CHAPTER 10
"Lt. Connally, glad you're here. Sorry about this damn door." It was the New Orleans cop. He finally managed to swing the heavy door open. Thane very nearly tumbled backwards into the man, but he managed to regain his balance after the door gave. The little man instantly closed the door back as soon as Thane had stumbled past him.
Thane ran back to the door and looked through the glass. No one was there. Impossible. Yet, he wasn't quite ready to open the door back to go investigate. The whole episode had been unsettling—the laughing, the knife, and the eyes. Something was very wrong with the man's eyes.
They were too dark . . . all dark everywhere . . . never seen anything like that before. Not gonna push this one.
Thane was glad to be on the other side of the door. It was warmer, brighter, and felt safer in here. He was going to try and forget about the whole incident in the hall. He would not mention it to anybody. Ever. Maybe there was an explanation for all of it. Maybe the memory of the man's face would eventually be impossible for him to recall. He doubted it.
That's a nightmare waiting to happen.
He turned away from the door and faced the room. A wooden pedestal stood nearby holding a log book and pen. Thane signed his name and the time on the appropriate line. He was early like always; it was only 10:55. This was just the sort of mundane exercise that he needed to do in order to focus his attention back on his assignment. The little New Orleans cop was still nearby and talking. And still trying to get Thane to like him.
"Lucky needs to oil that door. You shouldn't have had to wait like that. Sorry buddy."
The cop extended his tiny hand and, albeit with some reservations, Thane shook it. He was the new guy here after all. He wasn't going to be that rude just because he didn't care for the guy's manner.
"My name's Babb. Greg Babb," the little man announced as he released Thane's hand and stepped around him back towards the door. He raised himself up on his toes and looked through the little window. He mumbled something that Thane couldn't hear then turned around and looked up at the big deputy.
As the two men stood there deciding what to say, Thane realized that the glass in the window had been flattering to the little man. Now, as he stared at the fellow with unobstructed vision, he appeared worse off than Thane had originally thought. He was the smallest adult male that Thane had ever seen.
He was barely five foot tall, but it was his reed thinness that was most alarming. He seemed to be malnourished or sick. His uniform swallowed him up whole. It looked like he was somebody's little brother wearing hand-me-downs that he hadn't grown into yet. Thane found himself feeling a little bit sorry for the man even though his first impression told him not to be. He decided to break the ice with the little officer.
"Who's Lucky?" Thane asked.
"He's an old Cuban guy that works as a custodian around this place," the officer answered. He seemed pleased that Thane had spoken to him. "He'll be around to fix it sooner or later. Come on and let me introduce you to everybody."
They took a few steps towards the other officers in the room, and Babb started pointing and barking out names. There were four men gathered around the large circular table. Sitting with his back to Thane was an older Italian fellow with thick grey hair named Joe. Thane didn't catch his last name. He was followed clockwise by Levois Selders, a clean cut black guy of medium build, and Troy Stevens, a big meat and potatoes looking kind of man who had blonde hair and a reddish goatee. They each wore N.O.P.D. uniforms exactly like Babb's.
The final gentleman at the table, sitting directly beside Babb's empty chair, wore a very different uniform. His name was Father Lucas Mundy, and he was the acting priest at Charity Hospital. He was a kind looking man: he had very little hair, was slightly overweight, and his cheeks were ruddy. He held an oversized mug of coffee in his left hand that looked like a good idea to Thane. He was the first of the men to speak to Thane.
"Good evening young man. Or good morning. Which is it? I often lose track of time in such glorious company."
There were chuckles from all around the table as the priest stood to shake Thane's hand. Thane grinned to. He liked Father Lucas immediately.
The rest of the men were standing up now and offering their hands to Thane. He shook all of them. They seemed like a good bunch of guys. Once the pleasantries were exchanged, Father Lucas spoke up.
"Greg, you sit down here and finish playing," he said. "The Lord knows you need as much practice as possible." Again there were chuckles. "I'll be happy to give Brother Thane here the grand tour."
Father Lucas excused himself from the table just as Babb sat back down. The little guy looked dejected. Thane had enjoyed the jesting at Babb's expense, although he could tell that Babb hadn't.
"We'll start right here Brother Thane," the priest exclaimed as he turned Thane to the left and pointed in a chest high, sweeping motion. "After all, this is the reason that we're here."
Thane had noticed the wire when he came in the room earlier, but now the heavy chain link was right in front of his face. Beyond the fence lay the inmates in various degrees of disarray. Life looked pretty bleak on the other side of the fence.
The small area where the officers played cards, and the larger area that housed the sick or injured inmates, both belonged to the same large room. The dividing wire ran from floor to ceiling and wall to wall. It looked strong enough to stop a truck.
On the non lawful side of the fence the lights were dimmed and all appeared calm. Twelve beds, six against each wall, lined the room. All but two of them were filled. A center aisle between the beds led directly into a bathroom niche located on the far wall. In it there was a lidless toilet and a shower head protruding from the ceiling. The niche remained continually exposed to the rest of the room. It would offer no privacy to its occupants.
Above the niche, on the same far wall, a television was mounted. It seemed higher up than it should be; its top almost touched the twelve foot ceiling. The television was turned on, but only static was visible on its screen.
Thane turned his attention to the prisoners. So which one of the ten faceless lumps filling the beds was Rudy Schwann? Father Lucas noticed Thane shifting his eyes from bed to bed, and he quickly answered the young deputy's unspoken question.
"I believe your man's in the last bed on the right," he stated matter-of-factly.
"I'd like to see him."
"One step ahead of you Brother Thane."
The priest winked at Thane as he unlatched the gate that would grant them entrance to the other side. Like the television, the aisle, and the niche, the gate was centered in the middle of the room. It was around seven feet tall and wide enough for a bed and two averaged sized people to fit through.
"Leave your gun with these fellows here," the priest told Thane. "We don't bring firearms into this part of the hospital." Thane knew this to be standard practice when housing inmates, so the young deputy quickly obliged. He handed his big revolver to Selders whom he had already decided was his favorite out of the other officers.
Father Lucas pulled the wide gate towards them and stepped around into the inmate section of the hospital room. Thane was close behind. Babb stood up and closed the door behind them.
They walked slowly and quietly down the center aisle. Thane measured his steps carefully for fear of stepping on the priest's heels. He didn't know why they were walking at such an elderly pace. Father Lucas was a little older, but Thane had seen him move already, and the kindly priest was very spry. Whatever the reason, he didn't mind. Things had been unnerving here at the hospital since his arrival. Perhaps a moment of calm would help him to adjust.
He kept his head on a swivel as he followed the priest down the aisle. He looked at the sullen faces both to his right and left as he passed the numbered beds. He was sure that they each had a story, but he doubted that many of them would have a happy ending.
In the first bed to his left was an elderly black man. The patient's gray beard and white gown were covered with y
ellow vomit stains. Farther up, to Thane's right, laid a ghastly looking young man. He was an albino. He was also emaciated. His cheekbones seemed ready to poke through the taut skin of his face. Disease had ravaged his body so completely that he looked non-human. Thane had to look away, even though he wanted to stare.
The other inmates were less spectacular, and Thane gave each only a fleeting glance. There were a couple of gang bangers, one huge biker, some Asians, and a grungy looking sluggard who was still awake. The latter looked like he was still adjusting to prison life. He was too scared to shut his eyes. Thane thought of his brother Cane as he looked away from the rocker wannabe. The end of the aisle was approaching.
"Here's your man Brother Thane," the priest announced as they came to a halt at the foot of the final bed. Father Lucas seemed unimpressed with Schwann as he pointed towards the back of the covered figure laying in the fetal position. Thane figured the Father had seen many like Schwann come through the doors of this place. And no matter what he told the priest about the outlaw lying there, just beneath the thin bed linens, to Father Lucas he was just another soul in need of saving . . . another who had wandered from the flock. But Thane knew. He knew just how lost this bastard really was.
The first thing that seemed odd to him was the lack of hospital equipment surrounding Schwann. He had expected tubes, wires, and the works. Instead, there was a lone I.V. dripping a steady dose of some narcotic into the convict's bloodstream. He seemed to be doing remarkably well for a man that was supposedly shot six times.
Why don't they have restraints on this freak?
Thane moved around the priest to get a better look at Schwann. That was another thing bothering him: he couldn't see the convict's face.
Dark eyes, stretched open, met Thane's gaze when he rounded the bed. The wounded man's expression made him uneasy. Schwann seemed to be expecting him. Thane didn't get too close.
He could smell the blood from where he was standing. Schwann was covered in it. It wasn't from his wounds. This was new blood—bright red and stinking. Schwann's face and the front of his blanket were wet with the gore. He smiled, clown-like, at Thane, and revealed his crimson stained teeth.
The young deputy was dumbfounded. His moment of calm was over. This wasn't right. He was helpless. What was he supposed to do? He wasn't a doctor. What in the hell had happened to Schwann anyway?
And how can that bastard lay there and smile at me?
He looked to Father Lucas for answers. The priest was unexcited; he had yet to see all the blood.
Thane looked at the other cops, still playing cards, through the wire of the gate. They seemed far away. He thought of calling for assistance, but wasn't sure that he needed it. He turned back to the priest. Maybe if he could show Father Lucas the blood, then the padre would know what to do.
Thane grabbed the priest up high on his arm and began to direct him towards the bloody mess.
"Father what happened to-"
Schwann was getting out of the bed. Fast.
Thane knew immediately were all the blood came from. As soon as the bed covers slipped off of Schwann's body, the horrible truth was right there in plain sight. The convicts right arm, from just below his elbow down, had been stripped of flesh. Only skeleton and a few tendons remained. Schwann had ripped and chewed the meat from his own body.
In the process he had created a weapon. The sharp bones of his fingers looked menacing. He spread them apart and curled them slightly, leaving no doubt that he intended to wield his new claw with deadly force.
He kept smiling at Thane, even as he drew back his freshly butchered hand to strike.
Schwann was moving quickly, but Thane's mind was even quicker. Things actually seemed to slow down around him. He had time to wish that this wasn't happening, but also realized that there was no getting around it. That's when he switched into self preservation mode. And Thane had always been good at avoiding bodily injury. He'd think of something. He'd better.
The Peacock Angel: Rise of the Decarchs Page 19
