Death Watch (24 page)

D
on’t dawdle,” Dora said, waving them down the deserted hallway. Sydney, Hunz, and Josh stepped lively, their shoes squeaking on the polished white tile floor of Prentice Women’s Hospital.

It was the second time Sydney had stepped foot in the hospital. Both times had been an experience.

Yesterday, not long after Hunz’s broadcast, when they walked through the sliding glass hospital doors into the lobby, they were recognized immediately. Over a dozen people populated the lobby, filling out admission forms, waiting for news of loved ones. Some booed when they saw Hunz and Sydney. Others were more articulate with their opinions.

“Shoulda known. Nothin’ but a cheap stunt.”

“You owe me, man. The station promised us a death.”

“Yeah. And what do we get instead? Billy Graham!”

Now, the morning after the broadcast, Sydney made her second entrance into the hospital as an adventurous and sympathetic nurse sneaked them into Cheryl’s room.

Dora Evans didn’t put much stock in visitors’ hours or the rules restricting the number of people allowed in a pregnant woman’s room.

“Don’t dawdle! Don’t dawdle!” she said, with the vigilance of a sheepdog.

“Good morning,” Cheryl greeted them from her bed. “Just in time.”

The off-duty news trio circled her bed. She held up a hand. Josh seemed to know just what to do. He took it and got a squeeze.

Stacy lay next to her mother in the bed, asleep.

From the door, Dora said, “Keep it down, okay?” She started to leave, then stopped to say, “If this don’t beat all. I’ve seen death watch vigils for terminal patients plenty of times, but this is the first life watch vigil I’ve ever seen.”

She closed the door. The two couples and Stacy were alone.

“Should we wake her?” Sydney asked.

Cheryl lovingly straightened the bangs on her daughter’s forehead. “No, let her sleep,” she said. Tears came.

“Oh, honey.” Sydney took Cheryl’s free hand. “Are you scared?”

Cheryl smiled bravely. “A little,” she said.

Hunz checked his watch, comparing it to the wall clock.

9:26 a.m.

“Two minutes,” Cheryl said. “The time on the letter was 7:28 a.m., but that was Pacific Time.”

“Are you ready for this?” Hunz asked.

Cheryl knew what he was asking. They’d had a long talk during his visit yesterday.

“Can a person ever be 100 percent certain?” she asked.

“You have to put your trust in the One doing the rescuing,” Hunz replied.

Cheryl nodded. “Then I’m ready.”

9:27 a.m.

Cheryl looked up at Sydney. “I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if it wasn’t for you,” she said.

Sydney kissed her hand. “Who would have thought God would use
Wonder Wheel
to bring people together,” she said.

Cheryl smiled. She looked at each of them in turn.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you all for being here.”

“Thank Hunz,” Sydney said. “He’s the one who negotiated an extra night’s stay in Chicago with our producer.”

“Negotiating is too noble of a word to describe what I did,” Hunz said sheepishly. “Making excuses is closer to the truth. It bought us last night and a couple of hours this morning.”

“However you arranged it, thank you,” Cheryl said.

“Josh, what about you?” Sydney asked.

“It was easy for me.” Josh shrugged. “I just told them I had a death watch notice and they placed me on extended leave. New KSMJ policy.”

They watched the last thirty seconds tick off in silence, Cheryl holding Josh with one hand, Sydney with the other. Hunz had reached out, consciously or subconsciously, and was touching sleeping Stacy’s foot.

9:28 a.m.

Cheryl gasped as the wall clock’s red second hand continued its sweep into the morning.

“Welcome back to the living,” Hunz said.

Stacy woke.

“Mommy?”

“I’m here, honey,” Cheryl said. “I’m here.”

T
he last thing Sydney told Cheryl before leaving the hospital was that she would return in a month to assist in the birth of the baby. Hunz told Cheryl he’d try to arrange to get some time off to look after Stacy. He said she was going to need a playmate to help her adjust to the fact that she would have to share her mommy.

H
unz, wake up!” Slicing through the upper atmosphere somewhere over Colorado, the Dassault Falcon streaked toward California and, for Hunz Vonner and Sydney St. James, a day of reckoning at KSJM studio.

“It’s Josh at the hospital,” Sydney cried.

Hunz sat up, groggy. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s Cheryl,” Sydney said.

They were two hours into the flight. Hunz had fallen asleep shortly after takeoff. Not having slept much the last two days, he was exhausted. Sydney alternated her time between looking out the window—amazed at how peaceful the world appears at thirty thousand feet—and worrying about the scene that awaited her in Helen Gordon’s office. No matter how she played it out in her mind, it was ugly.

The chirp of her cell phone had startled her. Hearing the sound of Josh Leven’s voice on the other end startled her even more. With the cell phone in one hand, she shook Hunz awake with the other.

“What is it?” Hunz said, awake now.

“Josh wouldn’t say. All he said was that he could only get through this once, so he wanted us both to listen.”

In the time it took Sydney to rouse Hunz, a hundred scenarios flashed through Sydney’s mind. The one that kept surfacing to the top was Death Watch. Had they mistimed it? Had something gone wrong?

She held the phone between them so that both she and Hunz could listen.

“Josh? Hunz is here now. What happened?”

“It’s a girl!” Josh shouted.

“She’s not due for another month!” Sydney cried, happy and relieved at the same time.

“The kid didn’t want to wait that long,” Josh said. “Cheryl went into labor not ten minutes after you walked out the door.”

Sydney and Hunz exchanged happy glances.

“Everyone’s healthy?” Hunz said.

“Cheryl’s fine. The baby’s fine. Stacy’s fine, though she thinks the baby is some kind of toy doll. I’m the only one who may not survive.”

“Well, you gave us quite a scare,” Sydney said.

“Did I? Sorry. I guess I’m not very good at this. It’s a lot harder than reporting sports scores. I gotta go. Cheryl gave me a whole list of people to call. You were at the top of the list.”

“Good luck,” Hunz said.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need it. How am I going to do this? I don’t know these people. All I can think of is: ‘Hi, I’m Josh Leven, sportscaster for KSMJ-TV. You don’t know me, but Cheryl just had a baby.’”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Sydney said.

Slumping back against the plush leather seats, Sydney and Hunz basked in the good news.

“Well, that was unexpected,” she said. “I was looking forward to being there for the birth.”

“He didn’t tell us the baby’s name,” Hunz said.

“What’s the female version of Hunz?”

Either Hunz didn’t hear her, or he pretended not to.

“You know, I’m new to all this,” he said, “but you have to admit this morning has been amazing. I can’t help thinking that God had it planned this way from the beginning.”

Sydney listened.

“A mother is saved and that same morning she gives birth to a child, possibly the first child of a death watch survivor in the history of the world,” he said.

Sydney smiled. “I’m just glad Cheryl’s baby has been born into a world that doesn’t have to live in the shadow of Death Watch.”

G
ive me a break!” Sydney cried. “It’s three thirty in the afternoon!” Traffic on the Hollywood Freeway was the worst Sydney had ever seen. A tractor trailer had overturned just before Silver Lake Boulevard, blocking three lanes of traffic. Everything was at a standstill as motorists were funneled down an exit ramp, through a five-block maze of city streets, then back onto the freeway.

At least that’s what the radio reports said was happening. From Sydney’s vantage point, it was a parking lot. Inching was considered progress.

After landing at Los Angeles International Airport, she’d dropped Hunz off at his hotel. He wanted to change clothes before meeting with Sol Rosenthal. Having arranged to meet Helen in her office at 3:30 p.m., Sydney thought she had time to run home and freshen up. The circumstances behind the flight to Chicago hadn’t exactly given her time to pack a suitcase. And now, here she was, sitting motionless on the freeway when she was supposed to be in her assignment editor’s office.

She had no other option than to pick up her cell phone and dial the station. It was a call she dreaded making. Punching the speeddial number for the station, she held the phone to her ear. It was dead. She checked the display. Dead. She pushed the ON button. The display flashed just long enough to see an empty battery icon. She hadn’t had time to pack, and neither had she had time to charge her phone.

In frustration, Sydney St. James banged the steering wheel with the palm of her hand.

I
t was after four o’clock by the time Sydney reached the station. As she hurried past the receptionist—who silently warned her with a shake of the head that what she was walking into wasn’t good—Sydney looked around, hoping to see Hunz. Just knowing he was nearby would provide a measure of comfort. Instead, she ran into Cori Zinn.

“What did you do to Josh?” Cori shouted at her.

“Cori, I don’t have time for this. I’m late for a—”

“He flies off to Chicago with some pregnant woman—”

“Cori, really, I don’t have time—”

“—calls the station using the death watch ruse as an excuse to spend more time with her—”

“Cori, listen to me.”

“—and then, he calls me a couple of hours ago all excited to tell me he’s at the hospital helping this woman deliver her baby!”

Sydney smiled. She couldn’t help herself.

“I blame you for this!” Cori shouted. “You turned him against me! You brainwashed him by introducing him to that Chicago bimbo!”

Helen stepped out of her office. She made eye contact with Sydney.

“As delightful as our conversations always are,” Sydney said, stepping around Cori, “I’m afraid we will have to pick up later.”

Only when Cori saw Helen did she let Sydney pass.

“This isn’t over between you and me,” Cori hissed.

Helen disappeared into her office. Sydney followed.

“Our meeting was at three thirty,” Helen said.

Sydney closed the door behind her. “Helen, I tried calling. My cell’s dead. There’s an accident on the freeway. A tractor trailer.”

Even as she spoke, Sydney hated the sound of what she was saying.

There are no excuses in journalism. Professor Puckett. Journalism 101.

Helen wasn’t listening. She arranged stacks of file folders on her desk.

Not knowing whether to stand or sit, Sydney opted for standing.

Helen busied herself awhile longer. The phone rang. She took the call.

“A press release will be sent out tomorrow morning,” she said. “We’ll announce it on the air tonight Yes, C-O-R-I just one R That’s right, five years. No, she’s filled in, but she’s never been a prime-time coanchor before Fort Worth. yes.”

Helen hung up. Several minutes of awkward silence passed, long enough for Sydney to get angry that the station would reward Cori Zinn with a promotion after all the things she’d pulled.

“I thought you were smarter than this, Sydney,” Helen said.

Sydney said nothing.

“You know, they’re blaming you.”

Blaming me? For what? Why was Helen being so cryptic?

Since she didn’t understand this conversation, Sydney decided to launch one of her own.

“Helen, we know how to defeat Death Watch!” she said. “Hunz was just the first. Cheryl McCormick—remember Cheryl? The pregnant contestant on Wonder
Wheel?
—this morning, Cheryl confirmed—”

“The way network executives see it,” Helen said, cutting her off, “it isn’t Hunz. He doesn’t have the background for this kind of stunt. You do. Midwestern Protestant roots. Church attender at an evangelical—”

“Helen, listen to me! We know how to stop the deaths! I know it sounds crazy, but—”

“Here’s how they see it: The two of you, going off together the way you did. A romantic affair. He becomes infatuated with you. You tell him nothing can come of it because of your religious faith. He says he’s willing to convert for you.”

“Helen, listen to me!”

“Sydney, you’re fired.”

“What?”

It wasn’t as though Sydney didn’t see it coming. It was one of the scenarios she’d imagined at thirty thousand feet. But imagining it and hearing it were two different things.

“Of course, the union will protest,” Helen said. “They’ll say a person’s personal religious beliefs are not grounds for dismissal. The station will counter that you were well aware of the rules against proselytizing. I’m confident we’ll work out some kind of settlement.”

Helen spoke as though the settlement had already been worked out.

Sydney leaned forward on Helen’s desk.

“Don’t do this, Helen. You’ve got to listen to me! We know how to stop Death Watch!”

Helen looked at her with deadly earnest eyes.

“I went out on a limb for you, Sydney,” she said. “Perhaps I was assuming too much. Even if I were to overlook all this religious mumbo jumbo, your actions these past two days have been unprofessional and irresponsible. Sydney, if you want to save the world, you’ll have to do it on your own time.”

H
unz was waiting for Sydney when she came out of Helen’s office. She didn’t see him at first. He was off in the distance, standing next to a monitor playing a
Gilligan’s Island
episode. Mary Ann and Ginger were putting on a stage production for the castaways.

Sydney wondered if they had
Gilligan’s Island
in Germany, then wondered what the German actors thought of the state of American television script writing as they dubbed over the voices.

As she walked toward Hunz, Sydney noticed the Homeland Security Awareness system symbol in the bottom corner. In contrast to the canned laughter of the sitcom, it was still set on Level Four.

Had anyone taken Hunz’s broadcast seriously?

Hunz heard her coming. He turned. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Sol told me.”

Sydney made a casual gesture with her hand. She pretended it didn’t hurt, but it did, despite the fact that she was still pretty much numb from the shock.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a lot of time to consider my options. I wanted time off to go back to Evanston. Guess I got my wish. How about you? Did Sol banish you from the KSMJ kingdom?”

Hunz smiled. It wasn’t a real smile. “In essence. He’s sending me back to Germany. Said he was disappointed in me.”

“Seems to be the theme of the day around here,” Sydney said.

They ambled to Command Central and lingered over the huge conference table, quiet now.

“What does EuroNet have to say about all this?” Sydney asked.

“They’re heated. Particularly because it aired shortly before six o’clock in the evening.”

“That’s right, the time difference.”

“They’re upset that Sol is angry. They say I’ve given EuroNet a black eye.”

Hunz spoke in a low tone. Sydney could tell this was hard on him too. And getting harder. She didn’t want to ask the next question.

“When do you fly back?” she said.

“I don’t. I quit.”

“Hunz!”

“I promised Cheryl I’d help out with Stacy.”

Sydney couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Did Hunz Vonner, internationally recognized newscaster for EuroNet, really just say he was quitting his job. to take up babysitting? He even shuffled his feet like a little boy when he said it! Stacy McCormick had really done a number on him.

“What about your career?” Sydney asked.

Hunz became deadly earnest.

“Sydney, we know how to stop Death Watch. How can I continue broadcasting descriptions of death watch tragedies when I know how to prevent them? How can I report the latest theories about who is behind the terror when I know who it is and how to stop him!”

“We do know, don’t we?” Sydney said excitedly. “But they won’t let us broadcast it.”

“We’ll just have to find other ways to get the word out.”

“Even so, Hunz .. your career ”

“Sydney, knowing what I know, how can I possibly keep silent?”