Part 25 (2/2)

Back in the real world, I gasped and jerked my hand away from the wheelchair. Carlos' head was still rolling around weakly from side to side as a puddle of drool collected on his robe. He was humming softly.

”What happened?” Lucius Nelson demanded, concerned for his patient.

Glancing around, the doctors and Trip were still in the same spots in the gazebo as when I had left. Franks was approaching up the path at a brisk walk.

”How long was I gone?” I asked.

”You didn't go anywhere,” Joan replied.

”Five seconds, tops,” Trip answered quickly. ”Did it work?”

”Yeah, kind of.” I stood. ”Doctors, we have to let Carlos die.”

”What?” both of them responded simultaneously.

”Please, believe me. There's something terrible living inside his head. It's devouring him, piece by piece. He made me promise to kill him.”

”Owen, that's ridiculous.”

The wheelchair began to vibrate. I looked down. Carlos was going into some sort of seizure. It stopped. He was no longer humming. That too had been taken from him. His final memory was erased. The shaking ceased.

Joan knelt beside the chair and placed her fingers on Carlos' neck. ”I think he's dead.”

Suddenly the patient's head snapped up. His eyes opened, revealing blood red orbs. One thin hand locked around Joan's wrist with bone-crus.h.i.+ng force. He jerked her to her knees.

My STI came out of the holster so fast that it practically materialized in my hand. I clicked the safety off as the front sight landed between those red eyes. ”Let her go!”

”Noooo,” the thing inhabiting Carlos' body hissed. Joan cried out as it squeezed her arm. ”Feast is over...Need new sh.e.l.l to live in.”

”What's going on?” Lucius cried out. ”Carlos, let her go. We've been trying to help you.”

”That ain't him, Doc. This thing is from the other side. Isn't that right, Feeder?”

The body wheezed. ”Not true name. Name given by weak fleshling.” The voice was raspy, not used to creating speech. ”So hungry. Must feed.” His other hand reached toward Joan's face, as if to caress it. Nostrils flared as it drank in her smell. ”So many memories in this one...to feeeaaa.s.sst.”

His wife in danger, Lucius Nelson's reaction was a split second faster than mine. Carlos' head jerked one way and then back as our bullets crossed an X through his skull. Joan fell. I stepped forward and booted the frail body in the chest, sending the wheelchair rolling back down the ramp and into the sunlight. The chair toppled over.

Even with the back of his skull missing, the animated body tried to rise, atrophied muscles driving forward, in search of another host. The movements were jerky, awkward, painful to watch. ”Feeeaaa.s.sst...”

Trip had drawn his Springfield XD.45. Doctor Lucius stood at my side, stubby Colt Officer's model at the ready. The three of us looked at each other, knowing what had to be done, then we opened fire. Dozens of bullets tore through Carlos. A few seconds later, our slides were locked back empty, my ears were ringing, and the riddled body was absolutely still, blood pouring into the gra.s.s.

”What the h.e.l.l!” Holly shouted as she ran toward the gazebo. She paused long enough to pull her STI Ranger and train it on the blood-soaked mess on the lawn like the rest of us. ”Everybody okay?”

”We're fine,” Joan answered calmly. ”I think my wrist is broken though.” The birdlike woman had pulled herself onto a bench. From somewhere she had produced a.380 PPK and was holding it shakily in her left hand, her right resting awkwardly in her lap. She saw me looking at her. ”Old-school MHI, kids. Shock is nature's anesthetic. Give me five minutes and I'll be crying like a baby.”

I dropped my spent mag, slammed a new one in the gun, and dropped the slide. ”See to your wife,” I ordered Lucius. ”Trip, Holly, on me.” I approached Carlos' body slowly. The three of us covered him, pistols ready, but there was no movement.

The Hunter was dead, freed from his torment at last.

Agent Franks nonchalantly joined us a moment later. The big man studied the three of us, guns hovering over the ventilated corpse and his wheelchair. He shrugged, removed a candy from his pocket, unwrapped it, tossed it in his mouth, and threw the wrapper on the lawn. ”Brutal...even by my standards,” he said, chewing loudly as he walked away.

”What's that?” Trip asked, gesturing with his gun. ”On the sidewalk?”

A tiny, black, glistening, earwig-slug thing was oozing away from the shattered skull. I moved so that my shadow wasn't protecting it. The tiny beast rolled over, revealing a pair of red eyes and a mouth with hooked teeth. It screeched in pain when the sunlight hit it.

I raised my size 15 boot. ”Good-bye, Feeder.” It smashed with a sickening wet pop. I ground it in. Black smoke hissed from the pavement.

First promise kept.

”You know, you're no longer allowed to visit here, Owen,” Lucius advised me. We were in the Appleton parking lot, getting ready to leave. ”Every time you do, we lose patients. At this rate you'll put us out of business in no time.”

”I'm really sorry...”

”I'm seriously thinking of having a restraining order drawn up,” the doctor said with grave sternness. I suddenly felt like I was going to puke. He thumped me on the arm. ”Ha. I'm just kidding, boy. Relax. It comes with the business.”

Joan shook her head. ”Forgive my husband. His idea of humor's a little skewed.” Her sprained wrist had already been wrapped. She held it up. ”But then again, I just took some Lortabs, so everything seems a little funny.”

”Seriously, I wish we would have known about poor Carlos sooner. We kept him alive for all these years, when all we were doing was prolonging his suffering.”

”You did the best you could,” I responded. ”There's no way you could have known.”

”No medical textbook I know of has an entry for what crawled out of his head, I'm afraid,” Lucius answered, ”unless we write it ourselves. Maybe now you understand why when it comes to interviewing survivors, Joan and I can be a little...”

”Pushy?” I interjected.

”One way to look at it, I suppose,” he chuckled. ”Listen, I do want to help you. When Marty Hood first joined MHI, I did one of those pushy pushy interviews. Here's the file. Maybe something in there will come in handy.” interviews. Here's the file. Maybe something in there will come in handy.”

I took it from him. ”Isn't this like privileged information?”

He smiled. ”My Hippocratic Oath goes out the window when you sign up to help the Old Ones. I wouldn't p.i.s.s on him if he was on fire.”

Holly joined us. ”We're ready to go. We took the body down to the bas.e.m.e.nt like you asked. None of the other patients saw us.”

”Good, good...” Joan said. ”Thank you, dear.”

Lucius smiled sadly. ”This place was built eighty years ago to house tuberculosis patients. We have an excellent crematorium. Morbid, yet so very effective. Necessary, given the things that poor man was exposed to. Don't worry, we'll say a few words over him.”

”Thank you for your help,” I told them sincerely.

”We're always here to help, and we only ask one thing...” Joan said. Agent Franks, apparently tired of our good-byes, began to honk the horn. She groaned. ”Don't ever bring that man onto our property, ever again.”

”Deal. I don't like him, don't trust him, and the sooner we're done with this, the sooner I can get rid of him.”

”Hmm...Franks is obnoxious. How many people can can you fit in that crematorium at one time?” Holly batted her eyes innocently. We all looked at her. ”What?” you fit in that crematorium at one time?” Holly batted her eyes innocently. We all looked at her. ”What?”

”Anything helpful?” Holly asked.

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