Will shook his head and smiled.
"These guys are good. I'll never resist calling in the Feds. Petty jealousies in law enforcement help only the perps."
"That's very big of you, Will," Curt said.
"Yeah, well, you grow with your problems, Curt." He looked toward the house.
"Great place. How about we have some coffee and talk?"
"Okay," Terri said. She looked at Curt who nodded and the three of them started for the house. "Well, I can't deny this is a big load off my mind," she continued. It was Curt who first heard the footsteps behind them and turned. Terri had her arms folded and her head down. She kept walking beside Will Dennis.
"Terri," Curt called.
She paused and turned.
Dr. Garret's duplicate was standing there, holding a pistol pointed directly at Curt. She looked up at Will.
"There was nothing I could do," he whined, his arms out. "He had me in his gunsights the whole time I was on the dock. He jumped me at a gas station about an hour ago and made me take him out here."
"Made you?" Curt asked.
"At gunpoint," Will added.
"What do you want?" Curt asked, stepping forward aggressively, ignoring the gun.
"Curt!" Terri warned.
Now that she was actually confronting him, she could of course see how perfect was the mirror image of Dr. Garret Stanley, only she noticed some swelling in his cheeks, a reddening of his complexion, and a clear symptom of a thyroid problem -- bulging in his eyes. He was breathing hard, too.
"What do we want, Mr. Dennis?" he asked Will, smiling. "Well? He wants to know. Tell him."
"He wants more," Will said obediently.
"More? More of what?" Curt asked.
"More of everything, just like everyone else. Let's all walk slowly to the house. Mr. Dennis had a good idea. We'll have some coffee and talk." Curt hesitated on the balls of his feet, poised to charge.
"Curt, please," Terri cried. It wasn't only the sight of the pistol that frightened her now. The man was having some sort of physical reaction and from her perspective, it made him look even more maddening.
Curt looked at her and then joined her, glaring up at Will Dennis.
"This is your responsibility," he told him. Will said nothing. Curt grasped one of the fishing poles tightly. Terri could see it in his face -- he was thinking of spinning and striking him.
"Don't," she whispered.
"Don't be plotting anything," he said seeing them talk. "Stay together," he ordered when they reached the door. "Slowly, go ever so slowly. I'm right behind you."
Terri opened the door and they all entered. She looked back at him and saw he was sweating profusely now. His gun hand trembled a bit.
"Mr. Dennis," he said pointing to the rocker. "Why don't you take the center seat. You're used to being the center of things, aren't you? Go on," he snapped. Will looked at Terri and Curt and then walked to the chair and sat.
"Comfy?" he asked him.
"Listen," Will began, but stopped and stared.
He had his hand up for silence and then tilted his head as if he was listening to something. He smiled and nodded. Then, he stepped forward and shot Will Dennis dead center in the heart.
In the house the .38 sounded like a cannon. Will Dennis's chest seemed to explode, the blood spurting down his white shirt. The impact made him rock in the chair. His look of surprise froze on his face and his head fell forward and the rocking stopped.
Terri screamed.
He turned to her and Curt, who were frozen in place, Terri clutching Curt's hand.
"My God," she managed.
"We had no need of him now," he said, nodding at the dead Will Dennis. "All he would do is wiggle and squirm, lie, and make every effort to save his pathetic life. It's his nature. He lacks the pure honesty of someone like me who never denies his true purpose.
"You two should feel honored," he continued, "I'm truly the New Man, the future of the species. All we've been up to now is God's little experiment, not yet perfected. Oh, well, at least He has given us the ability to finish His work, eh?"
He wiped his forehead with the back of his left hand and saw the layer of sweat. He glanced at himself in the mirror hanging on the wall and turned to Terri.
"What do you think, Doc?"
"You don't look well," she said.
"I know." He smiled. "But I know what I need to make myself well, better than well," he said. "You're not as young as I like them these days, but I know you can give it to me."
TWENTY-THREE
"I can help you more easily," she said. "You look like you're suffering a vitamin B, deficiency and acquiring beriberi. I have B-complex serum in my medical bag. A simple shot..."
He shook his head.
"No, that's not enough. Even with a continuous IV feed, they kept me in a nearly semiconscious state compared to how I can be," he said, "They were never very interested in my being a fully active individual. Everything has become more complicated. There's only one way to reach the level we need now. I have two mouths to feed, so to speak. You see," he said to Curt who moved protectively toward Terri, "that's what we really meant by more. We need more." The look in Curt's face told Terri he was going to do something dramatic and drastic any moment. Surely he would die, she thought. There was no way to reason with this person. Something Doctor Stanley had told her about people who believed clones lacked souls returned. There was no remorse, no sense of morality in this laboratory offspring. Whatever Doctor Stanley had created, he hadn't foreseen a certain mad coldness.
Only one thing came to mind as a solution. She ripped the marine bag from Curt's hands and opened it to pull out the serrated fisherman's knife. He laughed when she held it up for him to see.
"What do you think you're going to do with that?" he asked. "You can't stop me with that."
"I'm going to keep you from getting what you need, then," she said and brought the blade to her neck where she would cut quickly into her carotid artery. Death would be quick. "You know the human body," she said. "You know what happens once I do this."
"You won't," he said.
"Why not? You're going to kill me anyway, aren't you? That's what will happen. The only difference is, from how you are degenerating, I can be assured you will die too."
He shook his head and looked at Curt with a certain new desperate interest in his eyes.
"You won't do that, but just in case, Curt will precede me to the Afterlife."
"Or I'll go for you now and you'll shoot me," Curt threatened, not sure where Terri was heading with all this. He took a step forward.
Finally, the look of confidence left his face. He was getting redder, breaking out in what looked like hives. He pulled at his neck collar, the sweat now dripping off his cheeks. He glanced at the dead Will Dennis and then back at them.
"Let Curt go," she said, "and I'll drop the knife. Once he's out that door and in our vehicle, I'll give you the knife."
"No," Curt said.
"Do it," she ordered, pressing the knife against her skin enough to cause some bleeding.
"Terri!" Curt cried. He didn't know what to do first, get that knife out of her hand or lunge for the killer.
"Maybe we'll just kill him first," he said, seeing their devotion to each other. "If you don't do what I tell you to do, I'll shoot him right now."
"Do that and I'll definitely have no reason to live," she said with such firmness, the smile left his face again. "You had better decide really soon," she added.
"Time is not on your side. You're hyperventilating. You'll probably go into cardiac arrest any moment and I won't be giving you any CPR. That's for sure." He tilted his head as if he were listening to another voice again.
"Okay," he said smiling and nodding slowly. "You," he told Curt, "get out. Drive away."