“Put him on ice?” someone says.
This is it. The unfinished business.
I don’t hit anyone or scream outno, and I think Hailey missed those words. Count our blessings? We are both alive, and though I may regret some of our actions in the future, it is unknowable.
Sheriff Baxter is out here, too, backed into the opposite wall a few yards further along. He also watches as the stretcher goes by. His head swivels then he locks his gaze on us like some heat-seeking missile launcher. Abruptly, he switches to Clay and paces after the stretcher. He reminds me of a man at a funeral ready to help lift the coffin or dig the grave.
“Does the sheriff strike you as strange?” I realize I have stopped dead.
“Yeah, he does.”
Did he hear us, for he turns and smiles and takes off his hat. That birthmark on his temple must be why he loves wearing headgear. Then he gives a small bow before continuing.
A bow? “Fucking strange. Man, this town has some odd people in it.”
Hailey’s mouth has dropped open.
Two soldiers who came with the choppers beckon us. Another two arrive at our rear. The girl needs some TLC, so I scoop her up and aim for the room in the other direction, where these papers await us. I guess we’ll be signing them.
Before I walk onward, I lean over to kiss her.
As before, she smiles up at me. “What was that for?”
“Just figured you needed it.”
I can’t deny that’s me, too.
My heart needs her. I need her more than I ever thought I could.
Running away isn’t the answer. I’m going to have to face the demon that lives in the back of my head.
The sheriff paces along, following the stretcher carrying this enemy of their friend, Hailey. It knows there is a possibility the humans will resurrect him because of the thinking matter inside his head. This would be a mistake and might lead to harm to its friends. In this world, friends are few, so far.
The stretcher bearers deviate into a box with doors that open. An elevator it recalls is the name. The humans raise their limbs and make noises to stop the sheriff from entering with them. And so, as the stretcher passes, it brushes its own limb endings along the rim of the stretcher to transfer a squiggle, then it waves and makes a smile.
The hungry black squiggle slips under the stretcher and splays itself out until it is thinner than a whisper and as noticeable as a shadow. It waits and waits as the box descends, and when it judges the moment is right, it slips over the edge and goes swiftly to the slain man’s head. There it slips into his earhole and burrows deep into the soft filling of his skull.
Later, when things are quiet, it will exit, feeding some more as it does so, and making a few more convenient holes.
We sign the documents, of course.
Once outside the room, Hailey and I lean on the wall.
“There was enough legal word-vomit in there…” Slowly I shake my head. “I hope this is above board.”
“It isn’t. How can it be? He’s already confessed to being able to cover up murders and whoever he works for can ask for military intervention. We should’ve had a lawyer.”
“Yeah. I know. Whatever happens from now on, I’m sticking to you like glue.”
She bumps her head into my shoulder even as I find her hand and hold it.
Which is when her phone buzzes. They gave it back to her after we signed.
She retrieves it from a slim pants pocket and taps into a text message that she reads out, “What did we do to the corpse?Huh? I don’t get it.” Then the phone rings with an incoming call. “How did he get this number?”
She puts it on speaker.
“Yes?”
