It's Alive! (23 page)

It nestled against him, fully enclosed by the jacket, trembling.

Frank began walking in the darkness.

“Davis! We’ll find you!”

Frank’s tears tumbled onto the jacket in his arms.

He felt the warm moisture of the blood soaking through on his hands. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Davis! If you can hear me, give a holler! This is Perkins! Stay where you are!”

The voice was closer now.

Frank ran, stumbling, splashing through the tunnel.

“Davis! Hold it! Stop!”

They were behind him. Their lights glistened along the wall over his shoulders. He ran, clutching the shivering bundle in his arms.

Another light, up ahead, coming from the top of the tunnel. An opening. Metal rungs going up the side.

His eyes blurred with tears, his heart raged hot in his chest, his lungs fought for room to breathe. He stumbled, lurched, fell to his knees, holding the bundle tight. A wail of pain came from inside the jacket.

He struggled to his feet, steadying himself against the side of the tunnel with his shoulder. “I fell. I’m sorry. I have you now. Nobody will hurt you.”

He ran.

The metal rungs. He held the bundle under his left arm and reached for them with his right.

“Davis! You can’t get away, Davis! There’s no place for you to go! Let us help you!”

He missed the rungs, slipped and fell to his knees again. He reached, stretched, grabbed for the lowest rung, got his fingers around it, clamped them on it, and pulled himself erect.

“Hold it, Davis!”

Frank turned.

Detective Perkins stood a few yards away. He held up his hand. There was no gun in it.

“No.”

“I’m not gonna do anything to you, or to your friend there.”

“No.”

“Give it up, Davis. Nowhere to go. I’m the best help you got, right now.”

The other policemen behind Perkins edged forward. They had guns in their hands.

“No.”

Perkins held out his arms, keeping the other officers behind him. “Between us, Davis. We can keep it between us. It’s over.”

“No.” Frank pulled himself partway up the ladder.

A policeman lunged forward. Perkins caught him by the collar and hauled him back.

Frank stared down at them. He was near the exit hole now. Dim light shone over his head. The bundle shivered under his left arm. Frank held it tightly.

He stared at Detective Perkins. Perkins stood still, looking up at him. Slowly, casually, he reached into his jacket pocket and took out a cigar. He licked it and put it into his mouth. He chewed on it. Otherwise he didn’t move. He looked at Frank without blinking.

“There’s a whole world out there, Davis,” he said softly. “And it ain’t always friendly.”

Frank turned and looked up, through the hole. He tightened his grip on the rung above him.

Then suddenly he leaped up and clambered out.

He was blinded. Headlights from a dozen cars flashed on in his face. He closed his eyes and stood cradling his bundle in both arms.

The thing wrapped in his jacket stirred, pulling at the fabric, nails scratching through on Frank’s arms. “I’ll take care of you. Nobody will hurt you.”

It moaned, then the moan deepened, became hoarse, became a growl.

“Nobody will hurt you!”

“DROP IT, DAVIS!”

He opened his eyes, narrowing them to see through the blinding light.

“THIS IS CAPTAIN SANFORD OF THE STATE POLICE!” The voice came over a bullhorn. “YOU’RE SURROUNDED BY ARMED MEN! DROP IT!”

“I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

It growled and squirmed. Frank held it tight. Detective Perkins and his men climbed out of the manhole and stood a few yards behind Frank.

He could see the Troopers in front of him now, inching forward, their rifles trained on him.

“I’ll take care of you.”

“DROP IT, DAVIS!”

Then he could see Captain Sanford, bearing the bullhorn in one hand and his Magnum in the other, advancing slowly ahead of the others.

“No.”

He could see Lenore too, standing near one of the cars. The lights sparkled on her face, shimmered in her tears.

Sanford dropped the bullhorn on the ground and came closer. “Lieutenant, better get your men out of my line of fire. And Troopers, everybody, off to one side. This guy’s armed.”

The Troopers scurried around to form an arc to Captain Sanford’s right. Detective Perkins and his men stayed right where they were, directly behind Frank.

Sanford was just a few feet away now. He stopped. “Drop it, Davis. Drop it and step away. I’m gonna blast it right here and now.”

Frank looked at him. “You don’t need to,” he called softly. “It’s hurt. It can’t do anything.”

“Don’t be a sap, Davis. We gotta get rid of it.”

“Lock it up, but let it live. Please let it live.”

“Whether you’re holding it or not, in five seconds I’m putting a bullet through it. One. Two—”

Suddenly the growl from within the jacket became a shriek. It writhed viciously and tore through. It sprang from Frank’s arms, leaping through the air at Captain Sanford. He got off one shot from his Magnum before the thing hit his throat.

He staggered backward and fell, grasping futilely at the demon whose claws and teeth sank deep into his neck.

In the same seconds, Detective Perkins dove, landing on his belly beside them. He jammed the nose of his pistol against the side of the snarling, clawing form and squeezed off four quick shots.

For a few moments, all was still.

Then men raced forward to pour over the scene, stooping down at the bodies of the captain and the creature crumpled beside him.

Frank stumbled over to Lenore and fell against her, wrapped his arms around her, supported by her, sobbing onto her shoulder as she sobbed into his chest. “It’s over. Darling, it’s—over. It
was
ours. I’m sorry—”

Detective Perkins helped them into the backseat and he slid into the front beside the driver.

“Where to, sir?”

“Nowhere. Sit.”

Frank and Lenore leaned together in the back, their hands and arms intertwined, their wet eyes closed.

Perkins stared out his open window at the turmoil of policemen, ambulance attendants, and various officials who milled around, shouting and cursing. He rolled up the window.

The radiophone buzzed. The driver picked up the receiver. “For you, lieutenant.”

Detective Perkins took the receiver, held it against the seat for a moment, then put it to his ear. “Yeah? . . . I see. Yeah.” He worked the cigar around in his mouth. “I understand. Right.”

He put the receiver back in its cradle and turned to look at Frank and Lenore. Slowly he took the cigar out of his mouth. “Another one has been born in Seattle.”

They gazed dumbly at him.

He turned away and stared out the window. They all stared out.

Dawn’s light filtered through the smog over Los Angeles. It was the beginning of a bright new day.