Suffer the Children Read online

  Joan had told him to pick up milk because the kids drank it.

  He drove on past an endless series of houses, traffic lights, and businesses he recognized, all together, as home. Garbage had been piling up for days on the sidewalks and in the back alleys, another giant mess for him to clean up in time. When he reached his house, he parked in the garage and sat in the dark for a while, smoking and listening to Leo Boon’s cover of an old mountain song. This train don’t carry no gamblers, this train. No hypocrites, no midnight ramblers. This train is bound for glory. Yes, sir.

  The idea of the kids magically becoming normal again seemed impossible, even after everything he’d seen. He was pinning his hopes on something that couldn’t have happened and therefore simply could not be.

  Maybe Joan is losing her mind.

  That, or the kids had returned to normal by magic. Which was more likely?

  But I heard Megan laugh. I heard it.

  Maybe I’m losing my mind. I heard what I wanted to hear.

  He reminded himself that the kids had come back from the dead. Anything was possible.

  But he was too scared to hope.

  He hesitated at the garage door. He was breathing hard. He couldn’t face it if they were still sitting on the couch like dolls. Something inside him, in fact, might break.

  He opened the door to the smell of baking and a pot roast cooking in the kitchen. Joan had the stereo on. He poked his head into the living room, which was empty. The lights wrapping the Christmas tree were on, and presents were laid out under it. Logs blazed in the fireplace. The fire filled the room with warmth and light and the smell of burning wood.

  I’m home.

  Again, he heard a laugh. He hurried to the kitchen.

  Oh, God.

  The scene that greeted him was shocking only in how normal it was:

  Joan at the stove, her hips swaying to the rhythm of a country music song.

  Megan sitting on the counter wearing a little pink apron, making a mess out of Joan’s preparations for a cake.

  Nate at the kitchen table, looking through his geography schoolbook and wearing his oversized orange Giants hat.

  Doug tried to speak. A choking sob came out instead.

  Finally, he managed a croak: “Kids?”

  They all turned and looked at him.

  They’re normal.

  No, they’re not. They’re not normal at all.

  They’re PERFECT.

  His hand shot out and gripped the door frame as the world began to spin. “Joanie, are they real?”

  Megan screamed: “Dad-deeeeeee!” She climbed off the counter and raced toward his legs. He scooped her up in his arms and rained kisses on her warm face.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he said.

  “Stop!” she squealed, and patted his stubble. “Your face is prickly.”

  “Jesus. I can’t believe it. It’s really you.”

  “You’re not supposed to say Jesus, Daddy.”

  “He can if he’s happy,” Joan said with a big smile.

  Doug couldn’t smile, not yet.

  “Hey, Dad,” said Nate.

  “Hey, sport.” He extended his other arm to embrace his son.

  Now was the time to give in to his joy. Let it light up his face. Instead, he cried. He cried loud and hard. He didn’t even try to stop it.

  Megan started crying too. So did Nate. They huddled on the floor and cried.

  Joan stood at the stove, her hands covering her mouth, saying, “Oh my God.”

  Moments later, she was bawling.

  “It’s you,” he kept saying. “It’s really you.”

  “Please don’t be sad, Daddy,” Megan said.

  He looked up at Joan through a warm blur of tears and said, “How?”

  Joan sniffed, wiped her eyes, and told him a nurse had brought medicine that was reviving the children. Ramona Fox had sent her.

  “What kind of medicine?” he asked her.

  “Something from the Centers for Disease Control.”

  Doug had lived with Joan long enough to know when she was full of it. His gaze shifted to the little cotton ball taped over her inner arm, which only raised more questions.

  He didn’t care. Whatever had happened, he was all for it. His children were back. They were normal again. They were alive.

  Like the horrible reign of Herod had never come.

  “We’re going to have pot roast,” she said. “And Meggie and I are making a cake for dessert. Why don’t you grab a quick shower and get yourself cleaned up?”

  A shower was the last thing on his mind. He just wanted to go on hugging his kids until he truly believed they were there. He did need to get his bearings, though. That was what Joan was suggesting he do. Step under a hot spray of water and get his head together.

  He nodded, weary but happy. His stomach growled at the thought of pot roast. He’d barely eaten in days.

  Suddenly, he was starving.

  He handed her the jug of milk. “I’ll be right back, kids.”

  “Cool,” said Nate.

  “You have to take a shower now,” Megan commanded. “Stinky!”

  He trudged upstairs and peeled off his work clothes.

  He groaned with pleasure in the shower. He dozed under the downpour until the hot water started to run out. He gave himself a quick scrub and shave, all the while filled with wonder at what he’d seen. Still not quite believing it.

  Afterward, he wiped the steam off the mirror and found a gaunt man looking back at him with hollow, sunken eyes.

  But he was smiling.

  He wanted a drink but knew he wouldn’t have one. He’d never drink again.

  They ate their dinner at the kitchen table. Doug wolfed down everything in sight while the kids plowed into their own meals.

  “I’ve never seen them eat like this,” Joan said.

  Doug helped himself to another couple slices of pot roast, which he drowned in his wife’s homemade gravy. A dash of salt made it perfect.

  “Can I take Major for a walk after we eat?” Nate said, his cheeks bulging.

  “We’re staying in tonight,” Joan answered.

  “I’ll take him out for a walk later,” said Doug.

  “Awww.”

  Doug studied their faces. “Do you kids remember anything about what happened to you?”

  Joan’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.

  Megan fidgeted. “I don’t know.”

  “I woke up in the dark,” Nate said.

  Doug and Joan stared at him.

  “I remember everybody falling on the ground. Dad was carrying me away from the skating rink. I had a killer headache. Then there was this funny smell, and I went to sleep. I woke up, and everything was dark, and I was in a bag.”

  “I woke up in the dark too!” cried Megan, wanting in on the attention Nate was now getting.

  “I wasn’t scared, though,” Nate told them. “Even though I really hate feeling trapped. I just knew you were going to get me. After you brought us home, it was like being in a dream. I guess I was pretty sick or something.”

  “Sick?” said Doug. “Son, you could guess you were dead.”

  “Doug,” Joan scolded.

  “Wow,” Nate said. “Was I really?”

  “You weren’t here, and now you are. You and princess both.” Megan laughed as he poked her belly. “A real miracle.”

  “I wasn’t here, and now I am?” Megan raised her hands and wagged her head. “Whaaaaat?!”

  They all laughed at that. Joan told the kids she had something special planned for the evening.

  In the living room, Christmas presents awaited.

  “But it’s not Christmas yet, is it?” Nate asked.

  “Who cares?” she said. “Go get them. And after that, get ready to stay up as late as you want.”

  Nate howled in triumph. He’d won the lottery and didn’t even know he had a ticket. The kids fled the table, pounded into the living room, and tore into the Christmas gifts like anim
als. Joan chased after them, urging them on. Doug took a final mouthful of pot roast and hurried to catch up.

  Megan opened each gift, held it up for all to see, and moved on to the next. She lay on the floor to play with her favorite, a Barbie laptop that taught her words and numbers. Joan settled into the La-Z-Boy and watched her play.

  Nate crowed as he unwrapped LEGOs, a Nerf pistol, and a few Hot Wheels cars. Joan had wanted to get him an anatomy model of the human head to encourage any interest he still had in being a doctor one day but couldn’t find one. Instead, she’d gotten him a Snap Circuits electronics kit and some books as an education gift.

  Then he opened the box containing the ultimate prize—a remote-controlled helicopter. Joan did the Christmas shopping, but Doug had picked that one out special for Nate. He grinned as the boy opened it.

  “Wow, this is amazing!” Nate cried.

  “It’s ready to fly,” Doug said. “No assembly required. It’s got a gyroscope to keep it steady in the air. With the control, you can make it go up, down, left, right, forward, and back. What do you think?”

  Nate held it up and turned the blades. “Wow. It’s an army helicopter.”

  “Marines, son. It’s a SuperCobra attack helicopter.”

  “Wow. Does it shoot anything?”

  “No, it just flies.”

  “That’s okay. Can we fly it now, Dad?”

  “Not when it’s dark out. It’s too big to fly in here; we have to take it outside. We’ll do it tomorrow if the weather’s okay.”

  “Promise?”

  “You bet, sport.”

  Nate stood and held up the helicopter. “I’ll bet it can go really high and fast too. This is the best Christmas ever!”

  Doug and Joan exchanged a smile.

  “Oh man, I wish—”

  He dropped the helicopter to the floor.

  Joan screamed. She leaped out of her chair while Doug froze in horror.

  The word wish whistled out of the boy’s lungs as they deflated.

  Megan lay among the wreckage of boxes and wrapping paper. The Barbie laptop invited her to play another game. Her eyes were blank.

  When Nate crumpled into Joan’s arms, Doug knew his son was dead again.

  III

  The Long Good-bye

  SIX

  David

  2 days after Resurrection

  David awoke to winter sunlight streaming through the window. Nadine was already up, her pillow cool to the touch. He rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. The memory of the night before brought a smile to his face.

  Dust glittered in the sunbeams. David waved his hand and watched it swirl. This is all we are. And yet we are so much more than this.

  He plodded into the bathroom and found what he saw in the mirror lacking. I’m too young to be this out of shape. Time to lay off the potato chips and dust off those dumbbells in the basement. Last night had given him a reason to care again.

  David grinned as he brushed his teeth. And what a night it had been.

  Last night, he’d arrived home breathless with the news about Shannon and her baby. Nadine shared her own news; not just Shannon’s son, but other children were returning to life. She’d seen it herself. She suspected it was happening everywhere.

  Nadine looked radiant. Gone was the weariness and grief of the past year. She looked like the girl he’d married. Like a mother again.

  “What was the catalyst?” he asked her. “You said you thought you knew. Were you right?”

  Nadine smiled. “It turns out it was love after all.”

  “Love?”

  “Our longing brought them back. Love brought them back to life.”

  Nadine was an expert in that kind of longing.

  “Our collective will?” he said, struggling to understand.

  “Sometimes when you really want something you have to give everything. A sacrifice.”

  She took his hand and led him upstairs. Into their cool, dark bedroom.

  They undressed each other quickly, but with gentleness, respecting the act’s importance. They hadn’t made love in a year. David’s entire body tingled. His stomach flipped as his skin brushed against hers. He was nervous. Nervous and more excited than he’d ever been.

  They lay on the bed together, kissing and touching. The room filled with the smell of her sex. It struck him they had no protection, and he pulled away.

  “Are you sure?” he said.

  She put her finger to his lips while her other hand guided him in.

  He came quickly, he remembered, but they made love again soon after, taking their time, and again after that. They hadn’t enjoyed sex like that in years.

  It was a night for starting over.

  Something magical had happened to save the children, and some of it had rubbed off on his life. They would put everything behind them and start again. Put the accident in the past once and for all. Let Paul rest. Rebuild the practice, have another child.

  It was like waking up from a long, long dream. Life was too precious to waste being miserable. He’d lost a year of his life not wanting to be alive. That would end now. Everything was so clear right now, and he didn’t want to ruin it.

  The phone rang in the kitchen. David heard Nadine answer it. She spoke fast and quiet. By the time he’d gotten dressed, she’d hung up.

  He found her sitting on the couch in the living room, wrapped in his flannel bathrobe. She stared at the television. His stomach fluttered at the sight of her. A full mug of coffee rested untouched on the table next to her.

  She shook her head and muttered.

  “What’s happening?” he said.

  She didn’t turn around. “The children.”

  David sat on the couch next to her. A pale woman was being interviewed while a child played in the background.

  “He just got up and asked if he could go outside.”

  “What did you do?” asked the reporter.

  “I cried. I hugged him. I thanked Jesus for giving him back.”

  David noticed the woman’s arm had a bulky bandage taped over the wrist. It had a big red spot where blood had soaked through.

  That woman dodged a bullet. Must have been in the middle of killing herself in grief when her son returned to life.

  He gazed in awe at the small child playing and thought: This is one of those moments that changes everything. Nothing will ever be the same. Many years from now, on our deathbeds, we’ll remember this as if it happened yesterday.

  He turned to look at Nadine, who stared rapt at the TV. They’d been husband and wife for a long time, but he loved her more now than when they’d gotten married. He still found her so beautiful it made his heart ache.

  They’d met in college, two premed students commiserating over their mutual hatred of organic chemistry class. They married soon after graduation. Nadine was brilliant, passionate, determined. She would have made a great doctor. Instead, she became a nurse and worked hard at a hospital to put him through medical school. When it was her turn, she decided to have Paul. Then the accident took their son from them. Took everything from her. Changed her from a woman who loved life to one intimate with death.

  David’s mind had little patience for willing suspension of disbelief. He didn’t watch TV or read fiction. If it wasn’t real, he had little interest in it. Nadine had encouraged a romantic side of him he’d never known existed. Not romantic as in roses and candlelight, but as in loving something bigger than himself.

  When Paul died, that part of him went too.

  Last night, it had come back. All of it.

  David watched the TV.

  “How do you feel now?” the reporter asked.

  “I’m so grateful. It’s a miracle.”

  “And do you have any big plans for the day?”

  “First, we’re going to build a snowman in the backyard.”

  “And after?”

  The woman smiled. “Anything he wants.”

  David couldn’t help but
smile too. “It really is a miracle.”

  He closed his eyes and imagined Nadine sitting right where she was now, her face shining over a baby feeding from her breast. Two small children sat on the floor playing together in the light of the fireplace. His awakened faith was making him think any happiness was possible. It was making him dream. David didn’t care about an afterlife. It was too abstract and impossible to know or understand. But life had limitless potential to be good or bad. He wanted all of the good it had to offer. He once again found himself bargaining with a God whose existence he doubted.

  Give me this, he prayed.

  “It’s a lie,” Nadine murmured.

  David looked at her. “Sorry?”

  “It’s a lie, David. A show. It’s not real.”

  The phone rang.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Nadine turned back to the television while the phone continued its grating ring. “You answer it this time. I can’t hear it again.”

  “That’s one of the children right there on TV. He’s alive. You were right.”

  Nadine didn’t answer. The phone continued ringing. He finally picked it up. “Hello, this is David Harris.”

  “This is Doug Cooper,” a voice growled.

  “Yes, Mr. Cooper.” He searched his memory. The Cooper children used to be patients before the accident. “Are you calling about Nate and Megan?”

  “They’re dead again!”

  David’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t imagine the pain of having your children come back, only to die in a freak accident. Whatever had happened had created a reprieve from this death, but not mortality itself. For one of the children to die now was like surviving a fall from the world’s tallest building, only to choke on a peanut afterward.

  “My God—I’m sorry for your loss. What happened?”

  “Your medicine didn’t work for shit, that’s what happened!”

  “What medicine?”