Re-Animator (5 page)

“Nice going. You certainly know how to impress the right people.”

The young man gazed at the double doors. His features were relaxed now, almost pleasant as he looked up at Cain.

“Were you referring to Dean Halsey or Dr. Hill?”

“Actually, the dean didn’t look too thrilled with you, but I was talking about Mr. . . . I mean Dr. Hill. He can be a son of a bitch, but he has a lot of influence here. I assume you’re taking his class.”

West sneered. “I’ll be sitting in the classroom, yes.”

“Well, if I were you I’d sit without the chip on my shoulder. An F from him is like a bad review in the
New York Times.
It’s tough to stay in business after that.”

“Oh, I think I’ll be around all right.”

The sneer brightened into a smile, a cherishing of something unspoken. Cain did a poor job of concealing his displeasure.

“As for the rest of the tour, Mr. Cain, you needn’t bother. If you’ll just direct me to the microscopy lab—”

“The lab?”

“Yes, I’d like to take a look at the equipment. Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, it’s just that—are you sure? Halsey may not have told you, but this place was laid out by a gal who designs mouse mazes for a living. It was someone’s idea of a great way to get publicity.”

West regarded Cain. “Am I sure, Daniel? Yes, I’m sure. I’m always sure.”

Cain was annoyed, the more so when West’s head cocked to one side—like Rufus, it struck him, when the cat lay on the opposite side of the kitchen, watching to see whether what was being dumped into his bowl was worth getting up for. Cain felt like handing the diminutive West his round little head.

“Tell me something, though, Mr. Cain . . . Daniel. If the dean thinks so highly of you, why are you on morgue detail?”

West’s interest caught Cain off guard. “We lost someone we shouldn’t have. I guess I was pretty upset.”

“Was it the hospital’s fault?”

“No, we did all we could. We just keep—missing, that’s all, and this time it got to me. So they sent me here for some R & R.” Encouraged by West’s openness, Cain decided to give him another chance. “I hear you were there when Professor Gruber died. That must have been rough.”

West shrugged. “Mostly on him.”

Cain’s displeasure returned, etched in the deep lines of a frown. West seemed not to notice. He looked at his watch.

“Now then—the microscopy lab?”

Cain gave up trying to be the man from Welcome Wagon. He provided directions in a perfunctory fashion, and West left without a “thank you” or a “nice to have met you,” just a nod and a swift departure. Cain watched him go. Herbert West had to be one of the most unpleasant people he’d ever met. Although there was a refreshing courtliness and professionalism about him, he was too astringent to be admired. If he lasted a week at Miskatonic, Cain would be very, very surprised.

Noticing that Scott was still cleaning up, Cain offered to deliver the specimens. Scott seemed grateful, almost shocked to have someone pay him notice. The men chatted a bit about the laser drill and about the New England Patriots, though it surprised Cain that Scott seemed happier and more animated when the conversation turned to football. When Scott first came to the school, the drill was all he talked about.

As he walked toward the downstairs lab, Cain suddenly found himself in an upbeat mood. Part of it was being able to see Megan after having put in a two-day stretch at the hospital. But part of it was also, he realized—and without guilt—that he was looking forward to Hill’s class the following morning. He always enjoyed the lectures and demonstrations, but Cain suspected that this class would be special. He even wondered if he should call his old physics professor, Dr. St. Mary. He had a feeling that a rare phenomenon was about to occur, the head-on collision of the irresistible force and the immovable object.

CHAPTER

3

APARTMENT TO SHARE!
3rd-year medical student
needs roommate
Must be quiet & keep regular hours
Must like cats
Contact: Dan Cain
666 Darkmore
555-8785

C
ain tacked the note to the bulletin board in the well-traveled corridor of Derleth Hall, then stood back. There were at least twenty requests for roommates, most with the rent listed and bragging about what a bargain the place was; he hoped that his more austere approach would attract a higher grade of person.

“Hell, right now I’ll be happy if it attracts
anyone.”

It had been tough since Eddie Grimley had dropped out. His father had money, and Eddie had spent it lavishly on them both. But Eddie finally faced the fact that what he wanted to be was a dancer and not a doctor, so he dropped out, leaving Cain with a gabled six-room house on Hawthorne Street—and a thousand-dollar-a-month nut to crack all by himself.

Casting a furtive look around, Cain pulled down a few of the more desirable notices and dropped them in the trash. Feeling canny if not virtuous, he turned to find Megan wagging a scolding finger at him.

“Not nice, Mr. Ex-Boy Scout.”

Cain flushed. “Megan! Where’d you come from?”

“Been following you, badness.” She put the back of her hand to her brow and threw her head back. “God, Dan, where will it all end? Getting rid of the competition today, trading insider information tomorrow. Pretty soon I’ll be baking hacksaws into pound cakes.”

“Megan, I need the dough.”

The young woman scowled. “Hey, sourpuss, I was only kidding! I’m
glad
to see you do a little scheming for once. Next, maybe you’ll even tell the Wicked Witch of the West to go screw herself!”

“C’mon, Megan. Dr. Harrod is a dedicated physician—”

“She’s a hard biddy who hates my father and runs her interns into the ground.”

Cain laid Megan’s books on the radiator and pulled her to him. “She has no choice, and, besides, some of us have the stamina of bulls.”

“Yeah, Joe Hunk, I’ve heard that about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, after she heard we were serious, your ex-pal Loree took me aside and told me about how you broke her heart and about your flings with—what were their names? Jan and Elizabeth and Isobel. And I even remember the turn you did with no less a personage than Miss Poland herself, Paula Olszewski.”

“Loree was jealous, and those other girls meant nothing. They lasted a week each when I first came here.”

“You were just being studly, huh?”

“No, I just hadn’t dated in
years,
and they were a novelty. If it makes you happy, I’ll admit my head was way up my gastrointestinal tract—”

“What d’you mean ‘was,’ big boy?”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll overlook that, Meg, because for the last six months the only woman I’ve cared about has blond hair”—he ran his hands through her long blond hair—“big blue eyes”—he kissed her above each eye—“a precious ski nose—”

“Precious? I think I’m gonna puke!”

“—and perfectly formed red lips.” He kissed her lightly on the mouth and stayed there.

After a long moment, Megan pulled away, giggling nervously. “Watch it, bub.”

“You still sick? Try Tigan.”

“No, I mean I
am
the dean’s daughter.”

“So?”

“I’ve got a reputation to protect.”

Cain snickered. “I thought you liked it when I was aggressive.”

“I do, but not in the hallway when class is about to let out.”

“As if anyone cares.”

“Wake up and smell the coffee, Dan. There’re about twenty-odd professors who’d love to embarrass Daddy as a way of thanking him for budget cuts.”

“That’s his problem, not mine. Either you get Conan the Barbarian or Grandpa Amos McCoy.”

Megan grinned. “That’s what I love about you, Dan. All the gray areas. Tell you what. I’ll take Walter Brennan in the classroom, Arnold Schwarzenegger in the bedroom.”

“That wasn’t an option, so
I
get to pick!” Cain’s eyes opened hungrily, and he kissed her again. Megan struggled playfully. “Surrender, woman, my ardor knows no bounds.”

“Dan, no!”

“No? There’s always Paula—”

“No, I mean not here!”

He kissed her neck. “How about there?”

“Dan, no . . . not
here!”

“Dan, yes! . . . Yes,
there!”

Perspiration ran down Cain’s back and mingled with Megan’s as they thrashed rhythmically on the bed. It stung when it dribbled into the scratches Megan had given him, but Cain didn’t mind. This time around—their second in a row—he didn’t have to distract himself by thinking of dinosaurs or Smurfs. His only thoughts were of Megan, and he loved every moment of it. After days of numbing wakefulness, of crisis upon crisis and people he couldn’t help, time suddenly, blissfully no longer existed. Their bed was the whole world, and the entire population was Megan and him . . .

They slept afterwards, and then, as the setting sun shone over the roofs of the eighteenth-century homes and through the bedroom window, they woke and made love again.

Feet padded silently through the living room and down the corridor. The dark figure stopped, listened, entered the room, crept along stealthily. His eyes missed nothing as he navigated around the mounds of books and clothing. He climbed onto the dresser, crouched beneath the
Gray’s Anatomy
poster, waited until the figures were still. Then, his legs tensed, he leaped onto Cain’s back.

“Rufus! Hey, what is it, buddy?”

Cain flipped over, and the cat fled across the room, satisfied with his guerrilla exercise. Megan laughed.

“Did he scratch you?”

Cain felt the middle of his back. “Who can tell? It’s like a battle zone back there.”

The young woman playfully raked his chest. “If you can’t stand the heat, don’t light a fire.” She looked at her Swatch and swung from the bed. “It’s late. I have to go.”

“No you don’t. Stay.”

The young woman began collecting her clothing which was strewn about the floor. “I can’t. Daddy knows I’m here.” She bent down, looked under the bed. “Dan, do you see my panties?”

Cain plucked the garment from the top of the lampshade, tossed them over.

“I don’t care what your father knows. I really want you to stay the night.”

“So do I, but we have to be reasonable! If I don’t come home one night, just one night—”

“What will he do? Expel me?”

“He might very well. I’m sure he could think of a million other uses for that loan money.”

“Yeah, like throwing another fancy dinner party for the rich and famous or going to some bullshit convention overseas.”

“You’re not being fair,” Megan said, an edge in her voice. She slipped on the underpants, snuggled into her jeans. “Daddy’s doing an excellent job.”

“The word is
number,
Meg. He’s doing an excellent number . . . on you.”

“Dan, I’m his only child, his baby—”

“Oh yeah?” Cain watched her pull on her bra. “When was the last time he took a good look at you?”

“I can tell you
exactly
when,” she replied. “Nine years ago, when Mom left. To him I’m still in elementary school.”

Cain shook his head. “That’s real healthy for both of you. Does he know he’s way out of touch with the times?”

“No, and he doesn’t care. That’s just the way he is, the world’s last living Puritan.”

Cain huffed and folded his arms. “Well, I really hate it. You’re his little girl, his hostess, his spy—”

“Only on the untenured.”

“But you’re also
my
fiancée. And that doesn’t seem to matter as much as the rest of the crap.”

Megan pulled on her skirt and cuddled up beside him. “Dan, the day you graduate, the
minute
you get your M.D., I’ll marry you. Until then, I’ll help you, and I’ll be with you as much as I can. I promise.”

“Which brings up another point. Not only won’t you stay the night or move in, but you won’t even
marry
me until I graduate. ’Cause if something happened and I had to drop out, Daddy wouldn’t be able to say, ‘My son-in-law, the doctor.’ He’d be a leper to the trustees and to the good-old-boys network.”

“That isn’t it, and you know it,” Megan chided. “Marriage is a full-time job, and right now you haven’t got the time
or
the energy for it.”

Cain threw up his arms. “Which brings us back to square one.”

“Which isn’t so bad,” she laughed. “At least it gives me another ten months to housebreak you.”

“Housebroken, is it?” Cain pulled the Star Trek sheet over his head, ghostlike, and began slowly to rise. “I’m going to have to teach you a lesson, my girl.”

“Dan, what are you doing?” Smiling, Megan scooped up her books and backed away. So did Rufus, who scooted down to the cellar.

Dan said in a haunted whisper, “Hello, my pretty! You haven’t been loved fully until you’ve made love to the dead . . .”

“Dan, stop!”

“You’re not going to leave . . .”

“Dan,
I don’t
like
that!” Sidling from the bedroom to the living room, Megan swatted playfully at Cain’s outstretched arms with a slim volume of Tennyson. “Dan, you’re scaring me!”

“Then come to me, Megan Halsey. Come to me or suffer the consequences!”

“You’ll
suffer,” she warned. “I’ll kick you right in the balls!”

“Balls? The dead don’t
have
balls!”

“Then I’ll have you arrested.”

“Balderdash! There’s not a jury in the world that would convict me.”

“Stop!”

“Not me, the infamous Doctor Dan, executed for lobotomizing a stuffy old college dean!”

Backing up against the front door, Megan felt for the knob.
“Stop!”

“Why?” Cain chortled. “I’ve got you now! There’s nowhere left to run, no one to hear your screams!”

Stealing a quick backward glance, Megan ducked under his grasping arms and pulled open the door. Turning, she ran smack into a small man in a black overcoat; standing stiffly on the stoop, he watched, bemused, as Megan shrieked and stumbled back into the house.

“Megan?” Cain fumbled with the sheet. “What is it? What’d I miss?” He managed to extricate his face from the folds and stared with surprise at the visitor. “West!”