Page 57 of The Chain

She feels Amelia’s pulse. It’s getting weaker. Amelia looks green. Her skin is soaking, as if she’s just had a bath. “Want Daddy,” Amelia moans.

“Help’s coming, I promise.”

Rachel rocks the little girl in her arms. She’s dying. Amelia is dying and there’s nothing Rachel can do.

Maybe antihistamines would help? There might be some upstairs in the medicine cabinet.

She picks up her phone and Googlespeanut allergy and antihistamines.The very first article that comes up tells her not to give antihistamines to a child having a severe allergic reaction because antihistamines don’t treat anaphylaxis and might make things worse.

“Come on, Pete,” Rachel says out loud. “Come on.”

Amelia’s limp and hot and bubbles are frothing on her lips.

“Mom,” she says and moans again.

“It’s OK,” Rachel lies. “It’s OK.”

She holds the little girl tightly against her.

The minutes tick past. Amelia gets no better but no worse.

The house is quiet.

She can hear gulls, the sea, arat-a-tat…

Huh?

She sits up on the mattress and listens.

She hears therat-a-tatagain.

What is that?

“Elaine?” someone says.

Someone is knocking at the front door.

Someone is upstairs right now.

A woman.

She lays Amelia down on the mattress, quietly runs up the basement steps, and crawls into the corridor.

Rat-a-tatagain and then another “Elaine? Are you home?”

Rachel flattens herself on the corridor floor.

“Elaine? Is there anybody home?”

Amelia’s little voice drifts up through the open basement door. “Mommy…”

“Elaine? Are you guys there?”

Rachel crawls along the hall and into the kitchen.

The bag of drugs is gone but Pete left the .45.

Rachel takes it off the kitchen table and slips back out into the hall. This is one stupid woman out there. Even if Elaine were home, she wouldn’t want someone knocking on her door at six thirty in the morning.

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