Cat's Cradle (9 page)

Emily snatched up the kitchen phone and dialed the sheriff’s office.

“This is Emily Harrison. I’m at Doctor Quinn Ramsey’s home. Some sort of creature just attacked us. It just killed a city policeman; tore the man’s head off.
Please
send someone over here right away. I’m armed with a shotgun and I know how to use it, so sing out when you get here. Now
hurry
!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Dan heard the trouble call and was the first to arrive at the Ramsey home. He left his car at a run, shotgun in hand. Captain Taylor and Langway pulled in about ten seconds after Dan.

“Alice!” Dan called. “Emily! Where are you. Answer me.”

The front door slowly opened. Dan was conscious of people standing in windows of surrounding homes. Pale, frightened faces looking out. Alice and Emily stepped out onto the porch. Dan lowered his shotgun. Both of the women looked to be badly shaken, but otherwise unhurt. Emily pointed to the rear of the house.

“You ladies all right? Dan asked.

“Yes,” Emily said. “That . . .
thing
ran around that way, Sheriff. The young cop is around back. He’s dead, or very nearly so.”

“Stay in the house,” Dan told them. “Close the door and lock it.”

The women stepped back inside. The door closed.

A deputy squalled up, tires sliding on the surface of the street. Dan called, “Contact the hospital. Tell Docter Ramsey and Harrison their wives are both okay. Advise them as to what’s happening. Move!”

“I don’t
know
what’s going on, Sheriff,” the deputy said. “I just got back in late last night from pickin’ up a prisoner in Seattle.”

Dan shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “Radio the hospital. Tell them the escaped mummy is out here.”

“The escaped
what
?” the deputy looked dumbfounded.

Dan ignored that. “Tell Doctor Ramsey and Harrison to get a team together and get over here. They’ll know what you mean.”

“Yes, sir!” The deputy muttered something else too low for Dan to hear.

Dan had a pretty good idea what it was.

And he didn’t blame the young man.

Susan pulled up. “Rope this area off!” Dan yelled to her.

Dan, Taylor, and Langway made their way cautiously around the side of the house. They pulled up short at the blood-splattered back yard.

All three stood in disbelief for a full thirty seconds, shocked silent at the gory sight before them. Then a foul odor assailed their nostrils.

“Whew!’ Langway said. “What is that smell?”

Dan saw the long, trailing smear of stinking green slime. “And what is that stuff?”

A camera clicked behind them. All turned to look at Mille Smith. She smiled at the men, mockingly, tauntingly.

“Yes, Sheriff,” she said. “What is that crap? I’d be so interested in hearing your explanation.”

Mickey looked at his watch. But he couldn’t quite make out the numbers on the dial. They kept changing before his eyes, the modern numbers fading into a system Mickey’s mind could not comprehend. Yet.

He thought perhaps he’d been out for at least half an hour. But he didn’t really care.

Mickey struggled to recall what he was doing on the floor in the nurse’s office. Then he remembered. He checked his leg. The leg, from the knee down, was blackened and withered.

A heady feeling of indifference that Mickey had never experienced in his life overcame him. His mind was reeling, attempting to understand the strange language that filled his brain. He know who he was, but also knew that he was that person only in part. He was also another person.

But he didn’t know who.

“Why, hell,” he said aloud, his voice much deeper and hollow-sounding than ever before. Then he laughed for a moment, and crawled to his hands and knees. He stood up. His bad leg supported his weight. Strangely, he experienced no pain from the horrible bites. He did not find that odd. He tried to remember what he was doing here, why the school was so deserted?

He could not.

Mickey had no memory of the creature in the basement. No memory of the events that forced the closing of the schools. He was not sure of his own name. The names of his kids. His wife.

His wife. Oh, yeah. Her face came into his fevered mind. God, he hated her. And those whiny kids. Why did he ever mate with that woman?

Mate? Yeah. Mate.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, as he stumbled along the hall toward his sanctuary.

His sanctuary?

“ ’Cause that damn Dan Garrett stole the other female from me.” What was her name? “Evonne. Lovely Evonne. Vonne.”

Feeling confused, Mickey paused on his way to his refuge as the sounds of someone hammering on the front doors reverberated down the empty halls.

He lurched and stumbled toward the front door. At a corner, he paused, gathering his strength. For some reason, he knew he must not let anyone see him limping. He didn’t know why he should do that. He just knew he must.

He peeked around the corner. His eyes were savage as his mind fought to stay in the present time frame. There she was. Pretty, petite, dainty little Denise. Standing by the locked doors all by herself. Mickey licked his lips as ancient, past-life memories flooded his mind. Denise, daughter of the richest man in the county. Pouty brat drove a Cadillac to school. Thought she was better than everybody else. All her daddy had to do was drop a word here and there and little Denise got whatever she wanted. For God help the person who didn’t see things her way. Daddy would fix it.

Mickey still smarted under the tongue-lashing he had received from Paul Moore. In public. And there was nothing Mickey could do except stand there and take it.

Mickey smiled. He walked to the front door and unlocked it, swinging it open. “Yes, Miss Moore?”

“I have to get something, Mister Reynolds.” She breezed past him with a toss of her head.

No ’How do you do, sir.’ No ’Please’ or ’Thank you’ or ’I’m sorry to disturb you, sir.’ Just walk right in like she owned the goddamn place.

Mickey’s eyes clouded over. He felt as though he was being propelled backward in time. Bloody scenes of torture and deprivation filled his mind as infected blood coursed through his veins. He could see himself standing by an altar with a curved knife in his hand. He brought the knife down into a naked body lashed to a rectangular flat-topped stone. The stone had likenesses of cats carved into it.

Mickey smiled. He laughed aloud. Power filled him. Raw, wild, ancient power. He looked at the blue jean clad rear end of Denise.

“Hey, whore!” he called.

She stopped as if hit between the shoulder blades. She turned and looked at the man. “I
beg
your pardon?”

Mickey started toward her.

* * *

“You’re violating a restricted area, Ms. Smith,” Dan told the woman. “How did you get past my deputy and don’t tell me you didn’t see the crime scene tape.”

“That crime scene crap is unconstitutional, Sheriff,” Mille retorted. “It’s a free country, regardless of what you and the rest of your SS buddies would like to make it.”

“That ’crime scene crap,’ Ms. Smith is not unconstitutional. Ms. Smith, don’t you realize your life is in danger here?” Other deputies pulled up. Dan told them to cordon off the neighborhood. He turned to leave just as Mille snapped two more shots.

Susan ran up and stopped short at the sight of Mille. “How in the hell did you get past me?”

“Easy, you sow. That is what they call female pigs, isn’t it?”

Dan said, “Susan, take Ms. Smith’s camera and expose the film. Find out the cost of a fresh roll and reimburse the . . . lady. Do that after you escort Ms. Smith to the civilian side of the ropes.”

Susan reached for the camera and Mille jerked away.

“I’ll sue you, I swear!”

Susan drew her baton.

“I’ve been hit by bigger pigs than you,” Mille said.

“Probably,” Susan said. “But I’ll bet you haven’t been hit any harder.”

Mille looked into the openly hostile eyes of Susan. With a sigh of resignation, she snapped open her camera and exposed the film.

“Take the film,” Dan ordered. “And please escort Ms. Smith out of this area.”

Mille gone, Taylor said, “That’s iffy, Dan. Real iffy. She just might have a case against you.”

“Mille is the very least of my worries at this point,” Dan said.

A shout of panic and shock filled the air, followed by a shotgun blast.

“Hold your fire,” Dan shouted, as the men ran around the side of the house. “Sheriff’s department!”

“Hold my fire, hell!” a man yelled. “You get that thing outta my back yard.”

The lawmen slid to a halt at the citizen’s back porch. He held a double-barrel shotgun in his hands. Fear in his eyes.

“What was it?” Dan asked.

“Jesus Christ, Sheriff. I don’t know. I never seen anything like it. It looked like ... don’t laugh. It looked like a mummy! He ran into my old workshop over there. He’s still in there,” the man added grimly. “Some kind of green stinking stuff is leaking out of him. It. Whatever.”

“Did you hit it?” Taylor asked.

“Yes, sir. But this is light bird shot. I didn’t do it much damage. Hell, I didn’t even slow it up.”

“Is there a back door to that shed?” Dan asked.

“No, sir. Not even a window in the back. Window on each side and that one you see right there in front. That’s all.”

“All right. Thanks for your help. Go back inside and stay low.”

“Yes, sir, Sheriff. I’m
gone
.”

The citizen back inside the house, Taylor said, “How in the hell do you order a ... mummy to come out with his, its, hands up?”

Chuck and Herman joined the tight knot of lawmen, both of them armed with riot guns.

“You got some trouble out front of the house, Dan,” Chuck said.

Dan looked at him. “Man, I got some trouble back
here
!”

Chuck shook his head. “That Smith female took a swing at Susan. Susan knocked her down. I mean, knocked her flat on her butt.”

“With her baton?”

“No. With her fist. Those two women just don’t appear to be real fond of one another.”

Suddenly a savage roaring came from inside the small shed. Taylor and Langway lifted their pistols. The others lifted their twelve gauge shotguns. The door of the shed shattered, pieces of wood flying about the back yard. A terrible odor drifted to the men. The mummy, aka Al the engineer, stepped out into the sunlight. Green slime leaked from its wounds. It held out its arms and roared at the men. Then it charged, holding the young cop’s bloody head in one hand.

“Fire!” Dan shouted.

* * *

Anya and Pet had taken refuge in some sort of two story garage/storage building near a large brick home about three miles outside of Valentine. The place was filled with boxes and crates. The pair had eaten again, and eaten well. They would need no further nourishment for days. They were bloated with human flesh and blood. They had covered their tracks well, being careful not to disturb the dust and cobwebs of the second floor of the building. They knew from past experience that dogs could not track them, for they could change their scent, confusing the animals. Anya had changed clothes and dropped them in a hole in the ground, miles from their present location.

Anya and pet carefully picked their way over the boxes and crates until they reached the end of the huge building. There, feeling safe, they rested. And waited for the rebirth.

* * *

Mickey panted and grunted as he violated the girl. He had used his fists to hammer Denise into submission. He had plans for her when the rape was concluded. Bloody plans. Mickey’s head was filled with all sorts of confusing ancient visions and instructions in a language he was now able to understand.

His leg was beginning to rot, but he paid no attention to the smell.

* * *

. 357 magnums and 12 gauge shotguns roared, the lead tearing great holes in the creature. They fired again and again, but the creature kept on coming, howling and staggering across the yard, leaking stinking slime from its many wounds. Captain Taylor took careful aim and shot the creature directly between the eyes, slamming the head back. The mummy-man fell to the earth and died. Again.

Green slime poured from the wounds, the stench of the thick, hideous-smelling fluid almost making the men sick to their stomachs.

“I am not believing this,” Taylor said, reloading swiftly. “I am going to wake up and find it’s all a bad dream. Everytime I fix a peanut butter, pickle, mayonnaise, and onion sandwich, on rye, I get nightmares.”

“Yukk!” Langway said.

“Double yukk!” Chuck said.

Captain Taylor looked hurt.

Doctors Ramsey and Harrison stepped through the gunsmoke, gloved and masked medics with them. Dan looked at the medics. He did not recognize any of them. He put out an arm, halting them.

“I want pictures first,” Dan said. “Do it, Chuck.”

Chuck nodded and ran to his car.

“It’s beautiful,” Quinn whispered. “It’s just awe-inspiring.”

The lawmen wondered, at the time, what in the hell the doctor was talking about. But before they could ask, Chuck was back with his camera. Quinn held up a hand in a warning gesture.

“Better let one of the medics do it, Dan. For safety’s sake.”

Dan nodded and the medics moved up to the body, taking pictures as Dan called out what angle he wanted.

Another medic whom Dan did not recognize moved up to Quinn’s side and whispered to the man. Quinn smiled behind his mask. Dan could see the man’s eyes change.

“Are you sure?” Dan heard Quinn said.

“Yes, sir. The arm has begun growing and has showed no sign of rejection for more than an hour.”

Dan pretended to be giving all his attention to the medics with the camera. He heard Quinn say, “The new growth. What is it?”

“It appears to be similar to a fetus, sir.”