From outside the circle, Liz screamed. It sounded like she was a mile away.
Something’s gone wrong. Horribly wrong.
Alan’s cold hands could barely feel the fabric of Joe’s jacket. He clamped down even harder and pulled. He pulled his son and the migrators back and tried to angle towards the edge of the circle. Their tug was strong. Alan closed his fists around the jacket and leaned back, using all his weight to tear his son from the grip of the migrators. One of the creatures fell away and Alan felt some give.
His legs burned. Alan couldn’t even feel his hands. He had managed to turn enough that the edge of the circle was at his back and the fire was at his face.
“Alan, do something!” Liz screamed.
Alan had a burst of desperate inspiration. He shifted his weight and pushed his beloved Joe towards the fire.
Joe screamed.
The migrators fled. Suddenly, it was only Joe’s weight in his hands. Alan kicked his legs and drove himself backwards, away from the fire, and across the line of borax. He collapsed to the ground. Joe landed on top of him. Alan pulled his son into a tight hug.
Liz ran to their side.
“Are you okay, Joe? Joe?”
“Yeah,” Joe’s muffled voice said. His face was pressed to Alan’s shirt. “Dad? You’re squeezing me too tight.”
Bob approached and tapped Liz on the shoulder.
“We have to turn them loose, Liz,” Bob said. “You have to do it.”
Alan watched his wife stand up. She moved with Bob to the top of the circle—farthest away from the house. Liz closed her eyes and paused. She began speaking the words she’d memorized from the book. The closing passages of the process were the most complex, but Liz didn’t hesitate once she started. As she spoke, Bob picked up the bucket of water and splashed it on the borax line, breaking the circle near the hole they’d dug.
Alan held his breath, wondering if the creatures would behave.
The shadows dancing in front of the fire picked up speed and headed for the top of the circle. Liz finished her recitation and fell backwards. Her hair and clothes were blown back by a fierce wind. The fire flared and sparks rose up into the night sky.
“Dad—too tight,” Joe said.
“Sorry.”
Liz picked up the pitchfork and used it to hurl walnut leaves towards the fire. Bob splashed water down into the hole and then started refilling it with the dirt they’d excavated.
Alan held Joe tight.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Prognosis
NOVEMBER 1
ACCORDING TO the man behind the counter, it normally took hours and hours between having the MRI and getting a doctor to review the results. The man suggested that they should consider themselves lucky that they were getting immediate attention. For the hour that they had to wait for the results, Alan didn’t feel lucky at all. His left knee bounced with nervous energy. Liz put her hand on his thigh to quiet his leg, but he paid no mind.
Finally, after seventy minutes, a woman wearing a purple top came through the door and tapped on her tablet. She smiled at Joe and waved. Liz and Alan collected their son and followed her down a corridor. The doors on either side had lights next to the handles—green or yellow. She led them through the fourth door on the left. The outer room had games and books and toys for little kids. The doorway at the back led to a smaller room with a table.
The doctor—an older woman with glasses on a chain—came in a few minutes later. She had a laptop tucked under her arm. Her name tag said “Dr. Chandrell.”
Thank god for name tags, Alan thought. I can barely remember my own name.
“Joe, would you like to stay here for a minute while I talk to your folks? There are some good books on the middle shelf you might like.”
“Here,” Liz said. She handed Joe her phone. “Don’t kill my battery, and don’t install anything.”
Alan kissed Joe on the forehead before he followed the women into the back room. Once the door was closed, the doctor got right to business.
The doctor opened her laptop and clicked on a file. The screen was filled with a black and white cross section of a brain. The doctor moved a control and the patterns of tissue spun and swirled as she moved through the layers.
“We’ve got nothing but great news,” Dr. Chandrell said.
“Pardon?” Liz asked.
“I see just a tiny amount of swelling here,” Dr. Chandrell said, spinning her cursor over a gray location, “but really nothing to be worried about.”
“Doctor,” Alan said, “I know you’re all very careful here and I’m not trying to impugn anyone’s professionalism, but are you sure you have the correct scan there?”
“Joseph Harper, son of Alan and Elizabeth?” the doctor asked.
Liz took Alan’s hand.
Alan nodded. “Yes, that’s us. It’s just that Doctor… what’s-his-name said he was pretty sure we’d find a tumor.”
“Prewalski,” Liz said. “His pediatrician’s name is Prewalski.”
“Yes, that’s what we were looking for. I’m happy to tell you that we found no evidence of a tumor. You’ll want to consult again with your pediatrician to discuss other possibilities and look for other potential causes. How’s he feeling today?”
“No complaints this morning,” Alan said. In fact, Joe had gotten up before Liz or Alan and woke them up with a big smile on his face. He didn’t even seem troubled by the scary events of the night before. His mood had been so good that Alan didn’t want probe. Once the migrators were freed, the family had fled quickly in Liz’s car. Alan hadn’t even stopped to change his pants before they headed back for the hotel.
“So what do we do?” Liz asked.
“Keep an eye on him for any symptoms. Especially watch his temperature. An infection could explain some of the symptoms, and if it flares you’ll see it in his body temp. Your pediatrician will have the results of Joe’s blood tests—that will be another good indicator of other potential causes.”
“So we make another appointment with Prewalski?” Alan asked.
The doctor nodded. “Yes. Any other questions?”
“Is it really this easy?” Liz asked. “We were so tensed for bad news.”
The doctor smiled. “Then that makes today a particularly good day.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Moving
NOVEMBER 2
“I’M ALL set,” Joe said.
“Do me a favor,” Liz said. “Go back in there and check every drawer, look under the bed, look through the bathroom, and behind the dresser. I want you to leave no stone unturned. When you’re done, leave this on the nightstand.”
She handed Joe a folded twenty-dollar bill.
“And lock this door behind yourself.”
Liz shut the door that joined the two rooms and turned to Alan.
“Are we doing the right thing?”
“Yeah,” Alan said. “I think so. We can’t live out of a hotel forever, and since Joe’s going back to school on Monday, it makes sense. If something goes wrong tonight or tomorrow, we’ll just get in the car and drive. We won’t stop until we hit San Diego.”
Liz smiled. “We really dodged a bullet with him.”
“No,” Alan said, “we didn’t. That bullet hit us right in the chest. We found a miracle cure. Let’s not revise the past or deny what happened.”
“Something happened. We’ll never know for sure if Joe had cancer or…”
Alan cut her off. “Let’s not argue that again. Please?”
“Fine,” Liz said. “Do we have everything?”
She bent down and lifted the bedspread.