Six Seconds

30

Blue Rose Creek, California

Maggie pushed the green button and the dispenser spit out a parking ticket.

The barrier arm lifted and she parked at Mercy General Memorial Hospital. This was where Madame Fatima’s friend had told her to come for information on Logan.

As Maggie walked to the hospital doors, she looked at the clouds swirling overhead, recalling that a storm warning had been issued.

She’d forgotten her umbrella.

She didn’t care.

In the wake of all she’d been through these past few days, getting wet was not a concern. She wasn’t sleeping. She wasn’t eating. Bit by bit she seemed to be slipping from reality into a dream that took her from disappoint ment to disappointment along an ever-darkening road.

But she was not defeated.

One goal, one crystalline purpose, kept her going. She would never give up searching for her son and her husband.

194 Rick Mofina

As Maggie approached reception, the woman at the desk eyed her coldly.

“I’m here to visit Fatima Soleil.”

“Spell it, please.”

Maggie did and the woman’s keyboard clicked.

“Your name?”

“Maggie Conlin.”

“Family or friend?”

“Friend. I was called here by her friend Helga Kimmel.”

The keyboard clicked and the woman found Maggie’s name listed.

“I’m going to need a photo ID.”

“Is my driver’s license okay?”

The woman nodded then traded Maggie’s license for a visitor’s badge and her signature on the visitor’s log attached to a clipboard.

“She’s on the ninth floor. When you get off the elevator, go right, to the nurses’ station.”

“Thank you. Can you tell me her condition?”

“Ask the nurses on the ninth floor.”

As the elevator ascended, Maggie tried to keep her hope in check.

In her heart she believed Fatima had detected some thing during her session. Maggie had, too. She swore she could feel Logan nearby. Now, she tried not to guess at the information Fatima had for her.

Did it matter?

Maggie would pursue any possibility.

The chime sounded for the ninth floor.

The air was heavy with antiseptic smells. Down the hall a short, thickset woman in faded jeans and an over size flowered shirt was talking to a nurse. It was Helga.

Six Seconds 195

“Excuse us, Nancy,” Helga said to the nurse. “I need to talk with Maggie.”

“Hi,” Maggie said.

“Come this way, there’s a lounge around the corner.”

The bright-colored walls could not mask the gloom that resided here in the brownish-gray vinyl couches and the outdated copies of long-forgotten magazines.

Helga sat down, rubbed her bloodshot eyes and exhaled.

“They do not expect Madame to live through the night.”

“Oh, my God.” Maggie touched Helga’s knee. “I’m so sorry.”

Helga nodded.

“The cancer is eating her up. She has no time left. She’s not in pain. She’s heavily sedated and is in and out of consciousness.”

Maggie took quick stock. No other people were in the lounge or down the hall.

“Has she no family?”

“I am her only family,” Helga said. “Madame told me to summon you. She wants to give you information.”

“Did she say what it is?”

“It can only be about the session concerning your son. Are you ready to see her?”

Maggie nodded and Helga led her to a private room.

“I’m going to leave you alone with her until you are done. The nurses are monitoring her from their station. You will have privacy. Do not be alarmed that she passes in and out of consciousness. She knows if people are in the room.”

Maggie slowly pushed the door and entered.

The room was dimly lit and fragrant from the floral

196 Rick Mofina arrangements. The gentle hum of the equipment moni toring Fatima’s breathing, blood pressure and heart rate was calming.

Maggie was not prepared for what she saw next. She actually took a step back to fetch the nurse be lieving that Fatima had vanished as evidenced by the empty crumpled sheets of her hospital bed. It took a second to register that Fatima was there- under the sheets-her body so ravaged as to be nothing more than a living skeleton.

An oxygen tube ran under her nose. An IV dripped morphine. She was unconscious.

Death’s work was nearly complete.

Maggie sat in the cushioned chair next to her bed.

Fatima turned her bare head to Maggie and opened her eyes to acknowledge her presence.

“I’ve come as you have requested.”

Fatima blinked then resubmerged into unconscious ness.

Maggie sat with her for an hour. She stood to leave the room for a short break and almost screamed.

Fatima’s ice-cold fingers had seized Maggie’s wrist.

Maggie didn’t move.

Fatima’s grip was strong. Her eyes opened but re vealed only white orbs. She moaned and her skeletal jaw began to work.

“I lied to you, Maggie. I did see something.”

The pressure of Fatima’s grip increased.

“Do you wish to know?”

“Yes.”

“It is not good. Do you wish to know?”

Six Seconds 197

Maggie’s chin crumpled and she fought to push the word out of her mouth.

“Yes.”

“I am seeing it now. Your son is alive.”

“Where is he?”

“But he is in danger.”

Fatima’s grip was hurting Maggie. She fell to her knees at the side of the bed.

“Where is he?”

“He does not know he is in danger.”

“Please, I’m begging you, where is he?”

“There is a woman. I see a woman. There is fire, ex plosions, destruction. She is carrying something.”

“Who is the woman?”

“The woman is carrying a child.”

“Is it Logan?”

“The child is dead.”

“No! Nooo!”

Fatima released her grip.

Her body convulsed. Her jaw locked open and she was still. The monitor began ponging with alarm.

“Help!” Maggie called. “Somebody!”

A nurse hurried into the room, uncollared her stethoscope. Listened, then pressed a button on the intercom system above the bed. “We’ve got an expired DNR in 921.”

Maggie covered her face with her hands, stepped back into a far corner out of the way. What followed unfolded in snatches.

Helga entered and sobbed.

The nurses consoled her, Maggie consoled her, for how long, she couldn’t be certain. Maggie was not sure how long she stayed with Helga, or how she made it back to reception to retrieve her license. She remem bered it was raining.

She remembered thunder, lightning, her skin prick ling the entire time she walked to her car. She remem bered the words of a dying psychic warning her that Logan was in danger.

“The woman is carrying a child.”