Grammy Ann

SHE'D fought a long and valiant battle against the diabetes, but it had finally claimed her right foot, the infection spreading into her blood, sepsis hours from killing her before the amputation.

Now she rested peacefully in a morphine slumber.

Fresh, clean blood flowing into her body and dreaming of a picnic she'd had just last summer up at Vallecito Lake, her two sons with her, and their children, the apples of her eye--six-year-old Benjamin, and eight-year-old Vicki playing by the shore. Grandchildren. Was there anything better? They were like your kids, but without the hassles. A perfect relationship, a dynamic where everybody won.

A crack ran through her dream like a fracture through glass, and she could feel herself tumbling out of it, the phantom pain in her right foot spoiling the memory.

She opened her eyes, but she must have still been sleeping because what she saw made about as much sense as a nightmare.

A little girl who looked to be the same age as her precious Vicki was standing at her bedside with her back turned, sucking down the chilled contents of the blood bag through the needle that had been attached to her left forearm.

It was an image that simply didn't compute, and because of this, she was certain she was dreaming, but God, it felt so real, especially the pain in her right foot, or rather, where her right foot had been. Maybe if she tried to speak, to engage the little girl, it would shatter the illusion of the dream and she would wake.

"Excuse me. Little girl?"

The little girl didn't answer or even move. Grammy Ann eyed the blood bag, watching the level of the dark liquid quickly lowering.

"Little girl?"

Then there was only a sucking noise, like slurping down the dregs of a cup of soda.

"Little girl?"

The girl let go of the clear, plastic tube and turned around.

Grammy Ann recoiled, the beeping of the heart monitor accelerating.

Oh God, that face!

This was a nightmare. It had to be. Those black eyes, the shredded cheeks, the long, terrible teeth, shellacked with blood.

She reached for the NURSE CALL, her thumb punching the button over and over.

It happened so fast, the movement was catlike--the little girl leapt off the floor and came down on Grammy Ann's chest, blood running down her chin.

Her head tilted, and her lips moved, an awful noise coming out of them that sounded like a question in some demonic language.

Grammy Ann screamed, "Nurse!"