Bub looked at the thousands of pounds of raw material around him and got started.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Andy looked down into the Yellow Arm from the ceiling vent.
No Helen.
He carefully bent the grating down and eased himself over the opening, going through legs-first rather than face-first like he had in the Blue Arm.
His landing was louder than he would have liked. His eyes nervously scanned both directions to see if the creature was coming.
So far, so good.
Sun handed him the clothes rod, and he helped her exit the duct. They both assisted Dr. Belgium.
“Where do you think she is?” Frank whispered.
They moved down the hall slowly, Andy paying special attention to the ceiling—he wasn’t going to let anything drop on him again.
“Do you hear that?” Sun said.
Andy held his breath and listened.
“It sounds like laughter.”
“A laugh track,” Sun said. “It's a television.”
“She’s watching TV?”
“Not beyond the scope of possibility,” Belgium said. “Helen watched a lot of TV. Maybe when Bub changed her genome, some of her memory remained intact.”
There was faint applause, then a recognizable soda jingle. Dr. Belgium hummed along with it.
Down the hall, at Helen's old room, the door opened.
“Uh-oh,” Frank said.
The Helen demon stepped out into the hallway, hoofs clicking on the tile floor. Andy noted that it was three times as big as that alligator monster they’d just killed. The curtain rod suddenly felt ineffectual.
“We should go back up the vent,” Andy said softly.
“Come on,” Sun tugged him. “In here.”
They slipped silently into Yellow 9, an empty closet.
“It’s too big” Andy whispered. “We won’t be able to kill it.”
“Maybe we can sneak past it.”
The three of them cautiously peeked out the doorway. The demon had moved down the hall and stopped in front of Yellow 4. It sniffed at the keypad, then squatted down next to the door.
“That's where Race is,” Dr. Belgium said. “The bomb room.”
They waited. Minutes passed. The demon stayed put.
Andy checked his watch. They had thirteen minutes left.
“We're running out of time,” Dr. Belgium said. “We have to distract it, yes yes yes.”
“Sure. I'll throw a stick, see if it'll fetch.”
“We should attack,” Sun said.
Andy stared at her, incredulous. “It practically killed Race, and he's a lot tougher than we are.”
“Hold on.” Belgium rubbed his chin. “If it watches TV, maybe part of Helen is still in there somewhere. Let me try to talk to her.”
The demon yawned, showing more teeth than a dog kennel.
“Maybe that's not too smart of an idea,” Sun said.
“I have to try. Helen?” Belgium stepped out of the closet, his hands raised in supplication. “It's me, Frank. Remember?”
The demon leapt to its feet and turned to face Belgium, red eyes narrowing.
Belgium took a slow step towards it.
“Hello, Helen. Remember how I used to come to your room and we'd play checkers?”
A guttural sound came from the Helen-thing's mouth.
“See see see?” Frank said. “She remembers.”
He took another step forward.
“This is going to end badly,” Andy whispered to Sun. “We should do something.”
“Frank...” Sun warned.
“It's okay.” Belgium shooed them back. “Helen, we could play checkers again someday. Would you like that?”
The demon's wings suddenly opened, and it stretched out its arms the width of the hallway, scraping at the plaster with its talons.
“Frank,” Andy said slowly, “I don't think the hellspawn wants to play checkers with you.”
“I know part of you is still human,” Belgium went on. “Maybe we could somehow change you back. If not, well... I understand there are some very nice zoos.”
The creature howled and launched itself down the hall.
“Run, Frank!”
Belgium backpedaled, then turned around and passed up Andy and Sun.
The demon sprang, knocking Sun aside and latching its claws onto Andy’s shoulder. Its grip was agonizing. Andy swung at its face and the beast snapped down on his hand, razor teeth slicing into his wrist. Andy screamed and tried frantically to yank it free.
Sun maced the creature in the face. The creature didn’t seem to be bothered much, but when the pepper spray hit Andy’s chewed hand, he reached a whole new level of pain.
From the corner of his eye, he watched the demon swat Sun away.
“Andy!” Dr. Belgium yelled.
He rushed up to Helen and rammed the cattle prod into the demon's mouth, past the sharp teeth, and bent upward.
Andy pulled out his hand, giving Belgium more room to jam the prod in further, down the thing's throat.
The effect was immediate. The demon dropped Andy and grabbed the biologist, drawing him close in a bear hug. It shook its head back and forth, trying to dislodge the obstruction.
Frank kept his grip on the prod and shoved once more, grunting with effort. It went down the demon's throat almost to the hilt. Then he turned the handle and gave the beast some juice.
Helen's whole body went rigid, smoke curling out the corners of her mouth. She released Frank and collapsed onto the floor, her red eyes rolling up in her head.
Sun jumped on her with the curtain rod, swinging it over and over, until the demon’s head cracked open like a dropped watermelon.
Helen twitched twice, then ceased all movement.
“Well,” Belgium said. “That was horrible.” He nudged the creature with his foot. “Dead dead dead.”
Andy clutched his wrist. Blood spurted through his fingers with his heartbeat, a good amount of it pooling on the floor.
He dropped to his knees.
*
An artery, Sun thought, looking at Andy.
She knelt next to him. He was pale, his face clammy and cold, his breathing shallow. A quick inspection of the wound found it to be ugly; the creature had bit him almost to the bone. She took Andy's pulse. Weak. She unbuckled his belt and pulled it off his waist, cinching it tight about the wound.
“Hold here,” she told Belgium, taking his hand and putting it on Andy's wrist below the tourniquet. “Don't let him close his eyes.”
Sun ran down the hall into the Med Supply room, Yellow 6. She grabbed everything in a whirlwind; a hundred cc bag of saline solution with an IV drip, a surgical needle, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a pack of cotton swabs, a scalpel, a gallon jug of sterile water. She searched quickly for clamps, but couldn't find any.
The hell with it; there was no time. If she didn’t stop the bleeding now, Sun knew Andy was going to die.
“Pour this on your hands,” she said to Belgium, tossing him the alcohol. When he finished, she repeated the procedure with her own hands and then poured the remaining alcohol onto Andy's wound.
He moaned weakly.
“Open the scalpel package,” Sun told Belgium. “Pour some water on him, clear away the blood.”
Keeping pressure on his wrist, Sun spread open the gash with her fingers to peer inside. The blood flow had stopped, so she loosened the belt to see its source.
When the blood came, it came fast.
“Now.”
Belgium poured, washing blood away. The ulnar artery was completely severed, as was the medial antebrachial vein. The radial artery had a gash in it. Sun cinched the belt tight.
“Scalpel,” Sun ordered, “and open the needle pack.”
Belgium complied. Sun cut into Andy’s flesh, lengthening the width of the wound so she could fit her fingers in. Andy yelped and tried to pull away.
“Hold his arm steady. You can’t let him squirm.”
“Okay okay okay.”