Deficiency

EIGHTEEN

He sat in the motel owner's chair and stared at the front door. When he saw himself reflected in the window of the door, he saw he was pouting. Nothing that he had done over the past twenty-four hours had pleased him. This was a totally new and unexpected feeling. In his mind he was really born the day he had escaped, whenever that was. Time itself was so confusing a concept. It made even his recent history vague, especially now with all these memory lapses. How long had he been happy, successful, traveling like a smooth rocket through space? Was he ever this unhappy and was it that he simply could not remember it?

Sitting there and struggling to understand made him more irritable than ever and it frustrated him that he had no one in particular to blame for his depression and dissatisfaction. Other people at least had parents to blame. Who were his parents? Obscure faces floated through his mind, wispy, faces of smoke, holding shape for a moment or two and then dissipating and disappearing somewhere in the darkness that clouded his thinking. There were bits of music, occasional voices, clips of sentences, words, all of the sounds coming at him over a continually interrupted transmission from a station so deep down in his memory, he could barely hear anything.

Not knowing who he was and from where he had come never bothered him as intensely at it bothered him at this moment: Surely it had something to do with his new physical problems. Whatever. Even that malformed, ugly creature he had stomped out back there had a history, had pictures and memories to cherish. Where did he leave his pictures, his memories?

Someone had stolen all that from him, he thought. Someone had done something terrible to him and he didn't even remember it being done. What was most frightening was he couldn't recall who had done it, and that meant he might very well confront this person and not know he was his mortal enemy. Therefore, everyone must be thought to be his mortal enemy, he concluded. He would trust no one, not that he ever put much trust in anyone he could recall, but especially now he would invest not even an iota of faith in anyone's words. He decided he was out in the world like Cain or like Judas. Once anyone discovered who he was, they would despise him.

He hated being this analytical, this philosophical about himself, and especially this paranoid. It had been so easy, so enjoyable just taking things as they were, gliding along, tasting, touching, never having a single responsibility, and concerned only with his own pleasure and well-being. Who needed anything else, especially all this deep thought? The more intelligent you were, the more unhappy you are, he concluded. Pity the ant who suddenly realizes how small and vulnerable he is among the moving humans around him. Be oblivious to your own mortality and weakness and you will never be unhappy, he told himself.

The headlights of an approaching vehicle swept over the office walls and ripped him out of his musing. He was grateful for that and sat up quickly to watch as a slightly built, dark-haired man with glasses emerged from the car that had just pulled up in front of the motel office. When the door opened, he could see the woman in the passenger's seat. She didn't look very happy.

"Evening," the man said after entering. "I think we've gone off the beaten track, so to speak. How far is it to Kingston?"

"Kingston," he repeated. "That's a good eighty miles," he said, even though he wasn't sure. From his understanding of the area, it seemed reasonable, however. At least he would appear to know what he should know.

"Eighty? Wow." The man scratched the back of his head and then looked toward his car and his wife. "She's not going to be happy about that. We've been driving all day. You have any availability?"

He really wasn't in the mood for anyone, but he also realized he had to keep up the charade of being the motel owner so he wouldn't cause any undue interest and attention. He didn't have time to think about any of that. He had to work on where he was going, when, and how. He had to free his mind of everything else so the messages would come, as they always had before, the sense of direction, the new target, so to speak. He had to be receptive, and as long as he permitted all this static in his head, it wouldn't happen.

"Yeah, sure," he said quickly and got up. He scooped a set of keys off the rack.

"Ten will be fine for you," he added handing the man the keys. The man stood there looking at them and smiling dumbly.

What am I doing wrong? he wondered. What have I left out?

"Well, don't I have to sign in first?" the man asked.

"Sure, sign in," he said and turned the book toward him. The man still stared at him, a confused smile on his face.

"How much is the room?" he asked.

"Thirty-eight fifty," he said. "All the rooms are thirty-eight fifty."

"Oh." He looked out at his wife again. "She gets annoyed when we don't stay at places that advertise on TV."

He started to take the key back. Maybe the man wanted to go. Good. Go, he thought. I have to have peace and quiet so I can hear the voices.

"But I'll tell her that we've gone far enough," the man suddenly decided and reached for the keys.

"Suit yourself," he told him and gave him the keys. The man took them and then signed the book. He reached into his jacket to produce his wallet and slip out the credit card.

It put him in a small panic. He had to process that. "Where was the credit card device?

The man watched as he searched.

"Everything all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, my brother puts things where I can't find them," he replied.

"Oh." The man smiled with relief as if he had a brother who was always doing something similar to him as well.

"Here it is," he announced and produced the device. He took the man's card and slapped it on. Then he wrote in the amount and gave the receipt to the man to sign, which he did quickly and handed it back.

After he ripped off the customer copy, he handed it to him.

"Oh, my card," the man said.

"What? Right, Mr. Samuels," he said reading off the card before he gave him that too.

"So I suppose there's a good place for us to have some dinner nearby?"

"Yeah, sure," he said.

"Any recommendations?"

"No, they're all about the same," he told him. "Just go east." Charles Samuels stared at him with some surprise and then nodded and smiled. He started out and stopped.

"Any of those advertisements, pamphlets about the area, something that would describe the nearby restaurants?" Charles asked. "My wife is very particular about what she eats. Is the place clean? That sort of thing, you know." He shifted his gaze and searched the lobby. There wasn't anything.

"No, I'm sorry."

"Maybe the phone book in the room then, or a newspaper. Thanks," Charles Samuels said and hurried out to the car. For a few moments, he sat there talking to his wife.

He could see Samuels raising and lowering his arms and shaking his head. Finally, he started his engine and drove slowly toward the units, pulling in at Unit 10. He could see the woman getting out slowly, reluctantly. In the dim light of the motel walkway, he could see she was wide in the hips and had her hair cut short, almost shorter than her husband's. She walked like someone pouting would walk, refusing to take anything out of the car. Charles Samuels opened their trunk and brought out two bags. She stood by the door, facing it like a woman on death row. Samuels fumbled with the key. She offered no assistance. Finally, he opened the door and they disappeared within. He sat back, hoping he wouldn't have any hunger tonight, or if he did, hoping he could find someone better than a woman like that from whom to draw what he needed. He was tired, and being tired this early in the evening was not something he was accustomed to experiencing. Rising with concern, he went into the bathroom and looked at his face. He didn't have as healthy a complexion, he decided. The fatigue he felt was showing itself in his eyes and the deepened lines in his face. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all, he thought. He had just fed, just renewed his bodily needs. Why was he still tired?

He went back to the lobby and sat thinking again. It wasn't until he heard a noise, the sound of a car door opening and closing, that he opened them just in time to see Charles Samuels and his wife. Samuels had returned to the office, apparently to get a newspaper to read the advertisements for a restaurant and then drove away.

He closed his eyes again. He was so sleepy, and this was so unusual. Maybe he would have to visit Unit 10 later, he reluctantly thought. He would wait for them to return. At least, he should be grateful it was all still coming to him, all still easy to acquire. Get rest. Get strong, he told himself and permitted himself to doze.

"Go on," Garret Stanley ordered Darlene Stone. He waved the pistol at her as well.

He had forced Terri to drive them toward Neversink and then pull into a side road that had once been the driveway for a moderate size tourist house, now deserted and left with a foreclosure poster on its front door. The poster was faded enough to suggest it had been closed down for some time. Windows were broken, shutters hung on a single hinge, grass and weeds grew wildly around the chipped and cracked cement front steps. The bannister was broken on the left side and had fallen to the ground.

"He said he was staying at a small tourist house and the old lady who ran it told him about the tavern," Darlene continued.

"Did he mention the Martins?" Terri interjected.

She shook her head.

"He didn't mention a name, just that."

"That's how he came to Kristin Martin," she muttered, "and the fire...." She looked at Garret. "He probably set that. He must have harmed the old lady too and was just covering his tracks."

Darlene's eyes brightened even more with fear as she looked from Terri to Garret Stanley and then back to Terri, who could see the confusion in the woman's face. Was Terri a conspirator or what?

"You didn't have to pull a gun on her to get her to tell you all that, Dr. Stanley," she chastised.

Doctor? He was a doctor, too, Darlene thought. What was going on?

"You're talking too much," he told Terri.

Terri tried staring him down, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Darlene Stone was losing it fast.

"Just finish and let me take her back," she said.

He turned to Darlene.

"You spoke with this Paula Gilbert, didn't you? I mean afterward, when she was found in the parking lot."

She looked at Terri and Terri saw that her eyes were full of questions, the first one being, how did he know?

"Yes," she said nodding. "For just a few minutes."

"I want to hear every word she said. Talk!" he ordered.

"I told it all to the police."

"Tell it again," he said waving the pistol.

She gasped and continued.

"She said he hurt her while they made love. She said it felt like he was sucking out her blood. When he was finished with her, he left her naked in the rear and drove back to the restaurant. She said he was very happy, singing. She thought it was all just a nightmare because she was going in and out of consciousness. She remembered waking up when he was transferring her back to her own car. He told her she should go home now, that he was going home now."

"Going home now?"

"Yes."

"What did he say about that? What did he say about home?" Darlene shook her head.

"That's ail I remember she said."

"You're lying," he said after a moment. "Someone told you not to say anything else, anything about home, right?"

"No," she said shaking her head. "No one." He sat back and thought a moment.

"Does that mean he's going back to where he was created?" Terri asked. Garret looked at her sharply.

"I told you you were talking too much."

"Created?" Darlene couldn't help saying. "Who are you? Aren't we talking about you?" she asked after a surge of some courage.

Garret nodded at Terri.

"Satisfied now, Doctor?" He looked down and thought aloud. "He was definitely replenished. It's just not lasting as long. Arrogant...."

"If he is as intelligent as you claim he is," Terri asked, "why doesn't he try to hide his victim? Why bring her back to her car? Why leave Kristin in her car?" He looked up at her and then at Darlene.

"She just told you."

"She just told me? I don't understand."

"He wants to go home. Don't you see? Home? I'm his home. He's deliberately leaving a trail for me now. Maybe he doesn't even realize it himself. It's part of the great mystery here," he said, his eyes lighting with excitement. "Cellular affinity, I'd call it, a driving, almost primeval need to reunite. Maybe," he added smiling, "that's the soul the critics are so worried we would eliminate. Very complicated, but very fascinating, wouldn't you agree, Doctor?"

"No," she said. "I'm not fascinated. I'm more disgusted."

"That's disappointing, Doctor, tragically disappointing.

"What is this all about?" Darlene Stone demanded. Her confusion and fear had merged and become frustration and indignation.

Garret smiled at her. The coldness and calmness in the man's eyes splintered her wall of bravado. She wrapped her arms about herself protectively, looking like she wished she could shrink and disappear.

"What's it all about? Just everything -- life, health, immortality, God, man, you name it. In the end I suppose it's about power. Everything eventually is," he said a little sadly.

His cell phone rang, shattering the deep silence that had followed his words.

"Excuse me," he said and took it out of his inside pocket. He snapped it open and said, "Yes?"

Terri looked at Darlene and gave her what she thought was her best look of assurance, urging her to remain calm. Darlene squirmed and bit down on her lower lip. Terri could see she was tottering on the verge of hysteria.

"When was this?" he asked whoever called. "Okay. Just give it to me. You nearly messed this up. I'll handle it from here," Garret said into his phone. He listened and then just closed the phone. "So," he said gesturing at the degenerating tourist house. "Another monument to a bygone era, eh?"

"Can I drive back to the tavern now?" Terri asked him. "We've kept her from work long enough, don't you think?"

"Not just yet. There's more to discuss."

"What? She's obviously told you everything she knows."

"Oh, people don't realize what they do and don't know," he said smiling. "Let's change the setting. Maybe that will stimulate the memory. Get out," he ordered.

"Both of you."

"Why?" Terri demanded without moving.

"We never stop asking that. Do you realize that, Doctor?" Garret asked her.

"When we're very little, we're always coming at our parents with why this, why that? Why, why, why? Some parents get to hate it. Some think it's cute for a while and then get tired of it and before we know it, we have to go elsewhere for the answers, but to the day we die, that is the primary question on our lips. Why?"

"I want to go back," Darlene said simply, so simply in fact it sounded like the most obvious thing to do.

"We all want to go back. Life is a journey home. Maybe that was what he meant when he told that to Paula Gilbert, eh, Doctor?"

"Please," she said. "I've helped you. You're frightening Darlene, and you're frightening me, I might add."

"And what would we be without fear, Doctor? Fear protects us. It's our ability to foresee bad things happening to us that keeps us cautious, careful. Animals have it instinctively. We did, but we've lost the edge, I'm afraid as we evolved and became civilized." He stopped smiling. "Get out," he ordered again, but more sternly. "Now," he screamed at Darlene, pointing the gun at her as well. She jumped, turned, and opened the door.

He got out on his side and turned to Terri, who hesitated, asking herself, what had she done?

Seeing she had little choice, she opened her door and stepped out of the car.

"What are you doing?" she asked him in the tone of voice to make him think about it.

"Let's go look at that old house. I'm interested in historical sites," he said.

"I told Dr. Templeman I was going with you. I told him who you were," she said, relying on her powers of convincing people to have hope where there was very little. Was she as good a bluffer as she thought she was?

"I doubt that, but even if you did, Doctor, you're with a mad schizophrenic. That's all anyone would think."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, changing her tone now to one of pleading.

"It's only going to add to the mess, to the questions and to further investigations."

"The house," he said. He pointed the pistol at Darlene who gasped. Terri put her arm around her.

"Walk to the house. Don't panic. Just do whatever I tell you to do." Darlene couldn't speak. Don't panic? she thought. Easily said. Her throat was closed with panic. Her body felt numb, cold. It was as if she had already been killed and she was in the process of leaving it behind.

"Open the door," Garret ordered when they stepped on the porch. The floorboards creaked so loudly, Terri thought they might just crack beneath them. She tried the door. Amazingly, despite the broken windows, the crumbling wood siding and shutters, the door was locked. She tried the handle and then turned to Garret.

"Out of the way," he ordered and kicked the door with the style and effectiveness of a karate expert. It splintered around the lock and swung open, revealing a dark, dank room that Terri thought must have once served as a lobby or living room area for the seasonal guests. With twilight falling quickly now, there was not very much illumination.

A body left in this place will probably not be discovered for some time, she thought. Darlene, trembling helplessly now, was also whimpering and gasping for breath. She could simply faint any moment, Terri thought.

"Well, isn't this cozy," Garret said. "Must have been a very nice place once. Move," he told Darlene who stopped and now looked incapable of taking another step. She didn't, so he poked her in the ribs with the barrel of the pistol. It had the effect of a gunshot. She took two steps forward with him still holding the pistol barrel against her, but then her eyes went back and she folded so quickly at his feet, it was as if all of her bones had turned to jelly. Garret was moving forward aggressively at that moment. Caught by surprise, he tripped over her and struggled to maintain his balance. Terri spun and with desperation and a gathering of all her physical strength, pushed him while he was still off-balance, and he fell forward, losing the grip on his pistol. It flew a few feet ahead of him as he went to break his fall with his palms out. Terri considered her options in an instant. She was obviously no match for the man in any physical struggle. Her only hope was to get away, but that meant leaving Darlene behind. The now-unconscious woman was sprawled awkwardly on her right side. Terri turned and shot forward, through the dark corridor, choosing not to go up the stairs, but instead continue toward the back, through what was once the kitchen. The dwindling daylight spilling through the broken windows gave her just enough illumination so as not to bump into things. She heard Garret scrambling behind her, cursing and calling after her, warning her that she was making a big mistake. The rear door of the old house was locked, but it was a rusted tumbler. She pulled it open and jerked at the door, which resisted at first. She didn't know from what source she drew the surge of strength, but it was sufficient for her to get the old, heavy door opened enough so she could squeeze through. She pulled it shut behind her, hoping to cause Garret any delay she could.

Once outside, she stood on the back porch and considered the woods. There was a distance of at least five hundred yards to cross before she entered the forest. It was darker, but she knew she would never make it before he would be out and taking aim. Knowing she had to do something fast, she hurried down the four steps and then turned, now in a desperate panic herself.

Under the porch she saw a basement window that was completely blown out. She knelt and reached the window just as Garret opened the back door of the old building. As quietly as she could, she slipped through the window, falling and crawling her way down the old fieldstone foundation until she hit the cement floor. She swallowed her grunts and cries of pain and moved like some sort of rodent deeper into the darkness. There, she pressed herself against the wall and waited, watching the window and listening.

Garret came down the stairs slowly and stood there. He had to consider that she had run around the building, and his first thought was she was heading back to the car. She had left the keys in the ignition. Alarmed by that thought, he hurried to the corner and looked back toward the vehicle. Seeing she wasn't there, he relaxed, took a deep breath and then slowly made his way to the car to take the keys out of the ignition to prevent her from using the vehicle should she somehow get past him. That done he turned and headed back to the rear porch. He considered the woods but as he looked around, he saw the open window and smiled to himself.

Below, Terri realized she was still quite vulnerable. There was barely any light pouring through the open window, but she was growing accustomed to the thick shadows and was able to see some old piping. Grasping a length of pipe she could handle, she crawled closer to the window and waited.

Garret was now convinced she was down there. He approached the window slowly, a cold, confident smile on his face.

"Doctor," he called through it, "you're not behaving like an intelligent, educated person. Come on out and we'll talk and figure out a way to make everyone happy. I'm not interested in seeing anyone else hurt. You know that," he said. She held her breath and pressed her back against the fieldstone wall. The jagged edges of some of those stones were painful, but she ignored that and remained as still and as poised with the pipe as she could be.

"Okay, Doctor, I'm coming in and when I see you, I'm not going to be very pleasant," he warned, waited another few seconds, and leaned into the window.

"You're a damn fool," he shouted, his rage rising. He couldn't see her, and he was unhappy about having to go in, but that was what he had to do. He turned and lowered his legs slowly into the old basement. When he was almost completely in, he held onto the windowsill to gradually find his footing below. He turned his head to look down and that was when Terri swung the pipe and caught him squarely in the forehead. The blow snapped his head back sharply. He lost his grip on the sill and fell to the basement floor. His cellular phone dropped out of his pocket and bounced once, but he held the gun in his hand.

He groaned and she struck the gun hand, sending the weapon into the darkness where it bounced against the side wall. Garret moaned, fighting for consciousness. Terri threw the pipe down, scooped up his cellular phone, and leaped for the window, pulling herself up with all the strength she could muster. Below, Garret groaned again. Pure terror lifted Terri out the window. She fell to the ground under the porch, caught her breath, and scampered around and up the back steps.

Once inside the old tourist house, she ran through the kitchen, down the corridor to the lobby, where Darlene was sitting up, dazed.

"Quick!" Terri screamed at her. She reached down for her arm and helped Darlene to her feet.

"Whaaa..."

"Just run with me. Run!" she shouted and pulled her along, through the front door, down the stairs, and toward the car. She lunged for the door on the driver's side and then stopped dead with disappointment when she saw the keys were not in the ignition.

Behind them, she could hear Garret bellow, his voice echoing in the old house.

"C'mon," she urged Darlene and pulled her toward the now dimly lit woods. Some early starlight and a quarter moon was enough to light up the way. They ran past the first set of birch and maple. Without leaves, the forest wasn't all that protective, but with darkness thickening, Terri was hopeful. She tugged and urged Darlene along until they were deeper and deeper into the woods, finding even more protection provided by a group of pine trees.

"I can't run anymore!" Darlene cried.

"You've got to keep moving. If we stop, he'll catch up. Move," she ordered. Darlene gasped and followed. They went through the area of pine trees and then down an embankment where there was a stream of water bubbling over rocks. She saw a heavy overgrown area across the way and directed Darlene to it. Once there, she paused and indicated they should crouch so she could listen. Their heavy breathing almost made it impossible to hear anything. Then, there was the sound of branches cracking. After a long moment, that sound stopped and then they heard the most primeval, horrendous scream of frustration.

Darlene gasped and whimpered.

"Oh Jesus," she said.

Terri didn't move a muscle.

"Quiet," she told her.

They waited. The sounds grew more distant until finally, they heard the distinct roar of a car engine.

Terri released a hot breath of relief.

"He's going," she told Darlene.

"Who is he?" she asked.

"A modern-day Frankenstein," Terri replied. "Let's get some help," she added and held up the cellular phone she had been grasping tightly during the whole flight. Before she could flip it open to punch out a 911 call, it rang. For a moment it was as if she was holding a hand grenade that had just been triggered. It was truly like a small explosion. She nearly dropped the phone. Then, she flipped it open and brought it to her ear slowly. She didn't say hello. She held it there.

"Garret?" she heard. "Doctor Stanley? Are you there?" That voice.

She couldn't mistake it.

It was Will Dennis.

"I now know how he knew you had spoken to Paula Gilbert," she muttered as she closed the phone.

"I don't understand," Darlene said.

Terri shook her head and looked at the cell phone. She truly felt as if the legs had been cut out from under her and sat back stunned.

She looked at the phone.

It had been a hand grenade after all.