The soldiers stood in a loose triangle. The one in the middle of the group pointed in the direction where Darryl was hiding then made some sort of gesture with his hand. The soldiers on either side of him immediately began to move in opposite directions. The first ran towards Darryl, following the tree line. The second soldier ran past the person in the hazmat suit, who was now kneeling over Bruce with some sort of instrument, crossed the tree line, and disappeared into the meadow. Darryl's heart slammed into his chest. They're looking for me! Behind him, the blackness loomed like a great wall. He didn't dare turn on the flashlight to find his way, it would draw them straight to him. But they're wearing night vision goggles, he thought, as soon as they get close enough your ass is gonna light up like a Christmas tree. He decided to make a run for it. Remember Darryl, remember what you saw. There's another group of trees straight ahead. Just run, you can make it. You're a NFL wide receiver. Even hurt, you can outrun a soldier carrying fifty pounds of shit on his back. He turned and oriented himself in the direction he thought was correct. He became aware of his shoulder. It throbbed. The sling Bruce had made for him felt damp. The fingers of his right hand, pressed tight against his stomach by an ace bandage, felt thick and numb. Ok, it’s now or fucking never. He lifted his body out of its crouch and leaned forward into a sprinter’s starting stance. Brute, my brother, if you're watching from heaven, I need you to block for me.
He pushed off and ran, full speed, into the darkness.
15
“Well, ain’t that some shit,” said Crystal as she watched the glow of the stolen lanterns fade from the hallway wall. She glanced at Jamarco. He looked shocked, as if someone has slapped him across the face. “Hey,” she said, “don’t let bigots like that get to you. They’re mostly all talk and no bite.”
Jamarco stared into empty space, glassy-eyed. “I’m sorry Crystal. I should not have let Mr. Jenkins speak to you or Dr. Kuan in that way.”
“Like I said, don’t worry about it.” She gently touched his shoulder. “You’re more man that that jerk will ever be.“ She sat down on the floor next to Moji, eager to change the subject. “Hey, was it true what he said about the government ordering people to stay indoors?”
“Yes, there’s a curfew until 7 a.m. tomorrow. No one is allowed to be on the streets.”
Crystal thought Jamarco looked nervous, as if he were afraid of something. She suppressed an urge to put her arms around him.
“I’m sorry Mrs. LaMont but I have to go downstairs and tell Mr. Walls about what Mr. Jenkins is planning. Will you be ok here with Dr. Kuan?”
“Yes, yes of course. You go right ahead. I’ll help the doc take care of these folks.”
“Ok. Thank you Mrs. LaMont.”
“Jamarco, I thought we were on a first name basis,” she said as sweetly as the situation would allow. Please call me Crystal.”
Jamarco managed a small smile. “My granny taught me never to call a married woman by her first name. She said it was disrespectful.”
Crystal’s face flushed in embarrassment. She flashed a mock frown. “I ain’t trying to get between you and your granny. Did she have a rule against friends calling each other by their first names?
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Then I hope that we can be friends.”
Jamarco shrugged his shoulders, smiled again, and hurried out the door.
Crystal sighed. Girl, why you so sad? she thought, He’s telling the truth. You are Mrs. Crystal LaMont. Married to Sam LaMont, mother to Shannon Brie and Brenda Shia LaMont. You need to face facts, get with the program and accept the path that God has laid before you. She closed her eyes. God, I hope my babies are alright. She grabbed the phone out of her bag and powered it up. The familiar ascending bar graph did not appear at the top of its display. Damn, still no service.
She stood up and went to the window and drew back the heavy cloth drapes. Surprisingly, even though the view faced the park, the glass was still intact. The reflection of a haggard and tired-looking middle-aged woman stared back at her from the other side of the glass. Damn girl, you look like shit. She closed her eyes and pressed her face closer to the window, teasing the drapes closed behind her and blocking the dim light escaping from the room. She opened her eyes. Her reflection had disappeared, and was replaced by silhouettes of the park’s oak trees, their tops swaying to a light breeze. She touched the glass and imagined she could feel the cool air on her skin. She gazed at the faint band of light bisecting the sky, its silvery hue bathed the treetops in a murky twilight. Wow, who would have believed it? she thought. I’m in the middle of Houston Texas looking up at the Milky Way. What did Moji call it? The star’s road. She sighed, closed her eyes, and bowed her head in prayer. God, thank you for the gift of a magnificent universe, the gift of an awe-inspiring Milky Way, and of course the gift of your only begotten Son, Jesus Christ. Please Lord, let my husband and children be safe in their beds tonight and I pray that you let me get home to see them again soon. And please let Moji be alright. In Jesus’ name, amen. She opened her eyes and surveyed the view. Now, how in the hell am I going to get home?
Save for the slow dance of the trees against the star-lit sky, the landscape below her was murky sea of gray and black. Nothing to see here folks, she thought, it's like God turned off the lights and went to bed. Then, through the trees, she noticed a spark of bright cobalt flicker for a moment, flare, and then fade away. It was accompanied by a soft thud that caused the window to vibrate with an almost inaudible buzz.
“They look like fireworks, don’t they?”
Crystal jumped at the sudden voice in her ear. ”Wha-what?” she said. She turned to see Paul’s face pressed into the break in the drapes.
“The electrical transformers,” Paul said, “they remind me of fireworks. They produce such interesting colors when they explode.” He pulled aside the drapes and stood beside Crystal.
“Well, yes, I guess, if you say so,” Crystal said, a little irritated by Paul's disregard for her privacy.
“I’m sorry to have startled you.”
“It’s ok, I’ll live.”
Paul smiled. “Yes, I imagine that you will.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’m sorry. Please take no offense,” Paul said, bowing his head. “What I meant is you are a beautiful woman. Lovely bone structure. Strong healthy teeth and smooth skin. All good qualities for a mature woman. It suggests that you will live a long and healthy life.”
Crystal softened and returned his smile, “You were doing ok until you messed up and used the word mature. You trying to say I’m old?”
Paul’s face reddened. “No no, of course not. In my culture, we equate maturity with wisdom and intelligence, not age.”
“Nice recovery.”
“I’m sorry. I do not understand.”
“Nevermind. Does your wife know you have these types of conversations with strange women?”
“My beloved wife Chen passed away eight years ago, before I emigrated to America.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“No offense taken. She was a lovely woman. Wise and intelligent.”
“So, she was mature.”
“Yes,” Paul nodded, “she was mature, but not strong. During her youth she toiled in the coal mines of Hebi, in China’s Henan province. It made her weak and frail, unsuited for life in big cities. She was diagnosed with lung cancer soon after we were married. I cared for her as best I could but she succumbed to the disease eighteen months after the diagnosis. After her death there was nothing left for me in China. I had no family, no children. So I came here, to America.”
“America is a big place. What made you decide to come to Houston?”
“Ah, that was an easy choice. I came to Houston because I love beautiful breasts.”
Though Paul’s pronunciation of the word breasts sounded more like bests, Crystal had no trouble understanding the context.
She gave him a stern look. “You better have a goo
d explanation for what you just said so I don’t have to go get that flashlight and beat you over the head with it.”
“Crystal, I am so sorry. I did not mean to offend.”
“You said something about loving breasts while looking at me like you hungry, so yeah, I’m starting to think you’re some kind of pervert.”
Paul lowered his head and bowed again, “Crystal, that was not my intent. Sometimes my english is not good. I am a cosmetic surgeon. I specialize in breast augmentation. I came to America and settled in Texas because Houston is known all over the world for having the most skilled breast surgeons. I came here because I wanted to learn from the best.”
Crystal smiled and shook her head at the misunderstanding. “My advice is the next time you strike up a conversation with someone you barely know, you start with hi, my name is Dr. Paul Kuan and I am a cosmetic surgeon who does boob jobs, before you launch into how much you love breasts.”
Paul lifted his head, “My apologies Crystal.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Thank you Crystal. It would bring me dishonor if I felt you thought of me as some sort of, as you say, pervert.”
Crystal self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest. “Paul, it would help a lot if you looked at my face when you talked to me instead of my chest.”
Paul jerked his head up and gave Crystal a quizzical look. “Again, I am sorry. It is habit of my profession. The shape of your breasts are very well proportioned. It is difficult not to admire them.”
Crystal slowly lowered her arms to her sides and pulled her shoulders back. “Well, just try not to be so obvious about it. You creep a girl out.”
A moan broke the silence between them.
“Please excuse me,” Paul said, “I must attend to one of the patients.”
He shot another curt bow in Crystal’s direction then quickly turned and disappeared through the doorway leading to the bathroom.
Crystal scanned the room for the source of the noise. A woman on the mattress closest to the door began to stretch and squirm, turning and twisting her body in awkward contortions and slowly thrashing her head from side to side as if fighting an imaginary foe. Paul re-emerged from the bathroom carrying his metal tray. Crystal could see that he had loaded another syringe with the sedative. He walked over to the woman and knelt beside her.
“Crystal, I will need your assistance.”
“Doc,” Crystal said, pressing her back up against the window, “what the hell do you think I’m gonna do? I ain’t no nurse.”
“I must give this woman another dose of the sedative before she becomes fully conscious or she will become much more difficult to handle. Please, Jamarco and the other men are not here to help. Just hold her still while I give her the injection.”
Crystal didn’t move. “She’s old doc and she doesn’t look that strong. I think you’ll be able to handle her on your own.”
“She is moving too much. I need another person to hold her steady.”
“Then I’ll go and get Jamarco. He’s probably downstairs at the security desk.” She stepped over Moji and retrieved the big flashlight she had brought with her. “I’ll be back in two shakes.”
The old woman suddenly let out a low howl. She began to kick and writhe violently.
“There is no time!” Paul said, “She is waking faster than I expected. Please help me now!”
Crystal ran past him, through the front door, and out into the hallway. “I’m sorry but I ain’t about to get into a wrestling match with the zombie lady.” She held up her bandaged arm. “One set of bite marks from my best friend is enough. I ain’t gonna let some old lady I don’t even know take a chunk out of me.”
The old woman suddenly popped into a sitting position. Her eyes snapped open.
“She’s awake!” Paul said in disbelief.
The old woman grabbed Paul’s wrist and twisted it toward the ceiling. He screamed in pain and threw a weak punch with his free hand, aiming for the woman’s throat. The punch missed its mark and glanced off her chin. Still holding Paul’s wrist, the woman sprung to her feet and clamped her other hand over his face. Her long bony fingers, capped by talon-shaped fingernails that looked as if each had been filed to a fine point, dug in and found purchase across Paul’s hairline. Raking downward, her nails gouged deep trenches in Paul’s flesh, tracing ragged streaks of crimson across his face. Paul screamed and thrashed wildly, unable to break free of the woman’s grip.
Crystal ran back into the room and brought the butt of the flashlight up and over her shoulder. “Get off him, you bitch!” she screamed. She swung the heavy end of the flashlight across her body. It impacted solidly with the back of the woman’s head. Crystal felt bone give way as the hilt of the flashlight sunk deep into the woman’s skull. The old woman’s head snapped backward. A gurgled screech erupted from her mouth, followed by dark blood that gushed over her lower lip and down her chin. The woman’s arms went limp and fell to her sides, allowing Paul to escape. Her head lolled back and her eyes rolled upward.
Blinded, Paul scrambled away from the noise on his hands and knees, bumping into the far wall and collapsing into a fetal position. “Crystal, I can’t see!” he cried. He covered his face with his hands, attempting to squeeze the tattered folds of his skin together with his fingers.
Crystal, high on adrenaline and fear, cocked the flashlight over her head and brought it down hard on the woman’s face. The force of the blow crushed the bridge of the woman’s nose and upper jaw. The remaining air in the old woman’s lungs exploded out her nose and mouth, spraying the apartment’s beige wall with blood and teeth. Silenced, the old woman fell backward onto the blanket, convulsed, and then lay still. Blood poured from the remains of her face, pooling on the blanket and soaking the woman’s thick silver hair.
Crystal dropped the flashlight and ran over to Paul, dropping to her knees next to him, “Are you ok?”
Paul spoke through trembling, blood-stained fingers, “I can’t see Crystal, I can’t see!”
“It’s going to be ok.” She put her arm around Paul and pressed his head against her shoulder. She stared at the body of the old woman. Oh my god, she thought, I killed her! I killed that old woman! She began to cry, salty tears streamed down her face and into her mouth. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” she sobbed. She was having trouble breathing. The dead woman's bladder and bowels relaxed and released their contents onto the floor. That, combined with the smell of the fresh blood still oozing from the woman's head wound, hung heavy in the apartment’s still, stuffy air. Crystal's stomach flipped. Oh god, I’m gonna be sick! She let go of Paul and tried to stand but her legs wouldn’t hold her. She crawled to the corner of the room opposite Paul and vomited.
“What the hell?” a voice exclaimed behind her. It was Jamarco.
Crystal didn’t move. Shame, anger, and confusion overwhelmed her senses. Oh God, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! She felt an arm around her waist then a hand against her ear, pulling her hair back. She flinched.
“It’s ok Crystal,” Jamarco said, “everything’s going to be alright. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Jamarco, I killed that woman. I killed her,” she said.
“It’s going to be ok Crystal. Everything’s going to be ok. Please, let me help you up.”
Crystal clung to Jamarco’s shirt and dug her face into his neck. “Paul—the doc—he’s hurt! Jamarco, the woman had nails like claws! She tore the skin off his face!”
Jamarco glanced over at Paul. He was curled in the far corner, both hands covering his face. Blood seeped through his fingers and down the back of his hands. “Don’t worry, I will tend to him. Let’s take care of you first. He lifted Crystal to her feet and guided her into the bathroom.
Crossing the threshold into the bathroom’s gloomy interior, Crystal was oddly comforted by the stark, elongated shadows cast by the bathroom’s single lantern. Jamarco helped her over to one of the bathroom’s two sinks. Crystal hung her head under
the faucet. The granite countertop was refreshingly cool to the touch.
“There’s no hot water,” Jamarco said while searching the cabinets for a towel, “and I heard on the radio that the government does not think the water is safe to drink, but it should be ok to wash up.” He draped a towel around Crystal’s neck. “I’m going to go take care of the doctor. Will you be ok?”
Crystal waved her hand and nodded yes. Jamarco turned and left. She turned the spigot. The water spit and gurgled for a few seconds before building to a steady trickle. It smelled wrong, like mildew and old socks. Crystal didn’t care about the smell, she needed to get that smell off of her. The smell of death and murder. God please let there be enough water for me to wash this stench off of me. She put the towel under the faucet, wetting it. She waited for several minutes, but the towel was only slightly damp before the faucet’s trickle slowed, then stopped. She tried the hot water spigot. Nothing. She tried the other sink and the bathtub. She captured a small amount of water from each facet but not enough to soak the towel. She considered dipping the towel in the toilet. There was liquid in there but it looked as though it had been used several times without being flushed. This will have to do, she thought. She couldn’t find any soap so she scrubbed her face, head, and neck with the damp towel. She let the towel drop into the sink. She looked up and faced her reflection in the mirror. She shook her head and took a deep breath. Girl, this is Texas and you gone and killed a white women. An old white woman at that. You’re a murderer and you’re going to burn. “No, I didn’t mean to kill her!” she screamed at her reflection, “She was attacking the doctor, I had to do something!”
The Scourge Page 17
