Most men can't make it through even five words of what I'm about to tell you (16 page)

John left the room. Falconer said, "Wait, no. Here's what's gonna happen, I'm gonna take that head and I'm gonna get a

team looking at it. We'l put it under a microscope, look at it on infrared, or ultrasound, or fucking radar, whatever. And

we'l see what we can see in Franky's throat."

"That's perfectly fine," said John, from the bedroom behind us. "After I drown it."

John appeared in the door holding Franky's head. Falconer turned around to face him, glanced down at the head, and

froze.

"Ho-lee... shit." He didn't blink.

I said, "You see it now, don't you?"

He didn't answer. He didn't need to.

John walked past Falconer, bumping his shoulder, pushing through into the bathroom. Falconer ran a hand through his

hair, staring into space.

I said, "That, right there, their bite, that's their entire purpose for being here I think. They bite and infect us and,
BAM
, suddenly you're living in their world. I've seen people put a bul et into their skul , or tear out their own eyes, or both, after getting this stuff inside them. And who knows, maybe you get enough in you and you become one of them. But the people

who survive, they can see. That's what these things are doing here, I think. Spreading the word, in a way."

There was six inches of water in the tub now. John dunked the head and immediately the bug thing started thrashing

around inside the mouth, mandibles barely visible behind Franky's teeth. Amy came in, holding herself as if there was a

chill in the room. I put my arms around her again and we all stood around the tub, watching. The thing stopped thrashing.

The water became still.

Amy was crying. She said, "I want to bury Molly."

"We will."

"Before we do anything else. She deserves it. She was a good dog."

"I know. We will."

I felt Falconer step up behind me. "So you and John, you got bit? Is that it? You got bit at some point and that's when al

this started?"

"No," I said. "John ran into a guy who had it, that black shit, little jars of it. Sel ing it like a drug. We took it and started seeing things and never stopped seeing things."

John said, "Amy can, too. Now. She never took the stuff directly but, uh," he paused, to give me an awkward glance. "I guess David rubbed off on her."

Amy rol ed her eyes.

"The guy who was selling it, where'd he get it?"

"No idea."

"And do you know where this guy is now?"

"Dead. He exploded."

I turned to face Falconer and said, "Welcome to the party."

He put up a hand. "All right. That thing, in his mouth, I accept that it's there. I accept it because I can see it and touch it.

Don't smirk at me like I'm a fool for not believing your spiel earlier and don't expect to me to suddenly buy everything

you're saying wholesale now. I accept that the bug is an animal in this universe, somethin' not in the science books yet,

because of my own observation and no other reason. And fine, it has some method for hiding itself from sight and it has

the ability to affect human behavior. My own observation of Franky's actions tell me that. That is the information I have

and that's what I know based on it. I know nothing else and anything else you say, I'll accept only after I can observe it

myself. It's called critical thinking, Mr. Wong."

I said, "Whatever. Do you accept that this thing maybe could lay eggs, too? And that maybe, like some insects, it lays

them in a host so that the babies will have something to eat when they hatch?"

"I don't know that. But I want Franky's body, either way."

"Well, detective, I have good news. I think I know where it is."

"Do I want to know how you know it?"

I shrugged. "Guy came to me in a dream and told me."

John said, "Who?"

"A man in black. I think it's the same guy from the hospital security video."

I looked at Falconer and said, "We saw it on the news."

"Okay. Fine. We'll go where you think it is and either it's there or it's not. Regardless of how you know."

"Great."

"So where is it?"

"I'll tell you. But first we're going to bury my dog."

* * * * *

watching me poke clumsily around in the soil with it for a few minutes, Falconer took the shovel from my hands and

efficiently dug a nice hole, using the blade of the shovel to chop through some tree roots along the way. We put Molly in

the ground and John volunteered to say the eulogy:

"This here is Molly. She was a good dog. And when I say 'good dog' I don't mean it the way other people mean it, when

they're talking about a dog that never shit on the floor or bit their kids. No, I'm talking about a dog that died saving Amy's

life. By my rough count, that's half a dozen times Molly saved one of our lives. How many dogs can say that? Hell, how

many
people
can say that? One time, Dave was in a burning building, and Molly here rescued him by getting behind the

wheel of his car and driving into the building. You know that couldn't have been easy for her.

Anyhow, Molly died, in the way that al really good things die, fast and brutal and for no apparent reason. They say that

even though it often appears that God just really, really doesn't give a shit about what happens here, that that's just an

illusion and that He real y does care after all, and that it's al part of his great plan to make it appear that He doesn't give a shit. Though what fucking point that serves I can't possibly imagine. I think God probably just wanted Molly for Himself,

and I guess I can't blame Him.

So, here you go, God. Here's your dog back, I guess. We hereby commit Molly to doggy heaven, which is probably nicer

than regular heaven, if you think about it. Amen."

Amy and me said, "Amen" and I noticed she was crying again and felt utterly helpless to stop it. She buried her face in my chest and I stroked her tangled mess of red hair.

Falconer pul ed out his gun, popped out the magazine, checked the holes drilled in the side that showed how many bul ets

were in it.

He turned and crunched his way through the dead leaves, toward my back door.

"Okay, then," he said. "Tel me where Franky's body is."

We followed him and I said, "Hamilton Elementary School. It's the old school downtown. They still use it though. They built the new one when they consolidated the districts, but there's still kids at this one. You understand what I'm saying?

There'll probably be a couple hundred kids there when this thing hatches. The body's in the basement. Boiler room."

"And you saw this in a dream."

"Yes."

"Fine. You've bought that much credibility and it's not like we got anything else to go on."

Falconer slid the magazine back into the gun, pul ed back the slide and clicked the safety. He stuffed it into his shoulder

holster, then stopped at my back door and turned to face us.

"But understand, there's no magic, Wong. Cal this what you want, but it ain't magic. Magic is what we used to call

lightning. We thought thunder was the voice of God. And back then, when you got sick, you went to an old man in a robe

who waved a stick at you and chanted and two days later you died anyway. I know you don't understand and I know you

think I'm just a prick. But I ain't goin' back to that shit, to hidin' in the caves, scared of the demons in the shadows. Billions of good people have lived like slaves, under the hand of smooth-talking assholes who threatened them with curses or Hell

or the wrath of God. Fuck that. Fuck al of that. We're animals who have climbed to the top of the animal kingdom and

that's al we are and you know what, that's enough. We got our brains and our balls and our desire to stay at the top of

that pyramid and we built a world on that. And al this, it's just one more mystery, Wong. And I
wil
solve it. I don't lose."

Falconer opened my door, took two steps into my kitchen, then raised his gun and said, "Freeze!"

We pushed in the door, looked and saw he was aiming his gun at thin air.

John gave me a confused look. He said, "Detective, what are-"

"-Who are you?" barked Falconer, to no one.

We stood around in awkward silence for a few moments, waiting for Falconer to come to his senses. Then, the man in

black stepped out from behind the nothing he had been hiding behind.

Wait, that's not right. It's difficult to explain. He suddenly became visible, but it wasn't like he just appeared. It was obvious he had already been in the room. It was like... sort of like he had stepped out of a fold in a curtain.

The man in black was just a man, it appeared. Pale, impossible to guess his age. Could have been 25 or 55. He had black

hair, slicked down and combed to unnatural perfection, looking almost like the painted hair on a ventriloquist dummy. He

wore sunglasses.

He said, "Well, now that we're al here, I think we should have a talk."

The man in black stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room. In the center of the room he calmly sat down, onto

nothing. Not on the floor; I mean his ass stopped two feet off the ground as if on an invisible stool.

Falconer, his gun still on the man, said, "I ask again, and for the last time. Who are you?"

The man in black said, "My name is Dick Bitchwhistle. I am-"

"Wait," said John. "Waitwaitwait. Did you just say your name was 'Charlie Tardfart?'"

"You each heard the name you wanted to hear. Now do you want me to say my real name or would you like to al go on

living?"

Falconer said, "I'm in one of my moods. In these moods I'm liable to shoot somebody right in the kneecap, just for the hel

of it. So don't threaten me."

Without changing expression, the man in black said, "I can have that gun whenever I want, detective Falconer."

"Oh, yeah? Well be careful because the barrel will be real hot when you touch it. Who do you work for?"

"They."

"Who?"

"They. We're 'They.' When somebody says, 'They always screw the little guy,' or, 'They have a car that runs on water,' or

"They only teach you what they want you to know," we're the 'They' they're talking about. What the government is to you, we are to the government."

Falconer said, "Fine. How did you do that thing back there? When you, cloaked yourself or whatever."

"It's not magic, so you have that fact to comfort you. You could even do it, with a few decades of practice. One just stands where no one in the room is looking. All magic is just honed technique and manipulated confusion. But you know that."

John said, "And how about the thing now, with the invisible chair?"

"That actual y is magic."

Falconer lowered his gun, but didn't put it away.

I said, "You were at the hospital, weren't you? The night of the shooting?"

"I was. I'm on assignment. I have to turn in a report on all this by Monday."

Falconer said, "Great. Why don't you give us the summary so we'll know what the hell is going on and I can get back

home? I only got my hotel until noon."

"If you were waiting for someone like
me
to provide answers, detective, you were wasting your time. After al , there's a man right in this room who can tel you everything you need to know."

The man in black looked squarely at me.

Everyone was staring. I looked around the room and said, "What?!?"

"Tell them about the shadow, David."

"Oh."

I glanced nervously at Amy and said, "Back in the Summer, that first week you went back to school for the fall semester, I

went on campus that weekend and met with some guys. Scientists. They had written a thing about crazy people who see

shadow people, I saw it in the col ege newsletter. So I talked to them and I didn't tell you guys because I didn't want you

to- anyway, I went in and they hooked some wires to my brain and they made me see a shadow man."

John said, "Holy shit, Dave."

I said to Falconer, "People see them from time to time. Go look it up. Figures made of black. John, me, Amy, we've all

seen them. Anyway, the point is there was a girl there, in the lab. A grad student I guess, helping with the experiment. And

when the shadow man appeared it... took her."

Amy covered her mouth with her one hand, went a shade paler than she normally was.

Falconer said, "Took her? How?"

"This thing passed over her and a few seconds later she was just gone. Empty space where she had been standing."

"All right. And if I go check I'll find a police report on this?"

"No. Nobody misses her. Nobody remembers her."

I took a deep breath, rubbed my eyes. "Even the scientists, the guys in the room, you go ask and they'll have no memory

of her ever being there."

"Uh huh," said Falconer. "So, what, the shadow thing erased her from their memory, too? What's that, like the way they cover up the crime?"

"No. If you go to that newsletter, when I first read it she was mentioned in the article. Go read it now, she's not in there.

Go check the registry at the school, you won't find her enrol ed. Go look at her high school yearbook, you won't find her

picture. Go ask her parents, and they'll say she died in childhood, or was stil born, or that they never had a daughter and

that you must have them confused with somebody else."

Falconer shrugged. "I don't get it."

"When the shadow people take you, they take all of you. Past, present, future. They reach back and rip you out of the

past, like tearing up a plant by the roots. If a man kil s you, you're gone. If a shadow man kills you, you never were."

Falconer scratched his forehead with the rear sight of his gun. He squeezed his eyes shut as if to release the pressure of