Buck Fever (26 page)

He drove slowly the remaining four miles into Detroit. Woodward Avenue would lead him directly to the Disease Control Center.

Chapter 49

“D
o I have to stay in here much longer? I feel fine. How is my husband doing? I’m getting a little anxious,” Sissy Montagno said.

“Your blood tests show a slight increase in white blood cells, but no sign of the infection. I’d like to keep you here for the rest of the day, though, at least for the sake of your child,” Dr. Grace said.

“She does seem to be kicking more than usual lately...er, I think it’s a girl, George thinks it’s a boy.”

“I can tell you for sure if you’d like. I have ordered an ultra-sound for you.”

“Oh, I’ve had that done already, but didn’t want to know.

The doctor nodded.

“Your husband is doing fine. It appears the infection is running its course.”

“What about his neck; and why would he jam pencils into it?”

“This infection or poisoning as it may be appears to affect each person differently; it’s probably due to an abnormal reaction to the virus. He will most likely not remember why he did it. Perhaps you know these two reporters from the Detroit Times. They are helping me make the rounds today; we are short on staff.” The doctor introduced Dingman and Porter.

Sissy Montagno nodded, and continued to grasp and rub her protruding stomach.

“Did you or your husband encounter anything unusual prior to coming to the hospital?” Dingman asked, pointing the video camera towards the bed.

“There were some strange dreams. George has had dreams about running with the deer. I’ve had a dream about...er, ah, the baby and...”

“And?” the doctor said, patting her stomach.

“Well, I had this strange dream that George was...going...to...try to kill the baby. He said it was the devil. Oh, God, it was so real...” she said, and continued to describe the dreams and George Montagno’s fascination with the knife and Bible.

“Can you tell me what movies or TV shows you might have watched recently?” Dr. Grace asked.

“I don’t watch horror movies if that’s what you mean. George does now and then, but I usually go to the bedroom and read.”

“But you might overhear the TV and not realize it.”

“I suppose.”

“Have you heard of the movie,
The Omen
?”

“Sure, it was on TV a week ago. About a child who becomes the devil when he grows up. Oh, my God, I do remember now. George insisted on seeing it. I sat in a chair near the TV and read a book. I suppose my mind could have absorbed some of it.”

“Aha,” the doctor said.

“So what do you think, Doctor; is there a connection?” Porter asked.

“Most likely a strong connection. Dreams can stretch reality, change colors and structures, but fundamentally, it’s always a combination of what we’ve seen or experienced, usually without realizing.”

“What about Katie’s weird connection with her dream of being in Nevada? What if that turns out to be true?”

“When all the facts are known, there will be a simple explanation or connection to something she’s experienced.”

“The nurse is here, gentlemen, let’s move on.”

A nurse wheeled in ultra-sound equipment.

Chapter 50

T
he long black Lincoln slowly approached the entranceway. A security guard exited the doorway of the Disease Control Center and motioned for Moses Carpenter to park in the visitors’ area around the building.

Carpenter waved and drove forward as the security guard disappeared back into the building. He gunned the engine over a speed bump. The front wheels went over, followed by a clunking noise. He stepped harder on the accelerator. The back wheels encountered some resistance as the rear of the car hopped over the bump. He drove about 30 feet further and parked.

Carpenter retrieved the cutout collar from his pocket and adjusted it around his neck, buttoning it in back. He walked forward through double-glass doors at the visitors’ entrance. Several people stood in line to walk through a metal-detector archway.

Carpenter hesitated and walked to a row of chairs opposite the archway and sat down.

“Reverend, are you here to see a patient?” a security guard asked.

“Yes, Sister Mary Agness. I’m with the Greektown Church of Madonna’s Heart,” Carpenter said.

“You’ll need to enter here and show some ID,” a guard said, standing on the opposite side of a metal detecting archway.

“Okay,” Carpenter said, rising up. He turned slightly, put the Bible down on a lamp table, searched through his wallet for an ID and stepped forward through the archway.

On the other side, he handed the guard an old driver’s license.

“Sir, did you know your license is expired? I need more ID.”

Carpenter, fished his hand into his right pocket and removed a plastic church-membership card Father Fellorday had given him. An honor granted to only a few of Father Fellorday’s trusted followers.

“Ah, you are a close friend of the Father’s. Sorry for your loss; he was a good man.”

Carpenter nodded, put the ID and license into a suit pocket and walked forward.

“My Bible, it’s there on the table. Could you bring it to me? I would like to share a few verses with Sister Mary.” Carpenter reached around the archway expecting the guard standing by the front door to hand it to him outside the metal detector

“Yes, of course,” the guard said. He walked through the archway triggering the alarm causing Carpenter to flinch and back away. “It’s okay, my badge always sets it off. Wow, this is an old Bible. Mind if I flip through a few pages?”

“There’s a hurt man in the driveway out front. He’s pretty mangled and needs help!” another security guard shouted, bursting through the entrance door.

“What? Are you serious?”

The guard plopped the Bible into Carpenter’s open hand, retreated through the archway and followed the other guard outside.

~ ~ ~

Carpenter approached the glass partition in the waiting area. A sudden pain raced through his head as he snapped his head back.

“Sir, are you okay?” a nurse asked from behind the glass.

“Yes, I’m just a little upset over the passing of Father Fellorday. How is Sister Mary Agness? Can I see her? I would like to read some verses to her.”

“I am so sorry for your loss. Please fill out the privacy form and stick it into this slot and take a seat,” she said, pointing to the forms and scanner outside the window. “You may want to use the restroom. It’s over there.”

Carpenter nodded, pulled a handkerchief from his rear pocket and dabbed pink tears from under his glasses. He entered the restroom, stared into the mirror, and covered streaks on his cheeks with more makeup. He felt better, almost happy. The end was near.

He returned to the waiting room, sat rigidly in a chair with the Bible firmly held on his lap and observed the nurses behind the glass. His eyes moved toward a doorway near the glass wall. Several waiting-room visitors, summoned by name, stood and followed a nurse through the doorway to an observation area.

Carpenter slowly stood up and walked toward the restroom. He glanced through the glass, noticed nurses were busy and walked toward the observation doorway. Convinced no one was watching, he sidestepped and followed the other visitors down the observation hallway.

Chapter 51

D
ingman listened intently as Pillbock detailed his conversation with the Reno police.

“So they think it’s a dead end?” Dingman said.

Porter stood next to Dingman in the hall, waiting for Dr. Grace to return from the nurses’ ready station. He was called to observe the actions of a visitor in the visitor waiting area.

Dingman tapped his right earflap forcing Pillbock’s voice over a built-in speaker.

“Not exactly. They found an empty room in an older hotel similar to the one Katie described next to a ‘Welcome to Reno’ sign. No Barbie dolls, but it did have a long shelf on a wall across from a brass bed and a window facing the flashing street sign. The owners said a man rented the room yearly for five years, but was seldom there. Sometimes he would walk through the lobby with younger women, probably prostitutes. They will watch for his return.”

“Damn, I had high hopes,” Porter said.

“Me too,” Dingman said, tapping his earflap to hang up the phone.

A vague, chilling screech floated from the last room down the hall.

“Looks like the screamer is awake, eh? Shall we sneak a peek?” Dingman said.

“Grace told us to stay here until he returned.”

“Come on, we are angels; we can do anything.”

“But my wings aren’t fully developed,” Porter said, waving his earflaps.

~ ~ ~

“He was sitting near the men’s restroom, and probably went in there. He was dressed like a church preacher, but had a strange look. His eyes were covered by tinted glasses so I couldn’t tell if they were red, but I’d bet on it,” the waiting-room attendant explained to Dr. Grace.

“When he returns, I want you to direct a nurse out there to take him into a testing room. Don’t arouse concern or suspicion. Just make it part of our normal routine to check out visitors.”

“Will do.”

Dr. Grace stared through the windowed partition at the restroom door for several seconds, then walked away to join Dingman and Porter.

Chapter 52

A
wrinkled-faced seventy-five-year-old woman lay in bed covered to her neck. Her hands poked out pulling the blanket tight. She raised her head forward, focusing red eyes at the blurry human form behind the observation glass.

Moses Carpenter stared back. He slowly opened his Bible.

“Shall I read to you, Sister? Do you want to hear the truth?”

Red marks flared from the temples of the old woman as she desperately tried to recognize the person behind the glass. She could see the white collar, but the face blended with shadows.

“Father? Father Fellorday? Have you come back for my soul? You son of a bitch. You took my daughter—our daughter—and killed her, so I killed you. An eye for an eye.”

Carpenter flinched. He did not expect this confession. Sharp pain pierced his brain.
Kill-er
. He tried to make sense of his thoughts.
Kill-er...KILL HER.
The thoughts became clear. God was giving him direction. He carefully removed the handgun from inside the Bible and raised it up. Images of Sister Mary Agness hacking at Father Fellorday’s body raced through his mind. He remembered helping the Father cut up the deer. That evening he made a special gumbo and the Father invited Sister Mary Agness to join them for a cordial meal of venison stew, fresh bread and red communion wine. Father Fellorday and Sister Mary Agness were inseparable; they were high-school sweethearts, but only Moses Carpenter knew that. Some in the church congregation whispered about the closeness, but the Father ignored it. The next day the Father became sick; it felt like flu. Carpenter felt fine, but had strange dreams the night before. The Sister’s eyes were bright red. She felt strange, like a caged animal she said. The Father scoffed at her secular statements; they were not well mannered and certainly not to be spoken in church. Carpenter remembered trying to console the Sister, but could not understand her expression of grief.

Sister Mary Agness shouted a stream of expletives, then screamed gibberish. Images of a dead fawn, a doe, filled her mind. She felt extreme remorse for her loss. It was her only offspring, and the Father cut it up for food. She never married; how could this be? Her mind focused suddenly on the flashy metal object pointed at her from behind the glass. Red streaks continued to travel up her forehead to her hairline. She concentrated on the gun.

Kill...her. Kill...her
. Carpenter felt raging pain. His right hand quivered as he raised the gun to eye level.

Sister Mary Agness squinted to form an image of Carpenter. It was not Father Fellorday.

Bang!

Carpenter’s hand recoiled after pulling the trigger. A jolt of lightning struck his right eye. His knees gave out, and he fell to the floor.

“Moses!” she shouted. Her face grew violent and red. “Moses? Is that you? You come to take me home? Please, take me home.”

~ ~ ~

“I hit the display, it’s not shutting down,” Porter said to Dingman, as they waited for the ion generator to turn off. “Holy shit, she looks like she’s going to blow. What do you think that noise was? Who was she talking to?”

“Not sure, but it sounded like a gunshot coming from the observation hall.”

“Gentlemen, what’s the problem?” Dr. Grace said, speed walking toward the reporters.

“We heard her scream, then a loud noise, but can’t get into the room.”

“Stand aside.” The doctor placed his hand on the display and the buzzing stopped. “Nurse, routine six in room ten, stat!”

“Is she going to blow?” Porter said, as they approached Sister Mary. She shook violently in bed.

A nurse entered the room with a large needle and two vials.

“She’ll be fine,” the doctor said, as he administered the two shots.

“Is that a bullet hole?” Dingman said, as he approached the observation room glass.

“That’s high-impact carbon-fiber glass. Nothing short of a nuclear bomb can get through it.”

“Bloody hell, a black man is lying on the floor in there. He has a gun in his right hand. It looks like a bullet pierced his right temple.”

“Does he look like a preacher?” the doctor asked.

“He has a white collar. Yes.”

Porter walked toward Dingman and looked through the observation glass. “Looks like he shot toward the glass and caught a ricochet to his head.”

“Security to observation room ten, man down,” the doctor said, speaking toward the ceiling. “Take the man to room nine. I will be there in two minutes.

“She is going to have frightening memories of this, eh?” Dingman said. Porter nodded.

“She’s resting now. The redness is subsiding, we can go.”