like
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Awakenings, and K-PAX, but based on those examples, he could expect to spend his days robed and slippered, possibly medicated, free to read what he wanted except during individual and group therapy sessions. If it wasn't quite the career as a psychologist he'd envisioned, he'd at least be in some kind of proximity to the mental health field. Sure, it would be a scam, but didn't the taxpayers of the U.S. of A. owe him recompense for shipping him to a place where the Shadow could just drop in and shred his life? The windows would be barred or meshed, the doors reinforced-you could almost fool yourself such a location would be safe.
However, with his second episode, it became clear that safe was one of those words that had been bayoneted, its meaning spilled on the floor. Davis had been approved to resume therapy with Lucy, who had been honestly happy to see him again. It was late in the day; what with the complete breakdown in his sleeping patterns, he wasn't in optimal condition for another go-around on the Rack, but after so much time stuck in his head, terrified at what was in there with him, the prospect of a vigorous workout was something he was actually looking forward to. As before, gentle stretching preceded the main event, which Lucy told Davis he didn't have to do but for which he had cavalierly assured her he was, if not completely able, at least ready and willing. With the second push of his feet against the pedals, pain ignited up his back, and his lack of sleep did not aid in his tolerating it. Each subsequent retraction and extension of his legs ratcheted the hurt up one more degree, until he was lying on a bed of fire.
This time
VIII
2:15am
'my vision didn't blur-it cracked, as if my knees levering up and down were an image on a TV screen and something smacked the glass. Everything spiderwebbed and fell away. What replaced it was movement-I was moving up, my arms beating down; there was this feeling that they were bigger, much bigger, that when I swept them down, they were gathering the air and piling it beneath them. I looked below me, and there were bodies-parts of bodies, organs-all over the place. There was less blood than there should have been. Seeing them scattered across the ground-it was like having a bird's-eye view of some kind of bizarre design. Most of them were men, twenties and thirties; although there were two women and a couple, three kids. Almost everybody was wearing jeans and workboots, sweatshirts, baseball caps, except for a pair of guys dressed in khaki and I'm pretty sure cowboy hats.'
'What the fuck?' Lee said.
'Cowboys,' Han said.
'Texas Border Patrol,' the lieutenant said.
'So those other people were like, illegal immigrants?' Lee said.
The lieutenant nodded.
Davis said, 'I've never been to Texas, but the spot looked like what you see on TV. Sandy, full of rocks, some scrub brush and short trees. There was a muddy stream-you might call it a river, I guess, if that was what you were used to-in the near distance, and a group of hills further off. The sun was perched on top of the hills, setting, and that red ball made me beat my arms again and again, shrinking the scene below, raising me higher into the sky. There was-I felt full-more than full, gorged, but thirsty, still thirsty, that same, overpowering dryness I'd experienced the previous…time. The thirst was so strong, so compelling, I was a little surprised when I kept climbing. My flight was connected to the sun balanced on that hill, a kind of-not panic, exactly: it was more like urgency. I was moving, now. The air was thinning; my arms stretched even larger to scoop enough of it to keep me moving. The temperature had dropped-was dropping, plunging down. Something happened-my mouth was already closed, but it was as if it sealed somehow. Same thing with my nostrils; I mean, they closed themselves off. My eyes misted, then cleared. I pumped my arms harder than I had before. This time, I didn't lose speed; I kept moving forward.
'Ahead, I saw the thing I'd seen in the courtyard-a huge shape, big as a house. Pointed at the ends, fat in the middle. Dark-maybe dark purple, maybe not-and shiny. The moment it came into view, this surge of…I don't know what to call it. Honestly, I want to say it was a cross between the way you feel when you put your bag down on your old bed and, 'Mommy,' that little kid feeling, except that neither of those is completely right. My arms were condensing, growing substantial. I was heading towards the middle. As I drew closer, its surface rippled, like water moving out from where a stone strikes it. At the center of the ripple, a kind of pucker opened into the thing. That was my destination.'
'And?' Lee said.
'Lucy emptied her Gatorade on me and brought me out of it.'
'You have got to be fucking kidding me,' Lee said.
'Afraid not,' Davis said.
'How long was this one?' the lieutenant asked.
'Almost five minutes.'
'It took her that long to toss her Gatorade on you?' Lee said.
'There was some kind of commotion at the same time, a couple of guys got into a fight. She tried to find help; when she couldn't, she doused me.'
Lee shook his head.
'And you have since confirmed the existence of this object,' the lieutenant said.
'Yes, sir,' Davis said. 'It took some doing. The thing's damned near impossible to see, and while no one would come out and say so to me, I'm pretty sure it doesn't show up on radar, either. The couple of pictures we got were more dumb luck than anything.'
''We'?' Lee said.
'I-'
The lieutenant said, 'I put Mr. Davis in touch with a friend of mine in Intelligence.'
'Oh,' Lee said. 'Wait-shit: you mean the CIA's involved?'
'Relax,' Davis said.
'Because I swear to God,' Lee said, 'those stupid motherfuckers would fuck up getting toast out of the toaster and blame us for their burned fingers.'
'It's under control,' the lieutenant said. 'This is our party. No one else has been invited.'
'Doesn't mean they won't show up,' Lee said. 'Stupid assholes with their fucking sunglasses and their, 'We're so scary.' Oooh.' He turned his head and spat.
Davis stole a look at the sky. Stars were winking out and in as something passed in front of them. His heart jumped, his hand was on his stake before he identified the shape as some kind of bird. The lieutenant had noticed his movement; his hand over his stake, he said, 'Everything all right, Davis?'
'Fine,' Davis said. 'Bird.'
'What?' Lee said.
'Bird,' Han said.
'Oh,' Lee said. 'So. I have a question.'
'Go ahead,' the lieutenant said.
'The whole daylight thing,' Lee said, 'the having to be back in its coffin before sunset-what's up with that?'
'It does seem…atypical, doesn't it?' the lieutenant said. 'Vampires are traditionally creatures of the night.'
'Actually, sir,' Lee said, 'that's not exactly true. The original Dracula-you know, in the book-he could go out in daylight; he just lost his powers.'
'Lee,' the lieutenant said, 'you are a font of information. Is this what our monster is trying to avoid?'
'I don't know,' Lee said. 'Could be.'
'I don't think so,' Davis said. 'It's not as if daylight makes its teeth any sharper.'
'Then what is it?' Lee said.
'Beats me,' Davis said. 'Don't we need daylight to make Vitamin D? Maybe it's the same, uses the sun to manufacture some kind of vital substance.'
'Not bad,' the lieutenant said.
'For something you pulled out of your ass,' Lee said.
'Hey-you asked,' Davis said.
'Perhaps it's time for some review,' the lieutenant said. 'Can we agree on that? Good.
'We have this thing-this vampire,' holding up a hand to Davis, 'that spends its nights in an orbiting coffin. At dawn or thereabouts, it departs said refuge in search of blood, which it apparently obtains from a single source.'
'Us,' Han said.
'Us,' the lieutenant said. 'It glides down into the atmosphere on the lookout for likely victims-of likely groups of victims, since it prefers to feed on large numbers of people at the same time. Possibly, it burns through its food quickly.'
'It's always thirsty,' Davis said. 'No matter how much it drinks, it's never enough.'
'Yeah,' Lee said, 'I felt it, too.'
'So did we all,' the lieutenant said. 'It looks to satisfy its thirst at locations where its actions will draw little to no attention. These include remote areas such as the U.S.-Mexico border, the Sahara and Gobi, and the Andes. It also likes conflict zones, whether Iraq, Darfur, or the Congo. How it locates these sites is unknown. We estimate that it visits between four and seven of them per day. That we have been able to determine, there does not appear to be an underlying pattern to its selection of either target areas or individuals within those areas. The vampire's exact level of intelligence is another unknown. It possesses considerable abilities as a predator, not least of them its speed, reaction time, and strength. Nor should we forget its teeth and,' a rap of the artificial leg, 'claws.'
'Not to mention that mind thing,' Lee said.
'Yes,' the lieutenant said. 'Whether by accident or design, the vampire's appearance is accompanied by a telepathic jolt that momentarily disorients its intended victims, rendering them easier prey. For those who survive the meeting,' a nod at them, 'a link remains that may be activated by persistent, pronounced stress, whether physical or mental. The result of this activation is a period of clairvoyance, during which the lucky individual rides along for the vampire's current activities. Whether the
