Stephen King: The Dead Zone

‘Jeez, what a baby,’ Eileen said, offering him her hand. ‘This is nothing compared to what I’ve got on for next time.’

“Forget it,’ Johnny said. ‘All I I’m gonna do next time is swim in the…’

He looked at her, an expression of surprise spreading over his face. His grip tightened on her hand until it was almost painful.

‘Johnny? What’s wrong? Is it a charley horse?’

‘Oh gosh,’ Johnny said mildly.

‘Johnny?’

He was still gripping her hand, looking into her face with’ a faraway, dreamy contemplation that made her feel nervous. She had heard things about Johnny Smith, rumors that she had disregarded with her own brand of hard-headed pragmatism. There was a story that he had predicted Marie Michaud’s boy was going to be all right, even before the doctors were one hundred percent sure they wanted to try the risky operation.

Another rumor had something to do with Dr. Weizak; it was said Johnny had told him his mother was not dead but living someplace on the West Coast under another name. As far as Eileen Magown was concerned, the stories were so much eyewash. on a par with the confession magazines and sweet-savage love stories so many nurses read on station. But the way he was looking at her now made her feel afraid. It was as if he was looking inside her.

‘Johnny, are you okay?’ They were alone in the physical therapy room. The big double doors with the frosted glass panels which gave on the pool area were closed.

‘Gosh sakes,’ Johnny said. ‘You better … yes, there’s still time. Just about.’

‘What are you talking about?’

He snapped out of it then. He let go of her hand but he had gripped it tightly enough to leave white indentations along the back.

‘Call the fire department,’ he said. ‘You forgot to turn off the burner. The curtains are catching on fire.’

‘What…?’

‘The burner caught the dish towel and the dish towel caught the curtains,’ Johnny said impatiently. ‘Hurry up and call them. Do you want your house to burn down?’

‘Johnny, you can’t know…

‘Never mind what you can’t know,’ Johnny said, grabbing her elbow. He got her moving and they walked across to the doors. Johnny was limping badly on his left leg, as he always did when he was tired. They crossed the room that housed the swimming pool, their heels clacking hollowly on the tiles, then went out into the first floor hallway and down to the nurses’ station. Inside, two nurses were drinking coffee and a third was on the phone, telling someone on the other end how she had redone her apartment.

‘Are you going to call or should I?’ Johnny asked.

Eileen’s mind was in a whirl. Her morning routine was as set as a single person’s is apt to be. She had gotten up and boiled herself a single egg while she ate a whole grapefruit, unsweetened, and a bowl of All-Bran. After breakfast she had dressed and driven to the hospital. Had she turned off the burner? Of course she had. She couldn’t specifically remember doing it, but it was habit. She must have.

‘Johnny, really, I don’t know where you got the idea…’

‘Okay, I will.’

They were in the nurses’ station now, a glassed in booth furnished with three straight-backed chairs and a hot plate. The little room was dominated by the callboard -rows of small lights that flashed red when a patient pushed his call button. Three of them were flashing now. The two nurses went on drinking their coffee and talking about some doctor who had turned up drunk at Benjamin’s. The third was apparently talking with her beautician.

‘Pardon me, I have to make a call,’ Johnny said.

The nurse covered the phone with her hand. ‘There’s a pay phone in the lob…’

‘Thanks,’ Johnny said, and took the phone out of her hand. He pushed for one of the open lines and dialed 0. He got a busy signal. ‘What’s wrong with this thing?’

‘Hey!’ The nurse who had been talking to her beautician cried. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Give me that!’

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