The Donors (10 page)

Jason listened as the little boy described his dreams.

He had heard this tale before.

 

*  *  *

 

Steve's mind cleared slowly. The veil lifted more quickly once he grew aware of the animals that fed on him. As he did, he remembered to be terrified, but in a vague and dreamy sort of way.

This didn't feel anything like dreaming though. It felt more like being totally drugged. He knew goddamn well that he wouldn't wake up from this but his head swam fuzzily all the same. He knew the creatures tore at his flesh, but he felt too wasted to really give a shit, so he just played his part, being scared.

A moaning sound made him open his eyes and he looked at the raptor-man eating him alive. Thin trails of blood ran down its long chin. The creature tilted its head back to swallow a large piece of muscle. Movement to his right caught his eye. The disgust of seeing the other creature bend over him and tear away a strip of flesh from his chest did nothing to lessen the excitement at being able to move his head.

Oh, fuck yeah! Oh God it feels good to move.

Steve blinked his eyes and giggled a little at the feel of his lids sliding gently and easily across his eyeballs. Then he felt pressure and a tug at his chest, heard the moan again. He realized the moan was his voice, but the thought just sat there. It didn't raise any alarms.

Maybe I did bleed to death. Maybe this is hell.

The pain rose in intensity and became more real but he decided to ignore it for another few moments. Instead he luxuriated in the feel of being able to see and move. His eyes traced along the dark ceiling of what looked like a wet cave. He turned to his right, surprised to see a naked woman lying in the corner.

The woman sprawled out on her back, her arms and legs splayed wide apart. Her creamy skin glistened with a film of sweat that made her young and athletic build even more erotic. She moved her head slowly from side to side, mumbling something he couldn't make out. Steve twisted his head farther toward her, trying to get a better look at her naked form. Man, she looked good. He watched her, hoping she would move her left leg a little. Man, what he could do to her.

Come on baby. Show me your hot…

A sudden, sharp pain tore through his chest and he grunted in anguish. Oh, Jesus, that hurt. Instinctively, he threw his arms up and felt them wrap around the creature's head. He turned and looked into the now-blinding glow of the bright red eye in the side of a scaly dinosaur head. The long teeth, the same long teeth that seemed so out of place in the mouth of Mr. Clarke's partner, latched onto a thick piece of flesh and tore it from his rib cage.

There seemed nothing at all dreamy about the pain now and he shrieked in agony. Wrapping his arms tightly around the large beast, he lifted himself out of the blood-stained dirt. When the piece of flesh tore loose, he stared in horror at the creature, the long strip of his bloody skin hanging from its mouth. Then a movement caught his attention, past the demon, in the background.

Steve tried to make sense of what he saw, up the sloping trail, past the creatures feeding on him. At the top of the little rise, a little kid peered down. Seeing the tussled hair and pink cheeks, even though he couldn't be sure in the dark at such a distance, he had no doubt. It was Sherry's little brat, come to watch him.

What are you looking at, you little asshole? You fuckin' did this!

Steve watched the kid pull away from the top of the rise as he let his head fall back into the dirt.
If I get out of here, I will burn the rest of that fuckin' little brat. I'll tear his chubby little arms off and beat him fucking to death with them. He'll feel this pain.

I'm not sorry I hurt that little shit! I'm only sorry I didn't finish fucking him off!

Another set of teeth tore deeply into the flesh of his left armpit. He forgot all about the kid at the top of the hill. He forgot about the hot naked chick he wanted to brutally fuck.

All he thought about was the pain and the never-ending sound of his own screams.

 

*  *  *

 

Nathan snuggled under the stiff, scratchy hospital sheets. He pulled the softer blanket from his bed at home, the one with the Red Power Ranger from
Dino Thunder
(he still liked them better than
Mystic Force
), up next to his cheek and breathed in the warm familiar scent. He wanted to be there of course, but felt too afraid of being away from Jason. He had watched his friend carefully as he told of his dreams…

They're not dreams

...and he knew that Jason understood. His face had been sad, maybe a little scared, but Nathan could tell that he believed him and nothing else really mattered. In his heart he felt certain that Jason could help him.

Help you what? What do you want to do? Save Steve from the Lizard Men so he can hurt you or your mommy again?

“No,” he whispered in a sleepy voice. “We have to save Jenny and stop them from hurting someone else. They won't stop with Steve.”

He knew that for sure. The creatures didn't care about him or Mommy. They just wanted to feed. They would feed on him just the same as Steve if they could. Anyway, it was way too late for Steve. He would be dead soon. Maybe he was dead already.

“He's toast,” he said in his best Red Ranger voice—but he still shuddered at the thought.

So how would he save Jenny? What could a single boy do, even with the help of a grown-up? He didn't know but he felt better now that he had told Jason everything. Jason loved Jenny and he would think of something.

Nathan yawned, snuggled deeper beneath his soft blanket and pushed away the rigid sheets even more. His hand throbbed but not so bad that he couldn't sleep. He knew somehow that there would be no bad dreams, at least no trip to the cave, so he wanted to rest for when he needed to be strong.

The doctors would be by later to tell him when he would have his operation, but he didn't feel scared about that. Jason told him it would probably be tomorrow but that he would get medicine to sleep through it, so it wouldn't hurt. He felt a lot more scared about the being asleep part.

But not right now. Right now he floated toward an easy sleep that he knew waited for him. No caves, no Lizard Men. Maybe he would dream about being a Power Ranger. Boy, then he would know what to do.

Nathan drifted into a dreamless, restful slumber.

 

*  *  *

 

Jason hadn't been honest with Sherry, but how could he tell her what he had heard from her son? Didn't she have enough to worry about already? Jason knew that missed the point though. He couldn't possibly tell Sherry because he believed Nathan.

They're not really dreams.

The eerie thought that this was somehow familiar spoke to him from across a few decades, trying to help him see something he had buried a long time ago. The fear of what lurked back there felt much bigger than his need to see it, so he left it alone for the moment. He forced his thoughts back to more pressing worries—Nathan and Jenny.

Jason knew he wanted to keep them both safe. From the sound of Nathan's dreams, Jenny was anything but. And a boy eluding Lizard Men in a cave by himself sure didn't seem much better. Jason was in awe at the courage of this kid. He had to help him and together they could help Jenny.

A sudden explosion of activity down the hall pulled Jason back from his thoughts. He looked up. Dietrich moved toward him at a much faster pace than he'd come to expect from his laid-back friend. When he noticed Jason, he motioned, tight-lipped and serious.

“What're you doin' here?” he asked as he hurried by. “Thought you were off today.”

Jason stepped into pace with his buddy, who clearly wanted to get down the hall to the large double doors labeled ER as quickly as possible. “Visiting the kid from the other night,” he said, watching his fellow resident's lab coat flutter behind him. “What's the hurry?”

“Gunshot wound. Supposed to be a cop,” Dietrich answered. He stopped at the punch-key pad beside the ER doors and tapped in his code. The doors swung open. “I heard it's that shift sergeant we like. What's his name?”

Jason shrugged and watched Rich hang his stained lab coat on a peg outside the Trauma Bay.

“Come on, you know him. Big guy with kind of red hair with a lot of gray? He's a sergeant, remember? He came in special that day your kid upstairs came in.”

Jason did remember. Maloney was his name. He always chided them in the ER. Great guy. He once told him if he ever had any problems to call him at the precinct, had even given him a card even, though Jason wouldn't be able to find it to save his life.

“Maloney?” he said.

“Yeah, yeah. That's it—Maloney.” Rich pulled on a surgical cap and mask.

“Someone shot him?” Jason asked. He felt a little numb. He really liked that guy. Sort of like a big brother at work, though he knew nothing about him outside of the small world of his hospital.

“That's what they say,” Rich said as he pulled a blue plastic gown over his head. “Hey, you wanna give me a quick hand? The Trauma Chief is up in the OR with their third year, so it's just me and two of their interns until they get someone over here.”

“Sure,” Jason said and started to dress out in his own gown. He felt a little dizzy. Someone had shot Maloney?

He was still struggling to tie up his mask when the doors burst open and a stretcher was thrust into the room. Two jumpsuit-clad medics maneuvered it and a third rode on top, straddling the patient, pounding out CPR as he rode. The medic at the foot of the stretcher barked out a quick report.

“Fifty-year-old police officer—single gunshot wound to the head—entrance looks to be through the right eye, large exit wound at the left occipital region—good vitals at the scene so we scooped and ran—coded as we pulled up just a minute ago…”

The medic hopped off the stretcher and the ER nurses helped the other two medics heave the man from the wooden backboard onto the ER bed. The nurse at the far side took over the chest compressions.

“We've got a good airway,” the medic continued. “Intubated at the scene with a number eight endotracheal tube.”

He continued his report but Jason stopped paying attention. He watched as Rich listened with his stethoscope and the nurse squeezed the green bag that forced air into the cop's lungs. He looked at the swollen face of the patient.

His right eye-socket looked impossibly large and Jason saw no trace of the actual eye. The whole right side of his cheek and forehead had swollen to twice their normal size and turned a deep crimson color. If he hadn't already known it was Maloney, he could never have told from the misshapen face. As the nurse pounded on the dead man's chest, dark purple gore mixed with chunks of grey snot spewed from behind the head. Jason looked down, closed his eyes and swallowed hard.

“Rich,” he said softly.

Rich looked up at him, face all business, but then he followed Jason's gaze to the pool of old blood and brain tissue that now spilled onto the floor.

“Stop, man,” Jason choked out.

Dietrich's shoulders sagged. “Yeah,” he said. He sounded beat, though they had worked for less than a minute. “Stop, everyone.”

The nurse who had been doing CPR stepped back and Rich felt for a pulse. Then he looked at the clock.

“Time of death—fifteen forty-three,” he said, then snapped off his rubber gloves and threw them onto the patient's belly in disgust. “Fuck me,” he said and headed for the door.

Jason stood and stared at the man he barely knew but had considered some sort of friend. He wanted to feel sad, angry, or something. Instead, he just felt numb. He looked over at the medic, who leaned across his run report, filling in the blanks. Past him a large group of uniformed police officers had formed, huddled together like a football team, talking in hushed voices. Planning their revenge, he hoped. Why the fuck not?

“Did they get the guy?” Jason asked the medic in a soft voice. For some reason it felt irreverent to let the other cops hear him.

“Who?” the medic asked without looking up.

Who? What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? Jesus!

“The guy who shot Maloney,” he said with some irritation. “The fucker that shot this cop.” He realized his voice had risen and the nurses looked over in uncomfortable silence then back at each other.

“Shit,” the medic said as he tore the pink copy from the run report and stuck it in a box beside the podium. A nurse filled out her own paperwork next to him. “I thought I said it in my report – self-inflicted. Suicide.”

Jason suppressed the bile and anger that rose in his chest. “Bullshit, not this guy.”

The medic shrugged. “I don't know what to tell you, Doc. I was at the scene and this dude definitely shot himself. His wife says he's been acting all crazy the last few days—having horrible nightmares, that kind of thing. She said he kept telling her the Lizard Men were going to get him. I guess he kind of…” Jason's hand on his arm cut the medic off. “You okay, Doc? He a friend of yours?”

Jason struggled to find his voice but couldn't. The room started to tilt, spin madly and he thought he might pass out. The medic's hand at his elbow kept him on his feet. He saw the medic's mouth moving, his eyes full of concern, but he couldn't hear a thing. It felt like watching TV with the sound off. Jason shrugged the hand from his arm and headed for the door and down the hall to the ER exit, nearly sprinting from there to the ambulance bay. He maneuvered around the few rescue trucks parked there, smashing his knee painfully on the chrome step on the one at the back of the line. He ignored the pain, turned into the little alley beside the entrance and bent over, steadying himself with one hand against the blackened brick wall.

He vomited once then spit the remaining bit of breakfast out of his mouth onto the ground. Jason cleared his throat, spit again, then leaned back against the wall. He looked up and down the alley, hopeful that no one had seen him. He was alone.