The Law of Nines

There wasn’t a lot of room between the bed and the chair against the wall. As she shuffled by, she rested a hand on Jax’s knee for support.

She paused, then reached out and ran her thin hand down Jax’s wavy blond hair. “You have such long, beautiful hair.”

“Thank you,” Jax said. “So do you.”

As she sat, Alex’s mother reached up and ran a hand down over her own hair. “I brush it to keep it nice. I won’t let them cut it.”

“I never let anyone cut mine, either,” Jax said.

Satisfaction at Jax’s words brought a small smile to her thin lips. “Good.” She turned her gaze to Alex, as if she had forgotten he was there. “Alex, why aren’t you hiding, like I told you?”

“Mom, we need to know about these people who are looking at you.”

“They ask me things, too.”

Alex nodded. “I remember you saying that. That’s why we’re here. We need to know what they want.”

“What they want?”

His mother, when she was lucid, or lucid after a fashion, became easily confused. Alex also knew that she wasn’t likely to remain aware of the real world around her for long. If they didn’t get answers soon her mind would very likely turn inward. On the other hand, he knew that they needed to be gentle in their questioning or she would simply switch off. In years of trying, he was rarely successful at walking the razor’s edge with her.

There was also the problem that when they brought in her medication she would quickly get groggy. Her speech would begin to slur. Soon after, nothing she said would make sense. But that was the drugs, not her mind switching off. As far as Alex was concerned they simply needed to get answers before she couldn’t answer, no matter what the cause.

“That’s right, Mom. The people who watch you want something.

You told me about it before. You said that they want something from you. We need to know about that.”

She touched a slender finger to her lower lip. “They ask about, about . . . the way they talk, it’s not easy to remember. I don’t understand what they want from me. Always asking things, such confusing things. I don’t understand.”

“I know. It’s confusing for us, too. But we need to know what they want from you. Please, Mom, just try to remember what it is they want to know.”

When his mother only frowned, as if she didn’t understand what he was asking her, Jax leaned in, resting her forearms on her knees.

“Mrs. Rahl, they probably say something like ‘Tell us about . . .’ and then they say something. Remember? When they say, ‘Tell us about,’ what’s the rest of what they say?”

His mother smoothed down her hair for a moment as she considered. She looked up suddenly.

“They say, ‘Tell us about the gate,’ I think. Is that right?”

Jax didn’t so much as blink.

“That can’t be it,” she whispered to herself as she slowly stood. “That can’t be what they mean.”

“What?” Alex stood up next to her. As her gaze cast about distantly, he could almost see her mind racing. “What does that mean?”

Jax didn’t seem to hear him. She abruptly looked back down at his mother, her voice becoming insistent, almost demanding.

“Is that what they say? ‘Gate’? Is that the exact word?”

His mother shrank back into her chair a little. “The exact word?”

Alex could tell that she was getting confused by the pressure to come up with an answer. Seeing the grave look on Jax’s face, though, he decided not to interfere.

“Maybe you’re thinking that’s the word they meant,” Jax said, “but maybe that’s not the word they used. Could it be a longer word that made you think of the word ‘gate’?”

She puzzled up at Jax. “Longer word? Maybe . . .”

“Maybe what?” Jax pressed.

Alex thought that Jax looked like she was about to grab his mother by the collar and haul her to her feet.

His mother’s eyes brightened a little as she suddenly seemed to remember.

“Not ‘gate.’ ‘Gateway.’ That’s the word.” She held up a finger. “They say, ‘Tell us about the gateway.’ ”

Jax went ashen.

“Dear spirits, have mercy on us.”

Alex put a hand on the small of her back to steady her. “What’s wrong?”

“I know what it is they want,” she whispered. Her fingers trembled as she pushed her hair back from her face. “Alex, we’re in a lot of trouble.”

Just then the door opened. “Time for your afternoon medications, Helen.”

It was a nurse. Alex was so rattled he couldn’t recall her name. She was middle-aged, big-boned, and wore white from head to toe. Her white nurse’s hat had a small red stripe around the edge, but her crisp dress was pure white. It went to midcalf, where it covered opaque white hose. Her thick white shoes were spotless.

“I don’t want them!” Alex’s mother shouted.

“Now, now, Helen,” the woman said as she came closer, “you know that Dr. Hoffmann wants you to take your medications so that you’ll feel better.”

“No! Leave me be!”

The door opened again as Henry pushed his way in. He saw Alex’s mother waving her arms, trying to keep the nurse at bay.

“Helen, you be nice, now,” Henry said. “You don’t want to be making a ruckus in front of your nice visitors.”