Petrified (26 page)

‘God, I hope those paramedics get here soon,' said Grace. The hand towel she was using as a pressure bandage was already soaked bright red, and she tugged the bottom sheet from Denver's bed and bundled it up so that she could press it down on top of the towel.

‘What the hell happened here?' she asked Nathan, looking across at the shattered bedroom window. ‘It looks like a bomb went off.'

‘I have a pretty good idea,' Nathan told her. ‘But first let's make sure this kid doesn't die on us.'

Denver came to the bedroom door and stood watching them for a while. ‘He's going to be OK, isn't he?'

‘Sure,' said Nathan, even though Stu's face was white now and his lips were pale blue. The blood from his femoral artery was creeping inexorably into the sheet and by the look on Grace's face Nathan could tell that she was beginning to think that they had lost him.

‘He can't
die
,' said Denver.

Nathan heard the scribbling of an ambulance siren. ‘Go down and let the paramedics in, OK? Tell them what's happened. Tell them that Stu has a severed artery in his right leg and that he's bleeding bad.'

‘Should I tell them about the monster?'

Grace looked up sharply and said, ‘What monster?'

‘The monster that bust in through the window,' said Denver. ‘It was like some kind of dragon or something.'

‘Don't say anything about the monster,' Nathan told him. ‘It'll only confuse them. Just tell them about Stu, OK?'

‘OK,' said Denver, doubtfully, and disappeared downstairs again.

‘What
monster
?' Grace demanded. ‘What is he talking about, for Christ's sake?'

Nathan said, ‘I'll tell you later, I promise. All I care about right now is saving Stu.'

A few seconds later, two paramedics came running up the stairs, a thin blonde woman and a young Korean. The woman took over from Grace, applying a fresh dressing to Stu's thigh, while the young man fitted an oxygen mask over Stu's face and then ran down again to fetch a stretcher. Nathan stayed where he was, keeping up the pressure on Stu's artery. The pale blue carpet all around was soggy with blood.

It took another ten minutes before the bleeding appeared to slow down. The woman paramedic wrapped Stu's thigh in another dressing, and then she and her companion lifted Stu on to the stretcher and carried him downstairs.

‘Which ER are you taking him to?' asked Nathan, as the young man closed the ambulance doors.

‘Albert Einstein Medical Center. You know how to get there?'

‘Sure. Yes. We'll see you there. Please – take care of him.'

TWENTY-SEVEN

Friday, 10:33 p.m.

A
small crowd of neighbors had gathered in his front yard. His next-door neighbor Jim Lightly came up to him with his wife Jean. Jim was a lawyer for Philadelphia City Council, serious and bespectacled with a shiny bald head even though he was only thirty-nine.

‘What the Sam Hill happened here, Nathan? Jean and I were on our way up to bed and then
ker-ash
! And then
ker-ash
again. We thought a plane had come down, didn't we, Jean? We were expecting to see bodies and bits of plane all over.'

‘Who's been hurt, Nathan?' asked Jean. She looked toward the open front door of the house, where Grace and Denver were putting on their coats and their shoes. ‘Thank God it wasn't Grace.'

‘It was a friend of Denver's, Stu Wintergreen. He and Denver, they were trying some kind of science experiment.'

‘Science experiment? Looks more like they were trying to build a home-made bomb! Was this Stu hurt bad?'

‘We don't know yet. We're just off to the hospital. Listen, Jim, maybe you can do me a favor and keep an eye on the house for me while we're gone.'

‘Of course. What are neighbors for?'

Several more neighbors came up to him to express their shock and offer their sympathies. Grace came to the door and called out, ‘Nathan? Come on! We're ready to go! I've called Stu's mom and dad and they're going to meet us at the hospital!'

The neighbors dispersed with a chorus of, ‘If there's anything we can do for you, Nathan, you just holler.' ‘We're always here if you need us.' ‘You take good care, you hear?' ‘Hope that young boy gets better.'

Nathan turned back toward the house. He looked up at Denver's bedroom and the jagged widescreen hole where his window had been. He could see Denver's AxCx and Misery Index posters on the wall, and also a high spray of Stu's blood in the shape of a shepherd's crook. For the first time that evening he felt afraid.

‘Nathan!' Grace repeated.

‘OK, I'm coming!'

As he started to climb up the steps to the front porch, however, he heard a faint, echoing howl, high in the sky above him. He stopped and twisted around and looked up. At first he saw nothing but the moonlit clouds, but he was about to continue up the steps when he heard another howl, louder this time, and much harsher. It sounded triumphant, challenging, heartless. A dark shape was circling high above – a shape with widespread wings and a long, lizard-like tail. It circled once, twice, three times, directly over the top of the Underhills' house, as if it were warning him that it knew where he lived and it might come back to cause even more damage and destruction.

‘
Nathan
!' called Grace. She didn't sound at all happy. ‘Nathan – what are you doing?'

The dark shape flapped away in a south-westerly direction, toward Manayunk and the Schuylkill River, like a ragged black sheet blown by the wind. Nathan stared at it until it was out of sight, and then he went back into the house. ‘Sorry,' he said. ‘I was just inspecting the damage. Jim's going to take care of things until we get back.'

They climbed into Nathan's car, backed out of the driveway and headed east toward the Albert Einstein Medical Center.

Grace turned around in her seat. ‘All right, Denver. So what's all this about a monster? Were you and Stu smoking something you shouldn't?'

‘It
was
a monster, Mom,' Denver insisted. ‘We were sitting there minding our own business, eating pizza and listening to music, and then this
thing
came busting right through the window. I mean like a goddamned
bomb
.'

‘This
thing
? And don't blaspheme.'

‘I don't know what it was. It had a kind of a curvy beak like a buzzard and great big starey eyes and claws like goddamned
swords
, you know? Like there was glass flying everywhere and this thing kept screaming at us like it was trying to force itself right into the room and tear us to pieces.'

Grace turned to Nathan. ‘Do you believe him?' She paused, and then she said, ‘Oh. Of course you believe him. You told him not to mention anything about it to the paramedics. And you didn't do that in case they buckled him up in a straitjacket and carted him off to the psych ward, did you?'

‘No,' Nathan admitted.

‘So what are you not telling me? Or shall I put two and two together? This monster exists, doesn't it? It really exists?'

‘Yes, Grace, it does. It's a gargoyle. It's one of Theodor Zauber's gargoyles. He came to visit me in the hospital and he asked me again if I would help him. I said no, I wouldn't. He said that I would regret it, and he gave me a very graphic demonstration of
why
I would regret it. There was a gargoyle sitting on the hospital roof. A real, living medieval gargoyle. Zauber called out to it, and it dived down and killed that hospital orderly.'

‘A
gargoyle
killed him?'

‘That's right. I was talking to one of the interns who saw what was left of him. He'd been out in Afghanistan with the Army medical corps, and he said that the poor guy looked as if he'd stepped on a roadside bomb, only much worse.'

‘And you didn't tell the police about Zauber? Why on earth not?'

‘Do you really think they would have believed me? And even if they managed to track him down, him and his gargoyles, what could they do then? These are mythical creatures that have been turned to stone. Do you think the police are seriously going to believe that he can bring them back to life again, so that they can fly, and attack people? All he has to do is deny it. Besides, he was threatening to set his gargoyles on
you
, and Denver, and that's why I didn't tell you what happened at the hospital, and that's why I didn't tell the police, either.'

‘But he
did
set a gargoyle on us, didn't he? Regardless of the fact that you didn't tell the cops. It's lucky that Stu wasn't killed. It's lucky that
all
of us weren't killed.'

‘Don't worry,' said Nathan, as he turned into the parking garage of Albert Einstein Medical Center. ‘I'm not going to let Zauber get away with this. I'm going to find him, and I'm going to put a stop to this gargoyle insanity for ever.'

‘What
is
a gargoyle, anyhow?' Denver asked him.

‘You should know what it is already, the number of times I've talked to you about it.'

‘Sorry. Maybe I wasn't exactly listening.'

‘It's another mythical creature, just like that gryphon I was trying to recreate, and like that basilisk that put your mom into a coma. Just like the phoenix we've managed to bring to life.'

‘Oh, great. Another mythical creature. Why can't you just breed rabbits or something?'

They went into the hospital's main entrance and the receptionist directed them through to the emergency room. It was Friday night, so the waiting room was crowded with people with minor injuries – young men and women who had already drunk too much and fallen down flights of stairs, elderly people who had fractured their hips or their wrists or their ankles, a nightclub doorman who had been hit in the face with a beer glass.

Nathan went up to the nurses' station and asked if they could see Stu Wintergreen. ‘They brought him in about fifteen minutes ago. He had a deep laceration in his right leg.'

‘Please wait here, sir,' said the nurse, and disappeared for almost five minutes. A small boy who had fallen out of his top bunk bed and broken his finger went on crying and crying and wouldn't stop. After a while, Nathan was sorely tempted to put him out of his misery by strangling him.

‘So how do you propose to find Theodor Zauber?' Grace demanded.

‘I expect he'll find me. He'll want to know if tonight's attack has persuaded me to change my mind. Believe me, Grace, Zauber needs me if he's going to make his gargoyle project work. He can turn his gargoyles into living flesh but he doesn't know how to make them stay that way.'

The nurse reappeared, followed by a short, tired-looking young doctor who strongly reminded Nathan of Michael J. Fox.

‘Hi,' he said. ‘I'm Doctor Brainerd. Are you Stuart's parents?'

‘No . . . but they should be here any minute. Stu's a friend of my son here. They were together in my son's bedroom when Stu got injured.'

‘How did it happen?'

Nathan was trying to think of a convincing explanation when Denver said, ‘The wind caught the window and it slammed real hard, and the glass broke.'

Doctor Brainerd looked as if he were too exhausted to worry about the plausibility of this scenario. ‘OK . . .' he said. ‘Stuart sustained a very deep cut which severed the main artery in his right leg. The problem with severed arteries in the lower part of the body is that the blood is always under more pressure than the upper part of the body, which means that a patient is likely to bleed out very quickly.'

Grace said, ‘I'm a doctor myself, Doctor. Doctor Grace Underhill, from the Chestnut Hill medical practice.'

‘Oh, good. In that case you'll know that a patient only has to lose five or six pints of blood before they expire.'

‘What are you saying?' asked Nathan. ‘Didn't you give Stu more blood?'

Doctor Brainerd shook his head. ‘There was no point, sir. Stuart was dead on arrival.'

Denver opened and closed his mouth. His eyes were suddenly filled with tears. ‘He's
dead
? I don't believe it! He can't be dead! We were eating pizza and listening to music! He can't be dead!'

‘I'm very sorry,' said Doctor Brainerd.

Nathan looked at Grace and Grace looked back at him with an expression of such anger that he couldn't think of anything to say. He had believed that if he kept quiet about Theodor Zauber's threats that he could protect his family from the gargoyles, but instead his silence had led to the death of his son's best friend. He might just as well have stabbed Stu himself.

They were all still standing in shock when Nathan heard a voice calling, ‘Nathan! Grace! We just got here! How's Stu?'

He turned around and saw Kenneth and Frances Wintergreen pushing their way toward them through the crowds of emergency patients.

Grace said, ‘What are you going to tell them, Nathan? Are you going to tell them truth?'

TWENTY-EIGHT

Saturday, 7:55 a.m.

J
enna came into the office carrying a plastic cup of cappuccino and a box of jelly donuts. She hung her parka over the back of her chair and sat down at her desk. ‘That is the very last time I have breakfast at Joe's,' she said, snapping the lid off her coffee.

‘You say that every single morning, without fail,' said Detective Brubaker. ‘What was wrong with it this time?'

‘I ordered corned beef hash, not fatty pink slurry. And what that man can do to eggs . . . it ought to be a misdemeanor, at the very least.'

‘Murder most fowl,' said Detective Brubaker, and when Jenna didn't respond he said, ‘F-o-w-l, get it?'

‘I get it, for Christ's sake.'

Detective Brubaker eased himself up from his desk and came across with a torn-off sheet from his notepad. ‘Jokes apart, we had a real strange call passed across from the Fourteenth District about a half-hour ago. They know that you've been working on these unexplained objects dropping out of the sky and they thought it might interest you.'