"I hear you really don't like scorpions."
"I don't like anything with very many legs. Scorpions, spiders, lobsters, crabs, centipedes, they all creep me out. But spiders and scorpions are the worst."
Dr. Dickerson thought for a moment and chose an oblique aproach.
"What are your first memories of spiders?"
"I guess I must have been about five or six. We still lived next to the desert in El Paso. This one summer, we found a black widow in a web on the front porch. It looked creepy, but still kind of cool, you know? Delicate, but graceful, all black and shiny with that red thing on it. Mom made me look real close at it so I'd know just what it would look like. Then she told me never to touch one, because they were poisonous and if it bit me I might swell up and die. Later that summer I saw a tarantula stalking Mom across the yard, one of those big, hairy, desert tarantulas. Ugh. Only I found out later that it wasn't stalking her, she was just walking backwards trying to stay near it, yelling for me to get a jar or something to catch it so Dad could take it to the college for a biology class to watch it fight a scorpion. But I thought it was chasing her, and had nightmares for a week."
"Wow! I can see where that would be pretty tough. Was that where your fear of scorpions came from, too, the fear of spiders? Or did something else happen there?"
"Well, it didn't help. But I think the scorpion thing began because of the time my sister, Kathleen, was a baby, and Mom ran screaming down the hall and snatched her up just before she picked up a king sized, shiny, yellow and black scorpion. I mean, it looked like it was almost as big as Kathleen. Kind of an evil, deranged, mutant, radioactive lobster with this huge stinger, and, and..."
"Hey! OK! It's OK!. Slow down, take a breath... No scorpions in here. Relax and just breathe a minute, OK?"
"Dr. Dickerson, are you sure there aren't any in here? Could I, like, look around and check?"
"You don't need to, Ted. There are no scorpions in this office, or even in the school. Have you seen one anywhere, even on the ball field?"
"Maybe. But everyone sees them at our house. Just little, brown ones, smaller than cockroaches, but that's even scarier in a way. It... they..."
"OK, I understand. Go ahead and look around the office if it makes you feel better."
Ted got up and looked around the office, under the furniture,behind books, everywhere he could think of.
"See? No scorpions, right?"
"I guess. I didn't see any."
"Have you seen any lately?"
"No!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! I mean, no. Maybe..."
"Look, Ted, I really am here to help, not to admit you to the funny farm like you told Mrs. Whelk. Hmmm.... Odd name, that. Does her name bother you? Have you ever seen a whelk?"
"I never thought of that. I really wish you hadn't, either."
"I'm sorry. I thought maybe her name had triggered something since she's the one who told me you keep seeing scorpions nobody else can see."
"Nobody else said anything about them?"
"No. Should they have?"
"I'm just surprised, that's all. I've gotten in trouble in almost every class for trying to kill them, or get away from them, or warm somebody one was close to them. Mrs. Robinson thought I was cheating with Anne Scoggins on a test, but I was just warning her about..."
"About what?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? I hardly think it was nothing. I'm sure you weren't cheating. You've always been a good student in regard to grades, studying, tests, that sort of thing. Most of your other escapades seem pretty normal for an 8th grade boy. Unless you were trying to help Anne on her test?"
"No! I've never seen Anne cheat! Her math grades aren't all that great, but at least they're honest."
"Then what was it?"
Ted just looked at his hands.
"Ted?"
(sigh) "It was a scorpion..."
"Why didn't you want to tell me?"
"Because nobody will believe me!"
"You sound angry."
"If nobody believed you, you might be angry, too! If everyone thought you were making things up to get attention, or you were crazy, or you were cheating when you weren't, but you and Anne both got an F and detention and your parents mad at you, you'd be angry, too!"
"You're right, Ted. I'd be very angry."
"You would? Really?"
"Of course! Nobody likes to be called a liar or a cheat, or be punished for something they didn't do. Tell me, do you like Anne? Are you friends?"
"Well we sorta were. And yeah, I liked her a lot, and I kinda thought she liked me. But not any more! At least, she hardly talks to me, and she looks at me funny... but then, everybody looks at me funny."
"Am I looking at you funny?"
"No, but you get paid not to."
Dr. Dickerson burst out laughing. "OK, now that was funny! Listen, Ted. I really like my job, and I like the students here. To be honest, I'd do it for free if I could afford to."
"Really? That seems kind of... weird."
"I guess it does to a lot of people. But I'm used to people thinking I'm weird. That's why I'm concerned. I have an idea how you're feeling right now."
"No, you don't. You really don't. You can't. You have no idea."
"Ted, I'm not supposed to talk much about me, but just between us, for four years, from seventh grade through tenth grade, every night before I got in bed, and every morning when I got up, I searched my room for snakes, because every night I heard them hissing, talking, plotting against me."
"For real? You're not kidding me?"
"For real. No kidding."
"Well, OK, that's a little weird."
"Ted, I lived in Manhattan, in an apartment on the 49h floor of a building where nobody even had pets, much less saw a rat or a snake. I think Mrs. Goldblatt saw a roach once and fainted. Nobody believed her."
"Really? Seriously?"
"Really. I never got detention, but I got plenty of lectures from my mother."
"I get those, too!"
"So, will you tell me what happened with Anne?"
"Yeah, I guess I can. There was this huge scorpion, the kind we had back in Texas, but bigger, almost a foot long. It was on her desk, but she was focusing on the math test, and it was about to sting her... on her... ummm..."
"My, you're red... Let me guess. On her breast? Oh, dear! Yes, I can see where that could be embarrassing for you to talk about. So what did you do?"
"I whispered, 'Anne! Look out!' And I whacked it with a ruler to distract it. And Mrs. Robinson yelled and came over, and that was that."
"What did you tell her?"
"What could I tell her? I said there was a big bug on Anne's desk and I warned her and whacked it. But nobody could find any bug, and Amber said I'd been whispering to Anne, only I hadn't except to say look out. So that was that. Dead meat."
"You said it was almost a foot long?"
"Yeah, and black and yellow and shiny. But nobody ever believes me, so I didn't tell them. But they knew."
"So this wasn't the only one?"
"No, ma'am. I mean, yeah, it was."
"Ted, look at me, please. Please? There's no need to be embarrassed about Anne's... well, never mind. What you did was very brave. But you've said there were others, so you might as well tell me."
"OK... I've seen a bunch. They're getting bigger, too. I killed some, I scared some off. A couple chased me until I lost them. But they keep getting bigger and bolder, and there are more of them, and they show up everywhere."
"In all your classes?"
"All of them. And the lunchroom. And the gym. And the bathroom. And the ball field. And the playground at the school next door. I get laughed at or yelled at everywhere I go. 'Look! It's the Scorpion King!' 'Oooh, save me, Ted!' 'Hey, Ted, I listen to the Scorpions, cool band!' But everyone's kind of scared of me. I got mad about something in history class the other day, and everyone thinks I'm gonna go all Columbine or something, and Jamie's parents might call the cops. Mad dog psycho killer, that's me."
"Wow. That sucks!"
"Huh?"
"I said, 'That sucks!'"
"That's what I thought you said. I just didn't expect it."
"Would you prefer I use medical terminology?"
"Ha ha! No thanks!"
"So do you just see them here at school?"
"I wish! No, they're everywhere. At home, in the car, in stores, on the bus, in the street, in restaurants. I even thought I saw one at church, but I prayed really hard and when I looked again it was gone."
"Have you prayed about the other ones?"
"Sure, but it didn't help. Maybe they're like vampires. The cross scares them but you still have to kill them."
"Do you believe in vampires, too?"
"No. Do you?"
Dr. Dickerson smiled crookedly. "Not usually... Ted... why do you think you see scorpions and nobody else does?"
"I have no idea! At first I thought maybe nobody else wanted to see them, or they were just afraid to admit it. Then I thought I was going crazy. I mean, why just me! But they're real! I can see them as clear as I see you, and when I hit them I can feel it and hear it, and they make a mess when I kill them. But nobody else can even see the mess, so maybe I am crazy!"
"I don't think you're crazy."
"There you go, doing your job again. Unless you think I have some mutant power or something."
"Like Spiderman?"
"Yeah, only useless."
"Do you think you have a mutant power?"
"I don't know what to think! I just know..."
Ted stopped talking, bolted from his chair, grabbed a large medical dictionary from a shelf, and slammed it down onto the floor. Then he jumped on it a few times, his eyes huge, starting to sweat. After a moment, still breathing rapidly, he looked at Dr. Dickerson.
"I don't suppose you saw anything?"
Dr. Dickerson looked at the book and floor carefully, then up at Ted. He couldn't tell what she was thinking.
"Do you mean besides you attacking my dictionary? No, I can't say that I did. And I don't. But I'm guessing you just killed one. Would you mind cleaning the floor and my book?"
"Uh, sure... but then I have to go. I promised Mom I'd be home by five to watch my sisters while she goes shopping."
"Let's see... here are some paper towels, and... here's some 409. Especially the dictionary, please. I use that a lot."
"This is disgusting! But... why do you care if I clean it? I mean, if you really can't see it?"
"Well, you saw it, and you killed it, and you say it's disgusting, so I know it's there, and the idea is pretty disgusting. Thanks for cleaning that up. I certainly couldn't have. Even if I could see it, I wouldn't want to! Hmmm... It's almost like being blind, sort of."
"You're just humoring me. Like my mom."
"No, I'm taking what you say at face value and trying to understand what's going on. It's possible that's what your mother is doing, too."
"I guess. I never thought about that."
"OK. Well, you need to get home. Same time in a week. But, Ted..."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"If you need to talk before them, drop by, OK? And if things get too rough, you can call. Here's my card. My answering service can always find me. OK?"
"OK. Thanks, Dr. Dickerson. See you next week."
It was really good to finally be outside, Ted thought, if only because he could see more. After growing up in west Texas, Georgia felt downright claustrophobic. And of course he could see scorpions coming from farther away.
But right now he didn't see any, and it was a glorious fall day, still almost warm, the leaves just starting to change colors, the air cooling as the sun sank behind the tall, loblolly pines and massive oaks.
Pumping hard, Ted crested the hill on his bicycle and lost himself in the joy of speeding down the wide street, past Martin's house, past the water tower, willing the light at Walton Way to stay green long enough for him to race through the dogleg intersection without stopping.
Then, suddenly, there it was, the mother of all scorpions, right in the middle of Monte Sano Avenue, right in the middle of his side of the street, straddling the white line of the downhill lanes, at least three feet tall, with pincers big enough to snap his head off. Its black, evil eyes stared malevolently back, its pincers high, wide, and open. The massive tail arched over its back, as high as his head, the stinger aiming right at his heart.
The bike raced on. Ted felt rigid, unable to brake or change direction. His eyes widened as he recognized the coloring on the monster before him-- a death stalker. As bizarre as foot long west Texas scorpions were in a small, Georgia town, an Israeli desert scorpion the size of a Miata was even more absurd.
Then he was on it. It scuttled to his left at the last moment, and he dared to breathe again, when he realized the stinger was still aimed right at his heart.
The next thing he knew he was on the ground, staring up at the sky. His chest was on fire with unbelievable pain. His throat closed up, he couldn't breathe, his lungs filled with fluid. Ted screamed silently. This didn't make sense. These sorts of reactions should take time, not happen instantly!
The sky was so blue up there between the trees. He'd always liked seeing that strip of sky on this street. He heard tires squeal and prayed whoever it was would run him over and put him out of this unbearable pain, his inability to breathe. But they didn't. Then someone seemed to be in his face, asking him questions, but he couldn't really see them, just the beautiful, wide open Texas sky he'd missed for so long, not a cloud in it, just a speck... what was it? A vulture? An eagle? An angel? It was coming for him. Or he was going to it. It was bright. The pain faded as the sky grew bluer and more gorgeous by the second as it drew him in...
It was a perfect day for a funeral-- chilly, wet and miserable. The drizzle drove people under the oaks, but it was worse there where the dripping, Spanish moss hung like ragged curtains in a haunted mansion and spiderwebs glistened dully with beads of water.
Sarah Dickerson hated funerals. Especially childrens' funerals. Especially her patients' funerals. She'd only had a few, but each one was the worst. Sometimes they kept her awake at night, haunting and taunting her with whether she could have done something differently to prevent them.
"Dr Dickerson..."
"Please, Mrs. O'Rourke, call me Sarah."
"Fine. Then you call me Susan."
"All right, Susan. I'm so sorry..."
"I know. Thank you so much for coming. You meant a lot to Ted."
"Really? We'd just met."
"Oh, yes. I know, you only saw him the once, just before he... well, anyway, I've been reading his diary, and apparently you helped a couple of his friends through some difficult times. He really appreciated that, and was looking forward to seeing you. He seemed to think... well, he hoped you might believe him."
"I don't know what to believe, Susan. I have no doubt he believed it. And other than the fact that it's impossible, he was very believable. He was quite rational, and behaved normally. At least, as normally as anyone would behave while seeing things nobody else could see..."
"Do you mean you did believe him?"
"Of course not!" Sarah pused to gather her thoughts. "But he didn't seem to quite fit any of the patterns I'd expect with such hallucinations. Nothing quite fits. It's all very strange. Let's just say I believed in Ted. But we'll never know what was going on inside his brain."
"Not in this world, anyway."
Sarah could think of nothing in reply. "How odd," she thought. "Words almost never fail me."
"Did you see the autopsy report, Sarah?"
"Yes..."
"And?"
"And... I don't know. A hole in his chest, and no reason for it. Complete paralysis, and no reason for it. Fluid in his lungs, and no reason for it. Asphyxiation, death from lack of oxygen to the brain, and no reason for it, other than the other things there are no reasons for!"
"You sound angry!"
"I suppose I am. Nobody has seen anything like it, and nobody has any answers, and it's very unreasonable. I expect people to be unreasonable, but not science... I'm sorry, that sounds horrible."
"I said practically the same thing. But there's something else odd. Ted had been telling his brother and sisters all about scorpions; he'd been reading about them ever since he started seeing them..."
"Are you sure about the order? He saw them before he started reading about them?"
"Oh, yes. He'd never shown any interest in them until he started, well, seeing them everywhere. We never saw any... Anyway, the other children insisted on hearing the autopsy results. Later I overheard my son, Bill, telling Sharon, my oldest daughter, that if there were giant, invisible scorpions, and if one stung you while you were riding a bicycle rather fast, that it would look just like this. That was two days ago, an dthe children have hardly slept since."
"Ted was the oldest, right?"
"Yes. He's... he was thirteen; The others are eleven, ten and eight."
"Susan, I'd be happy to talk with them later today after you get back home. I might be able to help calm their fears, at least enough to let them sleep tonight. Tomorrow I can get them in to see a colleague of mine. The school will be even busier than usual or I'd offer to do more, but Dr. Billman loves children, and I'm sure he'd be delighted to help."
"That would be wonderful. I can't thank you enough."
"What about you? How are you sleeping?"
"I have nightmares, but I get some sleep. I'm a mother. I have to cope, so I do."
"Perhaps..."
The priest walked up. "Susan, I hate to interrupt, but your family needs you."
"Of course, Father. Thank you. And thank you again, Sarah, so much."
"Of course, dear. Call me later and let me know when I should come over."
Sarah looked around. She really ought to speak with the remaining teenagers, but at the moment she was afraid she would do more harm than good. Better to get back to her office and compose herself first. This annoyed her, but she recognized the need for it. With a final, sad glance at the fresh mound of dirt containing Ted's remains, she turned and hurried across the cemetery toward her car. For someone who was supposed to have answers, she felt like a vast forest of question marks.
As she neared the road, movement near a headstone caught her eye. Dr. Dickerson had never before seen a live scorpion, but she recognized it at once. It was yellow, black and shiny, nearly a foot long ("Ridiculously large, just as Ted described it," a voice in her head noted clinically). It rested next to a dilapidated, granite marker, its arched tail poised nastily over its back.
She froze. She looked around. Everything looked just as it had a moment before-- it was just another cemetery on a chilly, damp, October day. She looked back. The scorpion hadn't moved. She looked up at the nearby church, thought of Ted, squeezed her eyes tightly closed, and prayed. When she opened her eyes, there was no scorpion to be seen.
Sarah resumed her walk toward the car, but far more slowly, far more warily.
"Ted," she whispered, hoping fervently that he could hear her as she picked the widest possible path between graves, "I believe you. I really do."