Forty-one
Matt was sitting in the doctor’s lounge having a cup of coffee with Shooter and Sam, trying to explain to Shooter the difficulties they faced in treating TJ, when Damon Clark walked in. He had a videotape in his hand.
“Hi, Shooter,” he said, nodding at Sam and Matt. “How’re you doing?”
Shooter tried a not very convincing smile and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, I guess. At least I know TJ’s in the best hands possible. Matt and Sam’ll get her well if it’s humanly possible.”
Clark held up the tape. “I brought the tape that was in James’s minicam. You have a tape player in here, Matt?”
“Yeah. It’s right over there on top of the TV. Here,” Matt said, rising to take the tape from him. “I’ll start it up.”
“I want to warn you,” Damon said, a serious look on his face. “It’s not pretty.”
“If it’ll help us cure TJ, we’ll look at it,” Matt said, pushing the button to start the tape.
The videotape was horrible and fascinating at the same time. It was the first time anyone had seen the monster in action and lived to tell about it. By the time the tape was finished, they all had tears in their eyes, even Damon, who had seen it before.
“So much for your theory about the silver bullets, Matt,” said Shooter, bitterness in his voice.
“Well, we knew it was a long shot,” Matt mumbled, feeling terrible that his mistake might have cost Sherry her life.
“Hey,” said Shooter, patting his knee, “it’s not your fault bullets don’t kill the guy. It was a damn good idea, even if it didn’t pan out.”
Matt looked over at Damon, whose face had become noticeably flushed, and who had actually gotten up out of his chair and turned away when the tape had shown the creature begin to rend and tear Sherry’s body in his final rage. He reached over and turned the set off.
As the chief looked up, Matt noted his eyes brimming with tears. “Shooter, I want that son of a bitch so bad . . .” He turned and began to pace the small room, discreetly wiping his eyes with a handkerchief.
“Chief, perhaps you should show this tape to the mayor and the PC?” said Sam.
After a moment, Damon said, “Not just yet.” He leaned forward, hands on the back of a chair. “Let’s play this one close to our vests. We’ve got a multiple homicide involving both police officers and media personalities, so I think both the PC and the mayor are going to pull out all the stops on this one and give us just about anything we need to catch this bastard. Let’s save the tape. Who knows when we’ll need an ace in the hole.”
“Sure, Chief,” said Shooter.
Damon looked closely at Shooter. “How’s Dr. O’Reilley doing? I assume you’ve got her covered?”
Shooter looked up. “Matt and Sam say she’s making progress.” He glanced at Matt and he nodded, showing somewhat more encouragement than he felt. “She’s guarded twenty-four hours a day, plus I’ve got her on the jail floor so that the windows are barred. There’s no way that son of a bitch can get to her.”
“Okay, Shooter. Take whatever men you need and go find that bastard. I’ve arranged for all of the TV channels to televise his picture every hour and to ask that we be notified if anyone sees him, but I doubt if that’ll be much help.”
As Shooter opened the door, Damon said softly, “Shooter, if it’s at all possible, I would like to be in on the end of this one.”
Shooter nodded and turned to go. “And, Shooter,” Damon added, glancing at Sam and Matt, “just between us, I don’t want this bastard to go to trial. Tell the men to shoot first, and ask questions later . . . you understand?”
Shooter smiled grimly. “Don’t worry, Chief. I’m way ahead of you on that.”
Matt nodded at Damon. “See ya later, Chief. We’re going to take Shooter up to visit TJ now.”
* * *
Shooter nodded at the guard in front of TJ’s room as they approached. “Anybody in there?”
“Naw, the nurse just left. She said Dr. O’Reilley was still unconscious.”
Matt opened the door. “We’ll just be a minute.” Shooter followed him in, pulling up a chair and sitting next to TJ’s bed. Sam and Matt walked to the window and stood looking out, arms around each other, trying not to intrude on their privacy. Shooter reached out a hand and put it over hers.
Softly, he whispered, “Hey, TJ, it’s me, Shooter. I know ya probably can’t hear me, but I thought I’d come say hi anyway.” He placed his hand against her cheek and gently rubbed it against her skin. “We’re working real hard to get the guy that did this to you, and I’m personally gonna make sure that he never hurts you or anyone else again. I just want you to know that I love you, and I’m gonna wait for you no matter how long it takes you to get well.”
He leaned over the bed and kissed her on the cheek. When he turned and left the room, Sam and Matt followed him out into the hall. He said, “Matt, her skin is so cold, and she’s so pale . . .”
Matt put his arm around his shoulders. “That’s because of the anemia, Shooter. Hopefully, the blood transfusions will cure that.”
He stopped, took Matt’s hand, and smiled a grim smile at Sam. “I’ll see ya later, guys. I’m going hunting.”
“Shooter,” Matt said, “what are you going to do if you find him, since bullets don’t seem to have any effect on him?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, exactly. I plan to carry a twelve-gauge shotgun loaded with 00-buckshot. I figure if I put enough of those into him, they’ll blow him to pieces.” He shrugged. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll try hand grenades or bazookas.” He hesitated. “One thing’s for sure, he can be killed, or he wouldn’t be afraid of being found. We just have to figure out what his weakness is and hit him with it as hard as we can.”
* * *
TJ dreamed that Shooter was talking to her, but she couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. She had a sense that he was touching her, but it was as if her skin had been anesthetized and she could barely feel his touch. She wanted to talk back and tell him that she missed him, but somehow she couldn’t get her lips to form the words.
Suddenly, she felt him approach her more closely and she could smell the warm blood coursing through his veins, so close that she could almost taste it. She was so hungry . . . if only they would feed her what she needed.
Her heart began to beat rapidly as she pictured in her mind taking what she needed from Shooter’s neck, and her mouth watered and her teeth began to change. Before she could arouse herself enough to take it, the smell of the blood was gone and she sank back into her slumber with only a slight quiver of her lips.