SALEM'S LOT XXVI / BEN (IV)
It was ten past nine on Sunday morning—a bright, sun-washed Sunday morning—and Ben was beginning to get seriously worried about Susan when the phone by his bed rang. He snatched it up. “Where are you?” “Relax. I’m upstairs with Matt Burke. Who requests the pleasure of your company as soon as you’re able.” “Why didn’t you come—” “I looked in on you earlier. You were sleeping like a lamb.” “They give you knockout stuff in the night so they can steal different organs for mysterious billionaire patients,” he said. “How’s Matt?” “Come up and see for yourself,” she said, and before she could do more than hang up, he was getting into his robe. Matt looked much better, rejuvenated, almost. Susan was sitting by his bed in a bright blue dress, and Matt raised a hand in salute when Ben walked
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