“He’s what?” Nora swallowed hard, blinking. “He’s WHAT?”
“He’s what?” Dan asked, in a monotone. He opened the refrigerator door and stared morosely into it. “What is he? What is who? What is what?” He paused. “Who is he?”
Nora cupped her hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone. “Ike went back into intensive care this morning. They think he has some kind of infection, but they can’t pinpoint it.”
“Damn.” Dan closed his eyes and sank into one of the chairs at the table. “Is he all right?”
Nora shook her head. “Nothing they’ve been doing has gotten his fever down,” she said. “And they’re worried it’s antibiotic-resistant.”
Dan looked away, sighing. “Who are you talking to?”
“Matt Greene. . . you met him at that Christmas party,” Nora said. “He called the other day, too. . . I guess Ike yelled at him.”
“Now?” Dan asked. “In the ICU?”
Nora shook her head. “No. . . he brought a group of medical students in to explain a procedure, and I guess he made the mistake of saying that it didn’t hurt.” Nora couldn’t resist smiling. “I guess Ike. . . corrected. . . that fallacy. It was a day or two ago.” Nora scratched at a spot of congealed orange juice on the table top. “He’s been keeping me posted.”
Suddenly Nora was on her feet, pacing the kitchen as if it was her cage. “I knew it,” she said. “I knew something like this was going to happen, and social services isn’t allowed to tell us where the other two are, and. . .” she took a deep breath. “There’s nothing we can do about it. At all.”
Dan swallowed. She didn’t need to remind him.
“It’s just. . . this powerlessness,” Nora said. She clenched her jaw. “And I swear, if anything happens to him. . .”
Dan nodded. “You know what I’ve learned from this, Nor?”
“What?” Nora asked, flopping back down in her chair with a sigh.
“I think I have the potential to become an incredibly violent person,” Dan told her. “Under the right circumstances. I mean. . . I guess I never saw myself as a violent person before. . . but now I know I could act violently.” He shook his head. “And that kind of scares me, because I know. . . intellectually. . . that violence wouldn’t solve anything.” He took a deep breath. “Viscerally, however. . .”
“You want to go out and kidnap them all,” Nora finished. “And mow down whoever gets in your way.”
“I’d do it in a second,” Dan agreed.
Taylor poked at Aunt Miranda. “Wake up,” he said. “It’s daytime.” She didn’t stir, snoring louder than ever. Taylor rolled his eyes. “You can’t sleep all day,” he told her. “You’ll miss your shows on TV.” He folded his arms across his chest. “If you don’t get to watch Guiding Light, don’t blame me.” He watched Aunt Miranda for a reaction, but she slept on, impervious to his attempts at waking her.
“Fine,” Taylor told her. “Be that way.” He scowled, finding his way into the kitchen and trying not to squirm at the kitty litter that crunched underfoot. He pulled open the refrigerator door and stared inside, sighing. Still nothing but a jar of green water and a decaying chicken carcass. A lone tomato sat on the bottom shelf, decaying into sticky brown pulp.
Taylor wondered what the cats ate, and when they ate. So far he hadn’t seen any cat food, either.
“Zac,” said Djuna, “I understand that you’re feeling negative today. That’s all right. It’s the way you feel, and it’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?”
Zac glared at her. “No.”
“Well, I don’t know what to do!” Djuna exclaimed.
“Be quiet!” Zac yelled.
“I don’t know what to do!” Djuna called to Galath. “How do I cope?”
“Send him back!” Galath yelled. “Why did you think you could take care of a kid, anyway?”
“It seemed easy while I was going through the training,” Djuna called back.
“I don’t think the two of you mesh,” Ariadne suggested. “Your auras clash.”
And that was what Djuna told Mr. Jordan when she called his office half an hour later. She didn’t know if she could take care of Zac, she said, because “our auras clash.”
Mr. Jordan put his head in his hands and gritted his teeth. Someone else should have gotten this case... someone experienced.