The Jigsaw Man (32 page)

up here, and even if he did, why would Drake pick me

to do it? In my winter coat and boots, no less. I was

counting on the fact that this nurse—whoever she

was—wouldn't really give a shit what I was doing. She

had work to do and probably wanted to get it done and

over with so she could go home. Thankfully, I was

right.

"Well, hurry up then," she said, already dismissing

me and moving away. "Don't you stir them up, or trust

me it'll be your ass, not mine."

With that rather empty threat, she wandered off to¬

ward the front of the building.
I
slipped inside the

Bleeders' room before she thought things through and

turned back to ask me anything else. So far I'd been

lucky—major league lucky—but
I
knew it wouldn't last

forever. Time was r u n n i n g out.

Just give me another half hour,
I prayed to the ceiling

tiles, then looked around the sterile white room into a

hellish scene I remembered all too well.

There were ten of them now—four on one side of

the room, six on the other. Ten limbless sacks of meat

that had once been decent men but had now been r e

duced to kegs of blood for Dr. Marshall to tap any¬

time he needed. It was diabolical—there was no other

word for it—and it made me sick to my stomach to

look at them.
I
couldn't suppress my shudder when I

realized I knew most of these guys. His flaming red

hair drew my eyes to Red Beard first, and then old

Lucas, too, in the bed right next to him near the back

window. Charlie, the confused guy whose shouts had

led to my capture, the first t i m e , was still h e r e , blankly

staring at the ceiling along with at least four other men

whose faces I recognized but whose names I couldn't

remember.

Shit!

This wasn't a homecoming, or, for that matter, a

friendly reunion, and I'd actually been hoping to walk

into a room full of strangers. That would have been

easier for me. Familiar faces only made things harder

and pissed me off more. These same poor bastards had

been lying here all this t i m e , day after day,, week after

week, month after month, doing n o t h i n g but getting

slowly bled dry and hoping to die.

I was here to answer their prayers.

I didn't want to do it—hell, I wasn't even sure I
could

do it—but I was here to try. These men had suffered

enough and although I'd only promised Lucas I'd help

him along to a better place, I felt I owed this same act of

kindness to all of them. W h a t other choice did I have?

I couldn't save anyone, or make things better, but I could

damn well put a stop to their endless misery and guar¬

antee they wouldn't somehow live through the coming

explosion. That was the last thing any of them would

want. Death and, well, me were the only friends these

guys had left.

Lucas must have heard me come in, because he

turned his head and looked my way. I raised my hand

and waved, moving toward him, but my smile froze

half-formed, when I noticed the look of fear on the old

man's face. He looked like he was about to scream.

Didn't he know who I was? Or maybe his mind had fi¬

nally shut down from the constant abuse.

Thisplace wears a man down after a while. Wears him

until he snaps.

I could still remember the day he'd said those words.

Seemed like yesterday, and certainly n o t h i n g had

changed around here to make me think his assessment

wasn't bang on. I stopped walking and held my hands

out in front of me. Hopefully he'd understand I wasn't

here to hurt him.

"Don't be scared, Lucas, it's j u s t m e , Mike."

At the sound of my voice, Red Beard opened his eyes

and looked at me from the next bed over. His eyes

opened really wide and I was scared he, too, might be

considering screaming. His mouth dropped open and

several long seconds passed before he said, "Mike? Is

that really y o u ? "

Lucas's head snapped toward Red Beard and some of

the worry left his wrinkled brow. "You see him too,

Red?"

" 'Course I see him," Red Beard's deep voice boomed

in the quiet room. "He's standing right in front of us,

ain't he?"

"You two okay?" I asked, not knowing what else to

say as I walked up to stand at the feet of their beds.

Lucas flinched again at the sound of my voice, but he

followed it with a nervous laugh that answered my

question better than any words could have.

"Jesus, Mike, I thought you were a freakin' ghost. No

foolin'. Red and I thought you were dead a long time

ago and then you j u s t show up out of nowhere, walking

in like y o u ' r e — "

Then he stopped, dead, the color draining from his

already pale face. Both Lucas and Red were eying me

up head to toe, a bit of fear creeping back into their

eyes, and I knew right away what was going through

their minds. Last time they'd seen me, I'd been getting

wheeled out of this room strapped to a leather gurney,

and I'd had the same number of arms and legs, as they

had—none! N o w here I was standing in front of them a

whole man again. No wonder they were freaked out. I

would have been too.

I really didn't have the time or energy to go through

the entire story and, in the end, it didn't make a hell of

a lot of difference
bow
I'd walked in here; the important

part was
what
I'd walked in to do.

"Listen, guys, it's a long story and I j u s t don't want to

get into it. The short, no frills version is that Dr. Mar¬

shall is still up to his old tricks and he pieced me back

together again using a lot of different people's body

parts. I've been through hell and back so don't go think¬

ing I'm luckier than you guys j u s t because I'm standing.

Trust m e , I'm not."

The room was silent for thirty seconds as they chewed

on what I'd j u s t told them. They looked at each other a

few times, puzzled expressions on their faces, but both

seemed to buy it without any more questions. For that

small mercy, I was grateful.

"Why
are
you here, Mike?" Lucas finally asked.

"Yeah, what's up?" Red chimed in.

N o w how was I supposed to answer those questions?

H o w do you tell y o u r friends you've come to murder

them? Damned if I knew. Instead of answering, I turned

and went to the empty bed directly across from them. I

paused for a moment, still fighting my inner demons as

to whether I should be doing this, but in my heart I

knew a mercy killing was the proper thing—the decent

t h i n g — t o do.

I bent down and picked up the thin white pillow.

"Pillow fight?" Red asked, laughing hard at his j o k e .

"I have a feeling you'll win that one, buddy."

Ignoring Red Beard, I turned and looked at Lucas,

stared straight into his eyes, and in that instant knew

he understood exactly what I'd come here to do. If he'd

screamed, or showed me any trace of fear, I might have

backed out and tossed the pillow away, but only one

emotion was shining clearly in his eyes—hope.

"Bless you, lad," Lucas whispered.

It was barely audible, but those three small words gave

me the strength I needed to see this awful task through.

Even Red Beard had caught on, and was nodding his

head, smiling at me as tears started to run down his once

jolly cheeks.

"Do it, Mike. Please,," Red Beard begged.

I looked at them both, nodded my head, and then

went right to work before my nerve deserted me.

For no reason at all, I chose to do Charlie first. I knew

he was basically comatose back when I'd been sleeping

here and was probably worse now, so I figured he'd be

as good a place to start as any. I'd already decided I

would be leaving Lucas and Red Beard until last. These

other guys were three-quarters dead already and j u s t

needed a little push to send them on their way. Putting

the pillow over my friends was going to be a whole

different ball game, so like the coward that I was, I

would avoid it as long as possible.

Charlie never moved. Didn't struggle at all when the

pillow covered his gaunt face. I wasn't even sure I was

accomplishing anything until I noticed his skinny chest

had stopped expanding and contracting. He'd died si¬

lently, in less than a minute, and tears sprung to my eyes

as I realized I'd j u s t murdered another h u m a n being.

Jackson I'd killed in self-defense, and that hadn't both¬

ered me in the least, but Charlie's death was my first

murder. The first of many on this day but I forced my¬

self not to think about it, tried to shut it out of my mind

and j u s t flick the switch over to autopilot. I hated my¬

self, sure, but I truly believed I was doing these guys a

favor—one they'd do for me if our roles were reversed.

Still, murder was murderA no matter how hard I tried to

justify it. But. there was no t u r n i n g back now. W i t h

shaking hands, I moved to the next bed.

Thirty minutes later, seven more men were dead.

Some I knew, some I didn't, but all of them went to

their great reward silently and without a fuss. Well, al¬

most all of them. One man—his name was Glen, or

maybe Ben—fought me a little, twisting and wiggling

weakly beneath my hands, but it was his body reacting

more so than his mind. I'd looked into his eyes before

placing the pillow over his face, and I knew the lights

were out upstairs.

Eight down. Two to go.

Ah, man!Here we go.

The entire time I'd been playing God with a pillow, I'd

intentionally avoided looking at Red Beard and Lucas. I

wasn't ashamed of what I was doing, and I wasn't afraid

I'd lose my nerve, I j u s t didn't want to see the look of

anticipation on their tired faces. I didn't have to look to

know they would be smiling, crying, and practically

salivating at the prospect of escaping this rotten plane

of existence for a chance at a better one Unfortunately,

I couldn't avoid Lucas and Red Beard any longer. Hold¬

ing the pillow in front of me like a shield, I walked over

to them and looked up.

It wasn't as bad as I'd expected. Sure, they looked

excited and happy to see their suffering come to an end,

but they also looked scared, not sure what—if anything—

waited in the afterlife. It was a sobering thought, one

that hit me equally hard as I expected to be j o i n i n g my

friends in death shortly myself. Would we recognize

each other if we met up on the other side? N o t my con¬

cern. Hopefully Heaven had a nice place waiting for

Lucas and Red, but I was surely headed straight to Hell

for the things I'd done today and I doubted I'd see ei¬

ther one of them again.

Stop stalling, Mike. Do what you gotta do.

"It's okay, Mike," Lucas said in a soft voice, seeing

my trepidation at approaching any closer. "We've been

dead for a long time already, our bodies j u s t won't let

go. N o n e of this is your fault, lad. I know it's a lot to

ask, but you gotta help us."

I silently nodded my head. W h a t he was saying was

true, but I still couldn't find the strength to make my

legs take a step closer. Lucas had more to say.

"I never told you this before, but my wife, Charlotte,

she died eight years ago from the cancer and I j u s t

know she's waiting for me on the other side of death's

door. Help me open the door, Mike. I don't have the

hands to do it myself and I miss her. I miss her so
damn

much!"

Lucas started to cry then, and I couldn't bear to see

him suffer for one more minute. Before I chickened

out, I walked over and kissed him on the forehead.

"Kiss her once for me," I said, my own tears running

freely now.

" T h a n k y o u , Mike," he said, "I will."

Then I put the pillow on his smiling face and pressed

down with all my might. It hurt so much inside but I

smiled, too, thinking the whole time about Lucas walk¬

ing through that door, seeing his wife's beautiful face

and r u n n i n g to throw his arms around her. Maybe that

would never happen, but it was nice to think about and,

for Lucas's sake, I sure hoped it would. Either way, Dr.

Marshall would never hurt him again and I guess that

was good enough. The rest was out of my hands.

Red Beard had been quiet for a long time, but he

spoke to me now. "I think he's gone, Mike."

I checked to see that Lucas's chest had stopped mov¬

ing, and it was still, but I held on to the pillow another

minute before I took it off his face. I'd failed him last

time and I wanted to make damn sure I'd done the j o b

right this time. No worries, Lucas was gone and had

died with a smile on his face.

"You got anyone waking on the other side for you,

Red?" I asked, hoping for the best.