Sunday, November 3
Peter lay on his back, not yet asleep, his body slowly quieting down. His fingers were laced behind his head. He stared at the ceiling. "I can't believe I told Mary Jane," he muttered, and he winced as the burn in his chest sparked fresh pain. "I can't believe I let that yokel poison me. Damn. That," he mused, "was a bad day."
Then his thoughts ran to the one who was after him; who was behind it all? The man behind the curtain?
"Yeah, and when am I going to get a full night of sleep?"
When you're dead, shut up, I'm thinking here. Peter sighed.
He jumped out of bed as the phone rang. He glanced at the clock. Two thirty in the morning. He picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Is this Peter Parker?" said a woman's voice on the other line.
"Speaking. What can I do for you?"
"Your name was on your aunt's emergency contact information" Peter went cold "and she's just been admitted to the emergency room."
Peter doublechecked the hospital name. "I'll be right there," he said, his lips numb. He hung up the phone and waited for his brain to reboot.
It might be that she had an attack of some sort, some natural disaster. His eyes narrowed. More likely… Okay. What to do? A moment of focus now would save a lot of running around later.
He hopped into his clothes, and then he scooped up his camera bag. Reluctantly, he picked up the phone. Punched in a number.
"ello?" came a voice on the other end.
"Mary Jane?" Peter said quietly.
"wha?"
"Aunt May's in the hospital, Saint Mary's. They just admitted her to the ER."
There was a moment of silence on the other end. "Oh God, Peter, are you okay?"
"I'm headed over there. I… I wanted to let someone else know."
"I'll meet you there," Mary Jane said, and she hung up before he could protest. He half smiled to himself, then hefted his camera bag and moved swiftly through the darkened rooms, out the door, dropped into his cold car.
Twenty minutes later he was at the hospital. Thirty minutes later, he was at Aunt May's side.
Peter sat on the edge of the bed and picked up her withered, chill hand. She looked so thin and frail in the harsh lights that for a moment he stared at her heart rate monitor to be sure she was alive.
"Mister Parker?" said the tall man that stepped through the plastic curtain around the bed. "I'm Doctor Wells. Looks like your aunt suffered a mild heart attack. She called 911 right before she collapsed, and the phone was off the hook when the EMTs arrived." He shrugged. "She will most likely recover, but she has been weakened. She has insurance," he said, and he hesitated, "but even so this is going to get expensive."
Peter stared at him as though he spoke a foreign language. "Do what you need to do," Peter said. "I have money. Just make sure Aunt May gets better, okay?"
"Of course," the doctor said. "Of course." Peter turned from him to look down at Aunt May. The doctor checked his clipboard and stepped out.
"Everything is going to be fine, Aunt May," Peter whispered to her as he held her hand. "Don't you worry about a thing. I'll take care of this." He squeezed her hand once, then stepped out of the curtain and headed for the waiting room.
He reached the waiting room and saw Mary Jane standing to one side. She rushed over to him and clasped him in a fierce hug, then stepped back, gripping his arms. "Is she okay?"
"She had a heart attack," Peter said, his voice small. He winced as a sudden pain flared in his chest then subsided. "As awful as this sounds… I hope it was natural. Here, take my camera. You know how it works?"
"Peter Parker, I know how a camera works," she said dryly. "Why? You doing a fashion shoot in the ER waiting room?" she glanced wryly down at herself in her grubby jeans and sweat shirt, her hair untouched.
"Not at all," he said grimly. "This is what I want you to do."
xXx
Peter trudged out of the emergency room into the frosty night air, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head down. He walked along the sidewalk, waiting for it, and then he sensed the man who stood in his path.
"Good evening, Parker," the bald man said in his sibilant voice. He took a quick drag on his cigarette. "Tough break tonight, huh."
Peter stared at him.
"It's too bad," the bald man said, shaking his head. "Too bad your auntie had an accident. I bet right about now you could use some money to take care of it, couldn't you." He smiled. He knew he had Peter dead to rights.
Then he heard the clicking whir of a shutter, snapping shot after shot. Mary Jane stepped out of the shadows from behind Peter, camera lined up on the bald man and taking picture after picture.
His eyes widened and he took a step backwards, but he was too slow. Peter snatched his coat and yanked him close, staring him in the eye. "You shouldn't have started this," he said in a hoarse whisper. "You shouldn't have touched my people. Now you're going to pay. I'm going to find out who you are and I'm going to punish you. If May Parker doesn't recover, or if anyone else gets suddenly sick, you are going to have an accident. It's going to look like you were doing the backstroke in a combine. They won't find all the pieces. Are we clear?"
The bald man just stared back at him.
"Take that back to your boss," Peter hissed, and he threw the other man back.
The bald man stared at him coldly for a moment. "Don't forget about the venom," he said softly.
"We'll see about that too," Peter said. "Don't suppose you have any cure on you."
"Of course not," the man replied.
"Maybe you better next time we meet," Peter said in a low voice. "It might save your life." He narrowed his eyes and spat on the bald man, then pushed him hard. The thin man desperately hopped and twirled, and miraculously managed not to fall down and skid along the sidewalk. Peter watched him stalk away.
"Creepy," Mary Jane said softly.
"Yes," Peter agreed, taking the camera from her. "Thanks for your help. Sorry to drag you into this."
"You keep saying that," she said. "Tell you what. You stop saying that every time we get together and I'll pretend you do. How's that?"
"I owe you one," he said.
"You owe me dinner," she corrected.
"Okay, dinner then," Peter said. "I gotta go do something with these shots."
"I'll see you around," Mary Jane said. "I'm gonna go check on Aunt May."
Peter looked at her for a long moment. "She'd like that," he said. Then he turned and rapidly strode towards his parked car.
Mary Jane watched him go, a curious kind of smile on her face, then she turned and walked into the emergency room.
Peter slung down into his chill car and sat for a moment. Something not right. He got up out of the car and headed back.
Just in time to see the bald man slip through the doors into the waiting room.
"Slow learner," Peter growled. He set his jaw and ghosted after the bald man.