by Jon F. Merz
Three feet.
Jake launched himself at the form in front of him and landed squarely on his target's back. They fell, cascading all over the sidewalk. Jake plunged his hand down, down, down, not stopping at the first point of contact, but continuing until he had slammed his right hand down into the writhing form beneath him.
Pay dirt.
The screech that exploded out of the target made Jake cringe, but he stayed on top of the target until the movement finally subsided and then ceased entirely.
He slumped off to one side and into a brick wall. "Contact-contact-contact."
"Delta, confirm."
Jake sighed. He got to his feet and rolled the body of his target over. The face of the blonde woman stared up at him vacuously. Her eyes seemed dulled by the sudden exodus of her life force. Her mouth was agape and a thin line of pink, frothy foam bubbled out of her mouth.
Jake frowned. "That's confirmed."
"We have that Delta, stand by."
Down the street some three blocks, a van engine roared to life. It zipped down to where Jake stood waiting. Hank in his Mercedes came speeding down the street as well. He got out of the car and came over to Jake.
"Okay?"
Jake nodded. "Yeah. A real banshee, this one."
Hank sniffed. "Hell, they all are." He bent close to the woman's body. "Damned pretty too." He shook his head. "Shame."
Two men came out of the van and bore a stretcher. They scooped the woman's body up and hefted her into the rear of the van. Hank looked at Jake. "Let's get this over with and I'll get you downtown for the debrief."
Jake nodded and together they climbed into the rear of the van.
The woman's body lay on a steel slab table in the center. One of the technicians smiled at Jake. "Nice strike. You don't get much more on target than this."
Jake nodded. "Thanks."
Hank frowned. "Let's do this, okay? Letterman's on in an hour."
The techs nodded and one of the removed a steel saw from a nearby shelf. Placing it over the woman's neck, he sliced down and deep, cutting through the thin neck muscles, trachea, esophagus, and finally the spinal cord. Black, viscous blood oozed out all over the table and ran in rivulets into deep grooves that conveyed it into a container under the table.
"Not much oxygen in her," said the tech. "Probably out for a meal."
Jake frowned. "Good thing we caught her."
The tech hefted the decapitated head and looked at it. "Damned shame."
"Just put it in the fucking container," said Hank. "I don't have time to listen to you guys wax poetic over a freaking corpse."
The tech frowned, but placed the head into a steel container. "All right, that's done." He bent over the sternum and then looked up at Jake. "Want it back?"
Jake shrugged. "Does it matter?"
"No, but it was such a nice kill," the tech shrugged. "Figured maybe you'd want it as a souvenir."
Jake shook his head. "Leave it in there. Better safe than sorry."
The tech laughed. "Hey man, come on, that's old hat. Once we get the head, the game's over. You can do what you want with the rest. No problem."
"The man said leave it there," said Hank.
"All right," said the tech. "We're through here then."
Hank gestured to Jake. "Let's go."
The night air felt refreshing on Jake's face, cooling the sweat he hadn't realized was accumulating on his face. He brushed his hand over his face and it came away damp. "Christ."
Hank stopped. "What?"
"Still sweating," said Jake. "Thought that would have stopped by now."
"Shit, kid, it doesn't ever stop. Not ever," said Hank. "This isn't the kind of thing you get used to. You do, you die. That simple, got it?"
"Yeah," said Jake. "Yeah, I got it."
"Thing about these things is they know we feel this way. It's what gives them the edge. Just gotta learn to get it under control long enough to take 'em out and then you let the fear grab you, wrestle around for a bit and then get back up in the saddle again. Deny the fear and it'll come out when you can least afford it, namely right before a kill."
Jake got into the Mercedes again. "Hank?"
Hank turned the engine over. "Yeah?"
"You ever wonder what it's like?"
Hank looked at Jake. "Kid, our job's no different than the CIA, DEA, DIA, FBI, or any other one of the alphabet soup organization in our government. We've all got temptations in the job. Shit, imagine seeing all that money a DEA agent sees day in day out? That's temptation. CIA guys got state secrets they could score millions for if they sold out." He slid the car into gear and pulled out. "Us? We got the lure of fucking immortality. And even though the price tag's damned expensive, it sure is a pretty picture, ain't it?"
Jake nodded. "Yeah. Sure is."
"And she was a babe," said Hank. "No doubt."
"Just weird," said Jake. "This is not what I expected to be doing with my life."
Hank laughed. "Not too many people grow up knowing they'll be doing this for a living," said Hank. "Can you imagine? A vampire assassin?" he laughed again. "Look real pretty on a resume, huh?"
Jake laughed too. "Guess so. What time you think we'll be through tonight?"
Hank shrugged. "Pretty cut and dry op. Shouldn't take but twenty minutes for a debrief. Initial the witness statement to the destruction of one undead blood sucker and that's a wrap."
"Buy you a drink afterwards?"
Hank looked at him. "Yeah?"
Jake nodded. "Sure. I think they play Letterman down at Roger's. And they stock Bombay behind the bar."
Hank smiled. "Well, shit. In that case, yeah, I guess you could buy me a drink."
Jake nodded. "Good."
Hank wheeled the car down past Fanueil Hall. Outside, night continued to embrace the city.
And everything that resided in it.
Driller
This story saw “print” in the on-line magazine “FrightNet” back in 1997. It was also the first piece of work to ever get reviewed. The review was favorable, but not overwhelming. I like the story because it plays on fears a lot of people have and also explores the dangers of technology.
The pain was unbearable.
Harold Molarni clamped a firm hand across the underside of his jaw and shuffled into the kitchen. He hadn’t showered yet, hadn’t done anything in fact. Except maybe moan and pray to every deity he could remember from his religion studies classes in college. The pain was unbearable.
His wife stood scrambling eggs in the kitchen of their house. She looked up as he came in and frowned.
“Harry, for God’s sakes, will you just make an appointment?”
Harry tried to grin back, emphasizing his pitiful attempt at a smile. “Oym foyn, okay?”
She looked at him. “You’re not fine. That damned tooth has been bothering you the better part of a week now.” She shook her head. “Frankly, I’m a little tired of listening to you moan at night, especially if we’re not having sex.”
He tried to smile and winced as the pain shot through his jaw again. “Ow.”
Her frown softened. “Honey, you need to go. I know the dentist frightens you. It frightens a lot of people.”
“What does?” chirped their son Rick as he wandered into the kitchen playing with the family dog.
“Nothing, dear,” said Harry’s wife.
“Dad’s tooth still killing him?”
Harry nodded. “Uh huh.”
Rick shook his head and held his hand out for the dog to give him a paw, which it did. “Dad, just go to the dentist.”
“Uh uh.”
Rick grinned. “Afraid of the drill, Dad? That high-pitched whine?”
Harry frowned.
“Oh and then the smell,” said Rick. “That’s bad, too. That burning smell. Awful. You know your teeth are actually bones? So it’s like your bones are burning. Gross, huh? My teacher was saying that during World War Two, when the Nazis were putting people to death they’d-
”
“That’s enough, Rick,” said Harry’s wife pushing him toward the backdoor. “Why don’t you take King and go outside and play?”
“Aw, mom, I was just trying to help dad out.”
“Out,” she said. “Go for a walk.”
Rick frowned and then walked away trying to imitate the sound of a drill. King the dog followed behind him.
Harry stood up. “Valium?”
She shook her head. “No way, Harry. You’ve almost cleaned out my supply as it is. You keep it up and I’ll have nothing left for myself. And you know how bad I get tension headaches.” She walked out of the kitchen and returned a minute later carrying the Yellow Pages. “I’m making you an appointment.”
“Uh uh,” said Harry.
“Uh huh,” said his wife. “You keep it up and you’ll have to use sign language soon to communicate with me. This is ridiculous. There must be someone that can help you.”
“They awl the same,” said Harry wincing again.
“Here’s one,” she proclaimed. “Easy Does it Dentistry.” She looked up at Harry. “Says here they specialize in treating patients with neurotic symptoms.”
“Um not noorodic.”
“You most certainly are.”
Harry sighed and watched her make the appointment.
***
‘Easy Does it Dentistry’ resided in a small office building downtown. Harry phoned in sick to work, or rather, mumbled in sick to work. His wife wanted to drive him, but Harry insisted he was all right and could still function. His persistence won out over his wife’s pleading.
The doors opened automatically as he walked up the sleek cement slope toward the building. A small brass plaque inside directed him to the second floor and there, behind twin wood-paneled doors, he found the clinic.
He was greeted immediately upon entering by a receptionist who could have posed for the toothpaste commercial of her choice, her smile was that luminous. She handed him a clipboard and asked him to fill out the necessary blocks. Harry sighed and thanked the stars he had a good benefits package at work that covered this dental emergency one hundred percent. When he was done filling out the forms, the receptionist directed him back to his seat.
“It’ll be just a moment.”
But Harry’s attention was riveted on a bulletin board across the room. He shuffled over, aware that the throbbing inside his mouth had grown to even greater proportions since entering the clinic. He frowned.
The pictures on the bulletin board, meanwhile, were all smiling toothy snapshots. Harry glanced at the banner over the board that read “All Our Customers Are Happy,” and sighed.
I sure hope so, he thought.
“Mr. Molarni? The dentist will see you now.”
Harry turned and saw the receptionist smiling at him. He tried to reciprocate but the action alone brought more pain into his jaw. The receptionist pouted sympathetically and pointed.
“Down the hall, second door on the right.”
Harry tried to grin and got it. He walked down the hall and turned right at the second door. It was an large examination room.
“Harry?”
Harry turned and saw the dentist. He was a small man, about five feet eight inches and weighed maybe one hundred twenty pounds. He held out his hand. Harry took it.
“Nice to meet you, Harry. My name’s Dr. Samson. Your wife said you were in excruciating pain, so I won’t waste any time here. Let’s get you into the examination chair and take some x-rays. Once we get those, we can see what’s what.”
Harry got into the chair and tried to relax his body. He was stiff with tension. Dr. Samson leaned over him getting the lead apron in place.
“Any kids, Harry?”
Harry nodded and held up a finger.
“One huh? So you don’t really care if some of the radiation sterilizes your balls, do ya?”
Harry looked at him wide-eyed. “Huh?”
Dr. Samson laughed. “Just a joke, Harry. Just a joke. Your jewels are perfectly safe. No need to worry. I promise.” He held up a small piece of cardboard. “I would like to try to get you to bite down on this while we shoot the x-rays. Think you can manage it?”
Harry sighed and tried to open his mouth. Dr. Samson leaned closer and then recoiled. “Yikes, been a few days since you brushed last, huh?”
Harry closed his mouth gingerly around the cardboard. “Uh huh. Sorry.”
Dr. Samson smiled. “No problem. I’m used to it. You wouldn’t believe what people come in here with.” He made some adjustments and brought the x-ray over to the side of Harry’s jaw. “Okay, we’re all set Harry. You sit here nice and still and I’ll be back as soon as the radiation evaporates, hahaha.”
Harry grinned and looked straight ahead. I hate this place, he thought. The lights went low just then and there was a small clicking noise and the x-ray machine zapped his head. In under thirty seconds, they were done. Harry sat in the chair. Dr. Samson came back in.
“Okay, Harry, let’s get you out of this apron and then we can see what the x-rays show us.” He helped Harry out of the chair. “Come with me.”
They walked down the hall and into another room. There were five sheets of film hanging up against a lighted backdrop. Dr. Samson began frowning immediately. “Huh, look at that. Interesting.” He turned back to Harry. “Congratulations. You have an impacted wisdom tooth. And it’s infected.”
“Whaduhthat mean?” asked Harry.
“Usually?” asked Dr. Samson. “Oral surgery.”
Harry winced.
Dr. Samson smiled. “But, fortunately for you, we here at Easy Does It Dental have innovated a new solution to oral surgery.” He motioned Harry to follow him. “Let’s get you back to the examination room.”
Once there he pulled a stool across from harry in the examination chair. He held a small tube in one hand. “Harry, you saw all those smiling faces out front, right?”
Harry nodded.
“Well, I’m here to tell you that all those people were oral surgery candidates until they came here. You see, we have a different method of cleaning up the infection and extracting the diseased tooth. We call it the Driller.”
Harry frowned. Dr. Samson laughed.
“It only sounds nasty, Harry. I assure you if you decide to go with the Driller, you’ll never feel a thing until the tooth is long gone.”
“Weally?”
Dr. Samson nodded. “Uh huh. And the best part of it is, that you don’t even have to stay here. Once we do the implant, you go home. It’s that easy.”
“Lethdoit.”
Dr. Samson nodded. “Glad you feel that way. He held up the tube. Inside was a speck of dust. “This is the Driller.”
“Whaddisit?”
“It’s what we call a biobot, Harry. Minuscule sized robots that can be programmed to perform a zillion different functions, all within the body. They’re the latest rage in the medical field right now.”
“Isitsafe?”
Dr. Samson nodded. “Naturally. Of course this technology is new, so sometimes there are programming errors, but nothing to be concerned with. Your biobot has two mission profiles, as we call them, clean up the infection and excavate the diseased tooth. The tooth gets excavated by the biobot, by breaking it up into tiny pieces that pass through your digestive tract and get washed out of your body. In the space of a week, your tooth will be gone.”
Harry smiled.
“The best part of course,” said Dr. Samson, “is that as soon as we implant, the pain vanishes. It’s amazing.”
“How?”
Dr. Samson shrugged. “The biobot secretes a small nerve dampening agent at the root of the tooth. You’ll never even know you had a problem until it’s gone. Tidy, huh?”
Harry nodded.
“Did you want to do the implant today, Harry?”
Harry nodded.
Dr. Samson smiled. “Great. You sit right there while I wheel over the insertion machine. We’ll zap the biobot in, and that’ll be t
hat. Okay?”
“Uh huh.” Harry watched Dr. Samson wheel a large needle-like instrument over to the base of the chair.
Dr. Samson noticed the frightened look in Harry’s eyes and smiled. “Relax. It’s not painful at all. Less of a pinch than a Novocain shot, really. You open wide now and I’ll target your tooth. Then we fire the biobot in with a squirt of liquefied toothpaste. Once inside your mouth, the biobot will attach itself automatically to the programmed target, in this case your impacted tooth. After five minutes, you can spit the toothpaste and the biobot stays in place. From there on out, your life is back to normal.”
Harry smiled.
Dr. Samson leaned in close to Harry’s ear and cracked his knuckles. “Are you ready Harry?”
“Uh huh.”
Dr. Samson stood again and nodded. “All right, here we go. I need you to open your mouth as wide as you can. The first thing I’m going to do is laze your tooth.” He slipped a pair of glasses on Harry’s face. “It’s the same technology they used in the Persian Gulf when they were hunting Scud missiles. Those commandos would use a laser beam to paint the target and then call in air strikes. The missiles would automatically seek the lazed targets.”
A beam of intense light appeared. Harry felt a warm sensation in his mouth.
“Just another second, Harry,” said Dr. Samson. “There. Now keep your mouth open while I prep the injection.”
Harry watched Dr. Samson insert a smaller test tube into the launcher and then close the chamber. “Here we go.” He wheeled the device closer.
Harry felt the brief squirt of toothpaste, tasted the minty fluoride and resisted the urge to close his mouth. A speck of toothpaste dribbled out of his mouth but Dr. Samson used a tongue depressor to scoop it back in.
“Just a few minutes now, Harry. Hold on.”
Harry leaned back in the chair, trying to keep the rest of the toothpaste inside. His salivary glands were pumping a continuous stream of fresh spit into his mouth and he felt like he was drowning. The throbbing continued and then just as he thought his mouth would overflow entirely, it was done.