Still the breathing.
'Let me speak to Burke Dennings!'
A hiccup. Breathing. A hiccup. Breathing.
'Let me speak to Burke Dennings!'
The hiccupping, regular and wrenching, continued. Karras shook his head. Then he walked to a chair and sat on its edge. Hunched over. Tense. Tormented. And waiting...
Time passed. Karras drowsed. Then jerked his head up. Stay awake! With blinking, heavy lids, he looked over at Regan. No hiccupping. Silent.
Sleeping?
He walked over to the bed and looked down. Eyes closed. Heavy breathing. He reached down and felt her pulse, then stooped and carefully examined her lips. They were parched. He straightened up and waited. Then at last he left the room.
He went down to the kitchen in search of Sharon; and found her at the table eating soup and a sandwich. 'Can I fix you something to eat, Father Karras?' she asked him. 'You must be hungry.'
'
'Thanks, no, I'm not,' he answered. Sitting down, he reached over and picked up a pencil and pad by Sharon's typewriter. 'She's been hiccupping,' he told her. 'Have you had any Compazine prescribed?'
'Yes, we've got some.'
He was writing on the pad. 'Then tonight give her half of a twenty-five-milligram suppository.'
'Right.'
'She's beginning to dehydrate,' he continued, 'so I'm switching her to intravenous feedings. First thing in the morning, call a medical-supply house and have them deliver these right away.' He slid the pad across the table to Sharon. 'In the Meantime, she's sleeping, so you could start her on a Sustagen feeding.'
'Okay.' Sharon nodded. 'I will.' Spooning soup, she turned the pad around and looked at the list.'
Karras watched her. Then he frowned in concentration.
'You're her tutor.'
'Yes, that's right.'
'Have you taught her any Latin?'
She was puzzled. 'No, I haven't.-'
'Any German?'
'Only French.'
'What level? La plume de ma tante?'
'Pretty much.'
'But no German or Latin.'
'Huh-nh, no.'
'But the Engstroms, don't they sometimes speak German?'
'Oh, sure.'
'Around Regan?'
She shrugged. 'I suppose.' She stood up and took her plates to the sink. 'As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure.'
'Have you ever studied Latin?' Karras asked her.
'No, I haven't.'
'But you'd recognize the general sound.'
'Oh, I'm sure.' She rinsed the soup bowl and put it in the rack.
'Has she ever spoken Latin in your presence?'
'Regan?'
'Since her illness.'
'No, never.'
'Any language at all?' probed Karras.
She tuned off the faucet, thoughtful. 'Well, I might have imagined it, I guess, but...'
'What?'
'Well, I think...' She frowned. 'Well, I could have sworn I heard her talking in Russian.'
Karras stared. 'Do you speak it?' he asked her, throat dry.
She shrugged. 'Oh, well, so-so.' She began to fold the dishcloth: 'I just studied it in college, that's all.
