F Paul Wilson - Secret History 02 (62 page)

           
Not
Jill!

           
A current of panic buzzed through
Rob for an instant. Then he drew his pistol.

           
"Give me the gun, Harris,"
said Kara's voice.

           
The menace in her eyes, her
expression—so alien.

           
And to see her pressing the point of
a knife against Jill's throat sickened him.

           
"No way, Gabor!"

           
"I'll cut her. I will."

           
Rob noticed that the faint trace of
accent he used to hear in Gates' voice had wormed its way into Kara's. He
looked into Jill's eyes, saw the hurt mixed with the fear.

           
"That's not your mom, Jill.
That's someone pretending to be your mom. Just stand quiet and I'll get us out
of this."

           
"I sincerely doubt that. The
gun
, Harris!"

           
"Forget that. I give you the
gun, you'll shoot us both."

           
Rob ransacked his brain for a way to
bargain out of this. The first step in any hostage situation was to keep
everyone talking so you could think.

           
"I don't want that,"
Kara's voice said. "This is merely self defense. I'll let you go. I just
want to protect myself."

           
This from someone who just moments
ago had pushed him out a third story window.

           
"Right. You'll let Jill and me
waltz out of here."

           
Kara's face hardened. Her hand moved
the point of the knife up to Jill's right eye. Jill whimpered with terror.

           
"I'm going to start cutting
her, Harris. Starting with this eye. And I'm going to keep cutting her until
you put that gun on the floor and slide it over to me."

           
Rob felt beads of sweat burst from
every pore on his body. He pointed his revolver at the section of paneling that
had moved and spoke through his teeth. His voice was low, almost a whisper.

           
"One drop of her blood, Gabor…
I see one drop of blood and I empty this pistol into that wall. And then I go
through that wall and I get hold of whatever's left of you in there and I tear
it apart with my bare hands."

           
"Jill won't be much to look at
by then."

           
"But you'll be dead."

           
"Will I? I'm living in Kara
now. Maybe Kara will die with me. And maybe my body will die but I'll go on
living within Kara. The situation is unprecedented. Anything could
happen."

           
And
either way, I lose
, Rob thought.

           
"The pistol, Harris. Slide it
over."

           
But as long as he held the pistol,
Rob knew he had a chance. There was a way to save Jill: kill Kara. Rob raised
the pistol in the two handed grip and sighted at the middle of Kara's forehead.

           
She smiled at him.

           
"You'd have made a good
general, Harris. Sacrifice one platoon to avoid losing both. Go ahead. Shoot.
Can you do it? To Kara? She's in here with me, looking down that barrel just as
I am. Pull the trigger…
Rob
."

           
He lowered the pistol. He couldn't
do it. Maybe if he just wounded her, the pain would free her from Gabor, but it
was too risky. Most of her body was hidden behind Jill. He couldn't risk
hitting Jill.

           
Rob could feel the balance of the
stand-off shifting toward Gabor. Inevitable. Gabor controlled the two people
Rob cared about most in this world. He felt as if he were being torn apart,
slowly, one small piece at a time.

           
"
Now
, Harris!"

           
You've wasted enough time. The
longer you let this drag on, the greater the chance something will go wrong for
you.

           
I
wish he'd pulled the trigger
! Kara says.

           
"I doubt that."

           
At
least Jill would be safe.

           
You sense her sincerity, and you
wonder at the depth of a mother's feeling for her child. You can't imagine
sacrificing your own life for anyone.

           
But enough talk with Detective
Harris. He cannot be threatened into dropping his weapon, so it is time for
action. You're not anxious to cut the child—it will be most unpleasant—but this
is a desperate situation. You are fighting for your own existence. All it takes
is one short jab. You need only move your hand an inch or less and the point
will pierce the child's eye. That will bring Harris to his knees. And then
you'll be in control.

           
This will teach Kara a lesson, too.

           
"Watch carefully, Kara. I'm going
to demonstrate who is the master here."

           
Panic spews from her in a fountain.

           
No!
You're not
—!

           
"Watch!"

           
Kara's voice becomes an inarticulate
scream in your mind as you draw the knife back a bit, preparing for the jab,
then—

           
You can't move it!

           
The knife is frozen in the air. Now
it's moving away!
Away
! It's Kara!
She's reasserting control! But this is impossible! You knew she had a powerful
self, but you never dreamed—

           
You try to force her back but her
rage is a living thing, clawing at you. Kara's protective instincts have been
uncaged, released from some primitive part of her hindbrain, and they are now
roaring through her like prehistoric beasts. Racial memories, encoded in every
cell of her body, are bursting free. Every woman who has ever persevered
through a life of domination… every mother since the dawn of time who has ever
fought to save her child… it's as if they've all suddenly risen up and joined
her against you.

           
You've misjudged this woman. You
hope it was not a fatal error. You fight back with all your power, your greater
experience. You must win! You
must
!

           
Kara shouted with triumph as she
forced the knife blade away from Jill's face. She could only control one arm at
a time, it seemed—Gabor kept her left arm wrapped tightly around Jill—but Kara
controlled the important one. The ferocity of her anger astonished her, and
even frightened her. But it was the fuel she used against Gabor, and it was
working. She could do it! She could beat Gabor!

           
"The panel!" she said to
Rob in a voice so strained she barely recognized it as her own. "Slide it—
uhn
!"

           
The effort of speaking cost her some
control over her hand and the knife blade darted toward Jill's eye again. She
stopped it in time, but she didn't dare speak again.

           
Something was happening. Rob watched
Kara's body tremble violently. Her right arm spasmed. She'd said something
about the panel.
Slide it
?

           
He backed away to the panel and
pushed against it. It didn't move back but it slid a bit to the left. He kept
it moving, and then he was looking into a small room with a crib. Two steps and
he was standing over it. Rob's gorge rose as he stared down at the mottled,
bloated diapered thing looking up at him with opaque eyes.

           
Here he was. This was Gabor. Rob
ratcheted back the hammer on his revolver and leveled it at Gabor's over-sized
head. He squeezed the trigger but couldn't pull it. Gabor's words came back to
him. What if killing Gabor's body left him alive in Kara's, and permanently in
control?

           
Kara lurched into the room, still
clutching Jill, still brandishing the knife. There seemed to be a tug of war
going on. The knife would slash toward Jill, then pull back. Over and over.

           
As Kara struggled toward the crib,
straining and jerking like someone moving the wrong way in the rush hour
commuter tide, trying to go up the steps while the horde was flowing down, Rob
stepped aside. He sensed a titanic struggle roaring beneath the surface, one he
was barred from entering. He had no choice but to wait and see what would
happen, and stand ready to grab Jill and pull her free at the first
opportunity.

           
Close, closer. Kara pushed her body
toward the crib. It was like moving under water. And the closer she got, the
stiffer Gabor's resistance as she sensed him drawing strength from his own
panic.

           
Within a yard of the crib, she
stalled. Gabor seemed to have dug in his heels in a last desperate effort to
hold her back. Even her unquenched fury wasn't strong enough to push her beyond
that point.

           
Why didn't Rob shoot him? What was
he waiting for? She didn't dare risk speech—it might allow Gabor the upper
hand.

           
Hand… the knife was still in her
hand, forgotten as they fought toward and away from the crib. She called up all
her reserves. A garbled chorus, an unintelligible blend of an unimaginable
number of voices echoed down the millennia and roared in her ears as she
tightened her grip on the handle…

           
And plunged downward.

           
Kara screamed with the pain of the
blade sinking deep into the muscles of her thigh. Jill screamed, too. But
suddenly Kara's body was her own again. She pushed Jill child toward Rob.

           
"Get her out!"

           
And then she lunged at the crib.

           
Ahead of her, she saw Gabor's body
rear up and look at her with its blind eyes. His slack mouth hung open, his
tongue moved, as if trying to form words.

           
Kara didn't hesitate. She shoved the
blade forward between the bars and rammed it into Gabor's barrel chest. He made
a hoarse cry like the squeal of a pig and then Kara was leaning over the crib,
slashing and stabbing. There were no more cries after the first, and the
thrashing stopped soon after. The only noise was the hiss of the knife slicing
in and out of him and the small whimpering noises coming from deep in her own
chest. But she kept driving the knife into his body, over and over. She slashed
him for Jill, and she slashed him for her father whose memory he had defiled,
but mostly she slashed him for herself. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't
have to see the carnage she was causing, but she couldn't stop… couldn't stop…
couldn't stop. She had to keep it up until there was nothing left of him, until
there was no chance that he would ever defile her or threaten Jill ever again.
And even now when she knew he had to be dead, and her wounded leg was
threatening to give out under her, her arm kept stabbing, as if it had a life
of its own.