A Compassionate Death

Ellie remained with the boy long after his body had cooled.

Jacob looked asleep, dark, lush lashes spread across his paling cheeks. His hair was still damp from the sponge bath the nurses gave him. It stuck in thick locks to the sides of his face. He'd hated getting washed by the nurses during his brief stay. Ellie didn't think he would have enjoyed it this last time, either.

Asleep. That's how Jacob had looked, lying on a cold steel gurney in the dimly lit basement room. At peace.

It wasn't how she felt.

Although her shift ended at three that afternoon, Ellie was still at the hospital long past suppertime. The funeral director was out of town and wouldn't get to the hospital until evening. She couldn't stand the thought of the little boy in that cold room all alone. He was only five and afraid of the dark.

She'd been Jake's charge nurse since he was admitted a week earlier when he came in with a swollen knee. He left in a zipper bag. Cause of death: suspected blood clot. No autopsy performed at the parents' request. They couldn't accept the death, let alone allow him to be opened and examined like a specimen.

Ellie understood completely. What good was knowing why he died? A definitive answer wouldn't reverse the outcome. She urged the exhausted parents to go home, get some sleep. They had difficult plans to make in the morning. She promised she'd stay with Jake until the funeral director came for him.

The mother, numb with shock, nodded her head. It was a kindness. Jake shouldn't be alone. It was a compassion only another mother would understand—

Ellie did understand, all too well.

It was almost ten by the time Ellie emerged from the quiet hospital. The night was blacker than usual--dawn was a long way off and storm clouds had muffled the stars. By the time Ellie crossed the nearly-empty lot and reached her car, the first drops of rain had begun to fall, filling the air with the dusty smell of a dry summer.

Ellie paused and inhaled deeply. It was a welcomed smell, the smell of a drought about to end.

She started the engine just as the first flash of lightning illuminated the darkness. She hated driving in the rain. Familiar roadways became unknown and unpredictable and her tires weren't the greatest--one more thing she'd been meaning to remedy but never found the time.

Pulling out of the lot, she rounded the corner and pulled onto the main street. The rain fell steadily, blurring the street lights. A flash of lightning lit up the wet street in liquid silver, leaving shadows in its afterimage.

One of these shadows suddenly loomed by her side. Ellie blinked, trying to refocus. The shadow looked like someone sitting in the passenger seat. The next street light showed it wasn't a trick of the light.

She screamed and jerked the steering wheel, swerving toward the line of parked cars.

"Not yet," he said. The voice was a hollowed wind, the rustle of wings, the sweep of dry leaves on their branches.

The car straightened itself, the wheel sliding under her white-knuckled hands. The car continued its pace down the rain-slicked streets, the streetlights coming in pulses between spots of blackness.

She gaped at the figure, a chilly looming presence. A dark hood draped over his face, concealing it. The hood flowed down over his body like a cloak. His hand, the only part of his body she could see, looked gaunt. Sinister.

The scent of rosemary wafted through the car. She inhaled deeply without meaning.

"What do you want?" Her voice was a tight whisper. A thousand violent scenarios ripped through her mind.