He thought he knew what he might see. He prayed that he was wrong.
But it was worse than he could have imagined.
The gas station consisted of a low brown building with peaked blue roofs. It had a shop front, a dwelling attached to the back and a concrete apron spread out before it with some gas pumps under a small blue peaked roof to shelter motorists from snow or rain while they filled their tanks. A portion of the concrete apron was devoted to the stalls of the farmers’ market today, displaying a wide variety of foods.
It was obviously a popular destination because there were at least a dozen people among the stalls.
But they were all lying on the ground in postures of collapse.
The electric door of the shop front was opening and closing endlessly on a plump woman lying half inside and half out. She was wearing a shirt in the gas station colours and Doc guessed that when she’d seen what was happening she’d left her post at the cash register and come outside to try and help.
But she’d just become one more victim.
It was a disquietingly still scene. No one moved. And it was silent except for a faint splashing sound and a mechanical humming. Doc looked in the direction of the sound, at the cluster of gas pumps under the little blue roof. The first thing he saw was the spreading dark strain on the concrete. Then he saw the man lying on the ground beside his SUV and the nozzle of the gas pump that was jutting loosely into the gas tank of the SUV.
The pump should have cut off automatically when the tank filled, but apparently the man had almost dragged it out as he fell and now it was pumping gas relentlessly. Doc dashed over and pulled the nozzle free, shutting it off. All around him the gas fumes rose up. He prayed that nothing would cause a spark. He hung the nozzle back on the pump. As he bent forward to do this he heard a buzzing and felt a tiny pressure on the nape of his neck.
He slammed his hand onto the back of his neck, pulled it away and frantically inspected it. There was a black stain in the centre of his palm, the mashed remains of a mosquito.
But no blood.
He hadn’t been stung.
There was an intense buzzing in his ear and he swung his hands wildly all around his head, backing away from the gas pumps. He stepped on the man lying beside the SUV and nearly fell over. Doc jerked back from the man and heard buzzing again. This time it was coming from several directions at once. He whirled around and saw a whole cluster of mosquitoes looming towards him, coming from the other side of the pumps. He turned and ran back across the forecourt, past the food stalls.
As he passed the stalls a whole cloud of dense moving particles rose up, like smoke.
An entire swarm of mosquitoes.
Doc ran for his life. He ran along the centre of the road, leaping over the apples that lay spilled there. He reached his Audi and jerked the door open, scrambling inside. He slammed the door behind him. Safe. He was panting with exertion, his shirt soaked with sweat. He felt a stab of guilt about abandoning the people at the gas station. But it wouldn’t do them any good if he succumbed as well. He had to summon help. He reached for his phone.
As he did so he heard a high-pitched buzzing.
Doc froze.
It was the unmistakable whine of a mosquito’s wings, beating the air five hundred times per second.
There was one of them in the car with him.
He twisted around in his seat, trying to look everywhere at once. The buzzing was coming from behind him. He shifted to face the back of the vehicle. Then the buzzing shifted, to his left. He whirled around. The buzzing moved once more — to the rear of the vehicle again. Doc stared frantically around. He couldn’t see anything. The buzzing got fainter. Wherever it was, the mosquito was moving away from him, into the shadowed recesses of the Audi.
Where was it?
Where was the damned thing?
It was maddeningly difficult to judge where the sound was coming from. His best guess was somewhere down between the back of his seat and the floor space in front of the rear seat. He leaned over, peering through the gap between the two front seats. Was that where the sound was coming from?
Just a faint buzzing now…
And then it stopped.
Doc held his breath. There was complete silence in the car.
However frustrating it had been listening to the mosquito’s buzzing, and being unable to determine where it was coming from, this was a hundred times worse. There was absolutely no way of finding its location without the sound to guide him. Doc cursed and tried to force himself to think.
He had to report the incident at the gas station. But he had to deal with this mosquito first. He would be no good to anyone if he ended up in a coma. Or dead.
How could he get rid of the mosquito? Think. What if he opened the door, or the window? That might let a breeze in. It might tempt the mosquito to fly out. Doc reached for the handle of the door. Then he stopped himself.
He turned around and peered carefully out the windscreen of the car.
There were mosquitoes on the outside of the glass. At least a dozen of them.
He released the door handle. He wasn’t going to be opening that any time soon. But he had to get the mosquito out of here. Or kill it. What if he started driving, got up to speed, then opened all the windows? Surely the flood of air through the car would drive it out? It was worth a try.
He started the engine. The sound of it seemed thunderous. Would it drown the sound of the mosquito, leaving him vulnerable? He had to try it. He eased the handbrake off and pulled away, driving across the apples strewn across the road, crushing them to pulp under his tires. He saw the apple-box man lying on the grass verge in his rear view mirror. He muttered a silent apology to the man. The Audi picked up speed, its engine note growing in volume. He reached the cross roads, passing the gas station.
Doc said a silent apology to them as well.
He turned into Cedar Road and turned left. There were some houses along here. Should he stop and try and warn them? There was no time, and the risk of getting stung was too great. He had to get up to speed and get the windows open, flush out the mosquito that was lurking somewhere in here with him.
Doc stepped down hard on the gas. The Audi surged forward.
There was a sharp, high pitched buzzing, right in his ear. Doc stomped on the break, slamming his right hand against the side of his head with such savage force he stunned himself. The car slewed to a halt in the middle of the road at a drunken angle. Doc’s ear was ringing at the force of his self-inflicted blow. He examined his hand.
No trace of the mosquito. He hadn’t got it. Where was it?
Maybe he should try opening the windows here. Was he far enough away from the cloud of them at the gas station? He’d better check first. Doc peered out the windscreen. Nothing. Nothing. There. One mosquito, sitting patiently on the glass. No others. He started to turn away to check the side windows. Wait…
He looked at the lone mosquito again.
It was on the inside.
Doc drove his hand onto the glass, palm flat, fingers spread wide. It made an explosive sound in the sealed car and a hot pain flared in the bones of his hand. He carefully drew his hand away from the glass. His skin was flushed with the impact.
And there, at the base of his thumb, was a damp black mangled mass.
And no trace of blood.
“Got you, you bastard,” muttered Doc. He wondered distantly if he should have said ‘bitch’. After all, only the females bite…
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flicker of movement. Doc looked up to see a girl on a bicycle, pedalling along the road towards him. She steered around his car, giving him an odd look. After all, he was blocking the road.
She went past the car.
Heading straight for the gas station…
11: Bicycle
Doc grabbed for the door handle and pulled it open. He leaned out of the Audi and yelled at the girl on the bicycle. “Hey!”
She slowed to a stop and looked bac
k over her shoulder at him. She looked to be in her late teens, with strawberry blonde hair and a chubby, somewhat flushed face. She was wearing a skimpy pink tank top that revealed an embarrassing quantity of bra-less breasts. A pair of cut-off blue jeans served as shorts, but these were also so truncated. Her brown bare legs were smooth and well shaped. She was wearing black and red polka dot flip-flops.
She stared at Doc uncertainly.
“Car trouble?” she said. Her voice was squeaky and trembled a little.
“Don’t go there,” said Doc, gesturing towards the gas station, a hundred metres back down the road.
The girl looked in that direction, then back at him. “I’m going to the farmers’ market.”
Doc got out of the Audi. “Don’t,” he said. “Please.”
The girl stared at him.
“It isn’t safe,” said Doc. “There’s been an incident there.”
“An incident?”
A fierce buzzing sounded in Doc’s ear. A mosquito, zeroing in on him… He whirled around, swatting at the air furiously. The buzzing receded. He peered around wildly, but he couldn’t see a mosquito. Then he turned to the girl. She was staring at him.
Doc realised he looked like a madman.
He took a step towards her.
She began to back away on her bicycle
“It’s the mosquitoes,” he said.
“The mosquitoes… okay…”
“They’re spreading an infection.”
“An infection. Right.” She was clearly just humouring him. Each time he took a step forward, she edged further back on her bike. Doc could see she was on the verge of taking off altogether, so he stopped. She stopped too, staring at him watchfully.
“You’ve heard of malaria? Nile fever?”
The girl bobbed her head in acknowledgement. “Yeah.”
“Well, it’s like that. But it’s much worse. It strikes very quickly. It puts people into a coma.” Doc’s voice sounded hoarse and desperate, even in his own ears. The wheedling voice of a madman, trying to convince someone that he wasn’t mad. “That’s why I don’t want you to go there.” He gestured in the direction of the gas station. “You’ll get stung. And then you’ll get sick, really sick. We don’t have a cure for it yet, whatever it is, and already some people have died.”
He could see that he had the girl’s attention now. She wasn’t backing away any further. Doc tried a tentative step forward and she remained where she was, but still watching him carefully, one foot still poised on her pedals, the other one on the ground, holding the bike ready for a quick getaway.
“The people at the gas station are sick?” she said.
“That’s right. All of them. They’re paralysed, they’re in a coma. It paralyses you first and then you go into a coma. You understand what a coma is?”
The girl nodded cautiously.
“You don’t want to end up in a coma.”
The girl shook her head.
Suddenly there was a piercing buzzing at the back of Doc’s head. He whirled around and flailed at the air. The buzzing receded. He peered around furiously. He couldn’t see any mosquitoes. He turned to the girl again.
From the way she was staring at him he suspected he’d lost any ground he’d gained. “It was a mosquito,” he said. “I told you about the mosquitoes.”
“Yeah.” Her voice was utterly neutral, without inflection. Quite unconvinced. He stared at her, at all that exposed, innocent flesh. And as he stared he saw a mosquito land on the bare pink skin of the girl’s right arm. He jerked towards her.
As he did so, she immediately jerked back, away from him.
The mosquito remained fixed on her flesh.
“There!” said Doc, pointing urgently. “On your arm. A mosquito.”
The girl looked at her right arm curiously, as if she’d never seen one before. Then, moving with agonising slowness, she moved her left hand and casually brushed the mosquito away. It rose from her arm and flew off.
“Did it bite you?” said Doc.
The girl shook her head.
Doc cleared his throat. “The best thing would be if you got into my car.”
The girl stared at him, her eyes enormous.
“I’ll drive you wherever you want to go. I’ll drive you home. Where do you live?”
“No thank you,” said the girl. She started backing away.
“Don’t go!” shouted Doc and she froze. “You’ve got to get in my car,” he begged her. “It’s not safe.”
“I think I’m going to go to the gas station,” said the girl. “And take a look for myself.”
“No!”
But the girl was already spinning around on her bicycle, setting both feet on the pedals. Doc sprang after her just as her legs started pumping. The bicycle surged away from him. Doc dashed after it and launched himself at her. He grabbed the frame of the bike and she rocked to a halt.
The girl stared at him, her face a mask of fear, and started screaming. She fought ferociously, trying to scratch his face with her fingernails. Doc managed to get control of both her arms and began to drag her towards his Audi. She kept screaming.
Between screams, Doc did his best to listen for the high pitched buzz of a mosquito approaching.
What he heard instead was the engine of a vehicle. He looked around to see a battered beige pickup truck coming towards them at speed. It passed them and skidded to a halt. The girl had fallen silent and stopped struggling. Doc kept hold of her firmly as he turned to face the pickup. A man was climbing out. He was big and bearded, with a deep suntan. He wore a denim vest and his chest was bare underneath it. His arms were as thick as tree stumps and corded with muscle. “What’s going on here, Emma?” he said.
“Help me, Bobby! He’s trying to drag me into his car.”
“Is that right?” said Bobby, and he looked at Doc with pale blue eyes. “Let go of her, mister.”
“Listen,” said Doc desperately, “something’s happened—”
“Something’s happened, all right,” said Bobby ambling towards Doc and the girl. “And something else is about to happen, too.”
“Down the road, at the gas station,” said Doc. “Take a look. People are lying there —”
“Someone’s lying right here,” said Bobby. He lifted his hands and closed his fists. It looked like he knew how to box and Doc realised with a sinking feeling that he was going to have to defend himself. “Let the girl go.”
Doc did as he said. The girl shrieked and pulled away from him as soon as he loosened his grip. “He tried to put me in his car,” she cried.
“Okay Emma, don’t worry. It’s all right now.”
Doc held up his hands in a placating gesture. “You’ve got it all wrong, just listen to me—” But Bobby wasn’t listening. He was closing in fast, obviously intending on giving Doc a thrashing. Doc circled around, trying to keep him at a distance. The girl moved, too, disappearing out of Doc’s vision.
Bobby pounced in a sudden attack. Doc dropped into a defensive posture, but he was struck abruptly from behind. He realised the girl must have hit him. But now he was off balance and Bobby managed to get in the first punch, driving his big fist into Doc’s solar plexus.
Doc doubled over in agony, all his breath knocked out of him. For an instant he was unable to defend himself and he saw Bobby step forward, grinning, locking both his hands together and lifting them above him.
He brought his doubled fists down on Doc’s head and Doc’s vision flared a hot white like burning phosphorous. All at once everything seemed to slow down, and become terribly inconsequential.
Bobby punched him again, but this time Doc felt like he was being hit with a pillow. Everything was soft and nothing mattered. Doc found himself falling towards the ground, as slowly and gently as a feather drifting down. He realised he was going to fall on his face and some residual reflex caused him to twist his body in mid air.
Doc hit the road with his shoulder. He felt no pain. He lay there for a moment and
then rolled over on his back. He stared up at blue sky. Then he saw faces. Bobby and the girl, Emma, looking down at him. They were talking but their voices were just a distorted booming. Then his hearing came back. Bobby was saying, “Call the police.”
“But he didn’t actually do nothing, Bobby.”
“He did plenty. They’re going to want to put him away.”
Then Doc heard the sound of a motorcycle engine. Bobby and Emma looked away, at something outside his range of sight. But Doc was no longer interested in them. He could hear the piercing buzz of a mosquito. Something fluttered into his field of vision, a tiny, angular shadow.
Doc felt the mosquito land on his nose.
He tried to lift his hands, to swat it away, but he couldn’t move. There were other sounds now, a grunting, a thudding, the girl crying out. But Doc couldn’t see what was happening, and he didn’t care. The mosquito was moving around on his nose, delicately shifting position, getting ready. Doc took a deep breath and strained every muscle fibre in his body, willing his arms to move…
It was no good.
The mosquito turned one way, then another, searching for a comfortable position. It was taking its time, as if it knew he was helpless.
Doc strained until a fierce light flooded his head. Nothing. He couldn’t move.
The mosquito settled finally settled into a stance it was happy with.
Doc resigned himself. He tried to get ready for what was about to happen. He took a deep breath…
Breath.
Doc blew an explosive burst of air out through his mouth, towards his nose. The mosquito rose from its perch on his nose, buzzing in annoyance. Doc blew on it again.
It flew away, looking for a less obnoxious meal.
Doc relaxed, and as he did so he felt sensation returning to his limbs. He tried to move his hands, and he could. He started to sit up. But before he could do so, someone stepped into his field of vision.
Hard Targets: A Doc Palfrey Omnibus Page 21