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Bloodline rj-11

Page 40

by F. Paul Wilson


  "Spare? Are you kidding?"

  "Well, it's not the baby's fault. Why take it out on him or her?"

  Him or her… she'd thought of it only as an it.

  "You never know," Mr. Osala was saying. "Your baby might turn out to be someone famous. An Einstein or a Madame Curie—someone who'll change the world."

  Change the world'.'' Where had she heard—?

  Our baby is the Key. He s gonna change the ivorld!

  "Jerry said something like that. Why doesn't anybody want me to get rid of this baby?"

  Mr. Osala half turned and his hand darted toward her. For an instant she thought he was going to hit her, but his fingertips only brushed her forehead.

  "Hush, now. You're exhausted. Get some sleep."

  An overwhelming lethargy enveloped her. She fought to keep her eyes open but the lids suddenly weighed like tons.

  Mr. Osala, the car and its driver, her cares… they all drifted away.

  9

  The odd chill faded, so quickly that Jack wondered if he'd imagined it. Whatever had been slowing traffic on the bridge must have been cleared because the cars began moving again.

  Jack shook off thoughts of Rasalom and cruised into Manhattan. He parked the car in the garage down the street and walked to his apartment. Along the way he glanced at a flyer tacked to a tree. He passed it, stopped, then stepped back.

  A picture of Dawn and a reward for any useful information.

  He yanked it free and took it with him.

  Entering his apartment, he didn't turn on the lights. Simply sat in the dark by the front window, watching the street as he let his thoughts wander into darker places.

  He tried to keep them from Emma but they strayed there anyway. How much oDNA would she have wound up with? Would it have affected her, commandeered the helm of life as it seemed to have done with her father's? Would she—?

  A familiar figure stepped into view on the street below—not the only pedestrian, but now the only one who mattered. He wore a homburg and an overcoat, and used a walking stick. As usual the brim of his hat shadowed his face, but Jack thought he caught a glimpse of a gray beard this time.

  Let him stand there and stare all he wanted. Jack wasn't going after him. Not tonight.

  He turned away and thought about where next to search for Dawn. The flyer meant he wasn't the only one looking for her. Hank Thompson had to be as well. And he had loads more manpower than Jack.

  But somehow Jack had to find her first.

  And then what? What would he do if he succeeded? If she'd gone ahead and already aborted the baby, he'd need do nothing. But if she hadn't, if for some reason she intended to have the baby, what then? If she was indeed carrying this so-called Key to the future—a future hell on Earth for humanity—he'd have to convince her to end the pregnancy. And if he couldn't…?

  He didn't want to think about that now. He'd worry about it after he found Dawn—if he ever did. One thing he knew: He'd keep looking.

  After all, in some odd, distant way, she and her baby were family.

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