Fragments

by James F. David

  He cowered in the tub, pulling his legs under him and trying to get to his feet. The terror on his face was satisfying, and his squealing for help was an echo of her own unanswered pleas. Just as she was about to swing, he reached out, pulling the shower curtain across, blocking her view. Pausing, she ripped it aside. He was coming up now, trying to stand, holding his arms out to ward off the coming blow. She could see a red streak on the tub from the wound on his back. Pleasure flooded her—pleasure over his fear, pleasure over his pain, and pleasure over his pleadings. Then she lifted her arm, ready for a near erotic burst of joy as she stabbed him. Suddenly a dark stain appeared in his crotch. She hesitated, momentarily confused. He’d wet his pants! She smiled broadly and leaned in to strike, but then she heard the voice—small and distant, screaming for her to stop. The voice mingled with her thoughts, but the voice wasn’t hers. Mad with blood lust, she cocked her arm to strike. Suddenly she was engulfed by a huge set of arms.

  “What did she scream?” Wes asked.

  “She said don’t kill him,” Dr. Birnbaum said.

  “Oh no. We’re too late.”

  “He won’t let go of me,” Elizabeth said.

  “Dr. Birnbaum,” Wes said. “Talk to her. We’ve got to find out where Frankie is.”

  “Wes, her heart rate is climbing again—all her signs are up,” Karon said.

  “Elizabeth, can you hear me?” Dr. Birnbaum asked.

  “I cut him.”

  “Who, Elizabeth? Who did you cut?”

  Flailing with the knife, she tried to reach whoever was holding her. Swinging low, she stabbed a leg, eliciting a scream, the arms loosening.

  “Hold her!” Billy screamed, standing in the tub. He reached out and tried to grab her arm.

  Swinging at Billy, she drove him back into the tub, but the arms still held her and were dragging her back. She reached up, and sliced the arm—it released. Turning, she faced big Emil, who was backing out the door, his arm bloody. Slashing and stabbing, she drove him out the door into the bedroom.

  “I cut them—she cut them. They’re bleeding. I’m sorry. No, don’t hurt them!”

  “Who, Elizabeth? Can you see their faces?”

  “Billy—”

  Dr. Birnbaum looked at Wes, who shrugged helplessly. Turning back to Elizabeth, Dr. Birnbaum asked, “Who else is there?”

  “Don’t hurt them.”

  “What is the other one’s name?”

  “It’s Emil.”

  Again Dr. Birnbaum turned to Wes, who shook his head. Panicky now, Wes knew Frankie was somewhere trying to kill two people, but he didn’t know where. Then he saw Ralph’s hand waving in the air like a grade-school child trying to get attention in class. Irritated, Wes ignored him, turning away. But Ralph leaned out, shaking his hand in his face. Then Wes remembered that Ralph knew everybody in town.

  “Ralph, do you know who she’s talking about?” Wes shouted.

  Ralph nodded, then reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the imaginary key and unlocked his pursed lips, putting the key back in his pocket. “I know a Billy and a Emil. They nitiated me. We’re rat brothers . . . frat brothers.”

  “But I was there—he lied to me. I’m going down to the fraternity. Karon, call the police!”

  Before Wes could move, Elizabeth froze him in his tracks with a scream.

  Billy had tackled her from behind, and she screamed in rage, crashing to the floor with him on her back. The knife was pinned under her and when she pulled her arm out Sammy jumped on her wrist, holding her hand to the floor. He pulled at her fingers, trying to free the knife while the others held her to the ground.

  “Get the knife, Grant!” Sammy screamed. “I’ll hold her arm!”

  Grant kneeled, pulling at the fingers tightly wrapped around the handle.

  “Hold still, you bitch!” Billy screamed, as she kicked and shrieked.

  Then the knife was free and Grant tossed it out the door, letting it clatter down the hall.

  “Good job, Grant,” Billy said. “Go get something to tie her up with.”

  Even with Grant gone, she couldn’t break loose. They merely had to sit on her, their bulk pressing her to the floor so she could take only short shallow breaths. Then Grant was back with curtain cord and they pulled her arms up on her back, tying her wrists together. When Grant wrapped a cord around her ankles, Billy stopped him.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “She kicks like a mule!” Emil protested.

  “Yeah, but if you tie her legs together we can’t have any fun.”

  She went into a frenzy then, screaming and flopping around on the ground, flailing wildly with her legs. They jumped back, letting her tire herself out. She slowed physically, but the screams continued. Then Billy sent Grant for a towel, and they held her while he tied it across her mouth, muffling the sounds.

  “Help me carry her to the bed,” Billy said.

  Each taking an arm or a leg, they lifted her, ignoring her weakening gyrations, and tossed her onto the bed. Focusing her remaining strength, she kicked at them, but they easily snagged her legs, Sammy holding one, Grant the other. Finally she collapsed, her rage turned to despair, and now fear. Helpless on the bed, memories flooded back. She saw the faces around her laughing at first, then leering. Then one by one the faces appeared close up as they hurt her—raped her. She began to cry, her tears blurring her vision. Then Billy’s face appeared.

  “You cut me, bitch, but now it’s my turn.”

  Then she felt his hands on her, pulling at her pants, and she dissolved in tears. Waves of fear rippled through her mind, building to a tidal wave of horror. Submerged in the horror, she sank deeper and deeper, slowly dissolving in the acid of her fear.

  “No! No! They’re raping me!” Elizabeth screamed.

  “The police are on their way, Wes!” Karon said, returning to her monitor. “Wes, her signs are at dangerous levels! Bring her out!”

  “I’m trying!” Wes aborted the program, expecting the integration to disintegrate, but it didn’t. Frankie was holding it together. Suddenly, Elizabeth went limp, and Frankie’s wave pattern dissolved, re-forming into a new pattern.

  “What happened, Shamita?”

  “I don’t know—the integration is different. The parameters are—it looks like Frankie changed the parameters.”

  Then Elizabeth started crying.

  Billy had her pants half off when she suddenly went stiff. He looked up to see her looking around, confused, as if she were seeing her surroundings for the first time. Then she lifted her head and stared hard at Billy, as if she wanted to bore a hole through him.

  “As they say, relax and enjoy it,” he said with a smile. Then he returned to pulling her pants down.

  Suddenly he was flying through the air. When he hit the wall it was like being smashed between two giant bricks and his ribs compressed nearly to the breaking point, his breath exploding from his body. He slid to the floor, dazed, gasping for breath and dizzy from the pain. Dumbly, the others looked from him to her. Then it was Emil sailing across the room, landing on a dresser and tumbling to the floor. The dresser fell on him, the lamp from the top shattering on the floor.

  Grant backed away from the bed, holding up his hands, but Sammy ran for the door. When he was three feet from it the door slammed loudly, Sammy crashing into it. Unhurt, he yanked at the handle, desperate to escape. Then, as if he were pushed with an invisible hand, he was slammed against the door so hard it cracked down the middle. Then twice more he was smashed into the door, each time the crack getting bigger. Then he staggered back a few steps, his hands holding his bleeding face, only to be slammed against the door again, this time crashing through it. He lay motionless in the hall.

  Grant ran for the hole in the door but was knocked sideways, hitting the wall instead, his left arm crumpling as he tried to stop himself—the crack of the bone audible above the crash. Grant slid to the floor screaming.

  Looking around wildly, Billy saw Emil crawling towar
d the door. Suddenly she sat up. Billy closed his eyes to a squint, pretending to be unconscious. She was working at the cord holding her wrists. Soon they were free and she took the towel from her face and stood, pulling her pants up and calmly buttoning them. Grant stood, backing away from her, holding his arm and begging her not to hurt him. She backed him toward the wall and then suddenly he was flying through the air and crashing through the window, screaming as he fell to the patio below.

  Sobbing, Emil crawled through the shattered door, across Sammy’s body, and into the hall. Billy froze as she looked at him briefly, and then followed Emil into the hall. Billy got to his feet, but each step racked his body with pain. Slowly he walked to the bathroom and through to the other bedroom. Hide or run? He couldn’t run, he hurt too bad. Then he heard the sirens. The police were coming, they were saved. A scream and a crash told him it was too late for Emil, but he could be saved—he was still alive.

  He opened the closet, working his way through the clothes, and pulling the door closed behind him. The sirens were muffled, but still coming. Hurry, please hurry. He stood still, listening now for her sounds. It was quiet—he hoped she was gone. He dared think about being safe, and telling the police about what had happened. He began constructing a lie about how she had come to them, asking to use the phone, but then had attacked them. She was a freak—a mutant, or something—maybe a creation of those crazy scientists. Then the door opened.

  The clothes parted by themselves, and then she was staring at him. Her stare was unwavering; she held him transfixed with her eyes.

  “I didn’t mean anything—” he began.

  He was pushed to the wall, held by an invisible hand.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” he begged with his last words.

  He felt his head gripped by an invisible hand, which tightened, threatening to crush his skull. His eyes wide with fear, he clawed at his head but there was nothing to grip. Slam, his head hit the wall of the closet. Lights flashed behind his eyes and the pain made him weep. Then slam, slam, slam, over and over, his head pounded the wall—he was powerless to resist. His head battered the Sheetrock until it crumbled, but the stud behind it held, cracking his skull. Then his lifeless body was allowed to slip to the floor, leaving a bloody streak down the wall.

  36

  CONFRONTATION

  Birnbaum, talk to her,” Wes shouted. “She should be able to hear us.”

  “Elizabeth? Do you hear me, Elizabeth?”

  “I’m not Elizabeth.”

  “Yes you are. Your name is Elizabeth Foxworth.”

  “I’m not . . . I don’t know . . .”

  “Wes, do you see it?” Shamita shouted.

  “Yes.” The integration changed, the brain-wave patterns swirling; then suddenly the integration failed, the minds separating. The savant patterns returned to normal, followed by Elizabeth’s. “Bring her out, Shamita.” She was already working, Elizabeth slowly coming back to full alpha-wave function. When the equipment was shut down, Wes hurried to Elizabeth. Dr. Birnbaum pulled the helmet from her head. Her eyes were open but she stared blankly.

  “Are you all right, Elizabeth?” he asked.

  Slowly her eyes looked around at the faces above her, her face showing confusion.

  Gil woke with a start, bumping his head on the bottom of the table. The pain helped clear his mind. He was groggy, but he knew it wasn’t from sleep. It was that damn Frankie again! He cursed and swore she’d done it for the last time. He rolled out from under the table, looking out the window at the house. It had been a good hiding place. No one would suspect he’d come back here, but no hiding place was going to help him unless he could be free of Frankie. He’d been so close to having it all: the power, his freedom, unlimited control of others. But Frankie had taken that from him—there was only one way to be free—they all had to die. He stepped out of the garage, searching through the shrubs until he had a handful of rocks. Then he stormed toward the house.

  Elizabeth’s confusion lingered, her eyes darting around the room as if they were unable to focus. Suddenly they opened wide with fear. “Daphne!” Elizabeth shouted. “We’ve got to help her. They’re hurting her!”

  “We called the police,” Wes said.

  Elizabeth slid off the cot, heading for the door, Wes holding her arm to support her. They stopped on the porch when they saw Daphne coming up the walk with Officer Winston. Daphne’s eyes were fixed on the ground. The policeman’s face was haggard.

  “She’s all right. We found her down by the fraternity.”

  Elizabeth hugged her, putting her arm around her waist and leading her into the house. Wes hung back to talk. The policeman opened up as soon as Daphne was inside.

  “Gil got into the fraternity house. He must have been hiding out there or something.”

  Wes hesitated, unsure of what to disclose.

  “Gil was there?”

  “Had to be. Four boys are dead. Smashed up just like my officers.”

  Wes was quiet, wondering what really happened in the frat house.

  “We’re fanning out now, using the dogs to track him.”

  The policeman turned to leave but the sounds of splintering wood and shattering glass came from the house. Running up the steps two at a time, they raced in, just in time to see Karon, Yu, and Archie running from the experiment room. Suddenly they were knocked down by a silent blast, tumbling across the floor toward them. Yu rolled into the wall next to them, hitting it hard and then lying still. Archie came to rest on his stomach and then pushed himself to his hands and knees. Crying, he crawled about searching for his glasses. Daphne stood with Elizabeth, frozen in the middle of the living room, Karon lying at their feet. Then Gil stepped into the room, his face contorted in rage. Roy drew his gun, but was instantly knocked back against the wall, his gun clattering to the floor. Karon and the others struggled to their feet, backing away as Gil advanced, Dr. Birnbaum rolling backward. Then Gil turned on Dr. Birnbaum, as if noticing him for the first time. Dr. Birnbaum glared back defiantly.

  “I know you!” Dr. Birnbaum said, his voice trembling. “You did this to me!”

  Shaking with anger, Gil used an invisible push to send Dr. Birnbaum hurtling backward, crashing into an end table. Dr. Birnbaum tipped, rolling out onto the floor, trapped under the heavy chair. Wes could see him pushing with his stumps trying to free himself. Gil advanced on Dr. Birnbaum, and then Ralph stepped between them.

  “You hurt him, Gil. I told ya you can’t do that to people!”

  “I’m not afraid of you, Ralph!” Gil said.

  Ralph moved forward, spreading his arms. “I’m gonna have to hold you again, Gil. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  Gil gave him a cold look, but held his ground. Then he held up his hand and dropped a rock. When it reached eye level, it shot forward like a bullet, burying in Ralph’s shoulder. Ralph jerked with the blow, but didn’t cry out. Standing still, he looked at his right shoulder, then slowly brought his hand to it.

  “Ow! That hurts, Gil!” Ralph said.

  Gil’s hand raised again and he dropped another rock. Ralph ducked this time, and the rock whizzed across the room, burying into the wall with a loud whump. Quickly Gil dropped another rock, this time firing it like a bullet into Ralph’s leg. Ralph reacted slowly again, sinking to the floor, now holding his bleeding leg.

  Wes looked around, not knowing what to do. He noticed that Roy was sitting up, but the policeman looked dazed. The gun was on the floor and Wes measured the distance to it, then looked back to Gil, estimating his chances. Ralph was struggling up now, holding his right shoulder. Up came Gil’s hand, ready to drop another rock, when suddenly he flew backward, disappearing into the experiment room, followed by crashing sounds.

  Stunned, everyone stood still looking at each other. It was as if Gil’s power had backfired. Wes didn’t understand what had happened, but he realized it was their only chance. He jumped for the gun and rushed to the door, pausing to peer in. Gil was there on hands and kn
ees trying to free himself from a tangle of cables. Wes pointed the gun at him, advancing slowly.

  “Don’t turn around, Gil. I have a gun.”

  Gil paused, then went back to freeing himself from the wires. Wes didn’t know what to do. Only Ralph could hold him, but he was injured. Once he turned around Wes would be at the mercy of his power, but he couldn’t bring himself to shoot a man in the back. While Wes wrestled with a course of action, Gil finished freeing himself of the cords and then stood.

  “Get back down!” Wes shouted. “Lay facedown.”

  “I’m picturing a telephone pole and when I turn around, I’m going to ram it right through you.”

  “I’ll shoot!”

  “Then we’ll both die.”

  Suddenly Gil jumped over the table in front of him. Wes fired a gun for the first time in his life, the revolver’s shot passing over Gil as he slid across the tabletop. Now on his hands and knees, Gil crawled toward the kitchen. “Stop!” Wes shouted. When Gil kept crawling, Wes fired, the bullet hitting the floor in front of Gil. Quickly, Gil turned and knocked Wes backward, but he had little power. When Wes sat up he saw Ralph walking in full stride, but with a limp. His leg and his shoulder were bloody.

  Ralph circled the tables, trying to cut Gil off. Gil spotted him, but had lost his rocks in the fall. He ripped a cable from a computer, sending it flying toward Ralph. With one end connected, it whipped across Ralph’s face. Smarting with the pain, Ralph stumbled back. Gil stood and ran into the kitchen. Wes fired again, but Gil was through the door and the bullet went wide, striking the wall. Then Wes was up and scrambling over the table, but Ralph was ahead of him.

  When Wes ran to the kitchen he found Gil cornered and Ralph advancing.

  “Get out of the way, Ralph!” Wes shouted. “I’ve got a gun.”

  “It’s not nice to shoot people, Wes. I’ll just hold him like before.”