The Devil's Elixir

53

Torres waited nervously as the pharmacist hunted through the meds behind the counter. He’d already given Torres a couple of codeine-laced painkillers, but they only seemed to have made things worse, and he was now hunting for some antibiotics.

Torres raked his eyes back and forth across the store. He knew the place was far too big for him to control for any length of time. He just had to hope that the rest of his unit would come and rescue him before the creatures tore him to pieces. He felt lost and confused, unsure about whether the insurgents were being controlled by the monsters, or if they were simply one and the same. His head felt like it was going to burst open, and his skin was so itchy he wanted to slice it off. The pain in his stomach had eased off a bit, but his shoulder was now hurting so bad it felt like he’d only just been shot.

The pharmacist returned from behind the counter carrying a square cardboard box, from which he removed a strip of pills. He pressed out two into his palm and offered them to him.

“This is the strongest penicillin we have. Take them. It’s still the best thing for infections.”

Torres reached out to take them, but as his fingers were about to touch the pills, he saw that they weren’t pills at all, just two shiny beetle-like insects with serrated legs ending in vicious-looking hooks and long antennae that waved back and forth trying to feel their way toward him.

The pharmacist stared at him. “They’ll help. Trust me.”

Torres blinked, but the beetles were still there, squirming around in the palm of the pharmacist’s hand.

He swatted the man’s hand away viciously and reared away from him.

“You’re trying to get those inside me?” he screamed. “So they can eat me up from the inside? What did you give me before?” He swung his gun into the pharmacist’s face. “Is that why my shoulder hurts so bad? Have I got them inside me already?”

The pharmacist raised his hands to calm him, and Torres saw the yellow eyes, the twisted and sharp horns, the long fangs, and the shimmering skin that he knew was the way that all of them really looked. The beast was coming right at him—

And he pulled the trigger and just watched as the monster’s head exploded, spraying blood across the pharmacy counter.

A ripple of panic spread across the lot, and the pistolero didn’t know what had caused it. The news crews had sprung to action, talking animatedly on live feeds, while cops and agents were moving to and fro with a sense of renewed urgency.

He guessed that something must have happened inside the mall. This was good and bad. Good, because it provided him with a measure of diversion, distracting everyone around and making his task potentially easier. Bad, because it could mean that the situation his boss had engineered was coming to a head, which could lead to his window of opportunity closing sooner than expected.

It wasn’t a problem. He didn’t need that much time.

He picked up his step marginally, making sure he didn’t attract attention, and kept moving through the tangle of parked cars.

Twenty seconds later, he was by the SUV he’d seen the agents arrive in.

And before anyone could take notice of him, he was heading back the way he came, a slight grin of satisfaction pinching the edge of his mouth.

Screams erupted from the other side of the store, the noise cutting deep into his head as he staggered backward, waving the guns wildly from side to side.

“Stop! Stay back! Keep away from me!”

His throat was parched and burning now. He still hadn’t had a drink. He’d meant to have one when he first entered the store, but he’d forgotten. He couldn’t seem to keep a thought in his head.

“Someone bring me some water. Please.”

No one moved. Why wouldn’t they listen to him? He wasn’t being unreasonable. He just wanted some help. Wanted the searing pain in his shoulder to stop. Wanted his head to stop throbbing. Wanted his mouth to stop feeling like it was slowly filling with sand. Wanted to stop sweating like he was in Nasiriyah. He couldn’t work out why no one would help him and was suddenly overcome with violent rage.

“Bring me some water. Now!” He waved the guns around to reinforce his point.

After a few seconds, an older man approached him. He must have been at least sixty. He was holding a bottle of water.

“You a soldier, son?”

The man sounded friendly. Like he wanted to help.

“I was,” Torres replied, shivering now. “Not now. Not anymore.”

The man took a few steps toward him, holding out the bottle as a peace offering.

“My brother was in the army,” he told Torres. “Got himself killed in Kuwait in ninety-one.” He held the water just a few inches from Torres’s hand. “Here. Drink this. You look like you need it. Just don’t hurt anyone else, son.”

Torres stared blankly at the bottle. After a long moment, he took it. He unscrewed the lid and raised the bottle to his lips, but as he was about to drink, he noticed a weird black shape inside the bottle near the bottom. He held the bottle up to the light and saw a snarl of black snakes writhing around in the water. They were grotesque, with bulbous eyes too big for their bodies and sharp spines along their backs. One of them thrashed against the side of the bottle and hissed at him.

They were trying to poison him. They’d do anything to get the creatures inside his body so they could rip him up from the inside.

He hurled the water across the room and pointed both guns at the old man, who nonetheless took a step toward him.

“Give me the guns, son,” the man said, calmly. “You need to give me the guns so you can get the help you need.”

He knew the man was lying, trying to trick him. He was going to take his guns, then drag him to some dark basement where they’d cut him up and feed on him. Is that what they did? He couldn’t make sense of it anymore. It was all jumbled up in his head. Was he back in the army, or was he dreaming? Monsters weren’t real. He knew that. But there was one standing right in front of him. And no way was he imagining this. It just was there, yellow eyes and fangs staring back at him, drool oozing over its bottom lip, talons outstretched.

He realized he had to get out before they ate him alive. There were too many creatures for him to defeat alone and he was locked in here with them. He had to leave. To run the gauntlet and escape. Shut in with the creatures, it was only a matter of time before they devoured him. Outside, at least he had a chance. And maybe they wouldn’t want to lose any more of their number. He’d soon find out.

He backed away from the treacherous monster and made for a small group of the creatures that were still pretending to be human. He grabbed a young woman around the neck and dragged her over toward the main entrance, pulling the keys from his pocket. He unlocked the doors and maneuvered the woman so she was in front of him, then opened one of the doors a few inches and peered out into the plaza.

“I’m coming out,” he shouted. “Let me go and I won’t kill this one.”

The mall was empty other than for two of the creatures waiting for him about sixty yards down the main plaza.

Torres took a step forward, but then he felt his hostage’s weight shift, as though it were trying to stop him from going any farther. He turned toward the creature. Giant razor-edged bones were breaking through the skin of its neck. Elongated talons were sprouting from the ends of its arms. Feathers were covering its body. Its face was melting as a serrated beak burst through the flesh. He let go of the disgusting creature, raised his gun and fired. Or he thought he did. He’d definitely meant to pull the trigger, but somehow he hadn’t managed to. Maybe it was something to do with the darkness flooding his head.

He felt his legs buckle underneath him.

The floor felt like quicksand under his boots, and as he fell, he wondered whether now, finally, he would be allowed to sleep.

I held my breath as I watched Torres go down on the feed from the lead marksman’s helmet-mounted video camera. The bullet hit him square in the side of the head, just in front of his right ear. The woman he’d been using as cover only seconds before was hysterical, but alive.

Which was the prime objective.

I had no idea why Torres let go of her, but in doing so he had given the sniper a clear shot. A shot he’d had to take, since it was clear that Torres was about to kill his hostage.

I was fully aware of the probability that the siege would end with Torres dead. But knowing it didn’t make things any better. Navarro had yet again caused a bloodbath, and our only lead to him was dead.

I wondered why Navarro had opted to send an armed ex-Marine on a bad trip into a crowded mall. But then going from everything I’d learned over the past few days, it was clear that Navarro enjoyed the chaos and death that he caused. And that this almost certainly wasn’t going to be the last of it.