d just locked up his office.
"That time again," he set a patients folder in Janice’s in-box and zipped up his briefcase.
"Finally," she said. "Hope you don’t expect me to get to that tonight."
He laughed. "It can wait. I…Holy shit! What the hell is that?"
They both jumped at the sudden noise as the alarms went off. Janice felt a bolt of fear shoot down her spine. Muffled shouts drifted through the office walls.
"Oh, God," she stammered. "What’s going on? The alarms never…"
Doctor Murray took her by the shoulders and shook her. "Janice, call the guard station and find out if this is a drill. I’m going to see what’s going on. Okay?"
"O-okay."
"Good. I’ll be right back."
Janice picked up the phone and punched the line for the outer guard station as Doctor Murray stepped out of the office into the small reception area. She watched him open the outer security door and move cautiously into the hall. He stood in front of the office window peering at something out of her line of sight..
"What…" She looked down at the phone and pressed the button again.
Nothing. Completely dead.
She looked up, and was about to call for Doctor Murray when his head exploded like a ripe melon, spraying the window with blood and brains. Bullets ripped through his body and thunked into the bulletproof glass, sending thin cracks snaking through the window.
Janice screamed and dropped the phone in horror. She watched Doctor Murray’s body do a grotesque little jig as the bullets pounded into him, slamming him hard into the window. She clamped her hands to her mouth and back-peddled to the wall as his body slid slowly to the floor, leaving a bloody smear on the webbed glass.
She screamed again when she saw the black tentacles. They pulled what was left of Doctor Murray out of her sight, and she heard a wet, snapping sound, like bones being ripped apart, and another sound…as if something was feeding.
She backed completely into the wall and stood, shaking uncontrollably and unable to move.
Then the office door swung open, and Janice saw the tentacles slip into the office, as if they were searching…
"Omigod…"
Janice looked around frantically; saw her key card next to her bag on her desk. She ran to the desk and grabbed the card, then bolted to the door to the doctor’s offices. She swiped the card through the electronic lock and squeezed through the security door as the tentacles slithered up her office window. Something large and heavy pounded the outer door, hard enough to make the reinforced steel bend and squeal.
Janice ran down the hallway when the door was ripped from its hinges, desperate for a place to hide, trying each locked door as she went. Sweat blinded her eyes and she tripped in her high heels and fell hard. She gasped and swore as she picked herself up.
Behind her, the thing pounded the security door, and Janice begged and pleaded for someone to come and save her as it bent inwards.
"Oh please, oh please…"
She reached the last door, yanked it open and fell into the janitor’s closet, curling up in a sobbing heap in the back corner. She could hear something slithering down the hall towards the closet, and a rush of cold fear set her teeth chattering.
The sound stopped just outside the door. Janice whimpered as a long, thin black tentacle slipped under the doorframe and slid towards her. She squished her body into the corner of the closet and kicked at the thing, but it wrapped tightly around her ankle. She was dragged towards the door as more slipped underneath and krept towards her.
"Nonononooo…"
Janice kicked ineffectually at the tentacles as they ran up her legs. They quickly wound around her body and pinned her to the floor in a lovers embrace, slipping up her skirt and under her blouse. One of the things curled around tightly her head, cutting off her air and muffling her terrified screams, filling her nostrils with a putrid, rotting smell. They ripped at her clothes and touched her in her private spots, wrapping around her breasts, turning her flesh numb and making her squirm.
She struggled to breathe as tiny barbs tore into her clothes and cut her flesh.
Something large and ephemeral moved in the hallway. The lock clicked and the door eased open. A huge, black tentacle slid up the inside of her leg and shoved into her crotch. Janice heard her nylons and panties tear. The tentacle brushed her pussy and she screamed, and the world around her began to turn dark.
Through a red haze Janice heard shouts, and men running.
And then she fainted.
When she woke, the building was quiet as a tomb. She sat up with a start and huddled quickly into her corner, frantically patting her body. Her clothes were in shreds and she was bruised and bleeding from dozens of stinging, oozing cuts where the tentacles had touched her, but she was alive and seemed mostly whole.
She was alone. The tentacles were gone.
Janice remembered the last tentacle and where it was headed before she lost consciousness, and her hand reflexively dropped to her crotch. She felt her vagina through her ripped panties.
Her pussy lips burned and stung, but her hand came away dry, with no blood.
"Demons…" She murmured. "Demons are among us."
She thanked God for sparing her and huddled in the closet, praying fervently. How long she stayed, Janice couldn’t say, but when she finally mustered the courage to peek out into the hallway, all was dark.
On hands and knees she patted around on the floor until she found her key card, and then slowly tip-toed barefoot down the hall, pausing every few feet to listen and look, searching the gloom. She stepped over the remains of the door lying mangled in the hall, through her office and into the visitors’ reception area.
Her feet bumped into something soft and yielding; the remains of Doctor Murray were strewn throughout the hallway. Janice gasped in horror and vomited, retching until she panted for breath. And then she bolted, running blindly through the building, tripping over rubble and trying to ignore the puddles of blood and the dead bodies that were flung about like rag dolls, until she was disoriented and lost in the dark hallways.
She turned a corner into a hallway partially illuminated by moonlight shining through the floor to ceiling windows, and vaguely wondered why there were no lights, why the emergency generators hadn’t turned on. She peered out of the windows at a parking facility and was able to adjust her bearings.
Thank you Lord
Janice turned a corner at an intersection in the hallway and froze, listening. There was something ahead of her. She took an involuntary step backwards, holding out her little cross as if to ward off whatever may be coming towards her.
Then she heard the voice, wavering, as if from great pain.
"Help…meee…"
Janice blinked. The voice called out again.
"P-please…is someone t-there? Please h-help…me…"
The moonlight reflected off the little cross, and Janice steeled herself. If someone else was alive, she had to help them if she could.
"Is someone there?" She called. "I can’t see you."
"H-help. P-pleeeaaase…"
She started moving cautiously forward, clutching the cross to her bosom. A dozen yards down the hall, she spied the person calling for help.
"Oh, God. Doctor DuPaul!"
Janice ran towards Alex, who was slowly, painfully clawing and scratching at the floor. Alex weakly raised her head as Janice reached her.
"Here, let me help you…I…"
A smear of blood, looking black in the moonlight, disappeared back into the hall, marking the way she had come. Janice knelt beside the woman and gently rolled her over.
"Oh, no."
Janice shook her head in horror. Alex was drenched in blood, soaked in it.
"Wh-what happened?" She studied at the pain etched in Alex’s face. "Where’s Doctor Black?"
"D-dead…all dead…"
"God. Oh, God…"
Janice cradled Alex in her lap and rocked her, crying. She gently brushed the long hair away from Alex’s eyes, eyes that suddenly turned a murky black.
Static electricity crackled through the air, making the hair on Janice’s arms tingle and stand on end. She glanced up, seeing blue sparks dance along the window ledges.
"What…"
A strong hand suddenly gripped her wrist, and Alex stared blankly up at her, the whites of her eyes completely gone; they were now just bottomless, emotionless pools of ebony.
"I’m so sorry." She whispered. "But I need you."
A pure, white light seemed to envelope Janice, smothering her. She stiffened as recent memories flashed through her mind, and then she groaned and slumped over the motionless, dead body of Doctor Alexis DuPaul, exhausted.
***
What Came Before…
"Excuse Me?"
The receptionist looked up from her typing. She had a gold nameplate on the counter that read: Janice Hamilton.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
Alexis DePaul spoke into the microphone centered in the glass window.
"I’m here to see Doctor Black?" She unclipped the temporary security badge from the pocket of her navy blazer and held it for the receptionist to see. "We have an appointment."
"Oh. Excellent."
The receptionist peered over the bifocals that perched on the tip of her nose and graced Alex with a brief smile. She shuffled paperwork into a manila file folder and stood, indicating a heavy wood door to the left of the glassed window.
"You’re right on time, doctor. Just through here. Let me buzz you in. Doctor Black and Detective McGurry are expecting you."
"Thank you."
The receptionist pressed a buzzer and Alex stepped through the doorway into a dingy hallway smelling faintly of antiseptic. The door was heavy, a wood veneer over reinforced steel. Heavy enough that Alex had to tug hard to pull it open.
A subtle warning, Alex mused. Even with the office facade, behind all the niceties; you can never forget this may as well be a prison.
A bored, overweight guard scanned her badge and admitted Alex into the administrative wing of the hospital with a curt nod. The receptionist gave Alex a cursory once-over and motioned her to follow.
"This way, please."
The receptionist turned on a heel and led Alex past rows of offices, her eyeglasses now hanging from a chain around her neck, bouncing gently on her bosom.
Alex felt the guard’s eyes on her, following her all the way down the hall. She did her best to ignore the feeling, Out of habit, she carefully studied her surroundings.
Not much to see, really; the carpet was a bland industrial grey, and harsh florescent lights buzzed overhead. A few generic pictures of lush green forests and babbling brooks failed to brighten the drab walls. The office doors were basically the same heavy security door as at the front entrance, and all the windows were of frosted, unbreakable glass; heavy wire mesh zigzagged through the double layers.
Absently, she wondered how anyone could work in this atmosphere and stay sane.
"Nice place." Alex failed to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
"Mm."
"Lovely décor."
"Mm-hmm."
Alex grinned to herself. So much for small talk.
The receptionist paused at an open door and stepped aside. "Here we are."
Alex nodded her thanks and entered the room. The two men chatting intently in the room abruptly stood. A large, dumpy man Alex took to be Detective McGurry raked his eyes over her curves and ran a hand through his thinning hair; he gave her a cheesy grin and unconsciously straightened his cheap tie. The tall, reed thin man she recognized as Dr. Black cleared his throat and held out a hand.
"Ah, Dr. DePaul. So glad you could come. It’s a pleasure to see you again."
She gave them both her brightest smile. After a brief round of introductions they took turns shaking hands.
Black indicated a chair. "Please. Sit Down."
Alex slipped into the vacant chair, setting her thin leather briefcase in her lap and looked around the office.
The room was Spartan with few personal touches; the large mahogany desk was void of any clutter, other than an expensive fountain pen and a file folder centered on the desktop. A framed photograph hung on the wall. Alex recognized the picture: her ex-husband Steven shaking hands with Dr. Black.
The photo was snapped at a conference in Washington DC a few years previously, to accompany an article for a prominent medical journal. Both men played to the camera, stroking their egos and completely ignoring a younger, freshly married Alexis DuPaul, who looked to be trying her best to disappear into the background.
Alex sighed, trying to wipe away the memory. She wondered if Black had pulled the picture out just for this occasion.
"Well. So..." Dr. Black cleared his throat again and pried his eyes away from her chest. "Dr. DuPaul. Thank you for coming. I..."
"Please, call me Alex."
A light sheen of sweat broke out on McGurry’s forehead as Alex crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt over her the tops of her thighs. Alex casually flipped her hair back over her shoulder. The long, thick braid of curly, jet-black hair tickled the back of her neck.
"Of course. Doctor, my husband held your work in the highest regard. I came as soon as I received your message."
"How is Steven?"
"Fine, I assume." Alex cocked her head at an angle and arched her back, watching the men watch her. "Considering that we no longer speak."
"Oh." Black squirmed in his seat. His eyes snapped back up to hers. "Yes. I’m sorry, I did hear about the divorce. I..."
Still staring at her legs, McGurry blurted, "So, you Italian, or what?"
"Excuse me?" Alex turned in her chair to face the detective, who was scratching at the stubble on his thick neck.
"Well, you got a great tan, but not from one a’ those booths, an’ it’s been rainin’ like the end o’ days the last month here. Dark hair, brown eyes, dark complexion. You got a little accent. It’s soft, so I didn’t notice at first, an’ your face reminds me o’ all the broads I met in Italy when the wife an’ I went on vacation in Rome a couple years back. I figure you prob’ly took your hubbie’s name when ya got married." McGurry looked smug. "Well? How ‘bout it? Am I right?"
Black gaped open-mouthed, looking back and forth from McGurry to DePaul. Alex kept her face impassive.
"Impressive, Sherlock."
McGurry beamed.
"But not quite. I’m Greek, on my mothers’ side. I’ve been living in Europe the last few years, teaching forensic medicine and advanced psychology." She unbuttoned her suit blazer and leaned over, just-ever-so-slightly, giving McGurry a quick glimpse of her necklace, a small gold cross, dangling loosely under her blouse between some very impressive cleavage. She made a show of batting her eyes. "I moved after my divorce. DuPaul is my maiden name."
McGurry grinned, unruffled. "Hey, I was pretty close."
"Sure you were."
"Got’cha ta tell me what I wanted to know, didn’t I?"
His grin spread wider. Alex snorted with disgust and glared at Black.
"I hope you had a valid reason for requesting my assistance." All business now. "I can’t imagine that you wasted taxpayer’s money bringing me here just so the two of you could ogle my tits and douse me with this peculiar flattery."
Black blushed at the accusation, but the detective just sat back and stroked his chin, watching and grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.
"My apologies." Black cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at the file. "You received my fax? She nodded. "Good. First impressions?"
"Well," she began. "I’ve seen the news footage, of course. Terrible. I understand there’s still no suspects?"
"Toots," McGurry grunted, "there’s a whole lot more to this situation than the media knows."
Not quite the answer she hoped for. "With an investigation of this magnitude, that would be expected. But what, exactly, can I do for you?"
The two men exchanged a sharp look, and McGurry shrugged.
"Sooner or later she’s gonna have to know what she’s gettin’ into. Let’s not waste any more time; the Feds have already cleared her."
"You should look at this." Black pushed the thick file across his desk. "Reports on the investigation, by both local and federal authorities. And my own initial analysis on the situation."
Alex took it, opened the file, flipped through. She read for a moment, glanced at crime scene photos, the first a picture of what looked like a terrorist bombing. The photo grabbed her attention, and she studied it intently.
"Satellite photo." Black pushed his tiny round spectacles back to the bridge of his nose. "The information that has been released to the media came from that file."
"What happened here?"
McGurry scratched his jaw and glanced over at Black, who nodded back. "Go ahead."
"Okay," McGurry pointed at the file with his pinkie. Gold and diamond flashed on his finger. "This is the deal. The crater you’re gawkin’ at? A month ago, that was a run-down warehouse district located out by the waterfront. Scumville, USA. Lots’a drug activity, prostitution and whatnot. Not a fun neighborhood for honest folk. You get me?"
Alex nodded. McGurry shifted his weight, and the flimsy chair beneath him groaned in protest.
"At midnight on the first of the month, police dispatch took a phone call from an officer on scene. He was drivin’ his beat, and a half-naked woman covered in blood runs screamin’ outta this here theater…," he reached across to the file and flipped through the set of photos, until he found a picture of an old, recently renovated movie theater, then continued. "...an’ collapses right in front of his cruiser. He calls it in an’ stops to help her."
"All right."
"Mind you, the only reason we know all this, ‘cause the officer left his two way radio on and transmitting."
"Okay."
"The woman’s outta her mind, screamin’ some crazy horseshit about bugs. Huge fuckin’ bugs. She’s just babbling, talkin’ about nothin’ that makes any sense. We figure she was higher’n a kite. We can get you a copy a’ the tape, you want."
"If you think it’s necessary." Alex shrugged. "Were you able to identify her?"
"Nope."
"Go on."
"’Kay. Anywhoo, officer Meyer, the first on the scene? He’s got the woman sittin’ in the back of his cruiser, covered with a blanket. He’s tryin’ to calm her down, when backup arrives; a pair of patrol officers. She’s still goin’ on an’ on, talkin’ how all these folks were getting kilt inside. Ripped apart by the bugs, she said. So Meyer gives the backup officers the lowdown, an’ they head into the theater ta check it out."
McGurry leaned back into his chair, tipping it backwards onto two legs, and folded his hands behind his head. He relaxed, savoring the moment. Alex exchanged a blank look with Dr. Black.
"Well? What did they find?"
"See, now, that’s the thing. We don’t really know."
"I don’t understand."
"We’ve had to kind’a piece this scenario together with the help of the Feds."
McGurry stood abruptly and paced in a little circle while he spoke. He stopped and stared out the window, collecting his thoughts.
"See, apparently, there was some kinda big ta’doo goin’ on at the theater, a black tie sort’a shin-dig. The guests wore masks, costumes. Completely anonymous. Nobody was supposed to know who anybody else was.
He hawked and swallowed, then continued.
"The theater was owned by a big-time local scumbag named Melvin Sputka." McGurry snorted. "The name’s an alias. Total horseshit. Nobody knows what the fuck his real name is, where he comes from, nothin’. No background on him at all. One day, he’s not even a blip on the radar, and the next, he’s...." McGurry broke off and looked over at Alex. "Hell, he’s been under police and Federal surveillance for more’n a year, but we barely even have a handful of pictures of him, and those are iffy."
"Iffy?" Alex asked.
McGurry nodded absently. "Yeah. Blurry, like the exposure was fucked up on all of ‘em. We can’t explain it."
"Strange."
"Yeah. Strange." McGurry rubbed his forehead and continued. "We do know he was a heavy player in the local sex industry. He was manufacturing new designer drugs; running prostitutes, you name it. He owned a whole slew of sex shops that specialized in bondage and S&M shit. Now, about this fuckin’ party. Exclusive invitations were sent to a ton o’ the movers and shakers of our fine state. For some reason, lots of big wigs from around here showed up to cut loose an’ have a good ol’ time. Local celebrities and folks with big money, politicians, you name it. Partyin’ with the druggies and freaks."
"I suppose that’s odd," Alex closed the file. "But maybe they were just all slumming. Taking a walk on the wild side."
"They weren’t slummin’, sister; they’d all been bought and paid for."
Alex looked between the men. "What, bribes? Blackmail?"
"We don’t really know, for sure," interjected Black.
"Ol’ Melvin had somethin’ on ‘em, that’s the truth." McGurry grunted bitterly. "The Feds agree. Hell, the chief of police and his wife were there whoopin’ it up too, right alongside Lord knows who else. We didn’t learn about the party ‘till after the fact. This thing was kept real secret, and real quiet."
"Gentlemen, I’m sorry. This is very interesting, but I don’t see what I can add to the investigation that I’m sure Dr. Black hasn’t already..."
Black held up his hand, and said. "Please, Alex, let him finish."
McGurry grinned and sucked his teeth.
"Okay. We figure the next few minutes went down like this. Again, we just ain’t sure, ‘cause once the officers entered the building, communication went all to hell. You can barely hear ‘em on the tapes. The theater was dark inside the lobby. The only lights, only noise was coming from inside the theater itself, and a big ballroom off to the side." He paused and picked between his front teeth with a fingernail. "On the tapes, you can hear the officers whispering, getting into position."
"And then..."
"Then you can hear the screams."
"What?"
"Screams." McGurry closed his eyes. "Never heard anything like it." He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Then gunshots."
"And..."
"That’s it." He opened his eyes. "There was this weird clicking that drowned out everything but the screaming. Sounded like the officers got off maybe three, four rounds each before the radios went completely dead."
"The officers?"
McGurry shrugged.
Alex shook her head. "So, what did they find? What made them fire?"
McGurry glanced over at Black.
"We dunno. That’s why you’re here."
"I don’t understand."
McGurry leaned over again, close enough for Alex to get a whiff of stale cigar smoke and body odor. He unclipped one photo from the folder and held it in front of her face. He flicked at it with his finger.
"See that?"
"The bomb site?"
"Uh-huh." He grunted. "This is what’s left of that theater; ground zero. The buildings around the theater were completely wiped out in a perfect, expanding circle for more’n a three block radius. We guess it happened right when the party probably got into full swing."
McGurry scratched at his stubble.
"We dunno what those poor bastards found, ‘cause they ain’t around anymore ta tell us." He stood up and paced over to the office window and stared out into the parking lot. "Fuckin’ no one is."
Alex looked over at Black. "What caused the explosion?"
"No idea." McGurry. "Initially we thought there was a bad radiation leak from a bomb, maybe. We thought it might account for the radio interference. But no forensic evidence was found in the rubble to indicate any sort of explosive."
That took her aback. "You thought it was nuclear?" She considered the photo. "But there’s so little…I mean, wouldn’t a nuclear explosion have…have destroyed most of the city?
"Yeah." McGurry shrugged. "You’d think. Doesn’t really matter, anyway."
"Alex," Black perked up. "There was no radiation detected at or around the site."
"So…what caused this?"
The detective shrugged. "Damn good question."
Alex looked closer at the photo.
"What are these? Holes?"
"Tunnels. The area is riddled with them, all of ‘em leading to the docks or back into the hills. In the late eighteen, early nineteen-hundreds, the downtown area was used by maritime smugglers to move stolen goods, kidnapping victims, etc."
"Kidnappings?"
"Yup. White slavery ain’t just an urban myth. Back then, you could pull into town, check into a hotel, fall asleep, an’ the next thing you know, Bam!" He slapped the top of the desk, making the fountain pen bounce. "You wake up ta find yourself on a ship, drugged stupid and bound for Hong Kong."
"I still don’t see..."
Black steepled his fingers and rocked back in his chair. McGurry directed his answer towards the windows.
"So. The cops and the rescue crews arrived at the site within minutes of the blast. Federal agents were pretty quick after. The entire area was wiped almost clean, vaporized like something caught in a nuclear detonation. But how?"
He pondered his own question.
"Except for the damage you can see, we’ve got no evidence of any kind of a bomb, or even an explosion." McGurry swiveled his enormous head back towards Alex. He looked suddenly exhausted. "Basically, everything just went ‘poof’, an’ blew into dust."
"’Poof’?" Alex raised her eyebrows. Black didn’t seem to appreciate the sarcasm.
"Alex, we’re being serious."
"Right."
"Toots, this is what we have: three football fields worth of decimated real estate, dozens of bodies charred beyond recognition, millions of dollars in damage. We got all that. But we got no witnesses, no structural damage to any of the outlying buildings."
He took a long breath, letting it all sink in.
"Nothing."
"So…it was some sort of contained detonation?"
McGurry nodded. Alex studied him quietly for a moment.
"Terrorists?"
"Not that we can tell." Black again.
"There’s lot’sa cranks claiming responsibility. All bogus. Nothin’s panned out during the investigation."
"Strange. I would think some extremist group would have..." She pursed her lips. "But, now that I think about it, nothing’s been shown on the news."
"Nope."
"So you’re telling me you have no leads."
McGurry grinned. "Maybe. One."
"Alex," Black seemed uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "There was a survivor."
"The woman? Or one of the officers? Were they out of range of..."
"No, not them. We found their remains."
"So, who?" She glanced again at the photo. "No one could have survived a detonation like this. They must have wandered in after the blast."
McGurry sat again. "That’s what the Feds want to think."
"But," Alex noted the tone in his voice. "You don’t."
Black shook his head, "No."
"Why."
"Because I’ve spoken to him. Briefly. He says he was there, for the entire thing." He turned to the detective. "McGurry?"
"Look at the very center of the bomb site picture." McGurry leaned over and jabbed his finger to the paper. "That was taken seconds after the dust settled, right before the first emergency crews arrived. There’s a small crater in the center of all the tunnels. Whaddaya see?"
Alex squinted. "I can’t tell. There’s something..."
"Here." He grabbed the folder and unclipped another photo. "I had it enlarged."
Alex inhaled sharply, and stared at the photo.
"This is real?"
"Yep."
The photo showed a tall, athletic man, completely naked and apparently unharmed, with smoke and bits of debris from the explosion still drifting around his muscular body. He was standing protectively over the naked, supine body of a woman; his body tense and his face twisted into a snarl. Alex found herself staring at the man, unable to avert her eyes. She felt her face flush.
"We found them just like that, ten, maybe fifteen minutes after the rescue teams were deployed. The crater they’re in is a good fifty feet below the street level. And," he flicked the edge of the photo for emphasis. "They’re standing dead in the epicenter."
He gave her a sideways look.
"Hung like a horse, ain’t he?"
Alex glared back, then asked, "The woman? Was she alive as well?"
"D.O.A., Black said. "She’d been torn apart internally, and hemorrhaged. She bled to death."
"Because of the explosion?"
"No." He shook his head. "She’d been sexually assaulted. The autopsy confirmed."
"By this man?"
"We don’t know. Because of the extent of the...damage, vaginally, the attacker must have used a large, blunt, spiked object. There was no semen found, no human DNA to prove one way or the other."
"Do you have an I.D.?"
"Yeah." McGurry nodded. "For both. His name is Matt Kennedy. He’s a local business owner, and a known associate of our friend Melvin the Creep. The woman was his former sister-in-law, Laura Cearley." He scratched his beard. "Her husband identified the body."
"And you interviewed him?"
"Yes. He was at work that night. His wife left their children with his mother to baby-sit, and told everybody she was going to the beach with some girlfriends for the weekend."
Alex felt a familiar, bitter emptiness deep in the pit of her stomach. She shook her head and tried to sweep away more bad memories of her marriage. It almost worked.
"They were having an affair."
"It looks that way. We talked to the two friends. Right away they both admitted they helped her cover when she had a couple other dates with her brother-in-law. Said it was getting’ pretty hot and heavy." McGurry gave Alex a wicked little grin. "Kinda sick and kinky, huh? What’s the word…incestuous?"
"My, my, Detective. Surprised? I would have thought that an officer as jaded as you would know by now." She raised her eyebrow. "Lots of people have affairs. Crazy, I know, but still, it happens all the time." She turned to Black. "So…she was his sister-in-law. What about his wife? Have you talked with her?"
"They’re divorced. She’s living back East with her new husband. She had no idea. Apparently, they don’t speak much."
Alex looked back down at the picture, and felt another warm tingle shoot up her spine. "And you’ve spoken with Kennedy?" She shifted uncomfortably in the chair, and had to pry her eyes off the photo.
"Yes." Black answered. "Twice. I interviewed him the first time just after he’d been taken into custody. We had a very strange conversation. Very fragmented."
"And then he clammed up." McGurry practically spit. "Wouldn’t say squat, until a few days ago."
Black nodded. "He was much more conversational, very forthright. He...admitted to causing the destruction."
"And he’s still here? In the hospital?"
"Yes." Black rocked in his leather chair. "He’s here."
McGurry muttered under his breath. "Sorta."
"What does that mean?"
"Alex, for all intents and purposes, he’s comatose." Black swiveled in his chair. "He’s become completely immobile and unresponsive."
"An’ there’s somethin’ else."
McGurry leaned close.
"We canvassed his business. The guy owned several stores. We interviewed all of his neighbors and employees. We searched his house and found a whole bunch ‘o weird sex shit hidden away in his basement. This creep-o was livin’ with three women. Their names are in the file. According to some snoopy neighbor, one of ‘em, an older lady named Nancy, was pregnant."
McGurry paused.
"They’re all dead too."
Alex frowned. "Were they at this..."
"Nope. Their remains were found at Kennedy’s home. The coroner pins the time of death literally at the same time as the theater explosion." He puckered his lips, as if he’d bitten into something sour. "There wasn’t much left of ‘em."
"Murdered? Another explosion? Was this some sort of...mass suicide?"
Black shook his head. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "The autopsy indicates they were...eaten."
"Eaten." Alex echoed, incredulous. "What are you talking about?"
"Their bones were picked clean." McGurry grinned viciously, without any humor. "Gnawed on."
"By...what?"
"No clue." McGurry went back to scratching his neck. "But maybe you’ll be able to find out for us."
"How? I’m sorry." Alex shook her head. "But I how I can be of any help here if we cannot communicate with..."
"Alex," Black interrupted. "Listen. Just before he lapsed, Kennedy asked for you by name."
He paused to let the comment sink in, then stood and showed her the door.
"If you would follow me?"
***
Alex carried the case file and followed Black out of the office, McGurry bringing up the rear. Black led them to the high-security wing of the hospital, badging the three of them through several guard stations on the way to an observation room. Black nodded absently to the guards as they passed.
"Here we are."
Black swiped his cardkey through an electronic lock and ushered them into a plain, cramped room furnished with a small table and several chairs. A tall, nondescript man with short brown hair and dressed in a plain black suit stood silently at the door and watched them through dark sunglasses as they entered. Something about his gaze made Alex blush. His veritable twin stood motionless and just off to the side; ram-rod straight, his large hands clasped tightly behind his back, staring through a one-way mirror into a patient’s room. He didn’t bother to turn around when they entered.
"Doctor Black."
The deep voice barely carried to Alex’s ears. McGurry flopped down into one of the cheap plastic chairs.
"Agent Harris" Black nodded. "Johnson." The familiar gurgle of phlegm rattled in his throat. "This is Dr. Alex DePaul."
"Finally."
"Nice to meet you too." Alex held out her hand. "Always so cordial?"
Harris ground his teeth and ignored the handshake.
"This is not a time for levity, Ms. DuPaul. I assume Doctor Black and Detective McGurry briefed you?"
Alex took back her hand. "Yes."
"Good."
Agent Harris slowly turned away from the window towards Alex, and disdainfully sized her up. Unlike his partner, Harris’s sunglasses were folded neatly away in his jacket pocket. Still, his eyes looked black under the fluorescent light; Alex couldn’t read them.
"Doctor, you are here for one reason."
He held up his index finder, one hand still hidden behind his back. Even standing halfway across the room, Harris seemed to loom over Alex, dwarfing her. He used his low voice like a battering ram, forcing his point’s home with emphasis.
"Despite what the local police may believe," Harris wrinkled his nose, as if he smelled something that disagreed with him. McGurry grunted angrily from his seat, but quieted to a low grumble after a piercing glare from Harris. "The primary focus of this investigation is in regards to a terrorist bombing, for which we have virtually no leads, except possibly, one." He indicated the window behind him. "So. The sole purpose of your visit here is the very remote possibility that you may be able to procure even a kernel of information which may help us from the man in that room."
"Agent Harris, there’s no need to be hostile to…" Black tried to interrupt, but Harris cut him off with a look, then turned his black eyes back to Alex.
"You are the only person he has indicated that he will speak with; why, I have no idea. But while you are here, you are under my authority, and I absolutely do not have the patience for jokes, because we may soon lose this avenue as well."
He lifted a heavy arm and pointed at the one-way window. Everyone in the room turned to look.
Black touched her arm. "He’s dying Alex."
Alex took in the scene behind the mirrored window and quickly processed the information her eyes relayed to her. She nodded mutely.
Sequestered behind a clear plastic curtain to keep his environment sterile, the bed-ridden man in the other room barely resembled the man from the photo.
Instead of the virile, imposing figure in the picture of the bomb site, the man behind the mirror was gaunt and emaciated, his body painfully twisted and contorted; his face frozen in a howling grimace. Angry sores burst open on his blackened, rotting flesh and oozed greenish pus. Wispy, silver grey hair was plastered wetly to his pale face. An oxygen machine puffed air into his lungs, tubes and needles were taped into the veins in his arms, pumping him full of life-sustaining fluids. He was propped up in the hospital bed, staring vacantly back at them through bloodshot eyes.
An armed guard was stationed next to the entry. Alex imagined he had the same blank stare as the patient.
A tremor caused the man’s body to jerk uncontrollably, and for a moment, Alex seemed to lock eyes with him through the glass. The room spun around her, everything a blur except for his suddenly piercing eyes. She reached out to steady herself, groping for the back of a chair, the table; something solid. She blinked, and her surroundings settled back into their proper place. The patient’s eyes were wide and staring again, and feeling passed.
No one on her side of the wall seemed to have noticed, except McGurry, who was leaning back in his chair and stroking his whiskers, watching her intently. Perhaps he’s more perceptive than I thought.
She nodded to Harris. "Understood."
"Good." Harris scraped a plastic chair across the floor and settled down, then turned his glare towards Black. "Please show her to the patient, doctor. We don’t have time to waste."
***
Black paused outside the door to the room, and rested his hand on her shoulder.
"Alex, a word before we enter?"
"Of course."
"Obviously, this man’s dying. Like everything else about this, we don’t know why. He’s been through a battery of tests: blood work, CAT scans; everything. Results are completely normal. There’s no evidence of cancer, radiation poisoning, brain tumors, AIDS or anything else. He should be in perfect health. But he doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep. He’s been in exactly that position since he last spoke to me, more than three days. He’s simply unresponsive, and his body is failing. He’s wasting away, and quickly."
He gurgled phlegm.
"We need information. Formost, about the disaster. What happened? Why? And secondly, McGurry is adamant about finding the person who murdered the women in this man’s home." He patted her shoulder, like she was a child. "You see?"
"And you think he’ll respond to me? Just because he knew my name?"
"He’ll no longer acknowledge me, or anyone else who tries to speak with him. Truthfully, I don’t expect much." Black looked sheepish. "But we don’t have much left to try."
Alex sighed. "Fine."
Black turned to the door. Quietly, over his shoulder, he muttered, "Be prepared. This has been as strange a case of multiple personalities as I’ve ever come across."
"What?" Alex raised her eyebrows. "You didn’t say anything about multiple..."
Black ignored her and swiped them inside. The humidity hit her first, like a wall of moist heat. Then the smell: sweet and sickly all at the same time, reminding Alex of a slaughterhouse she’d visited in grade school.
Rotting meat.
Alex gagged and almost vomited. Sour bile filled her mouth and she swallowed hard, forcing herself to maintain her composure. She sensed the guard was grinning at her; but when she looked his gaze was still blank and focused elsewhere.
Black took a seat by the door and waved her forward, towards the plastic curtain and the bed where Kennedy lay, propped up by pillows.
Alex noted the heavy restraints clamped tightly around his arms and legs. They seemed completely unnecessary at this point. She didn’t think the man could even raise his arm at this stage, but obviously the restraints and the guard were there for a good reason.
She considered the information she’d been made privy to, and the motives behind a federal investigation. She wondered again just what exactly they expected her to be able to accomplish here.
Multiple personalities. A man possibly involved in two unexplained, heinous crimes. A single suspect, dying alone in a prison psych-ward.
Alex knew she wasn’t getting the full story here. But why? They had to know more than this. Alex wondered what else she hadn’t been told. Why bring her here; to question a terrorist suspect? Or was this man something more?
She slipped into a white plastic chair set at the side of the bed and placed her briefcase on her lap.
"Mr. Kennedy? I’m Doctor DuPaul." Alex smiled tentatively. Always get to know the patient, first. Speech was therapeutic. Even if Kennedy was comatose, his faculties were still present. "My friends call me Alex."
His glassy eyes stayed trained on the mirrored window. Alex glanced over to see what he was seeing. Her reflection stared back.
The smell was overwhelming, distracting her. Alex folded her hands on top of her briefcase and waited, listening to the sound of the oxygen whooshing from the tank next to the bed, working up a list of questions in her mind, avenues to explore.
How do you get information from someone who is unable to respond?
Alex shot an annoyed look over her shoulder, but turned back to the man. Quietly, she asked, "Mr. Kennedy, you asked to see me. I was hoping you could tell me perhaps, why? Or how you knew of me..."
She waited.
Whoosh, went the oxygen tank. Whoosh.
Alex sighed.
Then the man turned and looked at her, right into her eyes. His head swiveled stiffly around on his neck, as if he was a wooden puppet being manipulated by an unseen hand.
And he smiled.
***
"Oh!" Alex jumped. "My God."
She was so startled she didn’t notice that her briefcase had dropped from her lap to the floor.
"Doctor." His voice was hoarse, rasping out from around straining vocal cords. It must have been intensely painful for the man to speak, but if so he gave no indication. "You’re looking absolutely beautiful today."
"Umn...thank you?"
"You’re welcome."
The bloodshot eyes moved slowly up and down her body. Alex felt almost naked under the probing, like cattle being appraised for sale. She tried to get herself back under control.
"I have a...few...questions?"
She turned halfway around in her chair. Black was watching her, sitting with a small, mysterious smile playing on his face, as if he’d expected this reaction. He waved for her to continue.
"I..." she began.
"You wanted to know why they brought you here, to me?"
Alex blinked, frustrated. Had this been some sort of ruse? Were they playing some sick game with her?
"Yes."
"Simple. There was a picture of you." The man gazed past her towards Black. "Hanging on his wall. I thought you were attractive, so I asked him about you."
She remembered the photo of Black and her ex-husband.
"Yes. I noticed it today myself. But..."
"I bet you were wondering why the picture was there, mmn?" The man’s face twisted, morphing into a eerie smile.
You read my mind
"The old coot thinks you’re a hot piece of tail, too. He likes to sit in his chair with his dick in his hand and masturbate over you in that hot little dress you were wearing."
The smile grew as Alex cleared her throat and shifted angrily. Behind her, Black just smiled serenely.
"You..."
He ignored her and changed the subject. "What is that you do, exactly?"
"I...I’m a psychologist. I teach...forensic theory."
"Theory."
"Yes." Alex’s attention was split, trying to understand how this waking corpse was suddenly animated, and grilling her on her background. "I’ve developed an approach to evaluating criminal psychosis that’s based on years of case work."
"And these..." The eyes drifted over to the mirrored window, then back to Black. His tone was mocking. "These…gentlemen have agreed to let you test your theories on me?"
"Well, yes. I suppose so."
"Huh." His attention snapped back to her. "Well. I guess you want to know what happened, then."
"Yes." Alex bent and retrieved her briefcase. She unzipped it and pulled out a small tape recorder. She pressed the record button and rested it on her knee. "Will you tell me?"
The smile grew.
"Only if you call me Matt."
"Matt."
The corpse giggled. "What do they know? What have they said to you?"
Alex told him, glancing at Black from time to time for confirmation.
"Show me the pictures?"
She looked at Black, who nodded. The man grinned at the pictures.
"Well, damn. Look at that. Fucked that shit up pretty good, huh?"
"The police think you’re a terrorist."
"Terrorist?" The man laughed. "Stupid assholes. That was just one hell of a party that got a little out of hand."
"A party." Alex repeated.
"Sure. You know. A fundraiser. You’ve probably been to one or two yourself. A few hundred costumed friends, over for some cocktails and a fine meal. A little dancing, maybe a speech or a short video segment, and more drinks afterwards. Like that. Well, this party was a little different."
"How?"
"Well, for one thing, all the food and drinks were drugged."
"Why?"
"For the orgy, of course."
"The orgy."
The man nodded, his head jerking up and down happily. Alex thought it might pop off his neck, roll down his chest and bounce onto the floor like a rubber ball.
"Oh, yeah." He smiled conspiratorially. "There’s really nothing like watching your friendly state congressman bend his old bitch of a wife over a the back of a theater seat, strap her in, and then let some other guy shove his dick in her mouth while he rips up her ass." He paused, thinking. "Crazy. But you know, these conservative lawmakers and such are wound up pretty tight. You have to loosen them up a bit first. So, therefore, the drugs."
"What did you drug them with?"
"New drug. Synthesized, originally developed here in town. Called Pin."
"I’ve heard of it." Alex nodded. "It’s the new big thing for..."
"Recreational sex. Yeah. You can ingest it, shoot it, or snort it. But the stuff being used out on the street is extremely diluted down from the base drug. Pure, it’ll knock even the most prissy bitch flat onto her back with her legs spread wide open. It’s addictive as hell, no way to stop using."
Alex thought of the news reports she’d seen on the drug, about the sudden, rampant use among European and American club-goers, prostitutes, and other high-risk groups. She was suddenly very frightened of what she was hearing.
"Who...who was there...?"
"Hell. Let’s see." He turned back to the mirror window. Alex could swear he directed his comment towards McGurry. "Susan Manning - she’s a state representative - she got most of our local politicians and their spouses to come." He turned back to Alex. "Susan was the first person to actually ingest Pin. We did it as a little experiment. She’s been a sex-slave for about a year now."
"A...sex slave?"
"Mm-hmm. That was part of m-m-Melvin’s big plan." Another tremor racked the man’s body. "Anyway, then there was police chief Stanton and his wife - a hot old biddy, by the way. Nice big tits. And..."
Alex listened to the man tick off names, recording them.
"And of course there was Angela, with some of her girls. Tammy and Candy. Cindy. I forget who else. Six or seven of them. Funny thing is, they were all pregnant. They looked really uncomfortable. M-m-Melvin was there, of course. And Laura."
Black leaned over and touched her arm at the mention of the name.
"Who’s Laura?"
The muscles in the man’s face rippled and his eyes clouded. He croaked, "My sister-in-law." Then he was grinning at her again. "And the usual goons."
"Goons?"
"Yeah. Ex-cons. A few convicted rapists, a murderer or two. The cops probably have a sheet on them a mile long. They were there as...security. I knew three of them, and Mm-mmmMelvin had a whole crew of his guys working."
Alex nodded. "So...what happened?"
"Well. Dinner was served after the guests arrived. After dessert, everyone was invited into the theater."
Twitch
"Mm-m-Melvin had the orgy all planned out. He wanted to blackmail all these people. He needed enough dirt that they would turn a blind eye and let him do whatever he wanted, business-wise."
"So he drugged them…"
He nodded. "The drug only took a few minutes to kick in. So along with that and all the booze shloshing around, everybody got right into the swing of things. The seats in the theater were specially made with hand and ankle-cuffs. The men were ordered to bend their wives over the back of the seats, like I said, and lock them in."
"And...they all did this? Willingly?"
"Sure. Then they started fucking like bunnies."
"And you..."
The man’s face grew dark, and Alex shivered.
"I came with Laura."
"Your sister-in-law?"
"Yes."
"You were having an affair?"
"Yes." He grinned.
"Did you participate in the...orgy."
"Nooo..." He doubled over in a fit of muscle spasms. The man’s eyes closed, and stayed shut until the tremors ended.
He’s insane
"I...our food was supposed to be clean." He looked back up, spittle drooling down the side of his mouth. "But it wasn’t. It was drugged, too. Angela..."
"Who is Angela."
"She was one of Melvin’s...she..."
Twitch
"She what?"
"She was partly a he." Grin. "If you get my meaning."
Alex made a little ‘o’ with her mouth.
He coughed, spit blood. Alex tried to get Black’s attention, to get the man some medical aid, but Black ignored her, prodded her shoulder with a finger to continue.
"Pin. Do you know what it does?"
"No." Alex said. "Not really."
"It causes imprinting on your sexual partner and provokes an overpowering urge to copulate, among other things." Alex looked at him quizzically. "That means that the first person you have sex with is bound to you, physically and mentally. The drug was engineered that way. Do you understand?"
"I suppose."
He nodded. "After dinner, Angela ‘borrowed’ me for a moment. Right when the drug started to hit my system. I should have noticed, but I left Laura with Melvin and some of his thugs, and a few minutes later, I passed out. I woke up naked, bent over and handcuffed to a table in another room. Angela was behind me, and she was fu...fucking me...oh, God-uhnn-rrrhhfff!"
The man screamed and bent over in pain. Alex jumped up, wanting to help, but both Black and the guard were there, pushing her back into her chair. They stood with their hands planted hard on her shoulders until the pain leaked out of the man’s face and he sat back, his eyes clenched tight, panting.
"I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I could feel the drug taking hold. Angela fucked me, slapping my ass, raking her nails down my back, until she came. She screamed and collapsed on me."
They were all quiet for a long moment. Alex listened to his labored breathing.
"Um. Mr. Kennedy? Matt...I..."
Black, still hovering next to her, shushed her. "Alex, let him talk." Then to the man. "How did you get away? What caused the explosion?"
"There wasn’t a fucking explosion, you dipshit."
Alex looked up curiously. Black was sweating profusely, staring intently. "What happened afterwards, Matt?" He whispered. "What happened then?"
***
It wasn’t just the drugs, Matt thought to himself, remembering. Angela tricked me.
During the dinner, Melvin kept me distracted enough for Angela to snare two of my crew with her power. Roscoe and Manny. And I never even suspected.
Melvin had me drugged. He helped Angela plan the whole thing. I know that now. And, more importantly, I know why. The drug weakened me enough for Angela to try something she never would’ve been strong enough to do otherwise.
She turned her power on me. She caught me. She was ready to make me disappear, but she wanted to fuck me first. To prove to Melvin that she was still his golden child. For power. Because it turned her on.
And once that happened, with me out of the way, Melvin had all the time he needed.
He wanted Laura for his own.
But they made a mistake. Angela didn’t make sure to hook the last person there that I trusted.
Homer was a Vietnam vet. And a burn victim. Napalm. Massive trauma. The scarring was so bad, his features so gruesome, it was difficult to look him in the eye. The flesh on his face and neck had mostly melted away, leaving thick bands of melted pink and white scar tissue. The digits on his hands and feet had fused together.
He was a loner, even among our group of freaks.
That evening, he followed his usual pattern, and stayed away from the rest of us, by himself, checking to make sure security was tight.
He didn’t eat, or drink. Anything.
The orgy was just beginning when I disappeared. Melvin was on stage at the theater exhorting the crowd. Laura was locked in Melvin’s arm, pinned against his side, looking dazed and confused. Homer noticed that I’d been absent for longer than seemed right, and he figured something was wrong.
So he went looking for me.
After the drugs began to take effect, Angela had Roscoe and Manny drag me down into the tunnels, into part of Melvin’s secret little empire called The Maze. Angela had set up a room for the two of us, so she could have her fun privately.
They stripped me and tied me down. I was too far gone to fight.
Angela took her time, enjoying herself. Even drugged, the experience was painfully unpleasant. Some might say it was karma; what comes around, goes around.
When she finished, Angela fell on top of me, laughing.
That’s when Homer joined the party.
I don’t know exactly how he found us, but he stormed into the room and went straight for Angela, pulling a hunting knife he carried slung at his hip.
"Fucking tranny whore...I’m gonna gut you and make you swallow your own dick..."
Angela jumped off me and stumbled. She landed on her ass on the floor and scuttled backwards, crab-like, her flaccid penis flopping between her legs. The sight of the hideous man brandishing a wicked, foot long blade in front of her face terrorized her enough she didn’t think of using her power, or Homer wouldn’t have had a chance.
Instead, she screamed for Roscoe and Manny to help.
Roscoe was closest. He pulled a blade of his own and ran blindly at Homer with his head down, swiping the knife at Homer’s stomach. They crashed together and smashed into the table. Homer wrapped an arm around Roscoe’s neck and stabbed him hilt deep in the back. Again, and again.
Roscoe screamed.
So did Angela.
She twisted and squirmed and clawed desperately at her back, her eyes wide with pain. Roscoe dropped to the floor, twitching and spurting blood. Manny lumbered around the table and reached for Homer with his huge hands. Manny liked to strangle women for sexual gratification, and he was as big and strong as a bull. Big enough to snap Homer in two, if he was able to catch him.
Homer stepped back and swiped his blade, cutting deep into Manny’s hand.
Manny howled and clutched at bloody stumps, his severed fingers plopping into a pool of Roscoe’s blood. He fell to his knees, sobbing like a child and trying to stop the blood spurting from his ruined hand.
Homer didn’t even pause to check the results; he simply turned and lunged at Angela.
"Nooo!" She threw out her hand, trying to ward him off. "Stop!"
Homer’s body locked up instantly, but his momentum carried him right into her. Angela screamed again, shrill and piercing, and they slammed into the wall. There was a sickening, loud crack as Angela’s head angled into the ragged stone wall. Her eyes flew wide with suprise, and they fell together in a heap.
I felt her presence in my mind slip away.
Angela didn’t move; her head hung limply at an impossible angle, but her eyes swiveled, following Homer as he stood.
She begged. "Please, don’t..."
He knotted his hand in her long, red hair and yanked her head back. Bloody spittle frothed from her mouth, more blood clotted the back of her hair.
"Fuck you." Homer snarled.
Angela grinned.
"You’re a fool." She spat, her voice rasping. "And you’re all dead."
Angela’s eyes rolled back in her head and filmed over with oily black clouds. Impossibly, even with Homer’s knife at her throat, her body broken and bleeding, she began to stand.
"Jesus Christ."
She groped blindly for his wrist.
"Dead, dead, dead..." she chanted.
Homer drew back his arm, and his knife ripped through her neck.
Angela laughed, a awful sound like metal tearing, and her slender fingers closed on his wrist.
"All dead. Dead, dead..."
She squeezed, and bones cracked. Homer screamed as Angela crushed his wrist, and then she casually tossed him completely across the room. He hit the far wall and fell to the floor with a dull thud. His knife skittered across the floor.
Angela advanced on him, shuffling from one foot to another, jerking her body forward. Blood pumped from the gash across her neck, drenching her chest and spattering shiny droplets onto the floor.
"I’m daddy’s favorite, and you’re all dead..."
She stretched a hand towards Homer. I felt the familiar static tingle, and the air around her hissed as she gathered her power.
"Shit..." Homer groaned. "Matt..."
I tried to think, tried to focus. My system was racing, trying to burn out the remains of the drug pumping around in my body. I was still too groggy. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and struggled against the ropes binding me to the table.
Angela cupped Homer’s chin and forced him to look up at her grinning face. She laughed and dug her fingers into his eyes, smiling serenely with her gore-smeared lips.
And then I heard Manny, moaning on the floor. Vaguely, I realized that if he was feeling pain, expressing it, Angela was no longer controlling him.
I closed my eyes and let the dark thing inside me well up. I might not have been strong enough to fight Angela yet, but taking control of Manny’s mind was as simple as breathing. I slipped into his body like a whisper. He was in shock, but the pain from his hand was numbing.
Blotting out the pain from my own mind, I forced Manny to stand and lumber the few steps to where Angela stood, crouched over Homer’s shaking body. She was eating him alive; ripping at his flesh, gnawing away the soft skin of his face with sharp little teeth.
I made Manny lock his enormous arm around her slim neck and twist. Bones snapped. Manny let go, and Angela slumped to the floor, twitching.
"Dead, dead..."
We stared, thunderstruck. Angela’s head was snapped halfway around, bent at an awful angle. The gash in her throat had bled out, but she still gathered herself and stood, swaying.
And she began to change.
Her soft flesh blackened and peeled away from the wound in her neck. She smiled and licked at bloody lips with an impossibly long tongue, and she reached for me, her eyes pools of black, and she croaked out my name.
"Maaatt...bro-therrrr…come to me...kiss...meeee..."
She stumbled towards me, clawing for me.
I forced Manny to step behind her, forced him to grip her head tightly in his hands. Manny roared with the pain shooting up his arm.
And then he ripped Angela’s head from her shoulders. He dropped the vile thing onto the floor.
Another, angry voice whispered in my head as she died.
***
Alex closed her notebook and studied the man in front of her.
A moment ago, Matt stopped speaking and just floated off, staring into space. Except for the sound of the machines keeping him alive, the room became silent as a tomb.
"Well," Black cleared his throat and stood. "I suppose that’s the best we can hope for. I…"
Alex opened her mouth to respond, wanting more time. Something in her gut told her they weren’t finished, but Black was already walking to the door. She grabbed at his arm, to ask him to wait.
Matt screamed.
And then he flatlined, and collapsed back into the bed.
***
I forced Manny to free me, and then I returned the favor. I let my power flow out of him and back into my body.
He groaned and slumped against the table, breathing hard. I did the same. The room was spinning. My numb wrists and ankles throbbed as the circulation returned. I closed my eyes again and tried to recover my equilibrium.
"Fuck, Matt..." Manny groaned. I helped him pull off his shirt and wrap his hand. "This hurts like hell." He squinted at the thing lying on the floor. "What the hell’s goin’ on here?"
I didn’t answer. I was too busy listening to the voice in my skull, taunting me.
"Stay here. I’ll bring help."
He took one look at the bodies strewn across the floor. "Fuck that."
I turned and left the room. Weak from blood loss, Manny shuffled after me, swearing under his breath, pleading with me to slow down and wait for him.
I ignored him.
I had to find Laura.
***
Alex pushed through the curtain and shouted for help. Matt was dying. She knew they may already be too late. Black shouted for her to stop, to wait. She ignored him and began CPR. She quickly checked Matt for breathing, for a pulse. She felt sweat begin to drip down her armpits as the adrenaline rush kicked in. Then Black was next to her, trying to help.
She vaguely heard the door open and heavy footfalls as more men entered and muttered to each other in low, concerned voices that never really reached her ears. Harris, speaking to the guard, and then McGurry, who loudly wondered what was happening. Someone picked up the phone and called for more help.
"Bring the motherfucker back!" McGurry was shouting. "We don’t have shit, Goddammit! This is all shit..."
The commotion faded into the background as Alex worked on Matt. She counted chest compressions while Black breathed for him. Black was out of breath in minutes, looking pale and ready to hyperventilate. Alex pushed him out of the way.
Clear the airway. Give two slow breaths, she told herself, remembering the litany. Check for breathing and a pulse. Then begin the compressions. One-one thousand, two-one thousand…
By the time the medical staff crowded the small room, she was soaked to the skin with sweat. She felt it drip between her breasts and down her back, trickling down her ass cheeks. A medic tore open Matt’s hospital gown, and shouted:
"Clear!"
Alex moved back. The medic placed two pads carefully on the pale, skeletal chest. There was a low whine as the defribulator charged, and then a thump. Matt’s body convulsed as the medic sent a wave of electricity through him. The monitor line stayed flat.
"Again!" Black, shouting instructions.
"Clear!"
Another shock. And this time, the slow, steady beat rhythm of a heartbeat. Weak, but steady.
Alex sighed with relief.
***
"Matt?"
The woman’s voice was soft, and pleasant. Not at all like the other voice echoing in his head.
"Are you all right?"
The other, evil voice faded away. My eyes focused slowly. Shapes swam in front of me. I felt as if I was waking from a long, hard sleep. A sharp pain in my chest made it difficult to breathe. Broken ribs, probably.
"Laura?" I asked.
"No, Matt."
The face floating in front of me became solid. An attractive young woman leaned over me, looking down at me. She seemed concerned. She was beautiful; dark and exotic. Sweat plastered a few strands of long, kinky-curly black hair to her forehead. The smell of her perfume washed over me. I closed my eyes and breathed her in.
But she wasn’t Laura. I looked around, tried to get my bearings.
"We thought we lost you."
"Where’s Laura."
"She’s not here." Her voice quieted. "She died, Matt."
She touched my hand, and a pit opened deep in my stomach.
"You were telling us how it happened, a moment ago."
"Who are you?" It hurt to speak.
"Don’t you remember?"
I shook my head. The act sent a jolt of pain down my back.
"The gentleman peering over my shoulder is Dr. Black. He’s the director of this facility. My name is Dr. Alex DePaul."
"We just saved your life, Mr. Kennedy."
I looked at the old man behind her. He was weak. Dying. He coughed and cleared his throat. I could feel the cancer, eating away at him. He didn’t have long to live.
The other voice laughed in my head. And suddenly, I remembered.
***
Matt struggled to sit back up. Alex placed her hands on his shoulders, stilled him. By all rights, he should be dead. She realized that it was a miracle they were able to bring him back. More questions tumbled through her mind than she had answers for.
How is he alive? Where is he getting his strength?
"Don’t," she warned. "Rest now."
He folded back into the pillows. Under her hands, his body felt brittle and almost without substance. Like he could just drift away. And he was fading fast. The pulse on the heart monitor was already slowing.
"It’s all right, you’ll be fine," she heard herself saying.
He was staring at her. She thought she saw pity in his eyes.
Something’s different, she noticed. In his face, his bearing. Everything. This isn’t the same person I was just talking to a moment ago."You shouldn’t be here," he whispered. His voice was so soft, Alex had to bend and lay her ear next to his lips. "You need to leave. Right now."
"No. I want to stay with you. I…"
Matt shook his head weakly from side to side. Alex felt the presence of McGurry and the others behind them, standing by the door. Only Black stayed close, just by her shoulder.
"Go. Please…"
"Why?"
"Be-because…"
"Why Matt? What’s wrong?"
He gripped her arm with surprising strength. Alex barely had time to wonder how he’d come free of his restraints before he answered.
"He wants you. He brought you here."
Alex bent closer.
"Who, Matt? Who are you talking about?"
"I tried…tried to stop him. Thought I could…keep him inside, but c-can’t, no strength left. I can’t fight him anymore."
"For God’s sake, Alex." Black touched her shoulder. "What’s he saying?"
She waved him away. Matt’s grip on her arm was failing, his breath becoming shallow and weak.
"Leave," he croaked. "Now…"
His hand fell away, and Matt’s body slowly relaxed. Alex cringed when Black patted her shoulder. The heart monitor leveled off to a low whining beep.
"He’s gone."
Alex reached to close the corpse’s eyes, but pulled her hand away, startled.
"What the…" She heard Black whisper.
The whites of Matt’s eyes filmed over, turning a liquid, oily black. The muscles of his face twitched, contorting into a wicked grin.
The heart monitor still showed no sign of life.
Alex recoiled in horror as the corpse pushed out of the bed and stood. She heard herself screaming. The corpse lurched forward, pulling needles from its arms with claw-like hands. It shambled ahead and grabbed at Black’s shirt and pulled the terrified doctor close.
The corpse kissed him.
"Holy shit…!" McGurry blurted. He reached the struggling pair, tried to wedge his body between them. "Let go, motherfucker!"
The air in the room crackled with energy, like the calm before a lightning storm. McGurry finally separated the two, pushing them in opposite directions.
The walking corpse fell to the floor, mewling like a kitten.
Black took a blind step backwards towards the government agents and the guard. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he clutched his neck, gagging. He fell heavily. Alex watched the guard catch him, his hands locking around Black’s chest.
Then Black opened his eyes, and grinned. Oily black clouds swirled endlessly in round, gaping sockets.
McGurry was kneeling by the corpse, rolling it over onto its back. He didn’t notice the corpse’s pale blue eyes, pleading with him. Instead, he glanced up at Alex’s new screams, in time to see Black turn to the guard. The hair on his arms stood on end for a second, and the air in the room smelled suddenly of ozone.
"Hey…Black…"
Black didn’t answer. He fell to the floor, clutching his chest, moaning. Then the guard was grinning at him and pulling a gun. The agents just stood quietly away from the action, their faces impassive; their eyes hidden and unreadable behind their sunglasses.
As if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
McGurry swore but his training took over; instincts making him reach for his own weapon, only to find his shoulder holster empty. Instantly, McGurry remembered that he’d had to surrender his weapon upon entry, for security reasons.
And in the blink of an eye, it was too late.
Two shots rang out; two bullets ripped the life from him. McGurry’s lifeless body fell at the guards feet. The guard pulled the trigger twice again, and Black slumped in a spreading pool of blood.
Then the agents turned to Alex.
She backed into the wall, and the guard advanced on her. She watching the oily black currents in his eyes slowly fade back to a dull, dark brown. The grin on his face stayed the same. The same grin Matt had shown her when she introduced herself. The same grin that had been on Black’s face after the walking corpse fell away from him.
"Alex, Alex," the guard grinned and touched her hair. "So beautiful."
The two agents stood on either side of her now. They grabbed her arms and pinned her up against the wall.
Alex struggled.
"Let me go."
The guard pistol-whipped her face for her trouble, rocking her head back.
"I’ve waited an entire month for you, bitch."
The guard ran the barrel of the pistol down her bleeding cheek, pushing the hot tip of the gun up under her chin as he crowded in against her.
"God-damn if it didn’t take too fucking long to wear that body down."
"No, please," She begged. "Stay away from me."
The metal burned, sizzling against the soft flesh of her neck, while he used his free hand to rip open her blouse and grope her breasts. He squeezed them until Alex sobbed with the pain.
"Yeah. Sure. Heh." The guard licked his lips, wetting them with an obscenely long tongue. "Nice titties, bitch. Nice and big and firm." Grinning, the guard nodded, apparently satisfied with his inspection of her body. "C’mon. Let’s fuck."
Instantly the agents pulled her from the wall and threw her face-first down onto the bed. The three big men fell on her.
Alex struggled, but the agents knelt on her outstretched forearms with their knees, using their weight to pin her down. She felt hands move over her ass, and then her skirt was torn away and her stockings and panties were roughly pulled down past her knees. Her legs were pried open, and she heard the sound of a belt being undone, pants being unzipped.
"Oh, God. No. Please…"
Her face was shoved into the bed’s moist, pus-covered sheets. She screamed as the guard rammed his cock into her pussy. He wound her braid in his rough hands and yanked her head back, forcing her to arch her spine and giving him better access to her breasts, her cunt. He made her fuck him, using her hair like a rider uses the bridle of a horse.
"Nuh-uh-uh-noooo…"
He took her slowly, enjoying her pain, her fear. Letting her emotions feed him. Moments later, he climaxed hard, shooting thick ropes of burning, acid-like cum deep into her snatch. Then he was leaning over her, whispering in her ear.
"Matt tried to warn you just now, bitch," he cooed. "You didn’t listen. Thought the poor boy was nuts, didn’t you? Heh. Just like a stupid bitch."
He slapped her ass. She felt her butt cheeks sting and jiggle as he played with her. The cum dripping from her pussy burned like liquid fire.
"You know, he almost had me. Almost. A real chip off the old block, if I don’t say so myself. The boy just doesn’t know his own strength. He fucked me up pretty good, came this close to finishing the job. But he bit off more than he could chew, thinking he could screw with me."
"S-stop…"
"Why? You wanted the whole story, didn’t you?"
"Please stop…I…"
"The party, the orgy, all those guests? I never told Matt the real reason they were all there. Angie and I, we were bringing him along slow, taking it easy while we worked him into the gang. Angie knew the plan, of course. I always told my sweetie everything. She’d already worked her way through a few bodies, and was finally ready to breed too."
"Stop it, just stop. Leave me alone. Please…I…"
"Will you shut up and let me finish? Jesus. Angie liked to let me fuck her girls, knock ‘em up. She brought a few with her that were all ready to pop. She left ‘em with me at the orgy for the, uh, banquet. She dragged Matt down into the tunnels to play her little game with him in private."
He sighed heavily.
"Poor Angie. Always falling for the guys with the big dicks. She had such plans for Matt. I knew one day she’d fuck up. And boy, did she fuck up good with Matt. I knew exactly when he killed her. He twisted her head right off. POP! Just like that. Over and done."
The guard grinned down at the still, crumpled body on the floor.
"Bloodthirsty little arse, isn’t he? Well, like father, like son, they say."
"Please let me go..."
"Alex. Sweet, pretty Alex. I’ve had a whole month to sit around and fantasize about this, so I want to get you all nice and juicy, let my jizz burn into your sweet fucking guts.
He stopped slapping her butt and stretched out, lying on top of her. Alex felt his cock pressing against her asshole, slowly hardening. He ground against her and she cried softly; large, wet tears soaking into the bed. Alex grunted as the guard used his fingers to probe and stretch her ass. The two men pinning her arms never moved, never uttered a sound.
"Look at him."
He turned her over and forced her to stare at the body on the floor as he ripped into her ass from behind. The corpse blinked up at her.
"Damn fool still doesn’t know what hit him."
"Owww..." Alex whimpered and bit her lip bloody as his cock rammed deeper, tearing into her rectum.
"Oh, baby, that’s tight."
He reached around and hooked an arm around Alex’s neck, laughed as she gasped for breath. He nuzzled her neck and banged her hard and fast, grunting like a pig in time with his thrusts.
"See, it’s breeding time, baby. Matt fucked all that up after he found me dorking his sister-in-law. But hell, she wasn’t supposed to be there. He was supposed to bring one of the bitches he was living with, an old cooze named Nancy. I’d already knocked her up; she was ready to drop. But he left the damn cow at home! What was I gonna do?"
He glared at the body on the floor and rammed his cock into Alex for emphasis.
"So I fucked the big-titty bitch he brought. Damn, she had some huge jugs. Hot snatch too. She would’a looked great knocked up with my little guys squirming around in her guts."
He grinned at the thought. It pissed him off at the same time, so he slapped Alex’s ass until it was nice and red, then continued.
"Anyway, so Matt walks in on us with his big old ding-dong swinging in the breeze. Everybody’s fucking like bunnies, and he sees me pounding his bitch’s pussy. So he let’s me have it. Threw a goddamn hissy-fit and hit me with everything he had. The shit head ripped the skin right off my body. Hurt like hell."
Alex stared in shock. The body on the floor groaned and weakly scratched at the tile under its fingertips. The guard laughed.
"Yeah, you fuck. Damn it, I still had big plans for Melvin, and you just went and screwed that all up."
The body on the floor twitched, the pale eyes burning hatred.
"What’sa matter, Mattie-boy? Pissed off that you couldn’t save that pretty blonde cunt of yours?"
The guard laughed, and he buried his cock inside Alex. He wrapped a hand in her hair and yanked her head back.
"You didn’t even me time to finish cumming in that nice, big ass of hers before you tried to take me out. Barely had the chance to protect myself."
Oily black cataracts swirled in the guards’ eyes.
"That was damn frustrating Matt. Maybe I should take it out on this pretty bitch. Huh? Yes? Maybe? No? Hell, sounds good to me."
Fresh tears dripped down Alex’s face. She was breathing hard, trying to relax so her sphincter could accommodate the guard’s cock when suddenly hiss penis seemed to grow huge inside her. She felt it thicken, spreading her wider and wider, and it pushed further into her, until a sharp paid shot into her belly. She gasped with the pain, and he pulled her tight against him, closed his eyes and smiled happily.
Alex screamed as her anus suddenly ruptured.
"Ahh. Just like that."
He smacked her butt with his belly, making her ass-cheeks ripple. A gush of blood oozed out of her ass, dripping out around the base of his cock, and Alex screamed again. She jerked and bucked underneath him for a moment, then collapsed and went still.
"Mmm…yeah. That was perfect."
He pulled out of her with a slurping pop. His wet, bloody cock had turned a sickly, moldy, greenish-gray color and was swollen to the size of a baseball bat; its flesh covered with sharp, scaly spines. He wiped himself off on her silk blouse, ripping the thin material on the spikes and leaving a rust-colored smear of blood and shit down her back.
The guard pushed himself off the bed and pulled up his pants. He grinned wickedly, glancing around at the prone, bloody bodies. He stepped carefully over the crimson pool spreading from between Alex’s legs and squatted next to Matt, peering curiously down at his withered face.
"Don’t feel too bad, sonny." He patted Matt’s shoulder, almost gently. "You gave it your all. You were a fucking powerful sonofabitch, boy. I can’t even guess how strong you could’ve been. But I’ve been around a long fucking time, and we don’t die easily."
He sighed and stood, brushing off his uniform.
"Hell. Too bad everything had to end up like this. But it’s time for me to move on to bigger and better things. No more of this little pissant shit."
He nodded to the Agents, who moved to the door. The oily black pools swirling in the guard’s eyes cleared, and he blinked, rubbing at them with the backs of his knuckles. He pulled the automatic pistol from the holster at his waist.
"Painful, dying. Isn’t it?" He grinned. "Now you know how your sister felt, you little fuck." He grinned. "Well. Gotta run."
Across the room, the Agents nodded and pulled their own weapons. The guard rolled his massive shoulders and kicked Alexis DePaul’s broken body on his way out the door.
The first shots echoed through the halls just moments later.
***
Epilogue
"Mr. President?"
President Joseph Howard blinked at the secret service agent and tore his thoughts away from the dinner meeting he’d left mere moments ago.
"Yes…?"
The agent pushed in front of President Howard and pulled a heavy automatic pistol from his shoulder holster. A tinny voice squawked in the agents’ earpiece.
"We have a problem, sir."
Sincere concern resonated in the agents’ voice.
"Son? What’s going on?"
"I’m not sure." The agent began backing up, quickly, keeping the President behind him. "Phillips isn’t answering, another agent is down as well. The status reports I’m receiving are garbled. We need to get you to your office, sir, right now."
"What…what about my wife…and Clyde…"
After supper, Jocelyn had gone back to their bedroom to freshen up, and the Vice President, Clyde Jackson and his wife Camille were escorting the British Prime Minister and his wife back to their hotel for the evening.
"She’s fine sir. That’s confirmed. An agent is with her now."
The burly agent practically pulled the President along with him as they made their way back through the White House to the Oval Office. They paused outside the office for a moment, and the agent pressed the earpiece with his fingertip, trying to decipher a piece of information from the shouting voices blaring in his ear.
"Vice President Jackson has been located and notified, sir. He is on his way back as we speak."
The agent bulled through the outer office, past Clara’s tidy desk. The President was thankful that his secretary was safely at home. Something eerily similar to this had happened only a few months ago. That explained the agents’ concern.
Except that time, President Howard and his family had been out of the country, on a good-will trip through Europe and Asia, not safely tucked into the most heavily guarded home in the world.
"Is someone in the building?"
"I don’t know, sir."
"Is that possible?"
"Anything’s possible, sir."
The agent opened a door, cleared the room. Another agent, Coburn, was already inside, sunglasses on, even at nine o’clock at night, his weapon drawn. He waved them in.
The President stumbled to his desk and fell into his chair as his bodyguard closed and locked the office door.
"There," the agent turned to Coburn and holstered his weapon. "Now, what’s going on?"
That was all he managed. Coburn fired his weapon twice into his chest from point-blank range. The shot agent jerked backwards and fell in a heap by the wall, blood seeping into the thick royal blue carpet.
"See-ya, sonny."
Coburn shoved the dead man with his foot, rolling the body over onto its back. The President stared wide-eyed as Coburn leveled the smoking weapon at his forehead.
"Mr. President. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve been planning this for months."
Coburn flipped off the sunglasses and ground them into the floor as he stepped around to the President, who was frozen in the chair.
"What the hell…?"
The President stared at the agent in shock and fear, bewildered, watching as the whites of his eyes clouded over and turned an oily black. The agent grinned and his hand shot out, gripping the President’s face with claw-like fingers.
"Not yet, Mr. President."
The agent leaned over, his face inches away from the Presidents’ quivering flesh. His lips peeled back over rotting teeth, and a putrid stench filled the air as angry shouts filtered through the office walls. Someone began pounding on the doors, shouting to be let in.
"Hell isn’t here quite yet. But I promise, we’ll work on that. You see, I’m almost through with this body. I need a new one."
The agent pulled the President close, kicking and struggling.
"And who better to provide for me than you?"
The President was a strong man. An ex-Marine. A Vietnam vet. He fought for his life.
For a moment.
***
The Vice President and six secret service agents pounded at the locked door as more gunfire echoed from inside the Oval Office.
Seconds later, they burst through the door to find the President standing with a smoking weapon clutched in his hand, pointed at the body of an agent lying in a growing pool of blood on the floor. Vice President Jackson took the scene in at a glance, noting the other agent lying motionless across the room.
"Mr. President? Are you all right, sir?"
President Howard tossed the weapon onto the floor next to the body and turned toward the office windows. Vice President Jackson swore he was smiling.
"Fine."
The reflection hid the black pits of his eyes as he peered out of the window.
It’s been a long time since I last stood here
"Mr. President? Are you sure…"
"I’m just fine, Clyde." The President of the United States grinned. "Please send for my wife. I’d like to…see her. And I want all of you out of here. Now."
The Vice President nodded at the agents, who filed out of the room, letting the door shut behind them. The President turned from the windows and glared as Jackson bent and retrieved the pistol from the floor.
"That means you too, Clyde. I want to…be alone with my wife. Heh."
"What was that?" The Vice President asked, holding the pistol down at his side.
"What was what?"
"You just laughed."
The President’s head jerked to the side, just a fraction of an inch, and he frowned.
"I…did?"
"Mm-hmm. You did."
"Well, I…"
The Vice President raised the pistol and fired until the cartridge was empty. Blood and bits of flesh splattered onto the windows and dripped onto the walls.
"I know that laugh. Always hated that laugh."
He tossed the weapon away and walked over to the corpse by the wall. He stooped and pulled the agents weapon from the holster and cocked it as he walked back to President Howard’s body. He stood still, impassively watching what should’ve been a dead man squirm and kick.
"Dying hurts, doesn’t it Melvin? Oh, sorry. I mean, Mr. President."
Vice President Jackson smiled and pointed the gun.
"Here. Let me help put you out of your misery. We’ll get this over and done with before your wife gets here, and I have to console the poor thing."
Jackson’s smile faded, and his tan, handsome face turned cold and impassive.
"You know, Mel, you should’ve finished me when you had the chance. I won’t make that mistake again with you."
He emptied the pistol. Black clouds swirled in his eyes, and the torn, bloody thing at his feet sputtered and twitched as an electric charge snapped through the air. A dark, primordial energy rippled between the men. The President’s gurgling, dying screams faded as his body was engulfed in black fire.
The man who was once Matt Kennedy watched the flames slowly die out as the body was consumed.
And then there was one.
He sighed and sat down, letting his power build inside him. He enjoyed the familiar itch at the back of his skull, feeling the tiny hairs on his body tingle. He let it peak, and then flow out from him in spreading waves.
The last of the black flames had long since dwindled away when an armed agent knocked on the office door, and the President’s pretty wife stepped inside.
"Jocelyn."
Vice President Jackson let his power saturate the woman in front of him, and he stood, taking her into his strong arms. She folded into him, crying silently.
"We need to talk."
~ Fin ~
Author’s note
This is it folks, the last chapter, the big finale,
I hope those of you that have been following the series from my first feeble attempts at short fiction have enjoyed the stories as they’ve evolved from what was going to be a simple rape fantasy scenario into something...more. This has been a crash course in creative writing. Hopefully I’ve improved a bit along the way.
If anyone would like to continue Matt’s adventures, or explore some of the other characters’ unwritten stories, please feel free. And please, if you do, drop me a line and let me know - I’d love to read them, and to see this become an ongoing, expanding series, with contributions from all of you out there who may be willing to accept the challenge.
By the way, I don’t know if anyone’s said it before, but thanks to the good folks at
Anyway, here’s to one last proofread, then I’m off to new stories. Thanks for reading.
: The End. I’ve come to the close of the Meter Reader saga featuring Matt and his Cronies. Sexstoriespost.com, for allowing us all to publish our twisted little ditties. ~ JNB ~
. The President smiled to himself and thought: The view hasn’t changed much over the last hundred years. …., Alex thought. And he seems...proud of this.. The muscles in Kennedy’s face began to spasm., she thought.Black cleared his throat from behind her. He whispered, "Ask him why we brought you here.", she thought, and kissed her crucifix. I just need to go north. I can find a way out.… 