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Show C H R Y S A L I S PAGE 228 fluid is under enormous pressure and will not stop. It flows. I wake abruptly, and notice I lie in a puddle of water. Where has everybody gone? "Mark?" I shout. The membranes have ruptured. I reach for the telephone to dial Annelise's number. Before it rings, I hang up and call Doctor Sontag instead. "Doctor's out to lunch," says the voice at the answering service. "He'll be in at two o'clock." I leave my name and number and check the clock. One twenty. Another pain rips through me. "Mark!" I can envision Mark pulling me ten blocks to the hospital in the old flyer wagon. Jennifer bursts into the apartment, carrying a large red-and-white paper bag of fried chicken. Mark follows, carrying another bag. He turns pale. "What is it?" "I've already called the doctor." I say. "He's out to lunch. I'll be all right." As I say this, the pain explodes again. "She should be in the hospital," Jenny says, watching me ease myself off the sofa. "Shall we go by wagon," I say. half-joking, "or would you |