Dead On Arrival by Matt Richtel

Author:Matt Richtel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Five

Pop-pop-pop.

It was over in under two seconds.

The man in the doorway flopped backward, his hand making a last clutch at the door frame and then he collapsed.

“That’s right. That’s what I’m talking about!” Jerry exclaimed. He sounded like a high school linebacker who had just flattened a receiver.

“Jesus,” Eleanor said.

Alex lay on the ground.

“You all stay right where you are,” Jerry said. “We need to make sure he didn’t have company.”

He kept his body low and closed in on Alex. When he got to her, he gave the thumbs-up sign to indicate she wasn’t hurt. Then, still crouching, he made his way to the porch. He pasted himself against the wall next to the front door.

“Crack shot,” Lyle said to Eleanor.

“All clear!” Jerry said. “Let’s get these kids inside where it’s warm.”

Eleanor grabbed Lyle by the sides of the face and turned him her direction.

“Are you seeing something here you recognize—medically? If so, I would really appreciate you communicating it to me.”

He switched his gaze from Eleanor to Alex, watching how she watched him—with some fascination. He needed to talk to her.

The porch lit up, presumably from Jerry flicking a switch inside the door. Now it was clear that there was another building, to the right and set back slightly from the house. Out here it might be called a carriage house or even a barn, but in the city, another living quarters, like a cottage. Out front of it sat a sedan. It had only a dusting of snow on it. The image suggested to Lyle that people were inside the small building.

“Have you ever had a seizure?” Lyle asked Eleanor.

“Yes.”

“You have?”

“Two, actually, minor, when I was young, some strange syndrome that passed.”

“You remember what they were like?”

She remembered. Like her world had locked up. “These people had seizures, or are having them?”

“It’s just seizures aren’t viral.”

“So it’s not a seizure.”

“I’m not sure. When you had a seizure, what do you remember about it?”

“I just told you; the world paused.”

“Sorry, what did you remember about what happened beforehand, like, what were you doing when it happened?”

Eleanor processed the question. She couldn’t remember a thing, that was the problem; she felt like she’d lost hours of her life, like they’d gone blank. She told Lyle. He nodded. Short-term memory loss, he said, a common side effect.

“I need you to talk to me, Dr. Martin. I’m not sure what or who to trust and I need information. I’m not trying to play captain here. I’m trying to play reasonable adult in a totally alien situation. What would we do if this were another planet?”

“I’d take you to dinner.”

“What?” She laughed, seeming both slightly irritated by and appreciative of the random nature of the comment.

“It’s been a long time since I met someone who welcomed my opinion in an adult conversation,” he said.

“Hold it together, Dr. Martin.”

“I don’t know who or what to trust at this point.”

“You can trust me,” Eleanor said.

“Yep.”

Lyle reached into the glove compartment and fumbled around. His hand returned with a pen that he used to write something on a yellow scrap of paper he’d found.

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