“Probably tastes like dessert topping to them, sir,” Lee called. "Although, damn! at this rate, there won’t be any blood left in us for Count Dracula.”
Thompson’s Grove was an irregular circle, forty feet across. Grass stood thigh-high. A few bushes punctuated the terrain. Davis could feel the sky hungry above them. Lee and Han walked the perimeter while he and the lieutenant stayed near the trees. All of their rifles were out. Lee and Han declared the area secure, but the four of them waited until the sun was finally down to clear the center of the Grove and build their fire.
Lee had been, Davis supposed the word was
off, since they’d met in Kingston that morning. His eyes shone in his face, whose flesh seemed drawn around the bones. When Davis embraced him in the lobby of the Quality Inn, it had been like putting his arms around one of the support cables on a suspension bridge, something bracing an enormous weight. It might be the prospect of their upcoming encounter, although Davis suspected there was more to it. The lieutenant’s most recent report had been that Lee was continuing to struggle: Shari had won custody of Douglas, with whom Lee was permitted supervised visits every other Saturday. He’d enrolled at his local community college, but stopped attending classes after the first week. The lieutenant wasn’t sure he’d go so far as to call Lee an alcoholic, but there was no doubt the man liked his beer a good deal more than was healthy. After the wood was gathered and stacked, the fire kindled, the sandwiches Davis had prepared distributed, Lee cleared his throat and said, "I know the lieutenant has an order he wants us to follow, but there’s something I need to know about.”
“All right,” the lieutenant said through a mouthful of turkey on rye, "ask away.”
“It’s the connection we have to the thing,” Lee said. "Okay, so: we’ve got a direct line into its central nervous system. The right amount of adrenaline, and we can hijack it. Problem is, the link works both ways. At least, we know that, when the thing’s angry, it can look out of our eyes. What if it can do more? What if it can do to us what we’ve done to it, take us over?”
“There’s been no evidence of that,” Davis said. "Don’t you think, if it could do that, it would have by now?”
“Not necessarily,” Lee said.
“Oh? Why not?”
“Why would it need to? We’re trying to get its attention; it doesn’t need to do anything to get ours.”
“It’s an unknown,” the lieutenant said. "It’s conceivable the thing could assume control of whoever’s hooked up to it and try to use him for support. I have to say, though, that even if it could possess one of us, I have a hard time imagining it doing so while the rest of us are trying to shorten its lifespan. To tell you the truth, should we succeed in killing it, I’d be more worried about it using the connection as a means of escape.”
“Escape?” Davis said.
Lee said, "The lieutenant means it leaves its body behind for one of ours.”
“Could it do that?”
“I don’t know,” the lieutenant said, "I only mention it as a worst-case scenario. Our ability to share its perceptions, to affect its actions, seems to suggest some degree of congruity between the thing and us. On the other hand, it is a considerable leap from there to its being able to inhabit us.”
“Maybe that’s how it makes more of itself,” Lee said. "One dies, one’s born.”
“ Phoenix,” Han said.
“This is all pretty speculative,” Davis said.
“Yes it is,” the lieutenant said. "Should the thing seize any of us, however, it will have been speculation well-spent.”
“What do you propose, then, sir?” Davis said.
“Assuming any of us survives the morning,” the lieutenant said, "we will have to proceed with great caution.” He held up his pistol.
XIV
6:42am
Davis opened his eyes to a hole in the sky. Round, black-for a moment, he had the impression the Earth had gained a strange new satellite, or that some unimaginable catastrophe had blown an opening in the atmosphere, and then his vision adjusted and he realized that he was looking up into the barrel of the lieutenant’s Glock. The man himself half-crouched beside Davis, his eyes narrowed. His lips moved, and Davis struggled to pick his words out of the white noise ringing in his ears.
“ Davis,” he said. "You there?”
“Yeah,” Davis said. Something was burning; a charcoal reek stung his nostrils. His mouth tasted like ashes. He pushed himself up on his elbows. "Is it-”
“Whoa,” the lieutenant said, holding his free hand up like a traffic cop. "Take it easy, soldier. That was some blast.”
“Did we-”
“We did.”
“Yeah?”
“We blew it to Kingdom Come,” the lieutenant said. "No doubt, there are pieces of it scattered here and there, but the majority of it is so much dust.”
“Lee-”
“You saw what the thing did to him-although, stupid motherfucker, it serves him right, grabbing the wrong Goddamned stake. Of all the stupid fucking…”
Davis swallowed. "Han?”
The lieutenant shook his head.
Davis lay back. "Fuck.”
“Never mind,” the lieutenant said. His pistol had not moved. "Shit happens. The question before us now is, did it work? Are we well and truly rid of that thing, that fucking blood-drinking monster, or are we fooling ourselves? What do you say, Davis?”
“I…” His throat was dry. "Lee grabbed the wrong one?”
“He did.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” the lieutenant said. "I do not fucking know.”
“I specifically gave each of us-”
“I know; I watched you. In the excitement of the moment, Lee and Han must have mixed them up.”
“Mixed…” Davis raised his hands to his forehead. Behind the lieutenant, the sky was a blue chasm.
“Or could be, the confusion was deliberate.”
“What?”
“Maybe they switched stakes on purpose.”
“No.”
“I don’t think so, either, but we all know it wasn’t much of a life for Han.”
“That doesn’t mean-”
“It doesn’t.”
“Jesus.” Davis sat up.
The lieutenant steadied his gun. "So?”
“I take it you’re fine.”
“As far as I’ve been able to determine, yes.”
“Could the thing have had something to do with it?”
“The mix-up?”
“Made Han switch the stakes or something?”
“That presumes it knew what they were, which supposes it had been spying on us through Han’s eyes for not a few hours, which assumes it comprehended us-our language, our technology-in excess of prior evidence.”
“Yeah,” Davis said. "Still.”
“It was an accident,” the lieutenant said. "Let it go.”
“What makes you so sure you’re all right?”
“I’ve had no indications to the contrary. I appear in control of my own thoughts and actions. I’m aware of no alien presence crowding my mind. While I am thirsty, I have to desire to quench that thirst from one of your arteries.”
“Would you be, though? Aware of the thing hiding in you?”
The lieutenant shrugged. "Possibly not. You’re taking a long time to answer my question; you know that.”
“I don’t know how I am,” Davis said. "No, I can’t feel the thing either, and no, I don’t want to drink your blood. Is that enough?”
“ Davis,” the lieutenant said, "I will do this. You need to understand that. You are as close to me as anyone, these days, and I will shoot you in the head if I deem it necessary. If I believed the thing were in me, I would turn this gun on myself without a second thought. Am I making myself clear? Let me know it’s over, or let me finish it.”