Part 19 (1/2)
”Wake up. The man wants to see you in an hour. You need to use the bathroom?”
”What?” Leah tried to focus on his words. An hour? What time was it? Who was...?
Del.
Her thoughts grew clearer, cutting their way through the leftover haze of whatever they'd dosed her with. It was morning, and Del had some kind of demonstration planned, something that involved her.
Rough hands shook her.
”Hey! I said-”
”I heard you.” Her words were as dry and cracked as her throat felt. ”Bathroom. Yes.”
She let the man haul her to her feet. The bathroom turned out to be one door down in the hallway. At one time it had been a public restroom with two urinals and two stalls. The guard started to close the door and Leah called out to him.
”Wait. My hands.” She held up her hands, still bound at the wrists by a heavy plastic tie-wrap.
”No.” He shut the door, leaving her alone in the musty room.
”Thanks a lot,” she whispered, staring at her bound hands and trying to figure out how to get her pants down. In the end, it took a series of contortions before she could pee. Then it was a five-minute struggle trying to get her underwear and pants back on. As an act of defiance that meant little but made her feel better, she left the toilet unflushed. After splas.h.i.+ng water on her face and struggling to get paper towels out of the dispenser, she tapped on the door to let the guard know she was ready.
A large cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee was waiting in her cell, and she rushed across the room to it, the rich, dark aroma a siren call to her caffeine-starved body. Sipping the hot liquid, she found herself amazed at the human ability to find a bit of pleasure even in the most awful of situations. Here she was, most likely hours from her death, and still able to appreciate the simple joy of drinking coffee, experiencing an almost-sensual gratification from the complex flavors and scents.
If this has to be my last meal, I'm all right with that.
A morbid thought, but a real one. She'd been prepared for death since the renegade priest in the warehouse condemned her. She didn't want it-every fiber in her being craved life-but she was ready to accept it. Better death than a life of endless Curing and killing as someone's slave.
The door opened without warning, and she wondered if the room was soundproofed. And if so, why? What kind of place had this been before Del took it over for his own purposes?
Just like the last time, the long hallway stunk of stale blood and dead flesh, a metallic, bitter odor that coated her tongue and nostrils and kick-started her nausea again. It surprised her that she'd grown accustomed to the disagreeable smells, or at least to the less potent levels in her cell. In school she'd never gotten used to them, and had often felt like they lingered on long after she'd left the lab and showered, a phantom stench living inside her sinuses.
Either immune to the death smell or better at masking his displeasure, Del was at his desk when she arrived, still dressed in the same clothes as the previous day. She figured it was a good bet he'd stayed up all night, crafting whatever nasty surprise he had in store for her.
”Good morning, Doc. Sleep well?” he greeted, never looking away from the computer screen.
”What's going to happen to me?”
He shrugged. ”Like I told you before, that depends on you. Are you ready to get started?”
”Please don't hurt John. He's been through too much already because of me.” Leah's stomach churned as she spoke, her nausea mixing with guilt and anger at being in a situation that reduced her to begging.
”Well, you can relax. Your boyfriend's safe. At least for today,” he added, and the guard behind her chuckled.
Del stood up and pointed at a second door across the office. ”Right through there, Doc. Just do your magic and in an hour you can be holding hands or knocking boots or whatever you feel like with Mr. Police Officer.”
Do your magic. Oh h.e.l.l. Should I- ”I can't.” Leah's feet, much like her mouth, suddenly decided to act on their own and she came to a stop by the door.
”What?” Del came around and stood in front of her, his face even with hers. The expression on it was not a pleasant one. Behind her, the guard gave her arm a little twist, making her wince. ”What do you mean you can't?”
”I can't Cure anyone. Or anything. My Power. It's gone.” Leah closed her eyes, antic.i.p.ating a physical reaction. A punch, a slap. A broken arm.
”Bulls.h.i.+t.”
The door opened on squeaky hinges and hands pushed her forward. She opened her eyes as she entered a much larger room. This one contained a video camera on a tripod, a computer and eight monitors lined up on a table. More cameras were mounted in the corners of the ceiling.
”Doc, this is no time to try and pull a fast one on me. I know all about you. I've got video of you killing one of my best a.s.sociates, not to mention curing that cop. Bet you didn't know that, did you? I'm not an idiot. I plan things down to the last detail. You think I could set something like this up without proof? Now, you're gonna do as I ask or things are gonna get real painful for you.”
Del took her arm and moved her to a position in front of the table.
Leah shook her head but didn't try to resist. ”You don't understand. The explosion...in that warehouse. It...it did something to me. The doctor said it was exhaustion, and maybe a concussion. Ever since that day, I haven't been able to... I've been a normal person.”
She looked at him, the man who'd caused her and John so much pain and suffering, and some of her old defiance rose up.
”So if you want to kill me, do it now.”
She expected him to get angry, but instead Del just smiled, a grin that didn't reach his eyes at all.
”A concussion? Exhaustion? Sounds like a cop-out to me. Heard it all the time in the service. Psychosomatic bulls.h.i.+t. I think with the right, shall we say, incentive, you'll see how fast those powers of yours come back.” He leaned forward, and his smile disappeared. ”At least, you better hope so, for the cop's sake. Now, if you'll excuse me.”
He moved to the table and flicked the computer screens on. As soon as they lit up, each one showed a different man's face. Leah recognized all of them as criminals; how she knew it, she couldn't say for sure, but there was something about their looks, something hard and cruel they all shared, despite looking nothing like each other.
”Good morning, gentlemen,” Del said to them, and they returned his greeting with gruff h.e.l.los or brief nods. ”You all know why you're here, so I won't waste your time with explanations. This morning you will see the demonstration I told you about.”
”Is that her?” one of the faces, that of an older, swarthy man with gray hair, asked.
”Yes. And here is our test subject.” Del motioned to his guards, and one of them opened the door, revealing two more men leading a large, very nervous animal on a leash.
A pig? They want me to Cure a pig? Leah eyed the beast as the two muscular men walked it in. It fought against the leash, and it took both men to keep it from breaking free.
I don't even want to go near that thing. She'd never handled a pig before. She estimated its weight to be at least two hundred pounds, recognized it as a half-grown Vietnamese pot-belly variety. A smart, intelligent animal. And dangerous. A pig that size could do real damage with its teeth, hooves and ma.s.sive body.
One of the men drew a wicked-looking knife from his belt and held it against the top of the pig's fleshy neck.
”Gentlemen, what you are about to see will be-”
Before Del could finish, the pig emitted a loud squeal and leaped forward. It pulled the second guard to his knees and dragged him several feet before the leash yanked free.
”Shoot it!” Del shouted, dodging to one side. On the monitors, several of the video conference attendees called out, asking what was going on.
”A small delay,” Del said, reaching for the keyboard. His hand never made it, as the pig changed directions, causing him to leap out of the way again. The man on the floor was crawling after his gun, which he'd dropped when he fell. The guard with the knife charged after the frantic pig, which was much more agile than its would-be captors.
Leah stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Thoughts of escape ran through her head, but brought with them an imagined bullet in the back from Del or one of his men.
Do something! she urged herself. Her body refused to obey, remaining locked in place. Then the pig was charging right at her, and it was too late to avoid it. At the last moment her paralysis broke but she only had time to get half her body out of the way.
The pig slammed into her at the waist with freight-train force, punching the breath from her lungs and knocking her onto her back. Hooves hammered her chest and face, shattering bones and sending thunderbolts of pain through her body. She tried to scream but a ma.s.sive wall of flesh fell on top of her, covering her mouth and nose and pressing down on her injured ribs like a giant boot. Something exploded near her head and the muscular mountain sitting on her emitted a high-pitched shriek.