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"Somebody bit him," the black man said.
"Bit him? You're kidding?" To the man on the sofa, the doctor said, "Sir? I'm a doctor. Could you tell me what happened? Sir?"
The man simply groaned.
After watching for a few more minutes, Jon turned and went back down the corridor, through the shop and out into the cold. He jogged
to the corner of the main building and leaned against the wall. It was more than just the temperature that made him shiver. He knew
what was wrong with the bleeding man in that small dark room, but no one would believe him if he told them.
No one but his dad...
She smiled in the dark of the basement beneath the restaurant's kitchen, sitting on a crate, hugging her knees to her chest. Her name
was Amy.
Things were working out much better than she'd expected.
Months ago, she'd decided it was time to break away. The problem was how. She couldn't do it alone. She needed someone to
watch over her during the daylight hours, someone to protect her while she slept. But she wanted someone ... nice. Someone
besides that hideous slob who drove the truck. He smelled, and not just of body odor; his obese body reeked of ill health and decay.
But worse than him was the creature that rode in the other truck, the thing that called itself her master, the monster that had made her
what she was and now claimed ownership of her soul. The others feared her, would never think of trying to escape her. But Amy was
different than the others. She'd always been different than the others.
Amy had been fleeing people who claimed ownership of her long before she'd been bled. She'd fled her cold, affluent parents when
she was thirteen; her father's business and her mother's social life had left no time in their lives for Amy. She'd remained a stranger to
them no matter how hard she fought for their attention and love; their money, belongings and friends always came first. Since she was
a little girl, Amy had had a gnawing fear that she would grow up to be like them, and nothing frightened her more. She'd decided,
finally, to leave the luxurious surroundings with which they'd provided her just to keep from catching whatever disease of the soul had
made them so empty, so ultimately lifeless. Even now, she reminded herself often that she would not allow herself to become like
them. She'd fled an abusive boyfriend who'd threatened to kill her if she ever tried to leave; and she'd escaped the law when she was
nailed for prostitution at the age of fifteen.
Now she planned to flee the thing that stayed in the cool darkness of that trailer. She'd seen it only a few times, but once was more
than enough. Although she could not change what had been done to her, what she had already become, she was determined--just as
she had been with her parents--not to become like that creature. Perhaps it had lived so long--centuries, maybe thousands of years--
that it had simply stopped resembling the human it had once been ... if it had ever been human. If Amy was doomed to live as long,
she would not follow suit. She'd avoided becoming the walking mannequins that were her parents; she would avoid becoming like the
monster that never left its dark shelter.
It was true, the Queen did have a powerful hold on her, a psychic grip that would be difficult to break. Her invisible presence never left
Amy, never allowed her to feel alone. But she was certain the hold could be broken. With distance. Distance was her goal.
And Kevin was going to help her reach it.
"Not me," she whispered to herself, as she often did, eyes closed as if she were praying. "Not me. I'll never become like that. Not
me."
But her eyes snapped open wide suddenly and she stared into the dark trying not to shudder.
She felt the Queen's presence within in her. As always when she voiced her planned independence, Amy could feel that presence
laughing...
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CHAPTER 11
The snowfall had become almost as thick as fog and the back lot was a shadowy forest of long silent trucks with darkened lights and
snow covered hoods. Bill wandered between them cautiously, following the shadows with the silence of a cat, blending into the
darkness whenever someone walked by. He'd heard the man's scream coming from the shop and considered investigating, but
thought better of it; others would be there in seconds and he didn't want to be seen. If it was what he thought it was--and he had little
doubt--there was nothing he could do about it now; this was more important.
He found the black Carsey Bros, trucks easily. He walked the length of the nearest one slowly, running his palms lightly along the side,
head cocked, listening. There were no sounds inside, not so much as a breath. The trailer was empty. He moved toward the next one,
stopping three feet away.
Something in his gut twisted and, for a long moment, he couldn't breathe.
Staring at the side of the trailer, Bill sensed--knew--that he was being watched. No ... not watched: observed. And not with eyes...
Something on the other side of the trailer's long white wall was aware of him, tracking him, sizing him up. A solitary something, alone
in the trailer's darkness, still and silent. Something he could almost see with his mind's eye, with the senses newly awakened in him,
senses he'd been discovering slowly over the past months...
Footsteps.
Bill tensed but could not move, held for a moment in the invisible grip of whatever hunkered inside the trailer.
The footsteps drew nearer and Bill stepped back into darkness, became invisible.
"Some kinda bullshit," a gravelly voice mumbled as a short fat man walked into view, kicking slush with his boots.
Bill inclined his head forward and sniffed the air delicately. The man smelled dirty.
He walked between the black trucks and stopped, facing the first one Bill had approached. He knocked three times on the trailer--
one ... two-three--then waited. Silence. Then he turned to the other trailer, lifted his hand, knuckle crooked, and--he froze. His raised
hand trembled and he licked his dry lips anxiously, then repeated the knock. Two knocks responded from inside and the man took a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]