Part 22 (2/2)

”I know,” I said. ”We've been through this.”

”No, I know,” Brad said. ”I was just thinking about why we were having the mask made in the first place.”

”You were going to have her head explode, or something, I thought,” I said.

”Well, not really that,” Brad said. ”It's for this scene in the film where the alien overlord is trying to get control of Mich.e.l.le's body -- we were going to have the overlord stick his tentacles in her mouth and ears as a way to get to her brain. Really disgusting, of course -- eyeb.a.l.l.s popping and mouth really huge and all that. Obviously we couldn't do any of those effects with Mich.e.l.le's real face.”

”Glad that you recognize that, Brad.”

”We could have used digital effects, but those things are expensive,” he said, apparently oblivious to the fact that his latex mask had, in fact, just cost him twelve million dollars. He grinned suddenly, a rueful grin. ”You know, I could have used that alien overlord right about now.”

”What do you mean?” I said.

”Oh, nothing,” Brad said, waving me off. ”I was just free-a.s.sociating. If our alien overlord was real, then it wouldn't matter if Mich.e.l.le was in a coma or not. He'd just suck her brain out, plop himself in, and do the part himself. No one would know any better. Mich.e.l.le's not exactly Meryl Streep. Would have saved me money, anyway.”

Brad caught a look at my face. ”Jesus, Tom,” he said. ”I'm sorry. That was probably not the nicest thing I could have said right about now. Sorry if I just upset you. You all right?”

”I'm fine,” I said. ”I'm sorry, Brad. I just had a thought myself.”

Chapter Sixteen.

The door to the fourth floor of Pomona Valley Hospital opened, and I was confronted by the face of officer Bob Ramos.

”Hi, Mr. Stein,” he said.

”Hi, Bob,” I said.

”Nice dog you have there,” Officer Ramos said.

Joshua did his best stupid dog grin.

”Not my dog, it's Mich.e.l.le's,” I said. ”I thought he might help bring her out of it. You know.”

”Sure,” Ramos said. ”I guess we can pretty safely say you don't want Dr. Adams to know about it, right?”

”Right,” I agreed. ”I'm not visiting at two in the morning just because I'm not sleepy.”

”Got it,” Ramos said.

”By the way,” I said. ”I've got something for you.” I pulled out a CD that I'd been carrying under my arm.

Ramos took it. ”What is this?”

”You mentioned that your daughter was a fan of Tea Reader's,” I said. ”So I thought she might like to have an autographed copy of the CD. See, look, it's even made out to 'Maria.'” I didn't tell Ramos that the CD had in fact been autographed by Miranda. The chances of Tea Reader herself doing me a favor these days were slim and fast approaching none.

”Well, that was really nice of you to do that,” Ramos said. ”My little girl is going to be thrilled right out of her socks. You're a real stand-up guy, Mr. Stein.”

”It's nothing,” I said. ”Glad to do it. Is anyone else in with Mich.e.l.le?”

”I've been here since midnight and no one's come through except for the nurse,” Ramos said. ”You might check with Officer Gardner. She's over at the stairs. Been there since 11.”

”That's all right,” I said. ”I'm just going to pop in for a couple of minutes. You'll let me know if the nurse comes by again?”

”Sure,” Ramos said. ”I'll make a lot of noise. Give you enough time to hide the dog in the can.”

”Thanks, Bob,” I said, and then headed down the hall with Joshua.

The door to Mich.e.l.le's room had been left open. Inside, a cone of light illuminated Mich.e.l.le, whose bed had been positioned so she was reclining rather than lying down directly. The rest of the room was dark, and the other two beds in the room, still empty, had their curtains closed around them. I closed the door, and then went over to Mich.e.l.le. She was unchanged: comatose and on a respirator. I felt a fresh wave of guilt.

”Tom,” Joshua said. ”I can't do anything from down here.”

”Do you want to get on the bed?” I asked.

”No, that'd be mighty uncomfortable,” Joshua said. ”Grab me one of those visitor's chairs and put it near the head of the bed, please.”

There was one near the bed on my side; I wheeled it around to Joshua's side, to avoid him accidentally knocking over the IV. He asked me to turn it around so that the back faced the bed; when I had done so, he jumped up on the chair and propped himself up on the back of the chair, putting himself on a level with the bed.

”That'll probably be close enough,” Joshua said.

”Are you going to be able to reach her?” I asked.

”Sure,” Joshua said. ”Ralph's body is totally gone now, you know. It's all me. I can make tendrils now. It still helps to be close, of course. Now I have to figure out where to enter her head -- she's got so many tubes in her. I think I'll go through the ears. This is going to take a couple of minutes, so don't talk to me for a few. I'm going to have to concentrate.”

With that, Joshua made sure he was securely positioned, and closed his eyes. Then his face disappeared. His snout elongated and became the transparent goo that Yherajks were usually made of. It looked like a gla.s.s elephant trunk. The trunk waved in the air for a second, as if tasting the air, and then made its way to Mich.e.l.le's head. An inch above her face, the trunk split in two; each tendril wandered casually over to an ear, then covered it. Mich.e.l.le looked like she was wearing headphones that were attached to a headless dog.

The scene was so surreal that I lapsed into mute gawking. It took Joshua to bring me out of it.

”Tom,” he said, ”I think we have company.”

”What?” I said.

”Turn around.”

I did. Miranda stood there, a book in her hands. Behind her, the curtain was pulled back from one of the vacant beds. Miranda was looking past me, at the scene of Joshua and Mich.e.l.le. Her eyes were wide and black, and she had the expression you get when you're seeing something horrifying and you hope you're dreaming.

”Miranda,” I said.

Miranda glanced over at me, not really seeing me at first. Then I could almost hear her brain click as to who I was, where she was, and that she, in fact, was not dreaming. She opened her mouth and took a sharp intake of breath. In one more second, I knew, it would come out as the loudest scream I had ever heard.

I leapt at her. I clamped my hand over her mouth and turned her around. Then I picked her up and sprinted to the bathroom with her, kicking, in my arms.

Behind me, I heard Joshua say, in a conversational tone of voice, ”If she screams, we're f.u.c.ked, Tom. Calm her down.” The conversational tone of voice was simply so that it couldn't be heard outside the room -- Joshua's voice was as tense as I'd ever heard it. As I shoved Miranda into the bathroom, I caught a whiff of something rotten and realized that Joshua was screaming -- just in his own language. I closed the bathroom door behind me, locked it, and hit the light switch to start the fan.

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