A Bullet for the Shooter

by Larry Hoy

  She bent over, gasping out a low wail and cradling her injured arm. Holding the splintered wooden shaft, Erebus realized it now had a sharp, vicious point. Although less than half its original length, it was a true weapon.

  He raised it overhead like Van Helsing preparing to stab Dracula with a stake and jammed the broken shaft deep into the side of her neck. The lithe woman tried to dodge to one side, but Erebus was faster. The jagged end penetrated four inches into her neck, just below the left ear. When Erebus pulled it back out, blood spurted from the hole and streaked his face and shirt.

  She fell to her knees, her face registering shock, and Erebus saw how pretty she was. Her lips moved as she tried to speak, and he had the funny thought that his grandmother used to do something like that. “Chewing her cud,” his mother called it, though he didn’t know what that meant. Now the young black lady was doing the same thing, and he couldn’t help giggling. Finally, she fell forward, the blood making a juicy, splattering sound when she hit the floor.

  Erebus stepped back from the corpse. Blood covered the elevator floor, and both the treadmill and the woman’s body were blocking the doors. Would anybody get suspicious that the elevator was stuck down there? He couldn’t send it up like it was, and there likely wasn’t time to clean it before somebody either saw him on the cameras or came down the stairs. Maybe the woman who’d broken into his house would come back, or a doctor, or a nurse.

  Looking at the body, he spotted a ring of keys on a retractable cord attached to the lady’s waist. He unbuckled it and advanced on the locked door, the blood-covered stick in his left hand. His best chance now was speed.

  He pushed three keys into the lock before the fourth one slipped cleanly inside. Erebus pushed the door open and charged inside, ready to strike, but two steps inside he stopped. The bed was empty.

  Something smashed into the back of his head.

  Sweetwater woke to the click of the door handle and a soft rattle from the door as somebody pushed against it. It didn’t open but, after a few seconds, the same thing happened again. He was about to drift off to sleep again, when through the fog of narcotics his brain flashed a warning; staff would have a key to unlock the door. Whoever was outside the door obviously didn’t.

  He scanned the room, confirming that Warden hadn’t returned after storming out. The only sound was the heart monitor’s continual beeping. Listening, muffled noises came from the hall outside. The sense of danger grew.

  Apart from the furniture, he didn’t see anything useful as a weapon. Taking a deep breath, he swung his legs off the bed, grabbed his IV pole, and stood. Using it for support, he shuffled to the door. Tubes and lines hung from it in case he needed intravenous drugs again.

  The distinct and unmistakable crack of breaking wood drew his gaze to the door’s window. There, crouching in the open doors of the elevator, beside the bleeding figure of Relinda, was Adrian Erebus, the man who’d shot him. Sweetwater watched Erebus paw at Relinda’s body. After a few seconds Erebus stood, holding a ring of keys.

  The deranged man was coming to kill him. Most people would have panicked, but while the idea of killing innocent people nauseated him, killing murderers and madmen was a different story. He’d been trained to do that, and to do it well.

  Leaning against the wall behind the door, he again scanned for a weapon. The sound of keys digging into the lock echoed through the room. He needed something to defend himself. Then there was a click followed by the sound of a key being driven home.

  The door opened with a violent shove and hit Sweetwater’s big toe. Erebus ran inside, brandishing a bloody rod. He stopped when he saw the empty bed and looked around for his victim. Out of time and by sheer, unthinking reflex, Sweetwater grabbed his IV pole in both hands and smashed it against Erebus’ head.

  The man fell to his hands and knees, and Sweetwater landed on his back. With a scream, he brought his fist down on the back of Erebus’ neck, driving the would-be assassin onto his stomach. Under normal circumstances that would have put Erebus down, maybe killed him, but Sweetwater’s blow lacked the power to do more than stun his smaller, older opponent.

  The two men scrambled for control.

  Erebus reached back and grabbed Sweetwater’s arm. Blood soaked his green shirt but apparently he was too far gone to feel any pain. Or maybe he was drugged. Either way, Sweetwater felt himself being pushed off the man’s back. He just hadn’t recovered the strength for a fight. With a jerk, Erebus threw him aside, and he landed on his shoulder. Stars shot through his vision.

  “You’re not getting away…this time…you fucking murderer,” Erebus said. Whether from pain, blood loss, or rage, he was panting between words. Even so, Sweetwater watched as Erebus tried to climb to his feet, except he was tangled amid the unused cords and lines hanging from the IV pole.

  The improvised weapons training course he’d taken in Scout Sniper School told Sweetwater’s brain what to do next. Survival depended on speed, so he ignored the twisting pain associated with his movements and lurched at Erebus, grabbing a handful of cords and looping them around his assailant’s neck. Using them as a garrote, he pulled back and up, then crossed his hands and leaned back, relying more on his weight than muscles to cut off Erebus’ oxygen.

  It worked. Erebus clawed at the cord digging into his flesh. For a few seconds, it became fading strength against fading strength, the blood of the two men mixing as it puddled beneath them, but even fueled by extreme hatred, Erebus couldn’t win in hand-to-hand combat against a bigger, younger Marine.

  His face purpled, and his struggles weakened like a mouse in the final stages of being constricted by a python. As the rodent died, its brain lost control of its body. In its last seconds of life, a mouse’s back legs ran like a cartoon animal as the flight neurons, no longer held in check by the brain, poured energy into its nervous system. Thrashing in desperation, one of Erebus’ arms was caught in the tangle of cords, and the other left gouges in his own neck as he tried to clear his throat.

  Sweetwater twisted harder. Erebus half turned his head, and their eyes locked. Sweetwater saw nothing in them except the cold eyes of a killer, pitiless and filled with hate. Erebus’ lips turned blue, and his eyes filled with red as capillaries burst from the strain. His struggles grew feeble.

  Sweetwater kept up the pressure long after his brain told him that Erebus was dead. For the first time in his life, he had actually killed someone, and he felt no remorse in doing so.

  But the blood leaking from his own wounds clouded his vision. He might have slain Erebus, but Erebus might have managed to return the favor. It was like he was driving through a tunnel, but no matter how fast he drove the end grew more and more distant, until everything faded.

  Warden shook Sweetwater awake. He was still gripping the cord looped around Erebus’ neck.

  “Is he dead?” Sweetwater asked in a less than a whisper.

  “Yes, Luther, he’s dead. You killed him. Now lie still; I’ve called for help.”

  But Sweetwater couldn’t lie still. Beyond Warden hunched a figure out of nightmare, like a Minotaur with human hands and glowing red eyes, and horns curving forward along a long face.

  “Watch it!” he cried. He tried to roll away but was held in place by Warden.

  “Luther, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Behind you! Can’t you see it? Let me up!” Sweetwater’s chest burned from the exertion of yelling.

  Warden paused, craned her neck, and looked back at him with wide eyes.

  “I feel something there, something horrible. You can see it, can’t you?”

  “Help me up.”

  The beast moved first. It bent over the dead Adrian Erebus, opened his mouth, and breathed fire down his throat.

  Erebus coughed and sat up, pulling the lines loose from around his neck.

  “Herbert,” he said. “I knew you’d help me. You are such a good son.”

  Chapter 31

  Memphis Police Department Secure Facility below t
he Elvis Presley Trauma Center, Memphis, TN

  “What the hell?” Warden backed up against the wall, her gaze fixed on the reanimated corpse.

  “I thought you said he was dead,” said Sweetwater.

  “He was.”

  Unlike her, Luther could see the…thing standing over Erebus. Whatever it was, and whatever it had done a moment ago, had brought life back to a dead man. But now the creature was diminished by at least a third. Its head had brushed the ceiling, but now it stood no taller than he did, and the radiance from its eyes was dimmer. Then it disappeared.

  Sweetwater rolled onto his side, breathing heavily, and pointed at Erebus.

  “I get it. I know what thing that is.”

  Erebus lay flat on his back and was glaring at Sweetwater. Sticky blood covered his face.

  “You don’t know shit. I killed you twice, fuckhead. Now you know how it feels.”

  Sweetwater spotted Warden’s purse still hanging off her shoulder. He’d already ripped out a lot of stitches, which hurt like hell and had started bleeding again, but it gave more freedom of movement. He got to his knees, reached into the purse, and pulled out her pistol. It felt heavier than before, but using both hands, he aimed it at Erebus’ temple.

  “No, don’t shoot him, Luther! We need him.”

  “Like hell.”

  He moved his finger to the trigger.

  “No!” Warden said, pushing his hands to the side as his finger squeezed the trigger. The gunshot echoed in the small room and it was like having his head inside a metal bucket while somebody smacked it with an aluminum bat. A light in the ceiling started flashing red and sirens blared in the hallway.

  Erebus lay stiff and unmoving, his eyes dilated from the shock of the gunshot. The bullet buried itself in the cinder block wall after ricocheting off his skull. A streak gouged his skin along the top of his forehead where the bullet had ripped it open. Fresh blood oozed out, a brighter red than the partly dried mask covering his face.

  Sweetwater brought the pistol back up to the other man’s temple. This time he didn’t have his finger on the trigger, but along the underside of the gun barrel.

  “Talk to me! What the fuck was that?” Sweetwater said, yelling to be heard over the alarms.

  He never unlocked eyes with Erebus. The effort of remaining upright was starting to take its toll and his vision blurred, though he tried not to let Erebus know.

  “We need him,” she said.

  “Repeating yourself doesn’t help, so maybe throw in some facts?”

  “LEI has a mole, Luther. That’s probably how this POS found out you weren’t dead. We need him to ID the leak, or a lot more people could be at risk.”

  Sweetwater pushed the barrel hard against Erebus’ temple. The alarms stopped ringing.

  “Or I could put a bullet through his skull.”

  “No! Orders are to keep him alive.” She reached out to grab his arm again, but he glanced over with an expression of warning. She drew back her hand. “Don’t you see? This guy isn’t shit; he’s a worm, and the world’s full of other worms like him. There will always be someone else. Being a Shooter is dangerous enough without some inside anaconda selling us out.”

  “Us?”

  “All my personal data is in there with yours. And LEI doesn’t only do private contract work. It’s still on the front lines working to identify terrorists and put them down before they can do anything. Now, somebody with access to LEI databases is out there selling that info to the highest bidder. He’s already gotten Bonney and Shields killed, and damned near you and me, too. We have to put him down.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, we. Because I’ll do it if nobody else will.”

  “You’ll have to get in line. So, what about you, Turdzilla?” he said to Erebus, his voice losing power. “Who do you want to kill you, me or her?”

  Nobody moved as Sweetwater’s stare burned into the other man. In response, Erebus closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled through pursed lips.

  “I have students like you, dumb as a fucking rock. No matter how much you try to teach them, they stay stupid. If no one’s going to die today, I could sleep.”

  “That thing…it’s you, isn’t it?”

  “See? Stupid, like I said.”

  Sweetwater lowered the gun. The effort of keeping it aimed exhausted him.

  “Here,” he said, handing it to Warden. “Keep it aimed at his head.”

  She took it and, despite her tough exterior, the weapon trembled in her hands. Erebus opened one eye, then closed it again.

  “Somebody should be here soon,” she said, “I wonder what’s taking so long. You don’t look so good.”

  “That fits; I feel like shit. Is the elevator still blocked?”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot. There’s the stairs.”

  Sweetwater put his head down. “I don’t know.”

  “I need to go get you help, Luther. You’re bleeding pretty bad again.”

  “No, keep an eye on them.”

  “Them? Luther, talk to me, are you all right?”

  Sweetwater rolled his head, seemingly half asleep.

  “He’s not alone. That thing is with him.”

  “What thing is that, Luther? I can’t see it.”

  “It’s like…like a demon.”

  Erebus opened his eyes, face twisted in rage.

  “That’s my boy, you ignorant shit. His name is Herbert!”

  Banging was coming from the door that connected the police annex to the rest of the hospital. Warden looked from one man to the other. They were both lying on the floor, glaring at each other, and neither was acknowledging her.

  “I have no idea what’s going on, but I can’t leave you two like this.” Using her foot, she rolled Erebus onto his belly. He slid sideways on the bloody floor but didn’t resist. “Hand’s behind your back.” He complied, turning his head to continue baring his teeth at Sweetwater.

  “A boy needs his mother,” he said. “You took that away.”

  “A mother needs her boy, too, and you took that away.”

  Warden knelt and put her knee at the base of Erebus’ spine. She grabbed a cord off the floor and jerked it free of its connection to a monitoring computer. She fumbled with the cord, but eventually secured the man’s wrists.

  “Luther, can you hear me? I’m going to get help.”

  “Don’t leave me alone…with that thing.”

  “I told you that’s Herbert!” Erebus said. He tried to yell, but it came out hoarse. A long sigh followed as the last breath left his lungs.

  “Damn,” she said, hurrying out.

  Stepping into the hall, Warden’s brain suddenly felt immediately overwhelmed. Bells were ringing down the elevator shaft as the doors tried to close, were blocked by Relinda’s body and the treadmill, fully opened again, and then repeated the process. Warden briefly considered trying to clear them, but the treadmill was too big. It was also a crime scene. The assault on her ears wasn’t the only disorienting part of it, though. Blue lights flashed along the top of the corridor, like a slow strobe light.

  She tracked bloody footprints down the hallway toward the emergency exit. Relieved, she pushed on the bar to open the door, but nothing happened. The door stayed locked. Shoving it again with both hands did no good. Then she rammed it with her shoulder, kicked the door, and finally pounded on it with both fists. Only then did she spot a small sign below the Exit sign.

  A blue light indicates lockdown until opened by the Memphis Police Department.

  “Damn it,” she yelled, pounding on the door. “Who locks the fire exit?”

  She heard pounding from the other side, a hollow thud thud on the heavy door. The echo of the elevator bell drowned out a voice. She put her ear against the steel and was able to make out the muffled words.

  “How many?”

  Warden made a fist and hit the door three times.

  She yelled to whoever was on the other side, “Go get help.”

  Two
knocks followed.

  Having done all she could, Warden ran back to Sweetwater’s room. For a moment she paused outside, watching the elevator doors bump Relinda’s body. The physical therapist stared at her with wide, dead eyes, until Warden got the eerie feeling that told her somebody dead was standing beside her. Trembling, she stepped into the room…and found the figure of a young boy sitting on Erebus’ back holding a black-bladed knife. He was using it to saw through the cord binding Erebus’ hands.

  “Who are you?” she said, her voice betraying terror. In her heart, Warden knew the answer. “How did you get in here?”

  From the side he appeared normal, except as if viewed through a black haze. The boy’s head turned and Warden backed up a step, nearly tripping over Sweetwater. Stabs of ice froze her spine. Empty black eye sockets fixed her in place like a mounted insect and sucked her deep into a well of darkness. Tongues of flame licked at his eyelids and provided the only light. He grinned, his mouth a slash that stretched nearly to his ears, filled with serrated, triangular teeth like a shark.

  Warden backed to the wall, stepping over Sweetwater without looking down. Her shoes stuck in the tacky blood, lifting up strings of the semi-solid liquid like cheese from a hot pizza. As she stared at the apparition, it laughed at her, but instead of a “ha-ha-ha” sound, it was a hiss, Sss-Sss-Sss.

  Semi-conscious, Sweetwater saw the black misshapen figure sit astride Erebus without at first recognizing the figure for what it was. Blinking, he heard a hissing sound escape through dagger fangs. The synapses in his brain lagged behind their sensory input due to the blood loss, and its corresponding drop in blood pressure, so it took a full second to realize what he was seeing. Once that happened, adrenaline shot through his body and he pushed himself away. Shaped now like a child and not the half-human half-bull minotaur, it had once again shrunk, confirming Sweetwater’s theory; the thing revived Erebus with its own energy.