CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

 

Shane sat beside Julia’s cot on a folding metal chair. The small window air conditioner blew his hair gently, but provided only minimal relief from the stifling desert heat. She was in a fretful sleep. Her chocolate skin had paled some, and her features seemed drawn-out and hollow. It had been six hours since the infusion and still she’d only hinted at consciousness. The pregnant reyaqc girl had returned to her own dwelling within an old mine shaft and was doing well. Now, if only Julia would come around. He hated the fact that she’d been pulled into this, that she’d been given no true choice in the matter. He understood the reyaqc’s need for human essence—had actually assisted reyaqc in luring unsuspecting people into their trap—but that was a lifetime ago, and now, well, Julia had needs and rights too. Where was the consideration for the humans in all of this? He sighed, ran his fingers through his bone white hair, and stared at her. She was a brave woman. He could see that in her. Brave, beautiful, capable. He only hoped she didn’t go the way of Taz.

Taz—young, energetic, quirky, curious, lively Taz.

There were some memories, some events that a man could never leave behind. Some memories could sit on a guy’s shoulders like an eighty-pound backpack and remain there until he was firmly planted beneath a headstone bearing the epitaph “monster.”

Shane and two of the doc’s givers had folded Taz’s body into a large black trunk. A bellhop had carted it out and loaded it into a Tahoe they’d rented for this purpose. They’d driven far out into the desert, well past the small town of Pahrump, Nevada, off of any main road, and then even further off of secondary arteries. Finally, they’d dug a deep pit, lowered the body in, doused it in an anonymous and highly flammable liquid the doc described as burning at five times the temperature of gasoline. Then he’d cremated his friend. The smell! Even now, Shane could smell the heavy, greasy, decaying smell of the girl’s flesh, of her organs and muscles as they sizzled and popped, shriveling into blackened twists of matter, and finally disintegrating into unidentifiable ash. He doubted he’d ever free that horrid smell from his mind and constantly rubbed at his nose like a frenzied coke addict in an attempt to clear the odor from his olfactory follicles.

Taz had family—a mother, a father, and two siblings. The doc had used Taz’s cell phone to text message each of these, indicating Taz had met the man of her dreams and run off to live in Europe. Shane doubted they’d believe the subterfuge, especially as months went by and there was no further word of her. And even if they did believe, Shane had to live with the fact that this girl’s family would never know her true fate.

All this simply to hide the existence of the reyaqc.

Shane wiped a curled index finger across the base of his nose and wished there was some place he could buy a pack of smokes. He’d always known of reyaqc brutality. His introduction to the species had hardly been peaceful. He supposed it had always been somewhat about the danger and excitement. Always, right from the beginning, in Paris, with Gisele. But this. This! What if it happened again? What if Julia died? Would he be forced to cremate another woman? Was that to be his purpose, his contribution to the reyaqc species—body disposal?

Shane raised his eyes to the ceiling as if seeking guidance, and then returned his gaze to the unconscious woman before him. To his relief and surprise, Julia’s eyes fluttered, her expression changed. She seemed to be working her jaw, grinding her teeth. Her fists opened and then closed. Another few moments and her eyes cracked open. She blinked several times, obviously attempting to bring her vision into focus.

“Hey, Jules,” he smiled. “How you doing?”

“Shane?” The voice was dry, weak, nearly inaudible.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He paused, and then added. “I’m really glad to see you coming out of this. Seriously, you have no idea.”

Julia nodded. “Did…they make you?”

Shane shook his head. “Infuse? No. The doc got me out of it. The last time I did it I nearly died. I was out of it for weeks. Something in my system, I guess. I’m just not compatible. That’s what turned my hair white, you know. The infusion.”

Julia lifted a hand, fished around for a lock of her own hair. Shane chuckled. “Don’t worry. Your hair’s still black as midnight. It’s beautiful. You came through this thing, Jules. You’re okay.”

Julia attempted a smile, but said nothing. Even speaking seemed an awful chore.

Footsteps approached. Then the flimsy wooden door opened behind him. “How is Dr. Chambers?” asked Donald Baker as he strode across the room. Even in the blazing desert heat, he still wore his tweed jacket. Shane supposed he was making some point to his host. Surely that outfit could be comfortable to no one—reyaqc or human.

“She survived, Doc. Looks pretty zapped,” said Shane.

Julia made a weak attempt at speech. “I’m…okay. I jus…”

Shane patted her on the forehead. “Take it easy, now. Rest. Don’t rush it.”

The doc came forward. Shane stood and moved away, allowing him to examine Julia. He lifted a penlight from his right jacket pocket and then flicked the narrow beam into each of her eyes. Next, he took her pulse by pressing his thumb against her jugular, and gazing at his wristwatch. He rolled her head to one side, examining the back of her neck, then rolled it the opposite direction and sniffed beneath her nose, gaining insight from the odor of her breath. “Mr. Daws is right,” he said. “Remain prone for as long as necessary. Drink plenty of liquids.”

Julia nodded her agreement, and then slipped back into a fitful sleep.

The doc probed about her abdomen, checked her legs for coloring and circulation, and then turned to face Shane. “There have been three more murders,” he said. “Two of which were police officers. After which, our rogue was captured. Judging by the reports, he no longer bears a fully human appearance, though resembles no specific creature. Likely he’s infused from multiple and varies sources. The process would wreak havoc on both body and mind. If this has been his practice for any length of time, it may explain the mental deterioration leading to psychotic behavior.”

It was then Julia began to gasp. Seemingly fighting for air, she thrashed about, legs curling up toward her belly and arms flopping uncontrollably. “Doc, she’s in trouble!”

But the doc was already moving. His face impassive, but that meant very little in a reyaqc. Donald was concerned. His actions proved that. “Julia, do you hear me?” he asked as his right hand squeezed her wrist. “Pulse is erratic.” He moved forward, and using his thumbs, pried her eyelids open. “Her pupils are non-responsive.” His face was no more than two inches before hers. Shane saw his nostrils flare. “Julia, stay with me. Do not allow yourself to fall into sleep.” He turned to Shane. “Blankets. Quickly. Prop her feet—now! Stay with me, woman. Mr. Daws, my bag. Here are the keys. Run to the vehicle. We need an I.V. Julia, look at me. Focus, young lady. Focus. Quickly, Mr. Daws. We’re losing her.”