After Dachau Read Online Free Page B

nerves start sizzling every time a new report comes in. You play it cool, because, after all, you know that no matter how good it looks, it’s probably just going to end up being more of the usual garbage. But it was hard to play it cool in the case of Mallory Hastings, age twenty-eight, of Oneonta, New York.
    As events had been reconstructed, she skidded off the road late one night during a snowstorm. She couldn’t manage to get the car back on the road but figured a passing car would soon stop to offer assistance. In any event, she stayed in the car with the engine running, not suspecting that the exhaust system had taken a hit and was now leaking carbon monoxide into the passenger compartment. Luckily someonedid come along to assist before long, but not before Mallory had lost consciousness. She was rushed to a hospital, where she lay in a coma for two days before beginning to show signs of returning consciousness.
    Her mother and a nurse were at the bedside ready to reassure her that all was well, but when Mallory opened her eyes and took her first look around, she reacted with abject panic, which seemed to get worse the more they tried to reassure her, until the nurse summoned a doctor to administer a sedative. The doctor didn’t want to give her any kind of sedative at this point and tried his own hand at calming her down, with no more success than the others had had. Finally he decided that administering the sedative was going to be the lesser of the two evils.
    When everything grew calm again, they tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Mrs. Hastings had never seen her daughter behave this way. The doctor rechecked the X rays, confirming that there was no head injury—not even a bruise.
    The nurse asked them if they’d seen the gesture Mallory had made repeatedly with her right hand. Now that she’d drawn their attention to it, they did remember it.
    “It looked like something in sign language,” the nurse offered.
    Mrs. Hastings replied indignantly that her daughter didn’t know sign language.
    “All the same, that’s what it looked like,” the nurse insisted.
    “Why on earth would she be using sign language?” Mallory’s mother wanted to know.
    “Well, you notice she didn’t say anything.”
    “That’s true,” the doctor said, “but it can’t have anythingto do with her signing. If she didn’t know the language in the first place, she certainly didn’t learn it while she was in a coma!”
    When Mallory began to stir again a few hours later, the doctor, nurse, and mother were again on hand, but this time Mallory was in restraints that would prevent her from injuring herself.
    “It’s all right, Mallory,” her mother said, stroking her daughter’s forehead. “Everything’s fine. You’re fine, the car’s fine, everything’s going to be all right.”
    But even before she opened her eyes, Mallory was writhing in agony.
    “I’m going to make a suggestion,” the doctor said hastily. “Let’s leave Mallory alone for a while and let her collect herself at her own pace.” He dragged the others outside and stationed himself in front of the door, leaving it open a crack in order to observe. “She’s calming down,” he said after a minute. Then, after another minute: “She’s got her eyes open and is looking around the room. She seems fine now.”
    But just then, without changing expression, she emitted a terrific groan, which seemed to startle her as much as anyone else. She looked around wildly and again briefly struggled against her restraints before settling down.
    “Gwawk,”
she said after a moment—or something like it. Once again she seemed as surprised as anyone else at this accomplishment.
    “What’s
wrong
with her?” Mrs. Hastings demanded plaintively.
    “I haven’t the slightest idea,” the doctor said.
    “Has she lost her voice?”
    “On the contrary, she seems to be finding it.”
    “Are you saying
that’s
her voice?”
    The doctor gave her a stern medical