Gunsmoke Blues Page 2

  After a brief pause she nodded.

  “Okay.” He put the bottle down on the floor next to the bed and reached his fingers around the back of her head, taking care to keep his arms and hands well away from her mouth. The knot had pulled taut from the strain of holding her for so long. The cloth had been soaked in sweat and grime and had become so knotted he couldn’t loosen it.

  He kept a knife in his vest pocket and he drew it out of its sheath. He tried the gag again, this time sawing at the cloth until it split. He sheathed the knife then pulled the material away from her head. The cloth wad was still in her mouth, though. “Can you spit it out?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “I’m not going to put my hand in your mouth. You have to remove it yourself,” he said. He was drunk now, but he wasn’t going to make a novice mistake like that.

  She threw her head from side to side, trying to dislodge the gag, but it seemed to be stuck fast. She may have partly swallowed it.

  “Use your tongue to push it out,” he suggested.

  He watched as she pushed the cloth slowly out of her mouth, saliva drooling from her lips as she regurgitated it out. Briefly, he glimpsed the sharp canine teeth that had appeared during the past few days.

  Astonishing, he thought. How could such rapid transformation occur?

  There were precedents for it in other parts of the animal kingdom. Cats could extend and retract their claws at will; puffer fish and certain types of frogs could produce spikes on previously smooth skin. Octopi had the ability to change the hue and texture of their skin as camouflage, and cuttlefish could even change shape to evade predators or when hunting. He suspected that regenerative stem cells were at work—the same process that enabled crocodiles to quickly regrow lost teeth.

  He wished he had more time to study the development of the condition, to track its progress, maybe even develop a cure. That was all a pipe dream now.

  The last of the gag came away from her mouth. She licked her teeth slowly and smiled up at him, chilling him as much as the yellow eyes that shone brightly in the dim lantern-light.

  The lantern was burning low, but was still bright enough to light the room. He knew that the aether lights, donated by his colleague, Dr. George Washington Carver, would cause her pain, and in any case his own eyes had become accustomed to the darkness. The moon had swung around slightly since he last checked and its light now crept to the edge of the bed. If it touched her skin, she would change. But he would remember to keep an eye on it. If the moonlight came too close to her, he needed only to close the door.

  “Doctor Daniel,” she said, her voice hoarse, but still recognizably hers. They were the first words she had spoken in almost two weeks. Once he had thought he would never hear her speak again. “Thanks for coming to see me,” she said. “I missed your company.”

  He had attended to her almost constantly when the condition had first taken hold. He had nursed her, brought her water, mopped her brow when the fever began, administered painkillers and basic medication. He had tended to the other two just the same. But nothing he did slowed the onset of the condition. It always progressed in the same way. Flu symptoms at first, followed by fevers and uncontrolled shaking. The subject might well die without medical attention in those early days. But as the condition took hold, less could be done. The patients became disgusted by any food he offered, and eventually even water would cause them to vomit. At that point they became violent and had to be restrained, for their own safety as well as his. They looked close to death, but somehow they were actually gaining in strength, undergoing some kind of metamorphosis from man to vermin. Ver-man? He pondered. He couldn’t be certain when they ceased to be human, but Mary Church Terrell had certainly passed that point.

  The face regarding him now was no longer that of the woman he once knew. Still, he found that he needed to talk to her. “I missed you too,” he admitted. “It’s lonely here by myself.”

  “The others?” she asked. “Mose and Virginia?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t seen them since they ran.”

  “How long ago was that?” she asked. “I can’t remember how long I’ve been here.”

  “You’ve been in bed for two weeks. Tied up for most of that time. You know why I had to do that?”

  “Sure.” She smiled as she said it. She was a trained scientist. She understood. “I’d have done the same thing if our roles were reversed.”

  “Of course.”

  “So how long have the other two been out there?” she asked again.

  He didn’t need to think about the answer to that. The full moon outside was all the reminder he needed. “One month exactly. Since the last full moon.”

  “Oh yes.” She turned her head to look at the sliver of silver light coming through the half-open door. It was only a foot away from her now. “So when the moonlight reaches me, the transition will be complete?”

  “You know I can’t allow that to happen,” he said. “I caused two of you to transform. I can’t be responsible for you as well.”

  Her yellow eyes narrowed, the pupils black within them. “So what, then? You’ve come to kill me?”

  He shook his head and lifted the whiskey bottle off the floor. “No,” he said quietly. “Not that. Never that.” He took another slug of liquid from the bottle, swallowed and coughed.

  When he finished coughing, she was staring at him intently. “You can’t leave me here like this,” she told him. “The other two will tear me to pieces if they find me in this state.”

  She didn’t mention what they would do to him. He was glad of that. She was right though. If she didn’t fully complete the transition, the other two would kill her when they came for him. He had seen it happen in other cases. The beasts showed no mercy for anyone but their own kind.

  “What then?” he asked, although he already knew what she would say.

  “Untie me,” she begged, and a light flickered in her eyes, whether rat or human he couldn’t say. “Please. I won’t hurt you. Just untie me and I’ll go. Please, Doctor,” she added softly.

  It had been a while since anyone had spoken to him like that. She knew it too. There was a rat-like cunning about the way she looked at him. Just the right amount of helplessness. A good dose of logic and reason to persuade him. And an appeal to his better nature. Oh, she was cunning all right. Devious and manipulative. He could see that.

  But she had a point. He wouldn’t survive beyond tonight, whatever happened. Surely he owed her this last kindness. He had brought her to this place. He was responsible for all that had happened, even if it hadn’t been his fault.

  She said nothing, just looked up at him, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

  “Okay.” He would do it before he had time to reconsider. Don’t think, just do it. He grabbed at the bottle again and opened his mouth wide for a last mouthful. He was surprised to find the bottle empty. It had been a good malt, one of the best. He let the bottle fall to the wooden floor.

  He reached into his vest pocket and took out the knife again. His movements were becoming clumsy. He guessed correctly that he was drunk as hell. He’d need to be careful with the knife. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than she’d already been hurt.

  “Thanks, Doctor,” she said, as he cut away the rope that bound her ankles. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

  The knife was short and the blade wasn’t particularly sharp. He wasn’t at his best either, but steadily he cut through the ties that held her. Her legs were free now. She lay still, just as she had promised.

  She eyed her right arm, where the rope wrapped around her bloodied wrist. He inserted the blade carefully, trying not to cut her skin. He wriggled the knife back and forth, but the knot stayed firm. God, I tied it tight, he thought. Eventually it came away, leaving one last rope to cut. The moon had nearly reached her fingers. She would turn then, and no rope would be strong enough to hold her.

  “You know you were always my favorit
e student,” he told her. “Not just because you were so bright, but because—”

  “I know,” she said.

  “A doctor… a teacher shouldn’t have such thoughts, but I’m only human.”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “Only human.” She licked her lips eagerly, revealing a flash of white teeth.

  He could add his inappropriate feelings toward a married female student to his list of personal faults. Along with his drinking… his failure to protect his students from harm… perhaps his colleagues had been right to dismiss his work. But no, the proof of his studies was right there before his eyes.

  “Hurry, now,” she said.

  From outside, the rats howled again. They were very close, much closer than before.

  He cut at the final rope as fast as he could, nicking his hand with the blade as he did. A drop of blood ran down his ring finger. Mary jerked her head forward and licked the blood away with her long tongue.

  Tears stung his eyes as he sliced through the last cords that held her. What had he done? He should have plunged the knife through her heart when he had the chance. But he could never have done that. Never that.

  Mary bounded off the bed when the rope came away and rushed to the door. She moved faster than any human had ever moved. But then, she was no longer human. She flung the door wide open and stood in the glare of the full moon’s rays; bathed in its cold light. Her body began to change.

  From the side of the bed, Dr. Williams watched in horrified fascination. He had not seen the transformation that close before. He knew he should run, but he could not.

  Over the past days, Mary had already changed in many subtle ways. Her skin had paled from fawn-brown to dull khaki and grown thin, but her hair and nails had become strong, thick and long. Her teeth, her eyes, and her nose had become rat-like, and her muscles had not wasted from lack of food, but instead had grown lean and taut. Now, with the bright light of the full moon as a catalyst, her final transition to the Third Degree began.

  At first he thought she was shriveling up, but rather, her skin was changing. Fine grayish-brown hairs sprouted from the backs of her hands, her neck, and even her ears. The hair grew longer and thicker until it completely covered her skin. She kept her face turned away from him but he imagined the hair slowly covering her once beautiful features. She moaned as the hair thickened into coarse fur.

  Where the ropes had cut her skin, the wounds were healing rapidly, the scratches fading, scabs forming over damaged tissue, shrinking and falling away to the floor.

  She appeared to be getting shorter, but then he realized she was stooping forward to stand on all fours. Her shoulders broadened and thickened, muscles bulging beneath the coat of fur that now covered her entire body. Her clothes tore as she changed, and she ripped them away in shreds, revealing grayish-brown fur, not skin, beneath. She paced the small floor of the room impatiently. Her arms and legs had changed, balancing the move from two legs to four, and her feet had transformed into paws, her fingernails into sharpened claws. The transition was complete.

  When she turned her head to look back at him, he cried out in fear. A rat stared at him now, fiery yellow eyes deep-set in a fur-covered face. Her nose had turned pink, and when she parted her lips, a long pink tongue drooled saliva over terrifying long, curved incisors that protruded more than an inch from her upper and lower jaws.

  The immense rat hissed and paced toward him.

  Dr. Williams backed up against the wall, holding the tiny knife as the beast advanced, trying to keep the bed between himself and the creature. His knife hand trembled violently.

  The rat padded closer, fearlessly.

  Dr. Williams was shocked when the creature spoke. “I’m so very hungry,” it rasped huskily. “Ravenous.

  Dr. Williams stared incredulously at the rat. He had no idea they could speak once changed. The voice was Mary Church Terrell’s, but deeper, throatier.

  “You p-promised you wouldn’t hurt me,” he stuttered. The old Mary would never have hurt anyone. He couldn’t have imagined a kinder person.

  “No,” the rat screeched angrily. “Mary, the woman promised that. She is… no more.”

  He realized at that moment that Mary was gone. No humanity remained, only cruelty. He curled up on the bed, the blade falling from his grasp. His fingers shook uncontrollably.

  “But I won’t hurt you,” said the rat slyly. “Not unless I catch you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll give you a chance,” the creature sad, grinning that hideous rat grin again, showing Dr. Williams its fangs, those bright eyes shining yellow like torches. “I’ll only hurt you if I catch you. So run.”

  He stayed motionless, stupid; rigid with fear.

  “Run!” the rat shrieked.

  Dr. Williams stood to run, but where could he go? The temperature outside was well below freezing. He wouldn’t survive an hour out there. In his condition he would barely make it off of the school’s campus. Terror made him mute. All he could say was, “Where?”

  “If you can get to the Stanley Steamer, you can drive somewhere and ask for help,” said the rat. “The heat from the car’s boiler should melt the snow, so you can drive out of here, as long as the snow hasn’t drifted too deep. If it has, well—”

  “That’s crazy,” Dr. Williams said. “Driving in the dark… it’s suicide. You know what the roads are like in December. It’s suicide. You know it is.” He was blabbering; he knew it.

  The rat hissed again. “I don’t care,” it said. “Now run!”

  This time Dr. Williams didn’t hesitate. There was no mistaking the tone of the creature’s voice. If he didn’t run immediately the rat would kill him anyway. He lurched toward the open door. The rat stepped aside to let him pass. It sniffed him as he went, as if he were mere food. That brought him to his senses. He grabbed at his coat, thrusting his arms through the sleeves but not stopping to button it. He squashed his wool derby on his head and pushed out into the freezing night.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cold air slapped Dr. Williams’ face as he emerged from the cabin, sobering him up sharply. He slammed the door closed behind him and stood panting on the wooden step, his breath condensing into clouds.

  The night held deadly beauty. Snow had drifted up against the outside walls of the cabin, but the steps leading down from the cabin door were still largely clear. A smooth layer of white stretched away before him, untouched by man or beast. No bird moved on the campus, or dog, or cockroach. Only him. And the rats.

  Beyond the clearing the oak trees stood like sentinels, so tall their tops vanished into the black sky above. The earlier wind had dropped, making the forest uncannily still and silent. The snow had stopped too, and the clouds had cleared, revealing a scattering of stars like diamonds against the black velvet of the sky. He wondered if he had dreamed or been overcome by a fit of madness. But no, the dreamlike beauty of the Chicago night contained a true nightmare—Mary Church had turned and he was running for his life.

  He looked around the clearing. The Stanley Steamer was parked several yards down the walkway. It was covered by snow, just another white object among the whiteness, but he could make out its mass against the background of dark oak trunks. He had left it some fifty feet away from the cabin. He hadn’t expected he would need to run to it in any hurry. If the snow had drifted too deep, he would die before he reached it.

  Dr. Williams stepped out into the virgin snow and sank up to his knees. He waded in the direction of the vehicle, the snow deepening the further he moved from the cabin, slowing his pace to a crawl.

  “Don’t fall, Daniel. Don’t fall,” he said to himself, panting as he lifted first one heavy leg, then the other. “Don’t slip. Don’t make a single mistake.”

  Billowing clouds escaped from his mouth as he dragged his legs through the white drifts, making his way toward the Stanley Steamer. This far from the dimly-lit cabin, the only light was from the moon and its reflection off the surface of the snow. He could be thankful tha
t the moon was full and bright tonight. He laughed mirthlessly at the irony of that. The moon had always been linked with lunacy, with madness. Now it watched over his mad flight for life.

  He reached the steam car after what seemed like forever. He stopped and looked over his shoulder, but Mary had not yet emerged from the cabin. She was giving him time to run.

  She must want the thrill of a chase, he thought. Well, he would give her that, if he could. The other two had still not shown themselves, although they must have been almost there by then. They might even be waiting just beyond the clearing, ready to rip out my throat. He could do nothing about that. Instead, he turned his attention to the vehicle.

  He hadn’t driven it for almost a week, and it had been well below freezing every night, sometimes all day too.

  He took hold of the door handle and pulled hard. The door had frozen, but he managed to pull it open using both hands. He climbed inside. As he did so, he heard the sound of the two rats screeching. They had entered the clearing, just next to the cabin. The sound of the beasts chilled him to the bone.

  “Quickly, Dr. Williams,” he muttered, his hands trembling and teeth chattering from the cold. Back in the warmth of the cabin, the alcohol had dulled his senses nicely, but the shock of the night air and the adrenaline rush of terror had sobered him quick enough. “Elbow grease. Elbow grease,” he chanted as he furiously cranked the bronze handle protruding from the floor of the steam car to ignite the coal that would heat the water in the boiler and build pressure.

  After the longest five minutes of his life, the engine spluttered to life. He released the starter then grabbed a smaller lever next to it—the gear shift, and put the car into drive. The snow lay thick on the windows, but he couldn’t get out to clear them. The heat from the boiler cleared a small patch, just big enough for him to see the space between the trees that indicated the direction of the road. He switched on the head-lanterns and watched their beams cut through the night, turning the dark trunks of trees into pale ghostly fingers.