Treehouse

CHAPTER 2

Although they never knew it, both Jim and Timmy Stone had the same dream that night. Directly outside the window of the room that would become Timmy's bedroom stood a large old oak tree. It was the home of his new treehouse. Jim was just putting the final touches on the trim. Timmy was in the treehouse pretending to talk to someone.

As Jim descended he glanced in and stopped to watch for a moment. Timmy was sitting quietly now, as though listening to someone. Occasionally he would nod in agreement with whatever his invisible friend was saying. His smile ran from ear to ear. Timmy was about to say something but stopped short and looked at his father.

Did his eyes glow?

Jim suddenly felt dizzy his head began to spin; everything became a blur. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the ladder. A moment later he found himself standing on the ground looking up.

Jim would not remember the dream.

Timmy would never forget his new friend.

CHAPTER 3

Coffee was on as usual, thanks to Lisa. She would not allow her husband to leave the house without something in him. He did have to settle for coffee and Hostess, but at least it was something. If you want something more, She told him. You'll just have to settle for hospital food.

You are a cruel woman!

Mommy, are you cool? Timmy wanted to know.

The word is cruel. You know, mean, vicious, cruel. Jim kidded the boy.

Oh. Timmy responded, not certain at all what his father meant but pretty sure he was kidding.

Jim had arranged to research his new book at the University Hospital in Madison. This was to be his fifth book (one currently on the best seller list) and he found that his success afforded him certain avenues that he had not found open before. The University Hospital was considered one of the finest institutes in the world. For this reason Jim had been reluctant to ask. It was his manager who finally made the arrangements. Jim was basically a shy person and did not like to ask people for things if it meant putting them out. Despite the duration of the research and the possible disruption of schedules Jim might cause, the administration and doctors as well welcomed Jim heartily.

His coffee and Hostess doughnut finished, Jim kissed Lisa and the kids and left. Lisa watched him disappear into the garage and wished Jim could join them for breakfast at McDonald's, but he had an early appointment at the hospital and a good distance to drive.

Jim found himself watching the garage door rising again. He turned and checked the driveway, then he turned back and, as his truck-driving father had taught him, he backed up with his mirrors. From nowhere a small boy appeared in the mirror. Jim stopped quickly, his tires catching and squealing enough to alert Lisa. He spun quickly but the boy was gone. He turned back around and adjusted his mirror trying to see what he thought was a boy but to no avail.

What the hell?

He noticed Lisa at the window and shrugged his shoulders and grinned. She threw him a kiss and he left.

* * * * * * * *

The phone rang. Andrew dropped his curtain and answered it by the second ring. He already knew who it was. Yes?

Did you see it last night?

Yes.

Why?

I don't know. I can only guess, but I'll have to let you know later.

I am not able to cope with this again, Andrew.

There's nothing you can do about it. Just let it go. It won't hurt you.

I understand that, but who must die in my place?

Less

"I'm sorry. I'm just frightened.

I know, Less, I understand. Just try to relax. Everything will be fine and it will go again.

I will. I'll try.

I know you will.

Silence.

CHAPTER 4

Mommy, if Daddy takes the car, how will we go to McDonald's? Kathi asked.

Lisa crouched down by the children, who were playing together quietly for the moment.

Yeah, Timmy piped in. I'm hungry.

Daddy said we would be getting the other car any moment now. Remember, he said the car movers would bring the car just like the furniture movers would bring the furniture.

Uh, uh, Kathi interrupted. He said the portables would bring the car.

Honey, car porters. Lisa corrected, straightening Kathi’s ponytail.

Yeah, carpeters, Timmy teased, and then changed the subject like it was a light switch. Mommy can we build a fort in a tree?

Not a bad idea, Skippy.

Mommy, not Skippy. That's a kid’s name. At seven years Timmy felt he had long outgrown a name like Skippy.

Yeah, you are too, Skippy, you are too. Kathi chimed in. Skippy, Skippy, Skippy. She teased and ran off chanting. Timmy gave chase, not really considering what he could do if he caught his sister.

There's a nice monster I've created

Before she could stand back up a horn sounded in the driveway. Thank God.

Edward Simpson stood six feet seven inches, straight up and down like a stick, and, although he liked the Stone's BMW he much preferred a Porsche or a Corvette, but anything would be okay if it was expensive and fast. As he climbed out of the car Kathi and Timmy came shooting out the front door. Kathi was now chasing Timmy as he had managed to best her in their name-calling contest. Timmy saw Ed and their car first and ran straight to him.

Are you the carpeter? Timmy asked excitedly.

No I’m...

Car porter you shit head! Kathi interrupted and gave Timmy a shove. Simpson ignored the new fight and reached in and gave the horn another push.

Nice kids. He thought sarcastically but replaced that thought with, Nice, as Lisa stepped through the front door. Her coal black hair was pulled tight behind her head into a ponytail (Kathi had wanted them to be alike today). The sun caught and lit her dark brown eyes, and between her California tan and her high, sculptured cheekbones she looked like an Indian goddess. Her blouse kept her ample breasts covered but her jeans served only to compliment her long legs.

Hi, are you Mrs. Stone? Ed asked, wanting to say something clever and snappy but not able to think of a thing.

Lisa was already chasing the kids away. She addressed Simpson, Hi, yes I am. She extended her hand.

Ed. He said stretching out his long arm. He shook her hand; one quick snap of the wrist then retracted his arm and reunited his hand and pocket, and turned to the car before he could stare at her. Edward Simpson had to many complaints about just that sort of behavior. I filled her up about five miles back. The oil's good and I washed her yesterday.

Timmy and Kathi rounded the nearest tree and were already making a beeline back to the car; Lisa was watching this as she listened to Simpson. They both had to dodge the oncoming rush. Cute kids. Simpson remarked. The other one's kinda shy though.

Kathi screamed a laughing scream. All right! Lisa shouted. Back In the house with you! Then to Simpson, I'm sorry, what other one?

Ed, who found his eyes directed at her breasts looked up quickly, hoping Lisa hadn't noticed where he was looking. That little guy over there, he said pointing to the corner of the house where he saw the boy. Lisa looked to where he pointed but there was no one there. Well he was there just a second ago. Must ‘a ducked round the corner or somethin'.

Hmm, well he must have been one of the neighbor's, I only have the two. Do you need me to write you a check?

Oh, no. He said turning his attention back away from the house. They'll send you a bill from the office.

Okay. Would you like a glass of water maybe? I don't have any coffee I'm afraid. Nothing is unpacked yet. She lied, not knowing why but not trusting Simpson. We just got in last night ourselves.

Oh, no that's fine. I had a couple of cups already this morning. The old bladder's on the fritz as it is. He said, and then cursed himself silently for the stupid remark. But thanks anyway. He managed to get out, hoping that he could cover his crudeness with some courtesy.

That's fine. Lisa answered brightly. Good bye then, and thank you.

My pleasure, Ed returned quickly. He watched Lisa gather the kids who decided not to go into the house until she told them it was time to get ready for McDonald's. That was all the prodding either needed. Edward Simpson enjoyed the view Lisa innocently offered. As the front door closed Simpson felt a tug on his pant leg.

Mister, mister. Hey mister.

Ed turned to find the boy he saw by the house only a moment ago. What do you want? He asked rudely, knowing that the boy was not Lisa's.

I'm gonna to kill ya! The boy said.

Why you little fuck! Simpson swore, raising a hand to strike the boy.

The boy grabbed Simpson's other wrist.

Ow! Ed yelped, and snapped his wrist out of the boy's grip. Instinctively he grabbed his wrist and held it tight, spinning away from the boy. He turned back for revenge, but the boy was rounding the corner of the house. Ed gave chase. With his long legs should have overtaken the boy quickly but when he turned to the back of the house the boy was gone. Simpson stood dumfounded, unable to believe he lost the boy. Shit! He cursed out loud, and returned to the front to wait for his ride. He stood at the curb and remembered his wrist, which had since stopped hurting. He looked at it and discovered a circle burnt around his wrist, bright red, tender and warm to the touch. He gingerly examined the burn and cursed the boy again. He could not know that by four that afternoon he would be dead.

Within ten minutes Edward Simpson had been picked up by another driver and Lisa, Kathi, and Timmy were pulling away. Timmy was waving good-bye to someone, Kathi could not see whom, and so she elected to reopen the 'Skippy' issue. Lisa quickly put a threatening end to the conversation.

CHAPTER 5

Jim stood by the information desk, waiting patiently for the receptionist to complete a call. She asked if she could help.

I have an appointment with Dr. Benton, could you-?

Yes, sir. She interrupted already knowing who he was. Please take the elevator, She pointed down the hall. To the eighth floor, His office is to the right. Number eighteen.

Thank you. Jim moved toward the elevator, his hungry writer's eyes taking in everything. He noticed the receptionist's phone had twenty-eight incoming lines. Her blouse had only six buttons. On the phone seven lights were on, indicating use, three were flashing incoming calls and nine were flashing more rapidly, holding someone at bay. Two buttons on her blouse were undone and her bra was black.

As Jim crossed the lobby he was correct in assuming many eyes were on him. He did not think he would ever grow accustomed being watched. He was positive he would always enjoy it.

The hospital was white modern, the floor shined and the steel glistened. The hall was long and bright, its tile, a bright winter white, looked cold to the touch. Gurneys, some empty some in use, lined the hall, completing the scene of doctors, nurses and patients trying to move along with their lives.

Hospital elevators are unique in all the world. Jim knew that they had back doors but it never really struck him before. A rear door in a hotel or office building would lead a person into a wall. Jim, always on the lookout for the dark side of things, wondered if a hospital elevator would lead a person into something sinister.

The door slid open and Jim and one other man got off. The man moved directly to an office across from the elevator, leaving Jim alone in the corridor. The doors at the far end of the hallway flew open. Jim turned to see three people and a gurney. One man in white held the doors then shot ahead to open the next set. Clear the way! He commanded as he rushed past. Jim pressed himself to the wall. A second man pushed the cart while a nurse carried a bottle attached to the patient by a needle. On the gurney was a small boy, he could not have been much older than Timmy, Jim suspected, judging from the boy's size. His forehead was scraped raw, and his lower lip, Jim could tell, was just lying in place. His arms were in the same condition as his forehead except for a belt that had been tied around his left arm. The front of the boy's shirt was completely soaked red. As they passed the boy tried to look at Jim. His eyes begged for Jim to do something to stop the pain, and Jim's heart went out to the boy and his family.

As quickly as it had come, the gurney had exited through the far set of doors and disappeared around the corner. Before he moved again, Jim looked both ways, as if crossing the street.

Doctor Benton's secretary sat in a comfortable outer office. The carpet was chosen more for aesthetics than durability. The walls were two-tone baby blue under white, giving it a wainscoting effect, and lithographs and prints hung neatly around. The institutional gray file had been replaced with one that could have been antique. Regardless, it matched the oak desk perfectly.

Julie Wringer, according to her name plaque, was a pretty woman, and efficient Jim soon discovered. Before looking up she spoke into her intercom. Doctor Benton, Mr. Stone has arrived.

Thank you, Julie, came an immediate response. Please show him in.

She stood and directed Jim into Benton's office. Her smile and the look in her eyes were more like what Jim was used to seeing at an autograph session than what he had expected from Julie Wringer.

Doctor Craig Benton rose to his full five feet eleven inches as he extended his hand to Jim Stone. Forty-two was much younger than Jim had expected and he quickly compared Craig Benton to himself. Jim was four years younger and in good shape but Craig Benton was lean and strong. His handshake gave him away. Jim had not expected that strong of a grip from a surgeon. Jim had deep green eyes, red hair, and pale Irish skin. Craig was dark, his hair sandy brown, with a bit of gray at the temples. Jim had soft features, placed tenderly on his face by Mother Nature. Craig was firm, sculptured.

Craig Benton's office was as Jim had expected. Rarely does a person in Craig's position have an office that does not reflect that status. The carpet was thick shag, the desk and credenza, mahogany, and the furniture, leather. Green plants were everywhere, large floor plants, mostly. The art consisted of a single oil hung directly across from the desk.

Hi. Craig Benton. He said with a broad smile.

Jim Stone. Pleased to meet you.

Sit, please. Benton gestured toward a couch across the room, and came from behind his desk to join Jim. First, let me welcome you to University Hospital. Anything we can do to help your research, please feel free to ask.

Thank you, I will.

I must admit, I am flattered that you are here, not only at University Hospital but right here in my office. I've precious little leisure time, but I have read everything you've written. I have a secret passion for scary stories.

"Thank you. I too am flattered, and as you may or may not know, I'm a Wisconsin boy; so being here is quite a treat for me, also.

I'm curious. How did you select University Hospital when there are a number of excellent institutions including two in Los Angeles and San Francisco?

Actually, it was your fault, Doctor Benton, I was--

Craig, please, not doctor. Doctor is my job. Craig is my name. That is unless you prefer to have me call you Author Stone?

Jim laughed out loud, and was joined by Craig. "Point well taken, Craig.

Great. I'm sorry, please continue.

Well, I was watching a medical program on the local public station in L. A. I guess I had been watching absently for nearly an hour, when a segment on the human brain came on. It was like pushing the right button; Jim almost instantly became excited about his subject, projecting that excitement to Craig Benton. He unconsciously slid himself to the edge of the sofa. I was stunned. I actually watched a bad memory being removed by isolating it in the patient's brain and neutralizing those particular cells. Craig nodded, having performed the procedure several times himself; he knew exactly what Jim was speaking of. The idea came to me in a flash! Jim went on. Not just a hint or an outline, but the whole damn story. Jesus, it was amazing Jesus. Jim shook his head in disbelief of his own story, and then quickly realized he was digressing. At any rate, I started my research about a year ago. Only superficially, you understand."

Craig continued to nod, not wanting to interrupt.

I have a friend in the Navy, a surgeon. He was able to get me into Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego. They helped me all that they could. Unfortunately that was not a great deal because they classified it as elective surgery, but they did tell me about a surgeon in Wisconsin. You. They had given me some of your articles, and you had been referred to in several others. Well the rest you know. And I'm just thrilled to be here. I tell you, Craig, this is going to be my best book yet, I can feel it.

Craig Benton's smile was a broad as Jim's. I'm glad. I truly am. You know this is exciting for me also. Hey, not only do I get a chance to brag about my work, but I get to contribute to a major piece of fiction. Well, you can't imagine how I've been looking forward to this.

Craig.

Yes, Jim.

I think this is going to be terrific!

I think you're right. They smiled at one another for a long second, and then Craig spoke. So, tell me. How can I help you?

Well, I need three things from you personally. One: knowledge of how this facility works and the surgical process. Two: I need to see you at home. I need to know exactly what a doctor does in those hours when he doesn't have to be a doctor. You know, those times when you can relax because there is no one in the outer office waiting for you to save them. Three: I need to see and hopefully share the care and feeling you have for people. I need to convey why you are a doctor. Easy things like that. Jim added with a smile.

I'll tell you what. One and two should be no problem. We can tour the hospital right now if you'd like, then tonight you and your family can join my wife and me for dinner. How would that be?"

Oh, wouldn't that be great, except I have abandoned my wife in an unpacked house already today. You see we just got into town last night, and I think she would surly do me in if I even asked, but a rain check would be great.

You have it. Craig returned, opening his arms and smiling.

It was like that for Jim Stone, friends came easily to him. Both men, in this case could feel a strong friendship building as Jim questioned and Craig answered and just as often asking his own questions of Jim. The talk that day ran the gamut from professional questions and answers to the Jesus, when I think of the things I pulled when I was in school...stuff that friends enjoy.

Had Julie Wringer not interrupted them at eleven o'clock, they would have talked the morning away. She reminded them that they would have to take their tour now, before Craig was forced into his afternoon duties.

I swear to God, Craig said lightly, I would have lost my job years ago if it wasn't for that woman. We'd better get moving or you'll never get that book written.

They both laughed, now a comfortable laugh shared by friends. As they crossed the outer office Craig asked where Jim would like to begin his tour. Well, since the book starts in an emergency room, why don't we?

Why not? Craig said and held the door open. Once in the hall again Jim turned and headed in the direction the emergency staff had taken. Craig headed straight for the elevator. Hey, He called after Jim. Who's running this tour, you or I?

Jim turned. He was a bit confused. Isn't the emergency room this way?

Strictly administrative, pretty boring stuff I'm afraid.

Jim joined Craig in the elevator. Lesson number one, Craig said. When a person comes in for emergency treatment they want it fast. Just makes more sense to have the ER on the ground floor, closer to the sick people. He pushed the lobby button. Pretty smart for a bunch of doctors, huh?

The elevator door slid silently closed."

TIMMY

Timmy held his sister's hand. He did not want to, but he did not want to release her either. They had pestered their mother sufficiently to gain her reluctant permission to explore their new neighborhood.

They were allowed to walk around their block once, not to cross the street, and only on the condition that Timmy hold his sister's hand.

Such restrictions were embarrassing to both brother and sister, but they knew the point was not debatable.

Hey, kid. How come you gotta hold your sister's hand? The voice came from behind the tree they had just passed.

Brother and sister turned at once to see another boy. He was about nine, dressed in shorts, oxfords, striped sox and a striped T-shirt. His black hair was cropped short but in need of a trim, his face needed washing, as well as his knees.

I don't have to. Timmy said defiantly and tried to shake free of his sister's hand.

Kathi tightened her grip and stiffened her arm. Stop it. She ordered as she suspected her mother would. Timmy pulled harder and finally twisted his way free. Who said he's even my brother? She asked the boy whom she took an immediate disliking to.

He is. The boy answered, hooking his thumbs into his patch pockets.

Ya, I bet he's not. Kathi readied for an argument.

Forget it. I've been watching. You just moved in last night.

Ya, where? She asked with a sneer.

Round the corner.

So big deal, so you've been spying. Where do you live? Kathi demanded to know.

Over that way. He answered, cocking his head toward infinity. What's your names?

What's yours? Kathi demanded, not willing to give her name to anyone whose name she did not know.

Frank.

I'm Kathi Stone. He's--

What's your name kid? Frank interrupted.

Timmy

Timmy. Why don't you tell your sister that I don't hate her and she don't have to hate me.

Ya, Kathi. Timmy said, a plea traced his voice.

Forget it. Come on, Timmy, let's go.

Ya, kid, you better go. Frank teased him.

I don't wanna go. I'm gonna play with Frank. Don't you want to, Kathi?

No I don't want to! She snapped, indignantly I'm going to finish going around the block and then I’m going home and so are you!

Timmy looked at Frank then at his sister, and then back at Frank, who stood with raised eyebrows. No I'm not!

Yes you are or I'm tellin' Mom!

A threat of that stature always caused Timmy to reexamine his determination. Here he quickly reasoned that he could play with Frank another day and took his sister's hand.

What a shit hole. Frank said. It's not to hard to see whose Mommy's little pet.

It was not quite clear to him what Frank meant but he had an idea. For Frank it was enough that he had planted the seed.

CHAPTER 6

The kid was right Jack Dalton's heart was pounding. This was great. His hands trembled slightly. It was never like this before. Not