Nocturnal (68 page)

“Bryan, I know what happened to you. Well, the general idea, anyway. We’re sure Paul Maloney’s death was a symbol killing, like Oscar Woody’s. We know Woody’s killers had the Zed chromosome, so it’s logical to assume Maloney’s did as well. I’m pretty sure there are hormones in the urine that activated your Zed chromosomes, made them start
expressing
. You had all this dormant code inside you, waiting for a signal. When that signal came,
boom
, your body was off to the races.”

That was one for the comic books — he had superhealing and,
apparently, some level of superstrength, and what was his origin story?
I sniffed pee
. Not exactly as cool as being bitten by a radioactive spider. “But why would my Zed be dormant?”

“I have no idea,” Robin said. “Based on everything else we’ve seen, it’s got to be some kind of species protection strategy. If one of your kind is—”

“My
kind
? I’m
not
one of them.”

“Scientifically speaking, you are. Don’t be a Sensitive Sally. Anyway, maybe tens of thousands of years ago — no,
hundreds
of thousands, but that creates a whole primate family tree issue that—”

“Robin, I’m almost at the hospital.” He saw the SFGH complex coming up on the left. “Can you get to the point?”

“Sorry. My guess is that way back when, if one of your kind was isolated and their genes
did
express, maybe normal people killed them. So maybe suppressed genes contribute to survival. Maybe the genes evolved to only express if others of your kind are around — a safety-in-numbers kind of thing. Nature triggers suppressed genes all the time with hormones and other signaling mechanisms. You started out suppressed,
normal
, until your body detected others like you, then your latent genes activated.”

He didn’t understand a quarter of what she was saying. Not that any of it mattered right now.

“I gotta go,” he said.

“Have you called Pookie?”

Shit. He’d forgotten about his partner, and the fact that he’d had Pookie’s car for going on twenty-four hours now.

“No, I haven’t. Can you call him and tell him he can pick up the Buick at the hospital?”

She paused. “Bryan, he was looking for you all day yesterday. He called me this morning. He’s pretty pissed you didn’t let him know you were alive.”

As well he should be. But Bryan had too much to deal with at the moment — he really couldn’t handle Pookie’s disappointment on top of everything else.

“Look, Robin, just call him for me, okay?”

“Okay,” she said. “I love you, Bryan.”

“I love you, too.” Those words were surprisingly easier to say the second time around. He hung up.

San Francisco General Hospital had many buildings, but the northern-most
one housed the mental health wing — where Erickson was being kept. A head-high brick wall lined the sidewalk, with a ten-foot-high red fence rising from the top of it. Bryan wasn’t sure if the fence was to keep people in, or out.

Adam slowed, then did a fast U-turn to slide into an open parallel parking spot just before Twentieth. Bryan struggled to turn the Buick as sharply and realized that not only was the Buick a crappy car, Adam was a far better driver. Bryan parked right behind the Magnum. The Magnum’s rear passenger door opened. Alder leaned on his cane as he slowly got out. Bryan got out to meet him.

“Wait here, Inspector,” Alder said. “I’ll find Chief Zou and straighten this out.”

“Are you good friends with her?” Maybe Alder could help patch things up, get Pookie his job back.

“I haven’t seen her in twenty-eight years,” Alder said. “And we’re far from friends. Adam? Let’s go.”

Alder’s cane clicked against the sidewalk as he and Adam walked toward the opening in the wall that led into the hospital complex.

T
he electric lights were off. Atop the mast of skulls, a few torches burned, casting out a weak light that failed to penetrate the arena’s trenches.

There was no noise except for the crunch of dirt under their feet and a faint, regular echoing rumble that came from the shipwreck behind him and to his left. Trench walls rose up on either side. Aggie couldn’t see the cavern’s ceiling high above, it was too dark for that. He kept moving, tried not to think about the fact that he was walking through the maze — the same place the teenage boy had been killed, then butchered for food.

“This way,” Hillary said as she turned right.

Aggie followed. That strange, echoing noise picked up in intensity, and Aggie realized what it was — Mommy was snoring.

Hillary had led him from the white dungeon, taking a different path than she’d used before. This time, instead of coming out on the ledge, he found himself sliding through a narrow, hidden passage and into the arena maze. Aggie hadn’t known what to expect. He certainly hadn’t expected the place to be empty, nor would he have dreamed that a place of monsters and death and terror could be even more disturbing when it was empty and mostly dark.

A tug on his arm. Hillary gestured all around, showing off like a proud homeowner. “Tonight, everyone will be here to watch the king join with Mommy and give our kind a future. That is when I will take you out. Until then, I have a place for you to wait. Come.”

She turned left. Aggie found himself at the cavern’s wall — a dead end. Hillary slid past a tall boulder and into a hidden space. She vanished from sight.

Aggie gently adjusted his grip on the knit bag, then followed.

I
t was like walking into a time warp.

Amy hadn’t seen this man in decades. He had the same eyes, the same mouth and the same face, although wrinkles had blurred and softened his features. But all the time in the world couldn’t fade the memory of their last meeting.

“Alder Jessup,” she said.

He smiled and nodded. “Amy Zou. It’s been a long time.”

She looked at the man just behind Alder. Again that time-warp sensation. The man looked like the Alder she remembered from so long ago, if that Alder had been a metal-hipster douchebag.

“Hey, cop,” the younger man said. “Gestapo stare-downs might work on the trust-fund kiddies, but I’m past that level.”

Alder closed his eyes and sighed. “Chief Amy Zou, this is my grandson, Adam. Adam was just going to get himself a cup of coffee.”

Adam smiled and nodded. “Nice meeting you, Chief. If I stumble upon a rampaging herd of wild donuts, I’ll break out the speargun and bring you breakfast.”

The angry young man walked off, his chains and jewelry rattling with each step.

“My apologies,” Alder said. “All I can say is that his talent is well worth the trouble.”

“Mister Jessup, why are you here?”

“I came to watch over Jebediah. I assume you’re here to do the same. If you are, perhaps you should come out to my automobile. Adam has brought several items that could be of use to you should Marie’s Children attack.”

Those words nearly made Amy flinch. She looked up and down the hall. No one was paying attention.

She leaned in. “Alder, we have this covered. I have people on duty to protect him. I just came from Erickson’s room. He’s not awake yet, but he’s getting better.”

Alder sighed in that way old men can sigh and make you feel like a child no matter what age you are. “All this time, my dear, and you still don’t truly understand.”

She thought back to the nightmares she’d seen in Erickson’s basement.
Alder was right — she hadn’t truly understood what was out there, how
many
were out there.

He patted her on the shoulder. “I am not just here to protect Jebediah,” he said. “I would like to have a word with you about a police officer of yours. I think we need to discuss one Bryan Clauser.”

B
ryan stood on the sidewalk of Potrero Avenue, watching Pookie stare at the Buick’s driver’s-side window. Streetlight gleamed against the cracks in the glass, lit up the tentacle-like sprawl of beer tendrils that had dried in place.

“Awesome,” Pookie said. “You know, sometimes when people borrow my car, they get it washed and leave me with a full tank of gas. But this? This is so much better.”

“I said I was sorry. I’ll pay for it.”

“With what, food stamps? We’re fired, remember?”

Bryan rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “Really, man? I think we’ve got more important things to worry about than the window of your POS Buick.”

Pookie shrugged. “Yeah, we do. Like the two hundred bucks you owe me for my trip to Oakland.”

“You thought I was in Oakland?”

“Did I mention,
I looked everywhere
? Why, yes, yes I think I did mention that.”

“But two hundred dollars?”

“I took a cab,” Pookie said. “You know how I hate public transportation. Kinda the reason I bought a car, know what I’m saying?”

Pookie didn’t get pissed that often, but when he did he didn’t stop talking about it. He wanted — and deserved — an apology. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you, okay?”

Pookie nodded. “Apology accepted, but too bad you’re not talking to your dad — I’d have him ground you for trashing my ride.”

Pookie Chang, lone resident of
No-Subject-Is-Off-Limits Land
.

“That man is not my father.”

“And I’m not chubby,” Pookie said. “Amazing how we can just wish things into existence.”

“With what I’m going through, are you really going to go there?
Now?
”

Pookie shrugged. “You need to get over it. I think you’ve filled your quota for feeling sorry for yourself.”

“
Feeling sorry for myself?
You jackass, I’m a goddamn mutant or whatever.”

Pookie used his jacket sleeve to wipe at the dried-beer tentacles. “So
you got an extra chromosome. It’s not like you got cancer, Bro. It is what it is, so accept it and let’s move on.”

Maybe Bryan should have done this solo after all. Only Pookie could reduce being a mutant, finding out your entire childhood had been a lie and tracking down serial killers that were actually your half-brothers to just
get over it
.

Pookie stopped wiping at the cracked window. He turned to stare at Bryan. “You thinking you should ditch me? For my safety, maybe?”

Bryan looked down at the sidewalk. He hated it when his partner did that.

Pookie feathered back his hair. “Forget it, my Young Rebel Detective. No one wants a show about a loner cop. I told you I’m down for the gunfight. You’re stuck with me. Agreed?”

Bryan looked up. Before he could answer, Pookie pointed down the sidewalk.

“Uh-oh,” he said. “Here come da judge.”

Bryan followed Pookie’s gaze and saw Amy Zou walking quickly toward them, dress blues pressed, hat positioned perfectly on her head.

“She doesn’t seem happy,” Pookie said.

“Does she ever?”

“No,” he said. “Should we make a run for it?”

“Too late. And I’ve got a few things I want to hear from her.” Bryan crossed his arms, leaned against the black station wagon and tried to look disrespectful. He wasn’t sure how to do that — maybe he’d have to get some lessons from Adam.

She stopped in front of them. “Clauser,” she said. “Chang.”

“Chief,” Bryan said.

“MILFy woman who fired my ass,” Pookie said.

Zou ignored the comment. “Clauser, we need to talk. Alone.”

Bryan looked at Pookie. Pookie shook his head slightly. Even if Bryan wanted the man gone, he wouldn’t go anywhere.

“Pookie stays, Chief,” Bryan said. “Anything you want to say to me you can say in front of my partner.”

“
Life
partner,” Pookie said. “But only for tax purposes. Oh, and the Bed Bath and Beyond registry.”

Zou turned her humorless stare on Pookie. She held it until he looked away. She turned back to Bryan. “Alder told me that you’re one of them.”

She said it with such a matter-of-fact tone. Zou was right, and so was Robin; he
was
one of them.

“I don’t understand any of it, Chief. I have no idea what’s happening and it’s freaking me out.”

“But you came to the hospital,” she said. “Why?”

Bryan looked at Pookie, who just shrugged.

Bryan nodded to the building beyond the brick wall. “We put Erickson in there. Alder said Marie’s Children might come for him, so we’re here to protect him if we can.”

“I have a full SWAT in and on that building,” she said. “They have Erickson’s floor on lockdown. Marie’s Children are hard to find, sure, but it’s a different battle if they have to come to us.”

She stared at him. Bryan stared back. She seemed to be sizing him up. He wasn’t in the mood for whatever power game she wanted to play.

“Look,” he said, “we were just trying to do the right thing.”

The hardness around her eyes faded. Now she was the one to turn away. “I know that feeling. This time, maybe we’ll fix the damage you caused before the really bad shit starts.” She met his eyes again. “At least now you guys understand what has to be done.”

“Yes and no,” Pookie said. “You can’t keep this a secret forever. People need to know what’s going on. The victims’ families deserve to know what happened to their loved ones.”

“Their loved ones
died
,” Zou said. “Knowing what killed them won’t bring them back. What do you want, Chang? Do you want to tell the world that San Francisco has a killer cult, or that it has real-live monsters?”

“Both,”
Pookie said. “People need to know that there’s something out there that can kill them.”

“No, they don’t need to know. When a killer shows up, Erickson puts it down.”

Pookie threw up his hands. “Are you insane? If you don’t make this public, more people could die.”

“People die every day,” Zou said. “That’s life in the big city. We’re talking two, maybe three murders a year on average.”

“On
average
? Those are human beings!”

“In San Francisco proper, eight hundred people a year get hit by cars,” she said. “Twenty of those accidents end in death, give or take, and then you have life-changing injuries, but do we take out the roads and make everyone walk because traffic is
dangerous
?”