"Get the goddamn water on," he heard the attendant shout. As the hose bulged with the pressurized water of the fire system, Mark hurled himself against the gate.
The mesh bulged out, but held.
Then water spewed from the nozzle, and as the attendant struggled to control it, Mark grasped the wire mesh with both arms and began to shake it, hurling his full weight back and forth. He felt the mesh give slightly, and redoubled his efforts. Finally, as the full force of the jet of water struck him, the mesh gave way, the entire panel covering the cage door coming loose from its frame. Bellowing with rage, Mark threw the mesh aside and plunged through the opening, his hands reaching out to grasp at the nearest attendant. The man screamed as Mark picked him up, his scream cut short as Mark smashed him to the floor. The attendant's head struck the concrete with a crunching noise and immediately a pool of blood began to form around his skull.
The stream of water hit Mark full on the chest then, and he staggered back, his balance momentarily lost. Then, as if spurred on by Mark's own action, JeffLaConner hurled himself against the door of his cage, too, the force of his greater weight enough to burst the mesh from its stays. The attendant with the hose tried to scream a warning, and for a moment the jet of water strayed from Mark. Instantly, Mark threw himself on the man, his right arm snaking around the attendant's neck, then jerking backward. There was a sharp popping sound from the man's spine and he went limp in Mark's grasp. The third attendant froze, stunned into total inaction by what had happened. An instant later, as he realized his danger and tried to slam the door of the room, JeffLaConner leaped past Mark, his fingers closing around the man's throat. While Mark watched, Jeff lifted the man off the floor, shaking him like a rag doll, then spun around, slamming the attendant against the hard tiles of the wall. Dropping the man to the floor, Jeff disappeared out of the door to the cage room.
Mark paused for a moment. All his instincts told him to follow Jeff, to escape while he could! But then his eyes caught a glimpse of Randy Stevens and his mind suddenly cleared. He reached down and ripped the key ring loose from the belt on the body at his feet. Working quickly, he shoved one key after another into the last of the locked cages, until one turned and the door swung open. Leaving the keys where they were, Mark scuttled after JeffLaConner.
In the cage, Randy Stevens gazed blankly at the open door for a few moments, then his eyes focused slightly and he shuffled forward, slowly stepping across the threshold. He paused by the body of the dead attendant for a moment, poking experimentally at the flaccid corpse, then moved on to the man JeffLaConner had slammed against the wall.
That man lay on the floor, his spine shattered, unable to move anything below his waist. He was moaning softly and his fingers were working spasmodically at the floor as he tried to drag himself toward the door.
Randy studied him curiously for a moment, then reached out and jabbed at the man with one finger.
The man screamed in agony, his face turning pale as the blood drained out of it.
Chuckling insanely, Randy repeated the jab, then repeated it once more. As each jab produced its scream, Randy's giggling increased, as did the pace of his mindless game of torture.
It wasn't until the man fell silent-overcome by his pain to the point where he passed out-that Randy at last lost interest in the hideous sport.
Getting unsteadily to his feet, he shuffled slowly out the door.
His head weaved from side to side as he looked first in one direction, then in the other. Finally, mindlessly, he drifted away down the hall, snuffling softly as he tried to follow the scents of JeffLaConner and Mark Tanner.
But of course, it had been months since Randy had been capable of putting names to anything, human or otherwise.
For Randy, the transformation from human to beast had long since been completed.
Now, in the manner of the creature he had become, it was time for him to expand his territory.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Marty Ames was staring at the split screen of a high-resolution monitor, comparing the genetic structure of a sample of CharlotteLaConner's pituitary gland with that of her son's. Somewhere, he was certain, there was a minute difference, and if he could find that difference, buried somewhere with the DNA of the cells, he might find a clue to the mystery of Jeff's uncontrollable growth. He glanced up irritably when the alarm bell disturbed his concentration. No tests of the security system had been scheduled for that morning, and the sudden interruption of his work was an annoyance he needn't tolerate. He was just reaching for the phone to demand an explanation when one of the monitors on the wall caught his eye.
It displayed an image of the cage room. Ames's eyes widened in shock as he stared at it. The door of one of the cages stood open, and two others were ripped away entirely, their heavy wire mesh tossed aside like so much tissue paper.
One of the attendants was sprawled on his back, his head in the center of a pool of blood, and another lay limply a few feet away. The third, his fingers still clawing spasmodically on the floor, was staring up toward the camera, his expression an agonized grimace of pure pain. Of the occupants of the cages, there was no sign at all.
Swearing out loud, Ames punched at the buttons on the telephone and a moment later heard Marge Jackson, her voice strained, come onto the line. "They're loose, Dr. Ames."
"I know that, damn it," Ames rasped. "Don't you think I can see? Where are they?"
"I-I don't know," Marge stammered. "I think they're still downstairs, but I can't find them on the monitors."
Ames cursed once more. He should have had the cameras mounted everywhere, leaving not so much as a square foot of the building unmonitored. But the cages were supposed to be escape-proof-strong enough to contain practically anything.
"I'll be right there," he said. "Get Harris on the phone and tell him what's happened. We're going to need help!"
He slammed the phone down and moved quickly to the laboratory door. It was on the main floor, and there were two locked doors sealing off the stairwell that led to the security area in the basement. With any luck, the creatures were contained in the bowels of the building. Still, he listened at the door to the lab for a moment, then opened the door a crack and listened again. But the racket of the alarm bells effectively drowned out anything else he might have heard, and finally he pulled the door wide and darted out into the corridor. He glanced both ways, then hurried down the hall toward his office. A moment later he found Marjorie Jackson, her face pale, standing behind his desk, speaking frantically into the phone. As Ames came in, closing and locking the door behind him, she finished her call, her hands trembling so badly that the receiver dropped to the desk when she tried to hang up.
"Mr. Harris says there are people on the way right now," she told him. "They were bringing Mr. Tanner overami -"
Ames cut her off. "What happened?" he demanded. "How did they get loose?"
Marge Jackson shook her head helplessly. "I-I don't know. I was just coming back to the office when I heard a scream, and when I looked at the monitor, they were already gone." Almost against her will, her eyes drifted to the TV screen, where the grim image of the cage room was still displayed, and she gasped as the attendant whose spine was crushed made another feeble attempt to drag himself toward the door. "My God," she breathed. "George is still alive. We've got to help him!" She started toward the door, but Marty Ames's hand closed on her arm like a vise.
"Are you out of your mind?" he asked. "They're still down there!"
Marge's eyes widened. "But we've got todosomething."