Prey

Chapter Nineteen

Eight?

Awareness came slowly, as if the distant pinpoint of light he had been watching for quite some time was now trying to lure him up and away from the all-encompassing darkness.

He did not understand why the number eight was suddenly so important.

There was a sense-almost a suggestion coming from somewhere in the darkness-that it was the light itself that he had been trying to avoid all this time; but he couldn't accept that, because it looked so warm and comforting and inviting, drifting up there above him like that.

As if it wanted to help.

Or to warn him of some incomprehensible danger, of some creature that was at his heels and would overtake him at any moment if he wasn't careful. Which made no sense at all, because it hadn't moved and they hadn't spelled it right and he felt perfectly warm and safe and comfortable right where he was.

He closed his eyes to make it all go away. But then he discovered that his eyes wouldn't close, so he continued to watch the glowing pinpoint as it began to grow-both in size and in intensity-until it seemed to take on dimension… and extension… and tone.

What?

Henry Lightstone said the word silently, not wanting to move any part of his body any more than he had to, because every one of those terribly sensitive parts seemed to be directly connected to that glowing pinpoint of light that he understood now was the very thing he'd been trying to hide from.

He was becoming aware that the glowing pinpoint of light was nothing more and nothing less than pure, undiluted pain.

"Can you hear me?" the voice repeated.

"Yes," Lightstone whispered, managing to make the word audible, but just barely.

"Can you open your eyes?"

No.

He might have whispered the word, or maybe he just thought he said it. He really couldn't tell. He thought he could feel the warmth of a person's breath against some part of his body, but nothing felt connected.

"Why not?"

Hurts. Leave me alone.

"What hurts?"

Lightstone tried to make some sense out of it all. It seemed like the soft and gentle voice-a woman's voice- was responding to his answers, which meant that he must be making sound.

And the other thing she said. Or asked. Something about hurt. Or what hurts.

Right. What hurts? A question.

Easy answer.

Everything.

Somewhere in the back of his mind an urgent voice was trying to warn him that the tiny point of light had managed to come in much closer while he had been trying to listen to the voice. But he couldn't tell if that was true or not, because he could see that it wasn't a pinpoint of light anymore; rather, it was a slowly rotating disk, with edges that looked like they were very sharp and ragged.

Like an etching tool.

That's how they did it, he realized. They'd used an etching tool to warn him. Hell of an idea, he smiled to himself, having no idea of what he was talking about-or thinking about, for that matter-but for some strange reason, still confident that it all made some sort of sense.

"Listen," the other voice, the voice that was much more feminine and caring, whispered, "I'm going to try to move your arm."

No, don't do that.

The rotating disk advanced cautiously, looking for all the world like a curious puppy trying to get in closer to get a better look.

Goddamned dog, he thought. Should have warned me sooner. Wouldn't have had to go through all this.

But of course it wasn't a dog. That was exactly the point, he reminded himself. Which didn't explain why they were making such a big deal over the number eight, or the word. Why eight?

"What?"

Why eight? he thought louder, really wanting to know, because it seemed to mean something. Something important.

"I don't know. Something about a phone call. I think they missed it," the voice explained.

Oh.

"Listen, we're going to have to move you over to the other truck so we can go home. We're going to try very hard not to hurt you, but we need you to help us if you can."

Much closer now. So close that he could see every single glistening edge of the rotating blades that were starting to pick up speed now.

"No…" he whispered as loudly as he could, trying to make himself heard. But now the only sound that came out of his mouth was a raspy groan.

"Okay, hold on, here we go…"

Then the whirling disk lunged forward.

And he screamed.