by Thom Reese
Twenty minutes later Dr. Raul Martinez found Julia seated at the nurse’s station as she pored over Jimmy Harrison’s File. Raul was a young intern, bright, dedicated, with an offbeat sense of humor. Julia liked him. He was a thinker, willing to question established assumptions. Medicine needed people like him. “Yes, Raul, what is it?”
“I just learned about your case. Jim Harrison, the EMT.”
“Yes. What about him?”
“I think you’d better take a look at these files. Both are fatalities I handled earlier this week.”
* * * *
Julia groaned at the sight of Charles leaning against her silver Lexus LS Hybrid. She didn’t have time for distractions. Especially not this distraction. She’d gone over the files provided by Raul Martinez, questioned the young intern doggedly, done some additional research on her own, and become more perplexed than before.
“It’s late,” he said with his Denzel grin. “I was wondering if you’d ever get out of that place.”
Julia unlocked the car via remote and marched past him to the driver’s side door. “Go take a dive off the Stratosphere, Charles. See if you can make some pretty spatter patterns on Las Vegas Boulevard.”
“I’ve been calling. You haven’t responded.”
“Huh. Can’t imagine why that would be.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe you don’t want to talk. But that doesn’t mean we don’t need to talk.”
The car door stood open, but still Julia turned to face her soon-to-be-ex-husband. “What could we possibly need to talk about? Oh! How’s your new girlfriend? She going to give you a baby yet? Hey, here’s an idea—why don’t you get ten girlfriends, and then they can all make you a daddy in the same month.”
Charles didn’t respond right away. Rather, he stared at her. He looked good. He always looked good. Wasn’t that part of the problem? There he stood, dark close-cropped hair, bushy black eyebrows that could dip into intensity or arc into wonder in a second’s time. His deep brown eyes were somehow accentuated by his forest green polo shirt. There was something in his expression, though. Something unfamiliar. Something very un-Charles-like. Somehow her cocky, self-assured man looked lost.
Julia moaned. “What is it, Charles? What is so important that you need to stalk me in a parking lot at night? Do you want to start negotiations already? Are you angling for the HD TV, or are you going straight for the jugular and asking for the house?”
“I’m not sure we should go through with it.”
“Go through with what? What shouldn’t we go through with?”
Charles looked down, possibly focusing on his booted feet, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable. The last time she’d seen him this ill-at-ease, he’d proposed. In a way, that’s what he was doing again now. “The divorce, Julia. I’m not sure we should go through with the divorce.”
The man had to be out of his mind. “Charles, you initiated this. You said it wasn’t working, you swore there was no other option.”
“Maybe I was wrong.”
“Maybe you were wrong.”
“I mean, you know, maybe we should rethink—”
“Get out of here. Just get out. You have no idea what I’m going through.”
“Will you at least—”
“Go! Now! Before I plow you down.” Julia threw the stack of files onto the front passenger seat, plopped into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut, and started the engine.
Charles Chambers decided it best to move.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Shane contemplated Taz from across the table—her lively darting eyes, her intense, yet energized expression, the way she folded her lower lip beneath her teeth while concentrating. It was now early evening. They sat in a booth at a small Chinese restaurant on West Charleston Avenue after parting company with Donald Baker some two hours earlier. Taz alternately sipped egg drop soup and scribbled notes in her ever-present binder. Despite himself, Shane couldn’t help but smile. The girl’s infatuation, her dedication to the reyaqc was endearing.
“What are you grinning at?” she said as she lifted the spoon to her lips.
“Nothing.” He paused. “Okay, at you. Sorry. I just think it’s cute. You haven’t stopped scribbling in that thing since we sat down.”
“I’m trying to get everything entered before I forget it. I’ve described Donald Baker. I’ve attempted to quote all that he said with as much accuracy as possible. I’ve also described the patient, his condition, what Dr. Baker suggested.”
Shane nodded. “Like I said, cute.”
She smiled. It was broad, warm, full of vigor. This girl embraced her passions like few Shane had ever seen. She wasn’t the type of girl he normally fell for; she was too…unpolished, perhaps, maybe too quirky. But the more he looked at her the more he studied her eyes, so vibrant, so full of vigor, the more he thought… No. He was just tired, excited about the events of the day. There was no real attraction.
“You’re next, you know,” said Taz.
“Me?”
“You’ve got a great story, Shane. Your experience with the reyaqc, someone could write a book about it.”
Shane shook his head and then pushed his soup bowl away. He’d never cared much for the stuff. “I don’t think my story would fill a chapter—definitely not a book.”
“Well, whatever. It’s still interesting.” She leaned a little closer, her deep brown eyes locking with his, her lips curling ever so slightly at the corners of her mouth. Her right hand twitched. It seemed she’d almost reached across to clasp his fingers, but decided better of it. “I want to hear it. I want to know what it was like.”
Shane grinned. “What if I tell you all about it in the car?”
Taz cocked her head and offered a curious smirk. “What are you thinking, Shane Daws?”
“I’m thinking that maybe I know how to find the rogue.”
* * * *
Shane Daws turned the same corner for the fourth time. This was the neighborhood where Jimmy Harrison, the EMT, found the naked reyaqc. This was where the rogue had been hiding, where he’d chosen to hunt. Shane was hoping this was a habit and not simply a one-time event. There had been the three attacks on humans as well, not in this specific neighborhood, but nearby. If he didn’t find any sign of the reyaqc soon, he’d move on to the closest attack site, and then the next. The reyaqc had gone somewhere. A rogue would resurface. Shane hoped he could be there when this occurred.
Taking a sip of Pepsi, Shane glanced at Taz, seated in the passenger seat, and biting at a nail as they rounded another corner. Until this morning, the girl had never actually seen a reyaqc face-to-face. She’d longed to do so for several years, ever since her uncle had regaled her with stories of strange encounters in the jungles of Vietnam. And now, largely through her own intuition, she had landed in the middle of a rogue hunt. Taz’s brown eyes were wide, scanning the shadowy streets with excited, wary, exuberance. Her binder sat in her lap, her pen in hand as she documented each step of the search. Who knew how she would respond if they actually found the thing? Who knew how Shane would react either? Despite his previous experience with reyaqc, this was new to him as well.
Shane didn’t know Taz well. It had begun as an online relationship. They’d met face-to-face only a handful of times prior to this day. He didn’t regard her as pretty, at least not in any traditional sense. She was too tall and leggy. On some woman these attributes might launch a successful modeling career. On Taz it simply made her appear awkward. Her hair was lifeless, her face unremarkable. She wore no make-up. Her choices in clothing did nothing to accentuate what natural beauty she might hold. But as he looked at her now, in the dim light, her eyes wide and curious, her bottom lip curled under her upper teeth in rapt anticipation, he felt a sudden stirring for her. He couldn’t quite explain it. Maybe it was simply that she was a kindred spirit, someone whose admiration for the reyaqc rivaled his own. But she suddenly seemed, well…appealing.
“Are you staring at me
again?” she asked with a sly grin. “That’s the second time I’ve caught you in one day.”
He shrugged and flushed. “Do you think the rogue will be able to communicate?” he asked, ignoring the question. “Or will it be too far gone?”
“Most believe that rogues have reverted to a more primitive state of being, leaving intellectual capacity dormant.”
Shane nodded. “Probably because they infuse from too many sources. Compatibility issues, right?”
“Maybe. Though, I doubt there’s any scientific data to support the thought.”
Shane nodded. “But, what caused this reyaqc to land in the hospital? There were no signs of injury, no blood, no wounds. Was he empty?”
Taz flipped back through her notebook pages, scanning for the incident, though Shane had a feeling the girl already had the answer lodged in her head. “Not empty,” she said finally. “At least, not if we can believe the witness statements.” Taz read from her notes. “‘The naked man admitted to the UMC emergency room, though with unremarkable characteristics, appeared entirely human to the hospital staff. He had nose, mouth, ears, even hair. His skin tone was pale but not translucent.’” Taz looked up from her pages, offering Shane a subtle grin. “The reyaqc may have been depleted, but not entirely empty.”
“Exactly,” said Shane. “What caused him to lose consciousness in the middle of the street? Think about it. The EMTs get there. The rogue’s examined, transported in an ambulance. He had IVs inserted into his veins. He’s pronounced dead, Taz. Dead. Then all of a sudden, in the emergency room, poof! He comes to. Had he infused something poisonous? Had one of his victims had bad blood? I don’t know—maybe a drug addict or AIDS victim? What happened to him?”
Taz shook her head and scribbled something in her notepad. “I’m not sure if something like that could affect a reyaqc. Maybe something occurred at a cellular level.”
The two fell back into silence as they rounded another corner. Three tough-looking young men stood huddled together at the next intersection. One of them, a tall black kid with a tombstone tattooed on his left cheek, looked up as Shane rolled past. The tough whistled and waved, attempting to get Shane’s attention, but he, Shane, continued forward. No, he wasn’t in the market for crack, thank you.
Two more passes through these rundown streets, another drug offer, and the sight of a homeless man urinating on a fire hydrant, and Shane was ready to move on to the next neighborhood, the scene of the most recent attack. It wasn’t far, just north on D Street past Owens, then another few blocks, and west into a subdivision.
They were there in four minutes. The neighborhood was old, but not in the state of abject disrepair as had been the previous. The streets were dark, not well lit. Only occasionally did Shane see another car. He slipped a stick of Wrigley into his mouth. “This would be good hunting ground for a rogue,” he said. “Only a few cars. Not much foot traffic.”
Taz nodded in agreement as she worked a sliver of errant nail between her teeth. “A rogue could stalk a pedestrian or just hide in the shadows between houses.”
“Yeah, then bam! He strikes!”
“Bam?” she asked with a coquettish grin.
“Well, yeah. You know, uh…bam.”
She giggled at his unease. It was cute.
Though only just past 9:30, it was a very dark night and Shane felt exposed. It was a frivolous fear, he supposed, possibly brought about by the character of the neighborhood he’d just left. But while that place, only a few blocks away, offered known dangers: drug pushers, addicts, random acts of violence, Shane had no such specific concerns here. No, this was more of a feeling. Something just wasn’t right. He told himself that he was being silly, like a child afraid of the dark after seeing a B grade horror film, but he couldn’t rationalize himself out of the feeling.
Something was wrong here. And whatever it was that he sensed, was well hidden, but close, so very close.
And then there was a sound—sharp, quick, shrill.
“Taz, did you hear that?”
“What’d you hear?” A tight grin of anticipation crept across the girl’s face.
“I dunno. A scream, I think. Not right near us. Maybe on the opposite side of the block.” Shane accelerated, scanned the darkened streets, turned left at the end of the block, then left again to go back down the opposite side of the same block. Now he slowed, scanning from side to side. The night was still; there was no obvious movement on either side of the street. Shane and Taz rolled down the car windows in an effort to better hear the exterior sounds. Even in the late evening, the Nevada breeze felt like a blow dryer on Shane’s face. He’d grown accustomed to it over the past three years, but still didn’t care much for triple digit summers.
There were shadows. Everywhere shadows. Most people don’t think about shadows, but they’re with us always. Everything animate and inanimate casts a shadow. Even vapor casts a wavy, pulsating shadow of sorts. Shane found it difficult to see beyond the shadows. This night they seemed all encompassing. How was he to distinguish a figure amongst the shadows of trees and homes? How was he to detect the subtle movements of a stealthy reyaqc from the swaying shadows of palm tree fans in the darkened night?
Shane slowed to less than ten miles per hour. He was certain he’d heard the scream. He knew he had. But it had been so short, just a burst, and then it was gone as if it had never broken the still night air.
Coming to the end of the block, Shane performed a U-turn and proceeded to move back up the same street. He saw the same shadows, heard the same distant sounds of traffic. He slurped the last of his drink through the straw and wished for another.
And then it was there—the rogue.
It stood nearly naked in the street, bathed in his headlights, wearing only an unbuttoned Hawaiian-style shirt. Having just bolted out from between two single story homes, its too-pale flesh was damp with perspiration, causing earth and grass to cling to its clammy skin. The chest heaved from exertion and drool dribbled from the corners of its lips. Its eyes were wide and white, featureless and void.
Adrenaline raced through Shane’s limbs as he simultaneously rolled up the windows and applied the brakes. He sat still, staring at the reyaqc as it stared back at him. They both, each of them in their own manner, peered into the other, searching, seeking some basic understanding. Taz, for her part, grinned widely as she withdrew her cell phone from her pocket, flicked it to the video feature, and began recording the event. Almost unconsciously, it seemed, her free hand moved left, finding Shane’s own hand. Their fingers intertwined. He squeezed. Her smile broadened.
Here it was, thought Shane, the rogue. Where had it come from? What drove it? What had it just done? There had been a scream. Where was the victim? Shane studied the thing, tried to memorize all there was to see. This was such a rare opportunity. He didn’t want to do anything to scare it away.
Suddenly, he felt foolishly unprepared. This reyaqc was a killer, a danger. Shane had retraced its previous movements, hoping this would lead him to his quarry. And he’d been successful. But he hadn’t followed through to the next logical step. He was face-to-face with the rogue, but with no means of capturing it. He could attempt to run it down, he supposed. But this was an intelligent being, magnificent in many ways, with every bit as much right to live as he. How could he ever think to plow it down? That would be murder.
Nearly reading his thoughts, Taz whispered, “You did bring a tranquilizer gun, right?”
Shane shook his head.
“A taser?”
Shane shrugged and reddened in embarrassment. The truth was he hadn’t honestly thought he’d find the rogue. Sure, he’d told himself that his logic was sound, that the reyaqc obviously hunted a rather tight geographical area until now, and that logically it would continue to do so. But had he really believed?
The movement caught them both off-guard. The reyaqc charged, leaping onto the hood of Shane’s teal blue Acura. The milky eyes focused through the windshield glass on Shane and the
n on Taz, then back onto Shane. Taz nearly giggled with nervous delight as she recorded the encounter. “Awesome,” she whispered.
Shane could now see the tiny pinhole pupils directed at him. The reyaqc’s nostrils flared, sniffing, seeking his scent. Its mouth widened in what may have been outrage or mirth, revealing a landscape of broken and missing teeth. The face was not symmetrical. The right cheekbone was high and sharp, while the left was sunken and hollow. The left eye appeared slightly larger than the right. Even the nose seemed to be confused as to which shape to hold, appearing more as a small blob above the lips than anything structured or purposeful. “His face,” said Shane in full voice. There was no longer a need to whisper.
Taz nodded. “I think he’s infused from too many different sources in too short of a period.”
Suddenly, the reyaqc’s fists came down on the windshield. Shane and Taz jumped in their seats, but the glass held. The rogue screamed a high, agonized squeal and hammered the glass again.
“Amazing,” said Taz, still clutching her phone just inches from the glass.
The reyaqc leaned closer, its misshapen nose pressed against the windshield, saliva dribbling down onto the clear surface. It struck the glass again, this time jagged white lines snaked out in each direction. The reyaqc’s hands were bloodied, but still he pounded again, again, creating snowballs of shattered glass with each successive strike. Shane cowered back in his seat. Another blow or two and the glass would shatter.
The reyaqc screamed something—gibberish, unintelligible—as he smashed his right fist down, finally penetrating the windshield, sending shards splaying across the interior of the cab. The hand was bloodied, a large jagged piece of glass protruding from just below the wrist. Shane had no time to think, only to react. He took his own palm and pressed the shard deeper into the reyaqc’s hand, slicing his own in the process.
A howl.
A screech.
The reyaqc jerked its arm back through the glass and scurried over the top of the cab and off the trunk end of the car in a metallic thunder that echoed in Shane’s ears.