Forever Man (25 page)

Izzy quickly scanned the room. “That door”—she nodded to the door opposite them—“leads to an observation room. No way out. The other goes into a break room. We can get back into the hallway from there. There are some guns stored in the room across the hall.”

The monster slammed into the door again, throwing them forward. They scrambled back against the cabinet, their feet digging into the carpet. Izzy could hear claws raking the door.

“Take the others and go,” said Owens. “I’ll meet you in the hallway. What’s the biggest gun you have?”

“Remington 700P assault rifle.”

“Good. It might be enough. Get it.”

The door bucked again. This time a crack formed along the middle.

Izzy shook her head. “I’m not leaving you here.”

“Go!” he yelled. “And be ready when I come running.” He squatted and pushed hard against the cabinet.

She stared at him for a moment, then muttered, “Crazy old man,” and ran for the other side of the room, where Gene crouched in front of Aggie.

When Izzy got there, Gene looked up. “We got a problem.”

“We got a lot of problems,” Izzy replied. “That thing’s coming through the door.”

“I don’t get it,” said Katie, her face tight with worry. “She won’t move. Just sits there, staring.”

Aggie leaned against the wall, her eyes staring blankly out into space, her mouth moving but not making any sound. “Grab her. We’re going that way.” She pointed at the door to the break room.

Gene grabbed one arm, Izzy the other—

—and that’s when Aggie Ripley went wild.

“No!” she screamed, and began thrashing and slapping and kicking. “I didn’t mean it! Don’t put me in there!”

Izzy tried grabbing Aggie’s wrists, but the woman was fighting like a terrified child. One hand lashed out and smacked Izzy hard across the face. Gene let out a grunt when her foot connected with his knee. All the while, Aggie kept yelling, “Don’t put me in there! I’m sorry!”

“Aggie, listen to me!” Izzy was still trying to grab the woman’s arms, but it was impossible. The dispatcher’s knee came up and slammed into her chest. “Damn it, stop!”

A sharp crack rent the air, and Katie yelled, “Oh God!”

Izzy spun around. The upper door had broken apart and exploded inward. Jagged pieces of wood lay on the floor. Owens had hunched down further, sweat running down his face, his legs shaking as he pushed against the metal cabinet.

One hideous arm reached in through the opening, clawing the top of the cabinet, while the other pushed through, stretching, rearing back and smashing into the side of the cabinet, collapsing the metal.

“Look out!” Izzy shouted, drawing her gun

A claw ripped through the air. Owens turned his head, but he was too slow. It caught his cheek and neck, tore jagged gashes into his skin. Bright red blood erupted down his face. Then his legs gave out and he slid to the floor.

Without Owens holding the door, the thing shoved it open, charged into the room, leapt at Izzy. She dove under the conference table, scrambled to get to the other side. The creature landed, snarling, and with a sinuous turn it sped around the table after her. She rolled back under the table, aimed and fired
BANG BANG,
the bullets thundering through the air, grazing the thing’s leg, blood flying. It howled in pain, then grabbed the table and flung it into the far wall. And now the creature was over her, its stench overpowering. She flipped onto her back, brought her gun up, but it was so fast, too fast, and it swiped at her wrist, tearing open her skin, sending the gun sailing away, landing across the room, and its black lips peeled back into an ugly grin as it raised a deadly claw,
oh God NO
—

“Hey!” Gene Vincent shouted. When the creature paused, he launched himself across the room and hammered into it, wrapping his arms around its middle like a pro linebacker. Both tumbled to the ground.

But the monster was too strong for him. It shrugged out of his grip as if he were a child and rose. Gene cried out in pain as one massive claw clamped down on his chest, pinning him to the floor. Then it lifted the other claw high, ready to deliver the deadly blow.

Izzy scrambled for her gun, but she was too far away. She’d never make it in time.

A chair came crashing down from behind the creature, knocking it away from Gene. Snarling in rage, it turned to face this new threat.

Bart Owens was back on his feet. He stepped away from the thing, his sweatshirt wet with the blood flowing from his wounds, his steady gaze locked on the creature. When he spoke, his voice was hard as steel.

“I never did like your kind.”

The creature snorted, blowing fetid air from its nostrils, then it turned and charged after Izzy. Panicked, she sprinted across the room toward Owens, barely missing another attack. The monster followed, and in two quick, loping strides, it had crossed the space between them, its head raised, jaws stretched wide.

Owens stepped up and threw his shoulder into its chest. The heavier creature knocked him back into the broken cabinet, but the block gave Izzy enough time to retreat back across the room. The monster turned, claws scrabbling for purchase. It shot across the floor after her, this time coming in low.

With a quickness that defied his age, Owens dove onto the thing’s back. He clamped his arms around it before it could reach Izzy. His hands locked together.

And then he squeezed.

The creature convulsed, dropping to the ground, dragging Owens down with it. It began shrieking—a cry of pain so horrible Izzy hoped she’d never hear anything like it again. With claws raking the air, it rolled and rolled, howling in agony, smashing Owens repeatedly against the ground, trying desperately to dislodge him. The old man grunted when his head smacked hard against the floor. And when a claw laid open his arm down to the bone, he let out his own cry of pain and tightened his grip. The thing screamed—dear God how it
screamed
! Frantic to escape, it spun, fast. Owens suddenly found himself facing it, its jaws snapping at his face. He angled his head back, away from the teeth. Claws dug into him, shredding his sweatshirt, carving deep, lethal wounds into his chest, his stomach. Owens sagged, released his grip, and shoved the creature away.

Once released, the monster fled out the broken door, down the hallway, and was gone.

Bart Owens, blood flowing from too many injuries, lay on the floor. He wasn’t moving.

Izzy tossed her cell at Katie. “Call for an ambulance!” As the girl put the phone to her ear, Izzy scrambled over to Owens. She watched his wounded chest rise and fall in thin, rapid breathes. When she grasped his hand, he opened his eyes. His gaze found hers. She smiled, squeezed his hand, and she felt him squeeze back.

“The ambulance,” she told him. “It’ll be on its way soon. Try to keep still.”

“Where’s Gene?”

“Right here,” Gene answered, crawling over to them, a hand clutching his chest. “I feel like someone kicked the shit out of me, but, thanks to you, I’m still alive.” He picked up a broken piece of door and held it up. “What was that thing?”

Owens coughed, and a thin stream of blood trickled out of one corner of his mouth.

Katie snapped the phone shut. “This whole town’s messed up. I keep calling 911 and no one answers.”

Izzy cursed herself for her stupidity. Emergency calls were routed through the police, and her dispatcher was currently sitting in a corner with the mental acuity of a scrambled egg. She was about to tell Katie to call the fire department directly when Owens stopped her with another squeeze of his hand

“Don’t bother.”

Izzy shook her head. “I’m not going to let you die.”

The old man gently lifted the tattered fabric of his sweatshirt, exposing his abdomen. He angled his head to examine his injuries. Gene winced. Katie covered her mouth and turned away. His flesh was a mass of torn muscle, exposed bone, and red gore. With a sigh, Owens said, “What could they do?”

Izzy was stunned. The damage was worse than she had expected. How much blood had he lost? There were only trickles of it seeping from his wounds. And the pain he must be in—she couldn’t understand how he was lying there, like
that
, and not be either screaming in agony or passed out from the pain. “I’m still going to try,” she said.

Owens gripped her hand until it hurt. “Let me do this with dignity. Not surrounded by a bunch of strangers.”

That made Izzy pause. She stared at the old man. His skin already seemed lighter. Given his wounds, she supposed his request wasn’t all that outlandish.

“Katie,” Izzy said. “Go get a blanket. There’s one in the room across the hall.” At least they could keep him warm.

Katie’s face flushed. “What—you’re not giving up, are you?”

Izzy put her head close to Katie’s. “You saw the wounds,” she whispered. “There’s nothing—”

Turning to Owens, Katie said, “So you’re not even going to try? You’re going to let yourself die? Take something precious and throw it away?” The grief in her next words was immeasurable. “You’re no different than my father.”

Izzy felt herself go cold. “Oh, honey, no. This isn’t the same thing.”

Gene gave Izzy a puzzled look. Owens managed to turn his head to look at Katie, who continued to glare defiantly at him.

“Her father,” Izzy said. “He…well, he had a history of depression. Let’s just say she has a reason to be sensitive about this.”

Gene muttered something unintelligible and looked away.

Owens continued to stare at the girl, his expression unreadable. Finally, he called her name. When she didn’t respond, he said it more forcefully. After a few silent moments, she asked what he wanted.

“What I’m doing…you have to trust me.”

Katie shook her head; she had progressed beyond mad to furious. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t lie to me. What you’re doing—it’s no better than what my dad did. It’s just another form of cowardice.”

Bart let out a wheezing breath. “Don’t expect you to…understand.”

“Fine.” Katie spat out the word like it was poison. “It’s your life. Throw it away if you want. I’ll go get the blanket.” She stormed out of the room.

After Katie had left, Izzy said to Owens, “She’s had so many losses. I can’t blame her for how she feels.”

“Me either,” said the old man.

“I really don’t want to leave you here alone.”

He managed to nudge his head toward Aggie. “Go help that poor woman. She needs you.”

Gene touched Bart’s shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be this way. You know we’ll stay with you until….”

Bart closed his eyes. “Must I beg?”

“No, of course not.” Gene’s voice was tinged with sorrow. “You’re a strange man, but I like you. Thank you for saving my life.” He patted the old man’s shoulder, then went over to help Aggie.

Katie came in with a gray wool blanket and hastily draped it over the old man. “There. Now you’ll stay warm while you die.”

“So angry,” Owens whispered. He opened his eyes. “I have…a deal for you.” A breath. “Katie, you can stay. But your father…you have to tell me about him.” Another. “Not his death, but his life…the good things you remember about him. Deal?”

“Wait a minute,” said Izzy, worried about where the conversation was headed. “She doesn’t need to see another—”

“No,” Katie said, sitting down next to him. “I’ll do it. But you have to give me something in return. You have to tell me why you’re doing this. Why you’re letting yourself die. So there. Deal?”

Owens nodded. “I’ll try.”

Izzy didn’t like this recent turn of events, but short of dragging Katie out of the room, she didn’t have a choice. “Have it your way,” she said. “If you change your mind, we’ll be in my office.”

She left the two of them alone, hoping this wasn’t another one of her mistakes.

*   *   *

Tuesday

Jack Sallinen was dreaming. Running—he was running, through the woods, past buildings. And there was pain, unimaginable pain ripping through his flesh. And then…and then….

And then he woke. At first, he felt disoriented. He was confined, restricted. It took him a few seconds to realize that sometime during the night, he had crawled under the covers of his bed; they were knotted around him, binding his arms, and his pillow had ended up on the floor.

As he extricated himself, he heard Webber snoring softly in the bed next to him. There was a faint pink glow coming through the window. With his arms free, he squinted at his watch. A little past six. He smiled.

Morris would be dead by now.

He reached for his cell phone—he wanted to see if her death had made the news—but found the nightstand empty. Then he remembered. Webber had set it onto the dresser last night.

Rolling out of bed, Jack walked across the room and snatched up the phone. That’s when he saw the little red light flashing. He had a message.

He hit the call log, and then swore when the password screen opened. He thumbed in the code. J.J. had called him. Last night, before Jack had gone to bed. J.J. had probably learned that his little girly-friend’s mother was dead.

He pressed the 1 button and connected to his voicemail. As he listened to the message, his euphoria seeped out of him like helium from three-day-old balloon.

J.J. Sallinen was dreaming. He was lying in a hammock on a beach, but there were no trees, and he could see that the hammock wasn’t tied to anything. He seemed to be floating in air. He wondered briefly where Katie was, why she wasn’t here with him. The hammock started swaying. Then it started jerking back and forth. In the distance, he could hear someone calling his name. It didn’t sound like Katie. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew.

“J.J.! Wake up!”

“Go ‘way,” he mumbled.

“You got to wake up NOW!”

Pain, like he’d been punched in the arm. J.J. cracked his eyes open. Kevin stood over him, his young face anxious.

“They’re here,” Kevin cried, shaking his shoulder. “I can feel them. Somewhere nearby.”

“What do you mean? Who’re you talking about?” J.J. tried to shrink back from his brother, but Kevin’s grip on him was surprisingly firm. Then he realized who he was talking to. Saw the awareness in Kevin’s expression. The sense of being there that he’d never seen before. “Holy shit, you—you’re—”