Two: Growing Pains

 

 

Middleburgh, NY

Saturday

Steve woke with a start and squinted in the dim light to see his surroundings. He first inspected his wristwatch: it was seven a.m. Looking to his right, he found he was the only occupant in Ellie's bed. His features tightening, Steve flung himself erect, the bedclothes nearly tripping him. He pulled the bedsheet loose, wrapped it around himself and walked swiftly to the living room.

It was lighter in the living room, courtesy of the partially uncurtained picture window. Ellie lay across her couch, legs trailing off the cushions, hands nested under her cheek. She looked very pretty asleep--a small half-smile decorating her features, her thick auburn hair partially hiding her ear, the soft sighing of her breathing, her bathrobe in charmingly open disarray. Steve felt a surge in his affection and love for Ellie. He bent down and gently kissed her on the lips. Her eyelids fluttered, and he felt her smile under his lips. He kissed her again and her eyes opened.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," she replied. She unfolded one hand and rubbed his stubble and unruly hair.

"You look a mess," she said impishly. Steve grinned.

"Afraid so. How did you sleep?"

Ellie sighed. "Not very well. I kept waking up…"

Her eyes snapped wide open, and Ellie rose. As she stood upright she gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

"Oh, God!" she exclaimed.

Ellie's had to look down to see Steve fully. The top of his head appeared level with her chin. She looked down at herself.

"It’s still happening," she cried. "I’m still growing."

Ellie turned and stubbed her toe on the leg of the endtable beside the couch. She stumbled, hissing in pain, then picked herself up and limped to her bedroom, Steve following.

Ellie stopped and bent at the knees before her mirror to view herself in the glass. A small, frightened sound escaped her lips as she saw her image--she had expanded so much she almost didn't recognize herself. Her shoulders had broadened, stretching the neck of her now child-sized-looking robe to reveal two well-rounded breasts spread across her chest, rubbing against her arms and each other. Her torso had lengthened, her hips flared. Her legs were impossibly long, as were her arms. Even her face had changed, her jawline longer, her cheeks broader. Her hands--Ellie had raised them to her face--were longer than before, with long nails. Her hair fell thickly down her front nearly to her nipples. She saw Steve’s image in one corner of the mirror and turned to face him.

"Steve, what am I going to do?" she asked plaintively. "It kept waking me up during the night. Every time I woke up I thought my body growing was a bad dream. Sometimes I thought I could almost feel the changes happening inside me. What am I going to do?"

"I don’t know, Ellie," Steve answered. "What is happening to you is totally unique. I-I just don’t know--"

Ellie suddenly gasped and fell to her haunches, reaching out to steady herself. Steve nearly lost his makeshift toga rushing to her side.

"It’s all right, I’m okay, all right," she muttered after several deep breaths. "God, Steve, it’s still happening. Look, I need to get help for this."

Steve nodded, gripping her hand and helping her to a seat on her bed.

"But, who?" he asked.

"I can only think of one person to start," she replied.

Doctor James Preston sat at the kitchenette in his home, dressed in terry pajamas, his breakfast of toast and coffee cooling before him as he began his usual Saturday routine of losing himself in the morning paper. He was about to turn the first page of his New York Times when one of the two wall-mounted phones in the kitchen rang.

Preston looked up. It was the patient phone. He let it ring the four times necessary for the answering machine to activate. Thirty seconds to let the message run, and then the machine began to record.

"Doctor Preston, I need to see you right away." A female voice, young and obviously frightened, to judge from the tremulous tones. "It’s Ellie, Eleanor Andersen." Matthew Andersen’s little girl? A fine man--his passing last December was a great shame. She knows better than to try to make an appointment on Saturday-- "Doctor, I know this is going to sound impossible, but I-I’ve been--I had a traffic accident last night, and ever since then I-I’ve been experiencing these growth spurts. Look--"

Preston left his stool and grabbed up the phone.

"Miss Andersen?"

"Oh, Doctor, thank God. Please let me come to see you today."

"What is this about ‘growth spurts’?"

"I think that when you see me you’ll understand. Can I come to your office?"

Preston looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. Eight o’clock? He sighed. "Yes, of course you can, Eleanor. When would you like to come in?"

"We’ll be right over," she replied. Preston sniffed. Right away? He pulled the receiver from his ear as the dial tone returned.

"Dear?" Preston’s wife, Margaret, in nightgown and down-at-heel slippers, padded into the kitchen. "Who was that?"

"Eleanor Andersen, dear. You remember, Matthew Andersen’s child."

His wife nodded. "Yes, I remember her. Nice girl, even if she didn’t attend church regularly. Did she say she was in an accident?"

"Apparently. Last night." He replied. He pecked his wife on the cheek and ambled into their room to dress. What did the girl mean, "growth spurts"?

 

Preston finished knotting his bow tie when he heard the sound of a large car or truck pulling into the slim macadam parking area next to his office. He slipped into his loafers and tweed jacket and strode to the walkway connecting his home and office. He turned the latch on the office door and switched on the lights. He hurried back into the reception desk, pausing when he heard a knock.

"Come in, it’s open," he called out as he stepped behind the desk to the large steel file cabinet. He pulled open one drawer, grunting with the effort, and flipped through the color-coded folders, when a gust of cold air and a rattle told him his hurried visitor had arrived.

"Doctor Preston?" he heard Ellie say behind him. Ah, here was her file. Preston turned.

"Now, Miss Andersen, what is--"

Preston stopped in mid-sentence as he looked up at the tallest, most statuesque woman he had ever seen, wearing Eleanor Andersen's face. Her clothing was unusual--a man’s white dress shirt tightly buttoned around her torso, its sleeves too short for her arms, sweatpants that bagged around her hips but reached down only to just below her knees. She wore no shoes, but what looked like two pairs of white socks each on her feet. Beside her he saw a young man, a stranger, well dressed but unshaven and uncombed, who was holding her hand.

Preston stared, then recovered and cleared his throat.

"Please excuse me," he said. "I’m afraid I haven’t seen you for a while, Miss Andersen--" Preston stopped again, shaking his head.

"I’m sorry," he blurted. "I’m--here, step into room two."

Preston led the way to Examination Room 2. He managed to refrain from looking over his shoulder at the couple in his wake. He quickly looked in her folder as she ducked under the doorjamb to enter the examination room. At Preston’s gesture she sat on the leather couch in its center. She settled herself--Preston noticed her toes touched the floor, even sitting on a four-foot high couch--and felt for the young man's hand again.

Preston flipped through the folder, looked at Ellie, glanced at the young man, and then looked in the folder again.

"'Growth spurts', you said?" he spoke. "Miss An--please forgive me. I'm afraid you have me at something of a loss."

"You should try it from my end, doctor," she replied, asperity in her voice. Preston looked up, put down the folder, clapped his hands together and threw off his bemusement.

"All right, young man--"

"Steve."

"Steve, please wait outside." Steve squeezed Ellie's hand and smiled reassuringly. Preston closed the door behind him, seized his stethoscope and began to examine his patient. A quick check of pulse, temperature and blood pressure, then Preston palpated the glands under her jaw, looked down her throat, and into her eyes and ears. He pressed the stethoscope to her chest and back, nodding at the result.

"Please remove your shirt and lie down on the table," he said, reaching to snap the footrest into place. Ellie complied, elbowing herself up as high as possible on the couch. Preston blinked. Even with her head level with the edge of the table, her lower legs still overhung the couch. She wore no bra and her breasts were large and round. He cleared his throat again, and continued.

"Have you been eating all right? Any illness lately? That's fine. Any pain here? Here? Good. Had any problems sleeping? Are you exercising at all? I'm going to remove your footwear here. What, none of your shoes fit? Hmmm. Reflexes are fine. Okay, you can put your shirt on. Come over here."

Preston led Ellie to the platform scale in the corner of the room. She stepped onto the plate, and he adjusted the weights, cautioning her to keep still. After a moment's fiddling the scale bar gauge achieved equilibrium and Preston seized her record to note the result.

"Two hundred fifty one pounds," he muttered. He began to draw up the height scale, then looked up at Ellie.

"Please put this atop your head," he said. Ellie pulled the bar up until it stopped--just below her eye level. Preston looked at the measure. It had stopped at its limit of seven feet. He looked up at his large, trembling visitor.

"Well, I'd say you are seven feet, four or five inches tall," he said, blowing out his cheeks. A soft clank caught his ear. The weight gauge had gone off balance. Preston tapped the ounce-measure weight until the gauge was centered and read her weight again. Muttering under his breath, he scratched out the one measure and wrote the new one when the weight gauge flickered into motion. Preston watched as the point of the gauge slowly rose until it clanked against its upper stop again. Ellie had put her hands to her mouth, her expression a mixture of horror and fascination.

"Well, now," Preston said. He adjusted the ounce-weight on the gauge again, the looked at his watch. One minute fifteen seconds later the gauge again came to rest against its upper stop--and Ellie had stayed completely still the entire time.

"Well," he said again. "Well."

 

"I want you admitted to the hospital immediately," Preston announced. He sat behind his cluttered desk, Ellie and Steve occupying the two chairs before him.

"I need more tests done," Preston continued. He could not keep anxiety out of his voice. "Without them I certainly can't commit to a diagnosis of your condition. What your body is doing is a physical impossibility. The amount of--look at it this way: a teenager can use up a thousand calories a day just in normal daily growth and will grow, say, six inches in a year. I know that last September you were sixty inches tall, and now you're close to ninety. You say this all started last night, after your accident at--seven thirty, was it? You've grown thirty inches in just over thirteen hours. That's one million, eight hundred twenty five thousand calories--two million calories in growth alone--overnight. You should be burning up from all that energy expenditure, but your temperature is two-tenths of a degree above normal. Your pulse rate and blood pressure are a little high, but not high enough--you body should be racing like a car engine. You ate a normal dinner last night and nothing this morning; your current growth rate should've required over a ton of food to sustain it. I can go on describing your condition, but I can't explain it at all. More tests should help get a handle on what's happening to you. Now, do you have this thing you said you touched last night?"

Steve nodded. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled it out. Preston leaped from his chair as Steve presented it to him.

"You had it in your coat pocket? You've touched it?!" he exclaimed. He fell into his chair, which rolled backwards to bump the wall behind him. Steve cocked one eyebrow at Preston.

"I assure you, Doctor, this orb is quite safe. If it were still affecting people I would be sharing Ellie's growth rate right now. Whatever it did it did only to Ellie," he said, his inflection dry, his expression a mixture of contempt and anger. Preston clutched at his chest with one hand and waved away Steve's presentment with the other.

"Don't give it to me!" Preston said.

"Okay," Steve replied. "Have you something to put it in? A container of some kind?"

Preston rose from his chair, his eyes never leaving the silvery crystal in Steve's hand. He moved to the cabinets lining one wall of his office and opened several drawers, searching. Finally he retrieved a small red plastic container grossly decorated with biohazard symbols.

"Put it in here," he said, tossing the box at Steve. Steve opened it, removed the tray inside, dropped in the orb, and shut the box. The doctor visibly relaxed when he did so. Steve then tossed the tray he had removed from the box back at the doctor, who threw up his hands defensively. The tray clattered on the floor. Preston flushed.

"Vassar Brothers Hospital in Poughkeepsie in the closest," he said.

 

"My trip computer is getting more of a workout than I had anticipated," Steve said as he kept one eye on his laptop's display while driving down Route 115, heading towards Poughkeepsie and the hospital. Despite her seat being set as far back as it would go Ellie was still required to twist sideways to fit herself into the truck's cabin. She hunched over, her back towards Steve, shifting in her seat every few minutes or so. Steve noticed that the legs of her sweats had risen above her knees, and the shirt had worked loose from her waist, revealing glimpses of her midriff.

"Still, I don't mind hanging around here," Steve continued. Ellie looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. She slipped further down in the seat and pulled at the open collar of her shirt.

"Good thing you had some of your dad's old clothes hanging around," Steve offered. "I was wondering if I would need to rush out and hit the local Target store for you."

"Target?" Ellie said softly. Steve blinked, then snorted in comprehension.

"That's right, you don't have them around here. Okay then, the local J.C. Penney's--"

He was interrupted by a sibilant popping sound, then another and another. He heard Ellie curse, softly and fervently.

"What was that--" Steve began. He looked from the road to Ellie, gulped, and looked again. Three buttons on Ellie's shirt had popped free, revealing a handspan-wide gap filled with flesh. Ellie essayed a breath, stretching the shirt still more, and another button popped free, and another, opening her shirt from neck to navel. Ellie sucked in air again and again.

"Whew," she gasped. "Whew. I can take a real breath again. God, Steve, it's so weird. I can feel my clothes getting tighter and tighter on my body. I was trying not to burst out of the shirt. Sorry I wasn't too talkative."

"Don't worry about it, Ellie," Steve replied. He allowed himself another look at her bosom. Ellie inadvertently gave him a better eyeful than he anticipated when she deliberately broke the last button and tied the ends of her shirt together below her breasts. She looked utterly beautiful and completely fetching, with her breasts pressing against the thin cotton fabric of her shirt. Ellie tried shrugging in the shirt, then, with two swift motions tore away her sleeves to free her shoulders. She shifted in her seat again. Steve tore his eyes away from her form and concentrated on finding his way to the hospital Doctor Preston had recommended.

 

Coat in hand, Doctor Preston stopped at his desk, fumbling with the styrofoam container thickly wrapped with surgical tape that tried to slip from under his arm. He put the package down, a piece of tape snagging the rubber gloves he wore, and began to flip through the bulky rolodex on his desk. A moment's search and he found the telephone number he sought. He dialed it too fast the first time, and got no connection. He swore and tried again. This time he finally connected, after what seemed to be an interminable number of clicks and other noises on the line.

"Centers for Disease Control," a pleasant female voice chirped.

"Please connect me to Doctor Turner, Doctor William Turner."

"I'm sorry sir, but Doctor Turner is not present in his office today. May I take a message?"

"Listen, this is an emergency. Get me in touch with Doctor Turner immediately."

"I'm sorry sir, but--"

"Are you listening to me, miss?" Preston shouted. "I have a possible situation here. I need to speak to Doctor Turner immediately!"

Preston was awarded by a momentary silence, then the sound of a phone ringing.

"Hello?" a new voice said.

"Doctor Turner? My name's Doctor Jim Preston. I'm a physician in upstate New York. I attended your conference on the analyses of the demographic diseases in New York City last year."

"Yes, Doctor Preston? And what can I do for you?" Turner's voice was composed of equal parts curiosity and annoyance. Preston spoke for ten minutes, then hung up the phone, put on his coat, carefully lifted the package, and left his office. His wife did not see him leave, else she would have asked him why he was perspiring so freely on such a cold day.

 

Poughkeepsie, New York

Saturday

Vassar Brothers Hospital was a surprisingly small, modern structure bordering Route 9. Steve came to a stop in an empty parking space near what looked to be the front entrance of the structure. He shut off the truck's engine and leaned back in his seat, peering out the windows. It was a beautiful day, sunny and breezy. He allowed himself a few seconds to drink in the sunshine shining in the truck, then turned to the passenger beside him.

Ellie had found it necessary to contort her body to stay within the confines of the truck's cabin during the sixty-minute journey to the hospital. Her lengthening legs butted her knees against the passenger door and caused her buttocks to slide partially out of the seat. Her back was curved to keep her head from pressing against the ceiling panel, hands pressed against the dashboard to steady her. She turned to face Steve, her expression sad.

"Steve, I really think you should reconsider your promise to me," she said. "I'm going to be a bi--a burden on everybody. You've been so nice--"

"I love you, Ellie," Steve said, cutting her off. "I love you more today than I did yesterday, and I'll love you more tomorrow--understand that. I will never leave you, ever. I don't want to let anything make you unhappy--"

"Then leave me. Go back home to North Carolina, find a-a normal-sized girl, get married, have ten kids, and live forever. Forget about me. I keep thinking about Dr. Preston's reaction to me. I'm scaring people just because of my size--and I'm still growing." She gestured to her shirt, which was straining to maintain its soundness around her chest and bosom.

Steve remained silent for a moment, looking at her. Tears started to form in her eyes. He reached out to stroke her chin.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked quietly. A teardrop fell into his hand.

"No," she said, taking his hand in hers and kissing it--it was still as warm as she remembered but now it wasn't so big in her own hands. "No, I never want you to leave me. I'm afraid for you, Steve. What if I never stop growing? Will you love me when I'm so big you can't reach my waist? My ankle? What if my growing starts to--to weaken me--"

"We'll cross each of those bridges as we come to them, Ellie. Together."

Ellie's shoulders sagged as much as possible in the confines of her shirt.

"I'll tell you something," Steve continued. "It a strange feeling, but I can't help thinking that we were destined to come together. Call it fate, luck, karma, I'm not sure why, but I knew the instant I saw you that, well, that we were supposed to be together. If it's intimacy you're worried about, well, what we had last night was wonderful for me--I hope for you also--and I think if we put our imaginations to work on it, we can still enjoy one another."

Ellie made an exasperated sound. "Can't get rid of you, even for your own good?"

"This is for my own good," Steve insisted. He unbuckled himself, opened his door and circled the truck. Whipping off his coat, he opened the passenger door for Ellie, leaned inside, and kissed her briefly while wrapping his coat across her shoulders. Ellie unfolded her legs and bent nearly double to exit the truck, then stood erect. The all-too-familiar flutter in her chest staged another comeback as she noted that Steve's head now looked level with her adam's apple.

"You'd think I'd begin to get used to this," she muttered. Steve shut the door and turned to face her. His eyes were just above her cleavage. He peered up at Ellie, waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

"Well, there are some advantages," he said.

"You really are incorrigible, aren't you?" Ellie stifled a giggle--her breasts were threatening to free themselves by rending her shirt if she inhaled too deeply--ruffled Steve's hair, and pulled his jacket as far as possible across her shoulders for warmth against the wind.

It was dim and much warmer in the vestibule of the hospital. Steve walked Ellie into the deserted space and looked about for a waiting area when three people, a man and two women, converged on them. Steve looked both curious and askance at them--they all were dressed in surgical gowns, hats and masks, and wore gloves on their hands.

"Miz Andersen?" one of the women asked. Ellie nodded. "I'm Doctor Schulman. Doctor Preston called. We are preparing a room for you right away. If you'll follow me, we'll see you get set up and then arrange for the tests Doctor Preston ordered."

Ellie was surprised, and showed it.

"Please pardon our appearance," Schulman continued as she led Ellie, Steve and the other two down the hall towards the elevators. "It's just a precaution. Now, the first thing we need to do is get some basic information from you, then we'll start with some x-rays and bloodwork."

Ellie ducked into the elevator, the others following. She noticed that Steve was looking stern and even distressed, but she could not immediately fathom why. She also noted that the elevator seemed reserved for them--the gowned man used a key to operate it.

"How long have you had this condition, Miz Andersen?" Doctor Schulman suddenly asked.

"It began last night," Ellie answered shortly.

"Do you feel any weakness? And dizziness?"

"Weakness, no. I've been having dizzy spells, though."

Suddenly one of the side seams of Ellie's shirt gave out. The ripping sound was loud in the confines of the elevator. She quickly wrapped her arms under her breasts in consternation, her face and neck flushing deeply.

"Jesus Christ," the gowned man said, eyes above his mask boggling at Ellie's cleavage as she breathed. Steve looked even more stern, then looked up at Ellie and rubbed her arm for a moment. The elevator door opened. Nobody moved.

"Charlie," Schulman snapped. The man came out of his trance and rushed to turn his key in its slot, stopping the elevator. Schulman led the way out of the lift onto the hospital floor. Ellie saw several signs on the wall opposite the elevator bearing boldly printed instructions to any staff entering the floor.

"Right over here, Miz Andersen, please," Doctor Schulman said, pointing to an open door on the floor. Ellie bent under the doorjamb and entered the room. It contained two beds, which had been butted end-to-end and apparently bolted together.

"Well, it'll have nice scenery, at least," Steve mused--some kind soul had the presence of mind to turn the beds in the room so that the foot of the bed faced the one picture window, allowing Ellie a view of a stand of conifers opposite the hospital and, in the distance, the Hudson River.

"Okay, Miz Andersen, why don't you settle yourself. Kathy, did you get the admittance forms?"

The other gowned female produced a clipboard bearing several pieces of paper like a magician. She handed the board and a pen to Ellie. Ellie did not fail to notice that she stayed at arm's length and stepped away once Ellie took the clipboard. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the amusement in Steve's expression.

"Please fill these out for us," Schulman continued. Ellie flipped through the forms.

"I'm afraid I don't have my purse, Doctor," she said. She felt an attack of vertigo and swayed slightly. "I-I guess it's still in my car."

"Oh, don't worry about the section on insurance right now," Schulman answered. "You can get that information for us later. Right now you need to get settled so we can start the tests."

As if by some hidden cue, Doctor Schulman and the others spontaneously turned and exited the room. Ellie peered at the papers on the clipboard, and sighed.

"Well, well," Steve said. "Leading an interesting life is interesting, indeed."

He moved quickly to close the door. Ellie dropped the clipboard on the double bed and seated herself, wincing.

"I've got to get these pants off. They're cutting off my circulation," she said. She stood again and pulled down on the sweatpants. The pants slid readily from her waist and over her hips, but the legs, stretched to the breaking point over her thighs, clung tenaciously. Ellie tried pulling down, then squatted, flexing her legs. The seams of the legs popped loudly, and she stood up and slid the remains of the sweatpants off her legs. She then tried to untie the knot in her shirt, but it was too small and tight for her fingers to manage. She slid her hands under the shirt and jerked. It tore neatly up the side seams to her armpits and she pulled the wreckage over her head.

It felt good to be free of the restraint of her borrowed clothes, and Ellie rubbed her arms and belly in appreciation. She straightened and looked down. Her breasts had grown so big she couldn't see her own feet. She tossed her hair--it had grown down below her shoulder blades--and pulled her bangs behind her ears, then bent over to rub some circulation back into her legs.

"Wow," she heard Steve's voice say. She looked up. Steve stood beside the door, staring at her. His eyes were as big as Charlie's had been. She turned so that he could not see her front and looked over her shoulder.

"Steve!" she admonished him. His smile threatened to split his face in two. "You're not supposed to look."

"What? We saw each other au naturel last night, didn't we?"

"That was last night." Ellie reached out to the hospital gown neatly folded atop the bed and shook it out, thrust her arms into its sleeve holes, then flipped her hair across her front.

"You'd think a nurse would have stayed in here to help me," she said. Steve shook his head.

"I suspect they're drawing lots right now to see who'll be taking care of you."

"I am scary, then?" she asked.

"Not to me," he replied, his expression slightly annoyed. Ellie felt contrite.

"Here, help me put this on," she gestured. Steve came up behind her and began to tie the cloth strings dangling from the battens on the gown. He tied first the bottom, then the top, then he began to rub her back between her shoulder blades.

"You're a beautiful person, Ellie," he said.

"Even now?" she asked. Steve stopped rubbing her back, then slipped both his arms through the gap in her gown and circled her waist.

"Even now," he replied. He raised his hands to her breasts and caressed them gently, tickling her nipples. Ellie felt herself respond immediately, her breasts engorging, her nipples becoming erect. She sucked in a deep breath, felt for his hands through the thin fabric of the gown and began to massage her breasts with him.

"Mmmm," she murmured. "That feels good."

Steve started kissing her on the base of her neck, then down between her shoulder blades, his hands still working her bosom. Ellie arched her back, thrusting her breasts into his hands. He pressed harder, his fingers rubbing her areolas. Ellie moaned softly in response. She could feel her crotch becoming warm.

A sudden creaking noise penetrated the room. Someone was opening the door. Steve's hands vanished from under her gown. Ellie gulped and made a show of holding up the shoulders of the gown as she felt Steve pulling tight the middle set of cords. They both turned as one to see a nurse, garbed in a similar fashion to the first three they met, with a large tray hanging from her arm. She stopped at the threshold and looked at Ellie and Steve. Her eyes were wide.

"H-Hello," she said. "I'm here to take some blood samples."

The next few hours went by. Ellie was punctured repeatedly by lab technicians taking what seemed like quarts of blood. She was then transferred to a gurney that was too small for her burgeoning body--her knees stuck absurdly into the air, covered by a thin sheet which flapped revealingly in the breeze of her passage from one location to another--and taken back down the elevator to the radiology department, where she was X-rayed, then put onto the moving exam table of an MRI unit. Thirty minutes later found her back in her room, surrounded by a bevy of overdressed technicians who wired her to a half dozen electronic machines. For nearly a half-hour flickering screens and a cacophony of beeps, chirps and warbles surrounded her. All the staff were hesitant to come near her, although some of them seemed sympathetic to her condition, as her growth continued unabated. Steve stuck by her whenever possible, holding her hand, reassuring her. By one in the afternoon Ellie became restive.

"How much more blood do you people need?" she snapped. The technician, sampling syringe in hand, paused.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he replied. "Orders."

"I'd better be able to live without all this," Ellie muttered, raising her arm. Steve grinned and winked at Ellie then put on a stern face.

"You'd do better with some food," he said loudly. One of the nurses crowded beside her bed--a solid woman whose graying hair was visible in her plastic cap--made a clucking noise.

"You've had nothing to eat today, dear?" Ellie shook her head. Her motion caused her to shift in the grip of the lab technician, jiggling the needle in her arm. She spit in pain and gave the technician a withering look. He paled and jumped back, leaving the syringe behind. Ellie yanked it out of her arm.

"Here," she said to the technician. "I think you've had enough for today, don't you?"

The technician gingerly picked the bloody needle from her hand. The older nurse stepped forward and elbowed the technician aside.

"Harry, what's the matter with you," she growled. "You'd think you've never drawn blood from a patient before."

"You've got to be kidding, Miss Johnson," the technician replied. Johnson seized a damp swab and dabbed the puncture on Ellie's arm, barking orders as she did so.

"Harry, leave the kit here. You and Paul take the samples down to the lab. Maria, call the kitchen. Arrange for some food to be sent up here. Make sure it's normal diet. You can tell Mr. Gonzalez that I ordered it and if he doesn't like it he can talk to me. I think the patient can do with a little rest, too." Johnson folded Ellie's arm up and glared at the rest of the group standing numbly beside her bed. "I trust everybody here understands english?" she snapped. The group scattered out the door. Johnson turned back to Ellie, unfolded her arm and removed the bloodied swab. She fished in the kit for a bandage.

"There, dear," she said, her eyes smiling above her mask. "I think you've been very patient with us, but we are trying to help you. You just need to be a little more patient, okay? Good."

Ellie seized Johnson's gloved hand.

"Thank you," she said. Steve nodded. Johnson patted Ellie's hand and, retrieving the lab kit, left the room, closing the door behind her.

 

Ellie's doze was interrupted by the sound of jingling. She opened her eyes to see Steve trying various keys in the lock of the door leading to an adjacent room.

"Steve, what are you doing?"

"Trying to find a way out of here," he answered.

"Find a way out of here? Do you mean we're locked in this room?"

"No, no. But that Charlie guy who met us downstairs is guarding the door. I saw him hanging around in the hall, trying to stay out of sight."

"Why? Why would they guard my door?"

Steve stopped fiddling with the lock and came to Ellie's bedside. He took up her hand--she was startled by just how small his hand felt in hers--and squeezed.

"We're in an isolation ward," he said. "Those instructions on the wall we saw when we arrived on this floor are standard policy for dealing with contagious infections. Presumably they think that what happening to you is infectious, and that I'm infected as well. That's why they've let me stay with you as long as I have--I'm right where they want me to be. I know that's not true, but they don't. So, there's someone on the door to keep me here."

"What about me?" Ellie asked. Steve motioned with his hands.

"Stand up," he said.

"Okay. I've grown into my gown again, anyway."

Ellie sat upright in the bed, and Steve reached across the mattress to tie the straps of her hospital gown more loosely, as he had done twice before. Ellie hitched up the second gown she was using as a wraparound skirt, and stood. Her head bumped the ceiling, and she bent in the middle to save her neck being broken.

"Steve," she said. He nodded.

"I'm afraid so, Ellie. They think you're too big to be able to leave."

"They're right," she said, rubbing away the fluttering in her chest. Steve shook his head.

"I'll find a way, once they clear you," he replied. Ellie recognized a strain in his voice despite his outward levity.

"I don't think they will let me go, Steve," Ellie said softly. "I'm so damned big and it's not stopping. I shouldn’t even be able to stand up at this size. All my blood should have rushed into my legs and made me pass out. You know, it's funny, but aside from being so big and tall I've never felt better in my life. I feel like I could bench press a locomotive."

Steve looked concerned, then nodded. "What's happening to you is truly remarkable, Ellie. I just don't know if others will see it the same way." He clapped his hands together. "First things first, though."

"Who gave you a set of hospital keys?" Ellie asked. She stepped across the room to look over his shoulder. Steve looked up at her, an impish expression on his face.

"Charlie--but he doesn't know it, yet."

"You picked his pocket?"

Steve inclined his head. "Yep. Did it while we were exiting the elevator. It was easy. He was too busy staring at you."

"Steve!"

"When I was an underclassman at MIT I was a bit of a brigand," he explained. "When I was due to attend a really boring lecture I'd stand at the door and exchange the contents of other people's pockets without their noticing. Made classes a lot more interesting. One of my best friends from childhood had a father who was a reformed thief. Taught us both everything he knew. By the time I was fifteen I was criminally proficient."

"You went to MIT?"

"Yep. Ah hah!"

Ellie heard the door lock click. Steve slowly pulled the door open, peeking around the edge of the doorframe.

"Good," he said. "Nobody in the next room. Ellie, I'll be right back to you. I promise."

Steve slipped through the door.

"Steve, wait! Don't…" Ellie heard him lock it from the other side. Concerned, she listened intently for sounds that would indicate Steve's transgression had been detected, but heard only silence. She squatted to ease her bent back, then stretched her arms. It felt good to move her body freely. A sudden looseness in the middle of her gown told her that the tieback keeping her gown closed across her chest and back had broken. She looked down under each arm then at her chest. Sure enough, the gown was pulled forward against her bust, broadening the gap at her back, her breasts pressing against the thin cotton of the gown revealingly. She would soon need another gown to help cover her torso. Ellie stretched her back until her bones popped, then each leg, hitching up her makeshift skirt to prevent it tearing.

 

Ellie became increasingly nervous as time went by. It seemed like an hour since Steve had snuck from the room. Anyone entering to see her or perform another test would immediately detect his absence and spread an alarm. When she heard a soft jingling and saw the side door open again she was first relieved, then greatly alarmed. A doctor wearing surgical greens and a mask poked his head around the door. When he saw only Ellie sitting on her bed, he pulled away the mask, grinned and waved two large, heavily loaded paper bags at her.

"Steve!"

"Who else? These surgical getups are great. Nobody even asked me who I was. Anybody show up while I was gone?"

"No. You took a chance, Steve, sneaking out like that."

"Not really." Steve grabbed the serving table from the corner of the room and wheeled it towards her bed. "Remember Nurse Johnson said you were to get some rest, and she sounds like the person who would enforce an order like that. It's midafternoon so the hospital cafeteria kitchen is closed--I checked on the way out--and no one was likely to suddenly arrive with food, so the odds were good you'd be undisturbed by any visitors for a while."

Steve quickly stripped off his disguise and placed the bags on the table. Ellie sniffed the aromas coming from the bags and her mouth watered. Steve opened each bag and presented each item to her with a flourish.

"Hamburgers, or club sandwiches?" he asked. "You missed breakfast, so I figured I better bring a double helping of each for you."

Ellie laughed--and grabbed. She ate quickly while Steve opened a cold 2-liter bottle of soda for her and a smaller one for himself. She ate the hamburgers in two bites, ignoring how petite each looked. Steve bit into a club sandwich. Ellie finished both sets of fries and started on the untouched club sandwich, finishing her meal in a few minutes.

"I guess you were a little more hungry than you thought," Steve said. Ellie grinned sheepishly.

"It was very good. Thank you," she replied, bending down to kiss him on the cheek.

"You're welcome."

"Is Charlie still outside?"

"Yes. Not Charlie, somebody else. Looks like round-the-clock surveillance for both of us. I keep wondering when they're going to try to grab me."

"Grab you?"

"Yep. There was quite a gaggle of doctors and other folks at the end of the hall when I came back upstairs. I couldn't get close enough to hear what they were saying but they were pointing this way. From the x-rays they were holding I suppose they got your tests back and they're pretty excited about them."

"Maybe they found a cause for my growing?" Ellie said. Steve shrugged.

"Or, they just found a lot more questions to ask."

"Did you see Doctor Preston at all?"

"Nope. Not a bit. I have the feeling that he might be one of our neighbors pretty soon here, too."

Ellie could not dispel a sense of dread at Steve's words. He was half-turned towards the main door to the room, his arms crossed. She saw his jaw tighten, and his hand clench into a fist. He exhaled gustily, then turned to face her, his expression clear.

"Well, we'll see what happens. Somebody should show up soon to reveal the results of your tests."

Ellie reached out suddenly with her arms.

"Steve, please hold me," she said.

"Wha--of course," he replied. He came within the circle of her arms and tried to wrap his hands around her back. Ellie tightened her grip and lifted Steve from the floor, depositing him in her lap. Steve was startled at first, and then he relaxed and settled into her lap, his head resting on her breast, his arms around her. Ellie squeezed him tightly, crushing the air out of him.

"What is it?" he asked, looking up into Ellie's face, his eyes shining, and his smile huge.

"Did I tell you I love you?"

"Yes, you did."

"Well, I didn’t say it enough."

"You don’t have to."

"I want to." Ellie tried smoothing his hair back with her fingers. "You need cleaning up again."

"Afraid so--but I don't want to move from this spot for a while."

Ellie returned his smile and kissed him on the top of his head, one big hand rubbing his neck and chin. Steve half-closed his eyes and leaned into her bosom. He began to rub her side and back. They sat together on Ellie's makeshift bed, utterly contented in each other, and Ellie was surprised to find herself totally happy for the first time that day. She heard a tiny creak as the front door opened very slowly. Out of the corner of her eye saw Nurse Johnson's head appear in the gap. She saw Johnson look at Steve and herself, then withdraw and silently close the door again.

 

Steve suddenly threw off his lethargy and slid from Ellie's lap. She woke from the reverie she slipped into and rubbed her eyes.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No," she replied. "I haven't felt really sleepy since last night. What's up?"

"I need to get to my truck. I've got a cellular phone and some other things in there that should come in handy."

"Steve, you're not going to sneak out again?"

"Sure. Ellie, how do you feel about North Carolina?"

"What? You're joking."

"I've never been more serious. I'm inviting you to come stay with me. I think you'll like it. The weather's more pleasant than here, and I'd love to have you."

"Steve, I can barely fit comfortably inside this room. Trying to live in my own house would be an impossibility. How am I supposed to fit in your house?"

"It's a pretty big house. I've got money, remember."

"What, did you build it on the scale of Mount Olympus?"

"Well, no, but we'll make do."

"What about the hospital, and--and me, and you?" Ellie gestured to her body, which was straining the two gowns she wore. Steve seemed utterly unconcerned.

"There are hospitals down there, too," he countered. "I paid for one of them--"

He did? she thought.

"--and there's some pretty good, smart folks down there who can offer as much help to you as these people up here."

Ellie said nothing, her mouth open.

"Please, Ellie? I want you to come with me, to be with me. Please?"

Ellie slipped from the bed to her knees, the impact making the floor tremble. She flung her arms around Steve, crushing him to her bosom. She kissed him hard on the lips.

"Yes, of course I will!"

 

The staff on the eighth floor of Vassar Brothers Hospital were showing the effects of a long, strange day. Their "amazing patient" was still quiescent in her room, accompanied by the man she called Steve. The doctors were wound into a furor poeticus over Eleanor Andersen's condition, because there was no cause for it. All her blood tests had come back normal--no excessive gonadotropin or pituitary gland secretions, no chemical evidence of acromegaly. Her growth was almost mathematically perfect and proportional--no thickening of long bones, no excess tissue in her hands, no broadening of her jaw. Urine and fecal samples were also negative. Her x-rays were the major surprise, because there were none. Every attempt to penetrate her body with radiation resulted in opaque films with no useable images at all. Save for her steadily increasing size the one patient appeared utterly normal and very healthy, and the male patient was not affected at all.

"Normal?" Doctor Yolanda Scott said. Isolation Unit Nursing Supervisor Debbie Johnson stood her ground.

"Yes. Of course, she's not normal, because she keeps growing bigger, but there is no evidence whatsoever of any disease processes at work in her body. She's just--growing."

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Debbie, but hypergigantism is a disease--what the hell is this?"

Ten people erupting onto the eighth floor from the elevator interrupted the discussion. They were dressed in light blue anticontamination suits that covered them from head to foot, and carried metal cases marked prominently with red crosses. Scott and Johnson both left the nurse's station and approached the strangers. One of them held up a hand as if to ward them away and they stopped.

"Now, just who are you?" Scott asked. "Where do you come from?"

"We're here to see Eleanor Andersen," one of the figures replied, his voice tinny and distorted by the speaker attached to his suit. "We're from the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta."

"I'm well aware of where the CDC is located, buddy," Scott retorted. "Who gave you clearance to come up here? This is the isolation unit."

"I did," another voice said. Scott turned to see the elevator door open again. This time she saw two of the administrators of the hospital, who were accompanying another man in uniform.

"Doctor Scott, may I present Doctor Bartholomew Lang. Doctor Lang is here to take over Miz Andersen's care."

"Mr. Kimball," Scott acknowledged the administrator, and turned her attention to the man in uniform. To be precise, he was dressed in the uniform of an officer of the United States Army. He was below-medium-sized and rail-thin, pale and unpleasant looking. Both Scott and Johnson were stopped in their tracks by his cold, gray eyes. He spoke no word but tipped his uniform cap towards them.

"In which room is the patient?" Kimball asked. Scott pointed.

"802, right down the hall."

Lang turned and motioned to the mass of blue-suited figures. They moved en masse to the room Ellie occupied, pushing aside the orderly guarding the entry.

Ellie was lying on her side in bed when the new people entered the room. She rose up on her elbow and gulped in surprise, her eyes flickering briefly at the side door Steve used to leave.

"What's going on?" she asked as the gaggle of blue suited people surrounded her. She started to rise out of bed.

"Please don't get up, Miss Andersen," one of the figures spoke. "I'm sorry if we frightened you. We're from the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia. My name is Doctor Sadler. We've come to examine you and take a look at your case. Please pardon the suits we're wearing. It's just a precaution."

Ellie looked around. She noticed that half of the gaggle was busy examining the corners of the room rather than her. She found she did not like the way the others were staring at her. She had the feeling she was more a specimen than a patient with these newcomers.

"I understood there are two of you here in this room," Sadler continued. "A man called Steve? Do you know where he is now?"

"Ah, no, I don't," Ellie replied. "He left."

"Left?"

"Yes. He went out that door." She gestured to the side door. From his expression she could see Sadler was livid, although he kept his voice steady. She was inwardly pleased that Steve had left when he did, as her feeling of dread had returned a hundredfold. She could feel her heart starting to pound from adrenaline and fear.

"How did he go through the door? When?"

"He had a key. I don’t have a watch so I can't say how long ago."

"You'd better not--Miss Andersen, this is very serious. Steve Whatever-his-name-is could be carrying a dangerous, infectious disease. We need to know where he is."

"I'm sorry, Doctor Sadler, but he didn't tell me where he was going. He said something about his truck, I think."

Sadler looked around, and three of the suited figures left. He turned back to Ellie.

"Miss Andersen, we are going to transport you to a facility which will be better for you and your ongoing condition," he said. "Is there anything you need?"

"Yes," Ellie replied. "A telephone. I need to tell my boss I won't be coming to work for a few days."

Her attempt at humor fell flat. Sadler made another motion, and two more blue-suited figures appeared, each carrying a small canister. Ellie reacted immediately but the gas released from the canisters touched her skin before she could get to her feet. She collapsed back onto the bed. Her limbs and body suddenly felt like they had become ten times heavier. She tried to cry out but couldn't get her mouth to do more than croak. She watched as a large gurney was wheeled into the room. Atop the gurney was an opaque rectangular plastic bag, punctured with holes at regular intervals. The people around her opened the bag and began to push her body into it. Ellie was horrified at being shoved into what looked like an oversized body bag and tried to thrash at the hands pulling at her. She made contact with one of the figures, flinging him across the room and shattering his faceplate, but more gas was sprayed on her, and she went completely limp. She began to cry as her body was squeezed into the bag and its opening was zippered shut.

 

Nurse Johnson was among the group of physicians standing around the nurse's station, watching the procession of blue-suited figures go by, surrounding a gurney bearing an isolation unit. A high, hissing voice caught her attention, and she turned slightly to see the Army officer, Lang, on a portable telephone.

"I don't give a fat rat's ass, dammit--I want that facility operational now. I am tired of your excuses! What the hell does that mean? Are you telling me the Air Force shuts down on the weekends? Damn right you will get the doors open for our cargo. What? Don’t give me forty-eight hours--you've got eight hours to get it up and running. Don't mess with me, you won't like it. Okay, fine--thirty hours, and it damned well better open up as advertised."

A squeaking noise called her attention back to the parade of figures walking towards the freight elevators. She could make out an outline of knees--big knees belonging to long legs--bent double inside the bag on the stretcher. She shook her head and looked at the eyes of the other staff members. Most looked relieved that Ellie was gone, but a few looked sad, concerned and frightened. Johnson looked closer at one of the sets of eyes. There were brown, intense--and unfamiliar. The owner of those eyes noticed her inspection and turned away, walking down the hall towards the stairs, his stethoscope bouncing around his neck. Johnson followed. He stepped through the door leading to the stairwell with Johnson one step behind.

She was one step into the stairwell when a hand grabbed her arm and dragged her into a corner. Steve leaned towards her until his masked face was only inches from her own.

"Where are they taking her?" he said. Johnson, shocked by her bouncing off the wall, did not answer, and was shaken like a small child by two powerful hands.

"Where are they taking her?" Steve demanded again.

"I don't know," Johnson replied. "Look, I'm sorry what's happened, Steve--is it Steve?"

Steve nodded and released the nursing supervisor. She rocked on her feet for a moment, then steadied.

"I'm sorry for the rough handling, and I'm grateful to you for the kindness you showed Ellie," he said. "Now, who the hell are those people?"

"They said they're from the Centers for Disease Control."

"You don't believe that?"

"No. The guy in charge is military. I think they all are."

"Did you get his name?"

"I--yes, I did. Lang. Bartholomew Lang. He's U.S. Army."

Steve stood for a second, considering. He reached out and took Johnson's hand.

"Thank you again."

"Wait, Steve," Johnson called after him as he began to go down the stairs. "This is serious. They're going to be looking for you. Ellie's sick of something--"

"Fuck them," he replied shortly. "I'm getting Ellie back. Thanks again."

Johnson left the stairwell and returned to the group of hospital staff milling around the desk. They were watching the blue-suited people hose down the hallway, Ellie's room and each other with tanks of disinfectant spray. No one else in the group noticed that Johnson began to smile.

 

Growth Encounter part 3