Blood

by Fox, Stephen

  He pulled into the driveway of his two bedroom stucco bungalow. Walking across the front lawn, his feet barely touched the grass. He felt lighter than air. As he opened the front door his hand automatically flipped the light switch. The room remained in darkness - no lights. A warning bell went off in his head. Ellen had insisted that he change the bulb just two weeks ago. He began to drop down into a crouch just as his head exploded in pain.

  Chapter 11

  The blow was delivered with enough force to crack Underwood’s skull like an eggshell, but he had dropped low enough so that the blow was just a glancing one. Even so, he collapsed to the floor stunned, barely able to move. A dark figure moved closer. The captain’s side erupted in agony as the figure kicked him in the ribs. Another kick and the policeman heard as well as felt something snap. He waited until the leg poised for another swing, then rolled out of the path. The heavy boot just grazed his shoulder as it swept by. Grabbing the upraised foot as it repositioned to stomp him, Underwood shoved. The figure toppled backward. Underwood leaped to his feet and grabbed the lamp on a nearby table in an effort to defend himself. As he lifted the lamp, the shadowy figure ripped it out of his hands with such force that the electrical cord was left dangling out of the wall.

  Underwood swung a fist, but the figure blocked it with ease. “He’s just playing with me,” the captain thought. Another swing was blocked just as effortlessly. As he cocked his arm for another try, the stalker tossed a fist toward him. His head exploded with pain, and he went down. Unable to get up, a voice filtered through his hazy mind, “Now it ends. And when Michael finishes with the girl, everything will return to normal.”

  The girl. He must mean Marie. Underwood fought to regain his senses. As he lay there on his side his eyes focused on the lamp cord with its broken end spitting sparks. He struggled to grab the wires but they were just out of reach. His attacker walked over to the window and ripped the pull cord from the end of the blinds. He advanced on the fallen policeman.

  Underwood managed to get to his hands and knees and grab the wire just as the cord was wrapped around his neck. A snicker from behind, “The lawman gets hung in the end. How appropriate.” In the next instant he was heaved into the air just as his fingers closed on the lamp cord. Dangling on the rope as the figure held him up, Underwood gasped for air. Holding the detective as high as he could reach, the man chuckled as he watched his victim struggle. The captain knew he had to do something quickly - his strength was ebbing fast. Less than a minute and it would be over.

  Captain Underwood hung on to consciousness as he wrestled with the wires. Getting one wire in each hand he pulled the wires apart. Bringing his hands together and raising them above his head he jabbed the ends of the wires as hard as he could into the assassin’s eyes.

  A piercing scream came from the figure’s lips as the wires penetrated into both eyes. Sparks flew and the eyeballs virtually exploded. The figure lost his balance and tumbled backwards, going down hard and striking his head on the hearth of the fireplace. The captain managed to roll over and free himself from the cord. Getting to his feet he looked for a weapon. There next to the hearth was a set of fireplace tools. The blinded Chosen struggled to his feet and fumbled around in an effort to locate the captain. Underwood grabbed the fireplace poker and, running across the room at full speed, impaled the monster. The head of the poker went all the way through the creature’s body and embedded itself in the wall. The figure slumped, but the poker kept the body from falling. Before Underwood could decide what to do with the body, the memory of the haunting words came back, “And when Michael finishes with the girl…”

  There were two of them. And one of them was after Marie.

  Captain Underwood leaped up and ran to his car. In a cloud of smoke from his poor abused tires, he squealed in reverse into the street, stopped, and left another inch of tread on the pavement as he started forward. By the time he hit Wheaton Street, he was virtually flying, lights and siren opening the way before him. Fumbling with the microphone as he wrestled for control of the car, he called the dispatcher.

  “Dispatch, this is Unit 5.”

  “Go ahead, Unit 5.”

  “Send any nearby units to the GRIL headquarters immediately. Have them find Dr. Marie Bell and put her under protective custody until I get there. Tell them to be alert for any unauthorized personnel. Consider them armed and extremely dangerous. I’m on my way there now.”

  “Ten four, Unit 5.”

  The dispatcher looked thoughtful. The worst of this fiasco would soon be over. When they eliminated Underwood and the girl, their secret would be safe once again. She concentrated for a few seconds and smiled in satisfaction. The fifteen second conversation with Underwood no longer existed. Everyone would wonder about the gap, but she wasn’t even in the same room with the recorder, so the problem could not be traced to her. And with Underwood dead, there would be no witnesses. Satisfied, she went back to work.

  He made the trip to the GRIL complex in record time. As he neared the building he doused both siren and lights. Surprise might be crucial in dealing with the assassin, if the other units hadn’t arrived.

  He pulled up in front. No flashing lights and no patrol cars were in evidence. His eyes narrowed. Not a good sign. Pulling his gun, he raced up the steps of the building to the front door, two steps at a time. The door that was supposed to be locked was wide open. The only lights visible were the emergency lights. Apparently the main power was out. On the floor just inside the glass lay the inert form of the desk security guard. As Underwood stepped through the entranceway, there was no need to check for a pulse. The man’s throat had been slashed from ear to ear, and blood was spattered everywhere.

  Moving swiftly to the elevators, he found both standing open. He entered the nearest elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor, hoping they worked. The door closed and he started upward. Marie’s lab was on three - maybe he could surprise the killer by coming at him from above.

  It seemed like hours before the doors opened. Underwood slipped out of the elevator and moved quickly to the stairs. He opened the door gingerly but a little squeal resulted anyway. Sliding through, he let it close, silently this time. Working his way down the stairs to the third floor, the sound of every step seemed to thunder. Memories of other times - other similar situations - ran through his mind. Some of the scenarios had happy endings, some not.

  The door on the third floor opened without a sound. Easing it closed, Jim moved down the hallway toward the forensic wing, and Marie’s lab. The hallway looked eerie in the dim light of the emergency lamps. As he approached the corner, the soft thud of a door closing came down the hall. Soft footsteps echoed in the passageway. Inching forward, he stole a peek around the corner. A figure crossed the hall from one office heading toward the next one down the hall, in a systematic search of the wing. Two doors separated the man from the lab where Marie worked. As Underwood watched he reached the next door and opened it. While the man stuck his head in the door and looked around, Underwood pulled his gun and silently crept closer. He was within a few yards when the figure turned around and came out of the doorway. Underwood raised his weapon and started to say, “Freeze,” when he stopped in confusion.

  The man in the doorway was Michael Roukasis, the Mayor of Savannah.

  Both men stared for a few seconds, then the mayor regained his senses. “Jim, glad to see you here. I saw a man go down this hallway in a suspicious manner, so I was checking out offices.”

  It took a few seconds more to digest this information, before he discarded it as crap. The mayor had never been one to demonstrate bravery, at least not without the presence of the press. Added to that evidence were the flecks of blood spattering the front of the mayor’s otherwise immaculate blue dress shirt. He kept the gun up. “Please raise your hands, Mr. Mayor.”

  A frown appeared on the mayor’s face. “What is this, Underwood? I’m the mayor, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Raise your hands, Mr. Mayor. W
e can discuss my future with the police force later.”

  Roukasis’ voice was filled with indignation. “Don’t think we won’t, Underwood. I’ll have your badge for this.”

  “If you can get it, you can have it. In the meantime, suppose you tell me how they got to you?”

  “Got to me? Are you crazy? You forget who you’re talking to! I’m the mayor, for—”

  “Stuff it, Mr. Mayor. You’re standing there with blood all over you, and you’re still trying to bluff your way through another crisis. I really would like to know, what did they offer you? Money? Eternal life?”

  Roukasis mulled the situation over momentarily, before reaching a decision. The answer came quietly. “Do you understand what living forever means to a politician? I have spent my life in the service of others, but one wrong decision can mean the end of my career. I’m at the mercy of the voters.”

  Underwood almost responded, “The only service you’ve been in is special interest groups,” but he realized that the mayor really believed what he was saying, so he let it slide.

  The mayor continued. “I’m fifty-seven-years old, and I could be kicked out of office at any time. In fact there is a citizen’s group right now demanding my scalp—my scalp, not yours—because of your department’s failure to find a solution to the killings.”

  “These people came to me, and offered me immortality. All I have to do is help them put an end to this case. Can you imagine my feelings? I’ve been a good mayor, but I’m nearing retirement. They offered me the chance to start over. Can you imagine? To be young again? To have perfect health?” Roukasis inched toward the policeman as he was talking.

  Noticing the movement, Underwood warned, “Don’t come any closer.” When the advance continued, he fired.

  The mayor stared in astonishment at the hole in his shoulder. Blood seeped from the wound. The captain looked grim. “I warned you.” Roukasis’ gaze returned to the law officer and his shocked expression changed to a smile. Already the blood had stopped flowing. The wound was healing quickly.

  The politician’s opened wide and he said softly, “Oh, did I forget to tell you? They’ve given me the blood. I’ve already joined the Chosen. Because of my age I’m already experiencing the pangs of need. I figured I’d get my first kill tonight.

  He took another step toward the captain. “Join us, Jim. We can live forever. We can control the country. Hell, we can control the world. But it has to be done without publicity. We need an end to the investigation. You can help.”

  Roukasis leaped. Underwood fired again, the bullet hitting the mayor in the knee, knocking him down. The man kept coming. The next shot caught him in the forehead just above the left eye. Roukasis went down, and this time didn’t move.

  Underwood hurried to the body, and cuffed the man’s hands behind his back. From his experience with the senator, he knew this death was not permanent. Noticing a custodial closet nearby, he opened it and found some thin rope and tied the body’s legs together.

  Racing to Marie’s lab and opening the door, he called, “Marie! Marie!” No answer. The lab was empty. He moved to the next door and called, then the next. As he closed that, the door across the hall opened. Underwood raised his gun to the new threat. Marie stuck her head out, then rushed into his arms.

  He kissed her deeply. “I was so worried when you weren’t in your lab.”

  “I was just getting out of the elevator when he attacked the guard. I was never so scared in my life. Anyway I panicked and started pushing buttons. I must have hit the right one because the door closed. The man was making so much noise killing the guard, he didn’t notice the elevator. When I got up here I knew he was coming after me, so I hid in this office. I didn’t dare go into my lab.”

  Underwood nodded. “Smart move. Look, this is a very nice story, but we’ve got to get out of here. Fast. While you were in there you didn’t have a chance to try the phones did you?”

  “Yes. No dial tone. He must have disconnected the lines downstairs.”

  “Damn. And I left my cell phone in the car.”

  They walked past the mayor’s body. Already he was showing signs of reviving. As Underwood watched in horror, the center of the bullet hole became shiny. The .38 slug that had penetrated the man’s brain slowly inched out of the hole and dropped to the floor. In the very next moment the mayor’s body opened its eyes and smiled.

  “Jim, so good to see you again.” Struggling with his bonds, he snarled. “Underwood, release me. You know these cuffs can’t hold me for long.” He strained to break free.

  Underwood pushed the girl down the hall. “Get in the elevator, Marie. I need to finish something.”

  Marie looked worried. “But Jim …”

  “It’s all right. I’ll be there soon.”

  As she turned the corner, the captain reached into the janitor’s closet and brought out a broom, and a hammer. He walked toward the struggling figure, breaking the broom handle over his knee, leaving him with a two-foot piece of wood in his hand—a stake with a very jagged edge. He approached the bound figure, the stake in one hand, the hammer in the other.

  Suddenly Roukasis realized the policeman’s intent. His eyes widened. “Underwood, you can’t. Jim, you took an oath. I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”

  Underwood ignored the man’s shrieks. The mayor was screaming in horror and twisting from side to side to escape his fate.

  As he stood over the body, Jim paused. The man was right. He couldn’t do this. As an officer of the court, he was sworn to uphold the law. He couldn’t murder this man in cold blood.

  The pause was all Roukasis needed. With all his might, he jackknifed his body and sent his legs upward toward Underwood’s crotch. The law officer sensed the attack coming and managed to move just enough so that the blow struck his thigh. Still, the intensity of the kick paralyzed his leg, and he crumpled to the floor. The mayor heaved again and the thin cords holding his legs snapped. Even with his hands cuffed behind his back, he managed to get on his feet. Coming at the prone figure of the captain with the only weapon at his disposal, his feet, he intended to stomp the officer to death.

  Dazed and flat on the floor, the captain tried to recover, but his leg was useless. Roukasis moved closer and his leg raised, poised to smash down on the exposed chest of his victim.

  Instinctively, Underwood raised his left leg and sent it crashing into his attacker’s knee. An audible snap, and the man went down. Grabbing his gun, from just feet away he put round after round into the face of the stunned mayor. Then with his remaining strength he picked up the broom handle and the hammer, crawled to the body and, with one vicious swing drove the makeshift stake deep in the heart of the fallen assassin. Collapsing on top of the mayor’s legs was the last thing he remembered for a while.

  When he regained his senses, Marie stood over him. “Jim. Jim. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Underwood tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head. “Huh? What?”

  “We have to get out of here. Now.”

  He shook his head. “It’s okay. He’s dead. As long as that stake stays in his heart.”

  “No, no. It’s not him. There’s another one out front. He had blood all over his shirt, but he didn’t seem to be hurt at all. I came back up in the elevator to get you.”

  The memory of the episode in his living room flooded his mind. He had never finished the job. Now the other Chosen had come here to make sure the mayor had succeeded. Underwood struggled to his feet. The leg still hurt like hell, but he could walk on it. His hand went to his gun. Pulling the magazine out he confirmed it was empty, and his spare clips were locked in his car. They had to face an assassin with super strength, who in all likelihood was highly pissed off at him, and they had no weapons.

  As she helped him to his feet, the elevator door began to close.

  The man heard the elevator ding as he got off. He smirked. They knew he was here. He had spotted her face at the window as he entered the building. Roukasis had fail
ed, as he had known he would. Good. He had a score to settle. That damned cop would pay for the humiliation and pain he had caused. Let him run with his girlfriend. They would have a surprise if they tried to get out of the building. This time he was prepared. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a bag. From the bag he removed a swag hook, the kind of hook often seen in the ceiling of living rooms, holding plants or lamps.

  The assassin inserted the alligator jaws covered with rubber about halfway under the door. He then turned the hook on the end protruding from the door, tightening the alligator jaws. As they tightened, they opened and jammed themselves between the door and the floor. The door was effectively secured. The more someone tried to open the door, the more effective the jam. The assassin went to each of the four staircase doors on the ground floor and repeated the process. Satisfied with his trap, he headed for the elevator.

  Underwood stumbled down the hall, dragging Marie with him. “We’ve got to hide. Maybe we can slip around him and get out of the building before he realizes what we’ve done. And keep your voice down. They have sharp ears.”

  They heard the chime of the elevator doors as they opened the door for the stairs. Slipping through the door, a thought penetrated his battered brain. He had neglected to hide the mayor’s body. When the other assassin discovered it, all he would have to do to revive the mayor is remove the stake. The body hadn’t been incapacitated long enough for death to be permanent. Now they would have two killers stalking them.

  Jim continued to lead Marie down the stairs. He knew the assassin was now on the third floor, so they needed to get out of the building before he discovered their flight. Reaching the ground floor, he pulled at the door to the hallway. Nothing.