Making Monsters (7 page)

“Hey, over here.” A cop called out.

 

The men rushed in the direction of the voice; the dull thud of their shoes a thunderous sound
as they all traveled in one direction.

“Malia, now is the time to wake up so we can get the hell out of here.” He gently shook her.
He scanned the length of the pool through blurry vision and found the ladder a foot from them.
“Come on baby, wake up

“Stop shaking me so hard. Ugh. What is that smell?” Her head rolled on her neck.

 

“Us. Now move that ass, honey, before the cops decide to come this way again.” He led her
along the ledge, their heads just above water.

At the ladder, he watched her climb up then gave her a light shove to help her over the last
rung. He followed her out the murky mess, and a deluge of water drained off him once he
stepped on the concrete. Paul immediately yanked her with him as he sprinted for what he hoped
was the chain link fence. His arm burned as they scaled the short barrier and landed in a weed
ridden parcel of hard packed earth. They scurried to move as some of the policemen returned to
the complex.

They exited through the side passage, jogging into the alley. Speed-walking toward their
car, he pulled up and snatched Malia to his side, keeping to the shadows. He hunched his
shoulders, hoping the lone officer continued to stay more interested in their vehicle than the
derelicts they pretended to be. He watched the cop grab his radio, calling in for back-up and
urged Malia to move faster. They continued on to the sidewalk and kept walking until they could
blend in with a crowd at the end of the block.

“We need a car. And aspirin.” Malia rubbed her temple.

 

“True, but we also need a safe place to recoup. I can’t see far. I lost my glasses in the pool
and sliced open my arm.” He made a sharp turn and drew her onto the dark backstreet with him.

 

“I got ya, baby. Where are we going?” She stopped.

 

“To find a car.” He looked around them nervously.

 

“Good, we need to get the hell out of here.”

 

“We can’t leave town, babe. The police will simply expand the search. By now there are
probably roadblocks at every exit out of the city. I have an idea.”

 

“And that is?” She arched a brow at him.

 

“The old emergency clinic; no one would think to look for us there. We can get cleaned up,
you can stich up my wound, and Ican think about our next move.”

Malia stared at him, and he returned her look. She dropped her head back and gazed into the
night sky. Paul moved to stand in front of her. He cupped her face with his hands and pulled her
head down. His thumbs caressed her cheeks, brushing sticky brown goo from her face, and he
searched her eyes. He hoped she still believed in him.
“I will get us out of this.” Paul vowed.

“I know.” She placed a hand over his heart. “Let’s find a car and get a move on ‘cause,
babe, you reek.”
Chapter Seven

Malia yanked the wires which shut off the auto they’d stolen. The engine rattled, and the car
shuddered as it settled. For a minute, she’d thought it would collapse on all four tires, when it
stopped. The EmerCare Centre sat surrounded by a parking lot. The lone street lamp cast a weak
glow across it. When they’d gotten in the car, she’d hurried to roll the windows down. To say
they smelled bad was a gross understatement. Now that they’d made it to their destination, she
stared out the windshield at the low-lying building; so close to a shower she could taste it. Yet,
she didn’t want to go near the complex. Her instincts were screaming at her to put the vehicle in
reverse and get the hell out of there. Drive until the damn car fell apart, but leave, and do it now.

She ran her hand around the steering wheel, but made no action to open the automobile’s
door. With a glance toward Paul, she made a mental note that he wasn’t in a hurry to leave the
security of the vehicles interior either.

“We have to get out of here.” She swallowed

 

“I was thinking, there’s no place to hide the car.”

 

“I wasn’t referring to the sedan; I meant get the hell out of
here
.”

 

“We already talked about this. I need to clear our names. Granted, I don’t remember this
building looking so menacing, but no one will look for us here.”

 

“Paul, something is freakishly wrong with that place.” She continued her perusal of the
edifice.

The structure had a vibe, and not a good one. It wasn’t overt like an old ramshackle house.
The facility wasn’t rundown or falling apart. She shivered. The high windows were dark, and the
bank of doors, with the decorative glass insets at each end, made the complex look as if it were
sneering. Trees and shrubbery had taken over the landscaping, choking out the grass. A light
breeze blew leaves and dirt across the walkway.

“Your imagination is getting the best of you, honey. There’s nothing there but an empty
building.” Paul reached for the door lever.

A streak of lighting split the sky, illuminating the edifice and everything around it. Malia
narrowed her eyes; she wasn’t sure, but she could’ve sworn she saw movement around the door.
She wiped a hand down her face. The
crack
of thunder that followed shook the car.

“We should get in there before the storm hits.” He opened the door and jumped out.

Malia watched him scurry across the asphalt, zigzagging. Like he was correcting his
trajectory as he got closer to the place. She growled and hustled out behind him. He was already
rummaging through the bushes for an open window. A light drizzle coated her head and
shoulders. She reached for her gun, and her fingers closed into a fist, patting her butt; it dawned
on her the weapon was gone.

“Shit!” Her exclamation came out louder than she’d intended.

 

“Malia,” Paul spoke low.

 

“What? I lost the gun.”

 

“I don’t think we’ll need it.”

 

“So you say,” she grumbled.

Another
snap
of thunder camouflaged the shriek of rubbing metal. He crept over the sill and
disappeared into the dark room. Malia scuttled in after him and ran headfirst into his chest. He
grabbed her biceps to steady her.

“Why didn’t you wait? I wanted to make sure it was safe.”

 

“Where you go, babe, I am so there.” She held up her crossed fingers.

His light-hearted chuckle reminded her of their time together, before everything went
wrong. It was two days ago but felt like a couple of years. He enveloped her hand in his, and
they crossed the room to the hallway. He held her back as he leaned his head around the
doorjamb. Paul proceeded into the passageway, pulling Malia behind him. She jogged a couple
of steps to catch up.

“Where are we going?” Her gaze swung back and forth, a niggling feeling was making the
spot between her should blades itch, as if she was in someone’s sights.

 

“To the electrical room. We need to power up the generator for the hot water heaters to
work.” He kept walking.

 

“Won’t people see the lights?”

 

“Not if we don’t cut them on.”

They shuffled across the dusty linoleum floor. Paul stopped to get his bearings and then
continued on in the dark. Her muscles bunched in her forearms from clutching and relaxing her
fingers. She expected something, anything, to jump out at them any moment every time they
passed the darkened opening of a different room.

“I think this is it.” He closed his hand around the knob.

Malia turned around, pressing her back to his. She couldn’t escape the foreboding feeling
that galloped up her spine. She didn’t have a firearm, but she had fists, and God help anybody
that tried to come between her and her man.

The overhead lights switched on, flooding the area with illumination. Her hands were closed
so tightly that she could feel her nails cutting into her palms.

 

“Paul, please tell me you flipped a switch on the power grid.”

 

“I haven’t opened the door to get in the room yet.”

 

“
Oh shit
.”

 

The rhythmic staccato of hard soled shoes echoed toward them.

 

***

Paul moved to put Malia behind him. But, she wouldn’t move, standing in front of him like
some kind of sentinel. He blew out a breath and wrapped his hands around her waist, ready to
physically put her where he wanted her to be.

The voice that slithered out of the shadows stopped him cold. He shook his head to clear it
and turned to face the woman he’d thought of as his mentor and friend. Victoria’s candid tone
was clear and foreboding. His eyes were drawn to the huge, shiny revolver held in her grip and
aimed directly at Malia. Her words weren’t lost on him, but for a moment they sounded like
gibberish. “This bitch doesn’t deserve you.” Then, the gun exploded in a flash of orange and
amber.

Paul couldn’t move fast enough. He jabbed his fingers through Malia’s belt loops and
tugged just as a haze filled the area, burning his eyes. The acidic smell of gun powder wafted to
his nose. His throat closed, and he couldn’t help the hacking cough that racked his body. Then,
he was falling, and he realized Malia was pulling him down. As the fog cleared, he could see the
growing red circle on her shirt. Blood started to drip onto the floor, forming a puddle under them.
The burning smell of hot iron, mingled with the scent of Victoria’s perfume as she moved closer,
and he fought the urge to vomit.

He clamored to his knees, slipping in the thick liquid as he struggled to crawl to Malia’s
side. Paul heaved her limp body up in his arms and dropped on his butt. He held her against his
chest, rocking her. She didn’t move. He covered her side with his hand, and the blood seeped out
between his digits. He dropped his head back and screamed at the ceiling, pouring out his
anguish to whatever deity was listening. Her body shuddered, and he eased her away to stare
down into open glassy, brown eyes. They looked up at him, but he knew in his heart they saw
nothing.

She was fading away. He leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead. His tears fell on her
cheek, and he glanced at her side one more time. Hurriedly, he yanked her shirt off and pressed it
to her side. Maybe he could stem the bleeding if he could get her into one of the emergency care
units.

“I need you, baby.” He whispered against her temple.

“Seriously, Paul, you need to put the woman down so we can complete our business.”
Victoria handed the weapon off to a man behind her and walked in his direction. She toed
Malia’s limp leg.

He was on his boss with a ferocit
y he’d never realized he possessed, grabbing her by her
hair and yanking her back and forth like a rag doll. He formed a fist and yelled. “No one! No
fucking body … puts their hands on Malia!”

Victoria hollered and clawed at his arm. He shoved her down, and she skittered across the
floor, landing in a sprawl. Moving toward her, he felt a hit in his belly, knocking the air out of
his lungs. The blows landing on his face and arms stung, but he didn’t bother to defend himself
from the hits.
Where the hell did these people come from?
Paul closed his eyes. A lick of anger
flicked in his stomach and died. Sticky liquid permeated his clothes at the shoulders, and he
turned his head briefly, smiling when it dawned on him how close he was to Malia.

His breath blew the loose strands of Malia’s hair which curled at the base of her neck. “I
love you,” he whispered

 

Somewhere in the distance he heard Victoria scream. “No! Not his face! Stop hitting his
fucking face!”

The punches stopped, and Paul drifted in and out of consciousness. There was a sharp pain
in his side, and he felt himself sliding away from Malia. He reached for her hand and didn’t let
her go. Paul dragged her body with him as the thug stomped on his wrist in an effort to get him
to release her. He felt the collar of his shirt pulled tight at his throat, acting in reflex, he let her go
to grab at the material cutting off his air flow. He was hauled across the floor on his ass.

“What do you want to do with him, boss?” the henchman asked.

“This is kismet, Ivan, we didn’t have to go looking for him after all. Paul came to us. Be
careful of his head. We need that. The rest we can harvest immediately after we claim the head.”
Victoria giggled. “Isn’t it wonderful, looks like I get my man after all.”

“Sure boss, it’s right up there with the parting of the Red Sea. A true miracle.” Ivan locked a
bicep around Paul’s neck to hold him in place.

Darkness encroached on his gaze, and he calmed down, breathing slowly to drag small
amounts of air into his lungs. He couldn’t be sure, but there was a possibility Malia was still
alive. He needed to get them out of this situation, to get her the help she needed. The hold on his
throat tightened, and he clawed at the man’s meaty arms, digging for purchase to break the grasp.

“Ivan, take him to the surgical center, operating room one. And once you get him settled,
come back and take her to our makeshift morgue. I need to make some calls. We can sell her, but
I need him.” Paul watched his former boss walk away, sashaying as she moved down the hall.

If he wasn’t mistaken, she was humming one of his favorite jazz tunes. He shook from dry
heaves as his body tried to expel its nonexistent stomach contents. Suddenly, his airways were
completely cut off. His lungs struggled to expand, but there was nothing to inhale. He turned his
head, and his vision narrowed to a pinpoint, with Malia at the center—everything went black.

Chapter Eight

Malia sucked in a deep breath, and her torso came off the mattress she was on. Her lungs
burned from the expansion, and her side seared from the movement. She tried to lift her hand and
it flopped to her side. The limb had sharp tingles from the tips of her fingers to the middle of her
bicep. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, and the metallic taste of blood slid across her
tongue. Warm tears rolled from the corners of her clamped eyelids as she rolled to her side.

She cracked a lid and tried to focus on a point before her. Then, she opened both eyes,
blinking quickly to clear her vision and tried to shuffle away, using the one arm she could
maneuver. A body with large squares of skin missing, exposing the mottled red dermis that lay
beneath, was crammed on the bed next to her. The cadaver was missing a head, and the skin still
attached was a sickening shade of gray.