Shock

Claire Harlow was a soft-spoken, gentle, accommodating woman who seemed pleased to take Deborah up a floor and show her the main lab. As Dr. Donaldson had suggested, it was huge, extending along the back of the building for almost the entire wing occupied by the Wingate.

Deborah was duly impressed. Having spent many hours in biology labs, she knew, for the most part, what she was looking at. The equipment was the newest and best available and included surprising things like automated DNA sequencers. The other surprise was how few people were in the mammoth room.

"Where is everybody?" Deborah asked.

"The doctors are all doing various clinical procedures at the moment," Claire answered.

Deborah strolled along a long countertop supporting more dissecting microscopes than she'd seen in any one place before. They were also more powerful than the microscopes Deborah had had the pleasure of using.

"An army could work in here," Deborah said…

"We're always looking for qualified people," Claire said.

Deborah came to the end of the lab bench and glanced out the window. It faced out the back of the building and offered an impressive view. It was particularly expansive because the building sat on the spine of a hill, with lawn sloping away in both the front and the back. Northward through a tangle of orange oaks and red maples Deborah could make out stone buildings similar to the gatehouse but with white trim.

"Are those buildings part of the farm?" Deborah asked.

"No, those are some of the living quarters," Claire explained. Pointing off to the right in a southeastern direction to where the property sloped down even more dramatically than elsewhere, she directed Deborah's attention to a shimmering of light just visible through old-growth pines. "That sparkle is sun reflecting off the surface of the mill pond. The farm buildings are grouped around it."

"What's the story with the brick chimney spewing smoke?"

Deborah questioned, gesturing toward a smokestack rearing up above the trees even farther to the right. "Is that part of Wingate complex as well?" The smoke was white as it left the chimney but faded to a dark purplish-gray as it trailed off in the distance toward the east.

"It certainly is," Claire said. "That's the old power plant for heat and hot water. It's a rather interesting structure. It was also the crematorium for the Cabot Institution."

"Crematorium?" Deborah sputtered. "Why on earth did they have a crematorium out here?"

"Out of necessity, I guess," Claire said. "Back in the olden days I think a lot of the patients were essentially abandoned by their families."

Deborah cringed at the thought of an isolated mental hospital with its own crematorium, but before she could ask another question, Claire's pager went off. The woman checked the LCD window. "That's for you, Miss Cochrane. They're ready for your procedure."

Deborah was pleased. She was eager to get it over with so she and Joa

FOUR

THERE WAS NO TRANSITION period. One minute Joa

"Well, well, the sleeping beauty has awakened," a voice said.

Joa

"Let's get your blood pressure," the nurse said as he took his stethoscope from around his neck and put the earpieces into his ears. He was an impeccably groomed individual, close to Joa

Joa

"Your blood pressure is fine," he said. He then reached for her wrist to time her pulse.

Joa

"Your procedure is all done," Myron said as he recorded his findings on a clipboard.

"You're joking," Joa

"Nope, you're all done," Myron repeated. "And it was successful, I assume. Dr. Saunders must be pleased."

"I can't believe it," Joa

"That's rare nowadays," Myron said. "Not with propofol. Isn't it great stuff?"

"Is that what I had?"

"Yup!"

"What time is it?"

"A little after nine."

"Do you know if my roommate, Deborah Cochrane, has had her procedure?"

"She's having it as we speak," Myron said. "How about sitting up for me on the side of the bed?"

Joa

"How do you feel?" Myron asked. "Any dizziness? Any discomfort?"

"I feel fine," Joa

"Why don't you sit there for a few minutes," Myron suggested. "Then, if you are okay, we'll yank the IV and send you downstairs to change back into your street clothes."

"Fine by me," Joa

The ersatz recovery room reminded her of the archaic operating theater where she'd had her procedure, and the thought gave her a shudder. It was the kind of OR in which she could imagine lobotomies being performed against vulnerable patients' wishes. When she'd first been wheeled in, the setting had reminded her of a gruesome, several-hundred-year-old painting she'd seen once of an anatomy lesson. In the painting the tiers of seats disappearing up into the darkness were occupied by leering men gazing down at a ski

The door to the recovery room opened. Joa

"Hello, Dr. Saunders," Myron said, looking up from the desk.

"Mr. Ha

"She was, sir, when we spoke," Myron said. "She just woke up, and everything is fine."

Joa

"Blood pressure and pulse are all normal," Myron said. He stood up and started forward but stopped when Dr. Saunders held up his hand.

The doctor advanced toward Joa