John made a nodding motion, restricted by Tyrone’s grip.
“Maybe we can get you help, John.”
“I’ve…done…
By his tone, Sara could assume what those things were.
“Maybe that’s not all your fault, John.” She felt revulsion, and pity. Sara was a big proponent of free will, but she also knew that decision-making, morals, values, and even personality could all be altered with drugs or damage to the brain. But the fact that he was aware of his actions meant he had a choice.
His breath came faster. “I… want…”
Sara looked into his eyes. They seemed to implore her.
“What is it, John?”
“Want… to…”
“Want to get help?”
Sara wondered if she could get him help. They would have to restrain him somehow, maybe tie him up. Then, when the Coast Guard arrived, maybe he could be taken somewhere and treated. Sara had no clue what Plincer had done to this poor man, but perhaps it could be reversed.
“…to…”
“Maybe we can get you help, John. Maybe you don’t have to be like this.”
The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile.
“Want… to…
He grabbed Sara’s hair, pulling her close, his ugly mouth opening to bite her face. His breath was hot and the few teeth he had left were tinged red.
Tyrone pulled him back, muscling him to the ground. They wrestled for a moment, and then everyone heard the
Both Tyrone and John stopped moving. Then, slowly, Tyrone disentangled himself, letting John slump onto his face, unmoving.
John blinked. “Can’t… feel… body.”
Tyrone scooted further away on his butt and elbows. “I think I broke his neck, man. I think I broke his fuckin’ neck.”
John let out a breath, blowing dirt away from his mouth. His eyes darted around, frantic.
“Kill… me.”
Sara went to Cindy, peeled the sock back. The bite was ragged, ugly, but not very deep. She limped over to the tent and almost stepped on the first aid kit. She picked the box up and opened it. Inside were bandages, hydrogen peroxide, acetaminophen, and—thank God—a mini flashlight.
John began to wail. “They… will… eat… me! Kill… me!”
“Tyrone. Come here.”
After pouring peroxide on Cindy’s shoulder, Sara had Tyrone hold out his hands. She dumped half the bottle into his palms, the blisters foaming pink and gray from blood and dirt.
“KILLMEKILLMEKILLME!”
“There are bottles of water inthe tent. Get a few, and each of you take some painkillers.” She handed him the acetaminophen, which he gingerly took using two fingers. “Don’t come out until I say so.”
Sara and Tyrone exchanged a knowing look, and he nodded, putting his arm around Cindy and leading her away. Sara moved over to John. He looked pathetic, sad, terrified. Human.
“Please! They… will… cook… me… alive.”
Sara chewed on her lower lip. She knew what the right thing to do was, and it made her stomach churn. With effort, she sat down next to him.
“Chi… children…”
“Are you a father, John?”
He blinked. “Yes…”
She didn’t want to do this. She really didn’t want to do this.
“Do you remember their names, John?”
“Greg… Jen…”
“Do you want me to,” Sara swallowed the lump in her throat, “give a message to your children?”
“You… can’t…”
Sara closed her eyes, the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Yes I can, John. When I get off the island, I’ll make sure I find out who you are. I promise I will, John.”
She looked at him, and he was smiling again. Sara placed her other hand under John’s chin, winding her fingers in his hair.
“Tell me, John. What should I say to your kids?”
His eyes opened really wide. “I… ATE… THEM!”
Human beings always had a choice. If you knew the difference between good and evil, you could choose good. If you knew the difference between mercy and vengeance, you could choose mercy.
Sare looked deep inside herself, and found mercy.
The
Lester peered at the vomiting boy through the viewfinder, then pressed the button again. The flash went off, and he looked at the screen on his digital camera to see how the picture came out.
Very nice. He glanced up at the boy, who was looking around, wondering what was happening.
Lester tucked the camera into the bib pocket of his overalls and walked out of the scrub brush. He smiled at the boy’s reaction, a mixture of fear and awe.
“The boy shouldn’t try to run. It will just make Lester mad.”
Lester strolled over, appearing casual but ready to bolt if the boy took off. But the boy stayed on his knees, mouth hanging open, some barf on his chin.
Lester stood next to the boy and peered down at him. He reached down, and with his index finger, caressed the lad’s cheek.
“What is the boy’s name?”
“T…Tom.”
“Lester.”
Lester glanced down at the mess Tom made, locking his eyes onto one of the bigger chunks. He tried to remember all the things he’d ever put in his mouth, but knew he’d never be able to remember them all. If Lester could bite it, he had. But he didn’t think he’d ever eaten something that had already been eaten by someone else.
Unable to control the impulse, Lester snagged the piece of meat from the puddle of stomach acid. He opened his jaws and tossed it in like popcorn.
“Lester has a girlfriend,” Lester said, chewing.
“That’s…uh…cool.”
Lester nodded. “Does Tom have a girlfriend?”
Tom’s eyes were very wide. He shook his head. “No.”
“That’s sad. Does Tom have a boyfriend?” Lester asked.
The boy shook his head again.
“That’s good.” Lester got on his knees. He still towered over the boy, and had to lean down.
“Lester doesn’t have a boyfriend either. What a lucky day for Tom and Lester.”
Lester felt Tom scream in his mouth as he kissed the boy’s deliciously tangy lips.
Doctor Plincer got under the bed covers, then reached onto the nightstand for his earplugs. Subject 33 was really coaxing some screams out of his new playmate, and Plincer needed to get some sleep before the meeting tomorrow.
