Blood Hunt

3

Garreth drove blindly, not caring where he went. Some place would feel right, and there he would stop, and think. Rational answers he had overlooked before would become apparent. Then perhaps he could make the terrified child within him realize there was nothing to run from, nothing to be frightened of.

Eventually he found himself in a deserted parking lot, but it was with shock that he looked up and recognized Mount Davidson. The white cross atop the hill loomed above him, his strange new night vision seeing it luminous with icy fire against the night sky. Relief and triumph followed surprise. This proved his imaginings false. How could he possibly have come to a place like this if he had…changed.

Climbing out of the car, he made his way up to the cross. No lightning struck him. No terrible agony engulfed him. If anything, each step made him feel better. Sitting on the ground at the base brought sheer relief, all the aches of the past several days draining away. Garreth stretched out full length and buried his face in the grass. The earth felt delicious, so cool, so clean and sweet-smelling. Funny. He had never liked sleeping on the ground as a kid on scouting camp-outs, but now it felt better than any bed, certainly better than that torture rack at the hospital. What a joy it would be to just to continue lying here, to pull the earth over him and -

He sat bolt upright, shaking, horror and gut-wrenching fear flooding back. What the hell are you thinking, man! He really was going wacko. He had better take himself back to the hospital before his delusions had him jumping some unsuspecting jogger. But Garreth could not make himself move, even though his presence defiled the hill. The earth drew him. It even soothed the thirst growing more ravenous by the hour.

The sun, he decided. He would wait for the sun. If nothing happened when it rose, there was nothing wrong with him except that he had gone bananas and needed a room at the funny farm. And if — well, it would be a clean end with no one having to know what a foul, damned thing he had become.

Garreth crossed his legs, folded his hands in his lap, and waited. Eventually the sky lightened. His heart pounded. Feeling it, he scolded himself. Don’t be a fool. Nothing’s going to happen. But his heart continued to slam against the wall of his chest while the sky grew brighter. Pulses throbbed in his aching, burning throat, in his arms, legs, temples.

The upper rim of the sun appeared over the horizon. Garreth braced himself. A beam of light lanced westward to the great white cross above him. He fought an urge to bury his face in his hands and made himself lift his chin to meet the sun.

It brought no agony, no searing dissolution. The light burned through his eyes, however, turning the throb in his temples to a pounding headache. A great weight pressed down on him, draining his strength, dragging at his limbs. The earth beckoned to him, called him to the sweet coolness that would shut out this miserable, blinding, exhausting sun -

“No!” He lurched to his feet. “Damn you!” he shouted at the sun. “Kill me! You’re supposed to kill me. Please! I won’t be…this…what Lane is!” He screamed into the gold and pink sky of dawn. “No! No! NO!”

Screamed in fury and despair, over and over and over.

Garreth did not recall running down Mount Davidson or fishing trooper glasses from the glove compartment of the car and gunning the ZX out of the parking lot, but he found himself driving again, with mirror lenses hiding the eyes of his image in the rearview mirror. Driving where, though? He slowed down, groping for orientation. And slowed still more as a patrol car passed him going the other direction. He carried no driver’s license; that sat in the Property Room along with the rest of his billfold contents, state’s exhibits.

A street sign finally told him where he was. The Sunset district. His reflexes were taking him to Harry and Lien’s place…to Lien, who had kept him sane the last time his life crashed down around him.

Garreth parked the car around the corner at the end of the block Harry did not pass on the way to work and climbed over the fences separating the yards behind the neighborhood houses until he reached the Takananda’s. There he sat down behind the big oak tree shading the flag-stoned patio and settled against the trunk to wait.

From inside the house came the sounds of morning: a shrill electronic beeping of the alarm clock, running water, the murmur of voices. The telephone rang. Harry’s voice rose. Moments later the front door slammed and the motor of the car roared to life. Tires squealed around the corner at the far end of the block.

Garreth pushed to his feet and came around the tree onto the patio.

Lien saw him from the kitchen. Her almond eyes went wide.

“Garreth!” She ran out of the house to him. “What on earth are you doing?”

He managed a wry smile. “Visiting.”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t lie to me, Garreth Doyle Mikaelian! Harry just had a call about you. Come in this minute and sit down! You look ready to fall on your face.”

He followed her gladly and dropped into the closest chair.

She sat on the hassock in front of him, frowning in exasperation and concern. Her nearness brought a warm wash of bath-talcum scent overlying that of blood. “Why did you run away from the hospital?”

He could give a half-truthful answer. “I couldn’t eat their food or sleep in their bed. I wanted out.”

She stared. “Have you lost — “ She broke off to resume in a patient voice, “Garreth, you almost died. You’re in no condition to be going anywhere. You need medical care. Come on; I’ll drive you back.”

She started to rise.

Garreth reached out to catch her wrist. “No! I can’t go back. I–I’m — ” But the words caught in his throat. He could not tell her what a monster he had become. Hell…he could not even say the words to himself. Thank god for the glasses so she could not see the animal glow of his eyes. “Lien, I have to sleep and I haven’t been able to since I went into that place. Let me stay here today, and promise you won’t tell anyone where I am, not even Harry. Please!”

She stared from his face to her wrist and said softly, “Garreth, you’re hurting me.”

He let go as though stung. Shit. “Damn! I’m sorry.”

Lien rubbed the marks left on her wrist by his fingers. “I never knew you were so strong.”

He swore at himself. How could he be so thoughtless? He had seen some of his strength when wrestling the orderly. “I didn’t realize — I never meant — I’m sorry,” he said miserably.

“Garreth!”

He looked at her.

She patted his arm. “You can stay on one condition. That you do nothing but rest. Do you promise?”

He nodded.

She smiled. “Fortunately it’s Saturday and I don’t have to work, so you won’t be alone. Harry went off without breakfast. Would you like his waffles?”

His throat burned with hunger but the thought of waffles brought a spasm of nausea. He grimaced. “I’m not hungry.”

Lien frowned at him “Garreth, you — ” She sighed. “All right. Now get yourself into bed in the guest room.”

A bed. He would never be able to sleep on a bed. “I’d rather sleep out on the patio.”

“Patio!” she said in horror. “It’s chilly out there.”

“Please. I can’t breathe in here.”

His desperation reached her. While her forehead furrowed, she made no further protests…even when he passed the lounge chair to lie down on the grass well in the shade of the tree. His last conscious sensation was of Lien covering him with something.