beside Dr. Cawley. He took out a stethoscope and checked her vital signs and the condition of the neck wound. «Everything looks and sounds good,» Dr. Halperin said, «but you$prime;re going to need tetanus and rabies shots. You$prime;re mainly in shock.»
«Look, all I need is to get home and have a good shot of scotch,» Dr. Cawley said.
The doctor took her hand. «I$prime;m afraid that$prime;s going
to have to be a scotch after the X rays and CAT scan to make sure there are no fractures,» he said. «We have to take you to Bristol. Kings Hospital.» He signaled the pair of attendants who stood by the ambulance. They brought out a collapsible gurney and lifted Dr. Cawley onto it. She grabbed the doctor$prime;s sleeve. «How long am I going to be in the hospital, and don$prime;t blow hot air up my skirt!»
«One or two days.»
«I$prime;m going with you,» Jackson said.
Dr. Cawley thought a moment as the attendants tightened the safety straps around her. «No, Jackson,» she said. «It$prime;s better if Sergeant I$prime;lllman takes you back to the guest house. You catch some sleep. I$prime;m going to need a few of my things-a robe, nightgown, toothbrush, and my slippers. Pack a bag for me. Tillman will deliver it to the hospital.»
«You$prime;re going to need me,» Jackson said. «You don$prime;t like shots.»
«I$prime;m okay,» Dr. Cawley insisted. «You think it$prime;s better if you go back to New York?»
«No,» Jackson answered quickly.
The attendants clicked the gurney wheels into position and began to roll Dr. Cawley past the gravestones, toward the ambulance. Jackson walked along beside her. Dr. Cawley motioned him closer to her.
«They$prime;re going to try to contain this. Don$prime;t let anyone go through my things,» she whispered.
A large van pulled up, and a trio of handlers got out with bloodhounds. Jackson turned to see Alma holding back her dog at the entrance to the brick building. Dr. Cawley noticed where Jackson was looking.
«Alma$prime;s nervous-but very pretty,» Dr. Cawley said, as the attendants lifted her gurney up into the ambulance.
Jackson laughed.
Lieutenant Rath$prime;s braying cut over the din of the bloodhounds as he led the handlers to where Dr. Cawley had been attacked. The dogs spun in tight circles for a few moments, sniffing at the ground. Suddenly they shuddered, strained at their leashes. A baleful howling soared from their throats, and a group of armed soldiers with high-powered rifles joined the handlers. The search team fanned out north onto the plain.
«Mrs. Langford$prime;s very reliable. She$prime;ll watch out for you,» Dr. Cawley said, as the attendants climbed in the rear doors of the ambulance. «There$prime;s a lot of things to do in town-and you$prime;ll be safe. Remember, don$prime;t let anyone …» She noticed the attendants listening carefully to her every word, and decided to finish her sentence in pig Latin: «ear-nay y-may ork-way.»
«Light-ray,» Jackson said, enjoying the puzzled look on the attendants$prime; faces.
The doors were locked, and the driver started the ambulance. It lurched forward into the fog with its siren sounding, and his aunt was gone.
Jackson walked over to the building where Alma stood with the huge wolfhound, who began wagging his tail like a whip and sniffing at Jackson from head to toe.
«Stop that, Coffin,» Alma scolded the dog.
«Coffin?»
She shrugged her shoulders. «My father$prime;s sense of humor. That beast tonight looked as if it could have put us all into coffins.»
Jackson petted the dog$prime;s massive gray hairy head. «You came through for us tonight, fellah,» he told the dog. «You live here?» he asked Alma.
«With my dad.» She noticed him staring at her. «Why does that horrible thing . . . ?» she started to say, but then remembered she was wearing her nightgown. There was mud splattered on it, and she knew her hair had to look like it had been struck by lightning.
«In this cemetery?» Jackson asked.
Her voice cracked, but she decided to get the worst facts over with first. «My dad$prime;s the gravedigger.
The owner of the cemetery lets us live rent free in a flat above the crematorium.»
Jackson stood up. Her eyes were riveted on him, watching for his reaction.
«Cool,» he said.
She shuddered. «You think living at a crematorium is cool?»
«Sure,» he said, leaning against the brick building. «I$prime;ve always wanted to visit a crematorium. What$prime;s it like?»
«Have you ever been to a Chirping Chicken takeout restaurant?»
«Sure.»
«It$prime;s got a big grill like that. I think the crematorium$prime;s the main reason that horror comes around here.»
«You$prime;ve seen Skull Face before?»
«I$prime;ve heard the ticking sound. I thought it was some kind of insect or bird. Sometimes it sounds robotic. I heard it around here and at Stonehenge.»
«How would you hear it there?»
«I used to work weekends at the Stonehenge souvenir shop. Most of the kids around here work there at one time or another.»
«Skull Face attacked somebody at Stonehenge tonight,» Jackson told her. «I think they found his body in the rafters of the mill.»
Alma looked away. She$prime;d felt enough dread for the night.
Sergeant I$prime;lllman came toward them. Coffin started barking at him. Alma tightened the grip on his leash. «You$prime;d better go inside now, young lady,» Tillman said.
«All right,» Alma said. The mask of fright on her face faded enough for her to smile at Jackson. «Nice meeting you.»
Jackson said, «See you.»
She went inside just as several landrovers and trucks with military personnel arrived. A squad of soldiers began to lay down and secure thin sheets of plastic, as a pair of shiny black body bags was carried up the mill path toward a military coroner$prime;s van.
Sergeant I$prime;lllman commandeered a landrover to get Jackson back to Langford$prime;s. Tillman waited until they turned down the narrow, potholed street that led to the guest house before he said what he had to. «What happened tonight,» he told Jackson, «is classified information until I notify you otherwise.»
«The army doesn$prime;t want me to tell anyone we were almost killed,» Jackson said, «because it might frighten the horses.»
«We$prime;ll have it taken care of by dawn.»
«How are you going to take care of a monster that heals bullet wounds in a minute?»
«You$prime;re not to discuss this.»
«Don$prime;t forget that creature bit my aunt,» Jackson went on, noticing the growing sweat stains on I$prime;lllman$prime;s shirt. «If you find it, you can check it for rabies.»
Sergeant I$prime;lllman didn$prime;t answer.
So much for Mr. Nice Guy.
I$prime;lllman pulled the landrover to a halt near the overhang of the guest house. He got out and followed Jackson inside.
«I$prime;ll be down in a minute,» Jackson said quickly as they entered the foyer. I$prime;lllman hesitated. He looked as if he were going to follow Jackson upstairs. Mrs. Langford appeared in a bathrobe at the top of the stairs. «Something wrong?»
«Dr. Cawley was bitten by a badger,» I$prime;lllman lied loudly and clearly. «She$prime;ll be staying the night at Kings Hospital in Bristol.»
«Oh, I$prime;m sorry,» Mrs. Langford said. Jackson passed her and headed for his aunt$prime;s apartment. She sounded disbelieving, as if she were accustomed to weighing all information she received from the military. «Is she in much pain?»
«No,» I$prime;lllman said. «She$prime;ll be fine.»
Jackson continued down the hallway past the
paintings of dead game and up the narrow staircase to the wood-slat door. He went in, turned on the light. Pithecus and the other fossils were waiting for him. Quickly, he packed his aunt$prime;s things into a small paisley suitcase. Before he zippered it up, he noticed a portable two-way radio on the table. It wasn$prime;t much larger than a walkie-talkie, and had the number 101 crudely marked on it. He tossed it in and brought the bag downstairs.
«Mrs. Langford will call me if you need anything,» I$prime;lllman said.
«Thanks for the lift back.»
I$prime;lllman searched for something else to say. «You have a good night,» he finally settled on.
Oh, sure, Jackson thought as he turned and headed back up. In the apartment he found several more of his aunt$prime;s sketches and manuscript notes-about the local henges and earthworks. Next to them he noticed a tattered, leather-bound book with legends and elaborate engravings of the stones. He took the book into his room, got undressed, and crawled under the lumpy goosedown comforter on his bed.
For a long time he lay awake propped up on pillows. The pale, gnarled body of the monster loped after him in his mind. Its hideous face was at the
chopper window, the nauseating, glistening membrane taut over its huge skull. Above all, Jackson remembered the long, twisted fangs.
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