They Thirst (31 page)

At the next intersection a third ambulance shrieked across, heading south.

"Wonder what's going on?" Reece said.

Their radio, which had been humming with codes and locations all across the city, suddenly came to urgent life. The dispatcher's voice sounded loud in the closed vehicle—"All cars vicinity of Caliente and Dos Terras Streets, East Los Angeles, see the senior officer at 1212 Dos Terros." The message was repeated again, and then voices from various cars confirming.

'That sounds hot," Reece said. He motioned toward the next street sign. "Caliente's coming up."

Palatazin's heartbeat quickened. A black and white roared past them, siren wailing, and turned left on Caliente with a screech of tires. "Let's see what's going on," Palatazin said. He swerved through traffic and raced after the prowl car as Reece hit the siren and clamped the flashing Magneto light to the cartop.

For a few minutes they wound through an area of narrow, pot-holed streets and crumbling tenements, until they came to a street that was already being cordoned off by a couple of uniformed officers. The prowl car was permitted to sweep on through. Palatazin applied the brakes and showed them his badge.

"What's happening?" he asked one of the cops.

"No one's certain yet, captain," the officer said. "They're bringing a lot of corpses out of that building over there, but . . . well, you'll have to see for yourself, sir."

"Who's senior officer?"

"Sergeant Teal. I believe he's inside."

Palatazin nodded and drove through. People were clustered around the stairs of a tenement in the middle of the block, and the police were trying to push them back behind sawhorse cordons. Four prowl cars were parked at different angles in the street with their lights spinning, and there were two ambulances parked close to the stairs. Palatazin whipped the car to the opposite curb and jumped out. Reece followed him across the street, and when they reached the stairway, they saw two white-uniformed ambulance attendants bringing down
a
stretcher with a woman's body on it. The white sheet pulled up to her chin matched the color of her flesh. From where he stood Palatazin caught a brief glimpse of those eyes staring through the closed lids. A shiver of ' horror went through the crowd of onlookers. The body began writhing in the sheet, the face contorting hideously, but no sound came from its mouth. The body was loaded into one of the waiting ambulances.

"I thought these were supposed to be corpses," Reece said, watching the ambulance wheel away. "God, what was wrong with that woman's eyes?"

Palatazin was already moving up the stairs. He flashed his badge at the officer at the door. "Where's Sergeant Teal?"

"Third floor, captain."

He started to ascend the stairway, but suddenly his attention was caught by a small, yellow form shoved in a corner of the entrance hall. It was a dead dog. The teeth were bared; there was a bullet hole in the skull. Palatazin climbed the stairs, stepping aside as another stretcher was brought down, the pallid "corpse" twitching beneath the sheet. The hair rose on the back of his neck as he sensed the cold waves radiated by this thing. The dead eyes grazed his own. He turned away from it, bile raging in his stomach, and continued upward.

In a third-floor apartment Palatazin found Sergeant Teal—a large, curly-haired man with the physique of an ex-UCLA linebacker. He was talking to two Chicanos— an older man wearing a starched priest's collar and a boy whose eyes looked dazed and sick. Palatazin approached Teal and showed his badge. "Sergeant Teal? What's the situation here?"

The other man motioned Palatazin away from the two Chicanos. Palatazin's shoes crunched over bits of glass. He looked down to see the remnants of a broken mirror.
Yes,
he thought, suddenly calm and resolute.
Yes. They've been here.
"Those two over there, Father Ramon Silvera and Rico Esteban, found the first bodies. So far we've pulled thirty-nine of them out of closets and from under beds. They were all rolled up in shower curtains, rugs, and sheets. Thirty-nine of them." Teal's clear blue eyes were full of sick confusion. He lowered his voice. "You're going to think this is crazy, captain, but. . ."

"Go on."

"Well, I don't know whether to classify these bodies as corpses or not. Oh sure, they move a little bit, but it all seems to be muscle reflex, like some trick of rigor mortis. The hell of it is . . . the bodies don't have heartbeats or pulse rates. I mean . . . technically they're dead, aren't they?"

Palatazin closed his eyes for a few seconds, his hand coming up to his forehead.

"Sir?" Teal said. "They
are
dead, aren't they?"

"Any wounds on the bodies?"

"I've just looked closely at a couple of them. I saw some cuts and bruises. That's about it."

"No," Palatazin said quietly. Another stretcher passed the door. "That's not all."

"Sir?"

"Nothing. I'm thinking out loud. Where are the bodies being taken?"

"Uh . . ." He looked down at a notepad in his hand. "Mercy Hospital in Monterey Park. That's the nearest, and they've got the facilities to handle this mess." He paused for a few seconds, watching Palatazin's face. "What's wrong with these people, captain? Could it be . . . like . . . a disease or something?"

"If you think that, Teal, keep it to yourself. We don't want the neighborhood panicking worse than it probably has already. Did Mercy send a doctor over?"

"Yes sir. Dr. Delgado. She's upstairs right now."

"Okay, fine. Will you give me a few minutes alone with these two?" He motioned toward the priest and the boy across the room. Teal nodded and went out, closing the door behind him. Palatazin kicked at the shards of glass, glanced quickly around the apartment, and then returned his gaze to the priest who seemed to be in better shape than the boy. Except for one thing—his hands seemed to be trembling, clenching and unclenching.
A nervous reaction?
Palatazin wondered.
Or something else?
He introduced himself to the two men. "Sergeant Teal tells me you two found the first bodies. What time was that?"

"About one-thirty," the priest said. "We've told all this to the other officers."

"Yes, yes, I know." Palatazin waved a hand at him to quiet his objections. He walked past them and peered into the dim bedroom, noting the newspapers covering the windows. There was another shattered mirror in the bathroom. He came back out. "What do you think happened here, Father?" he asked the priest.

Silvera narrowed his eyes; the slight quaver in the policeman's voice put him on edge. "I have no idea. Rico and I came looking for Mrs. Santos, who lives . . . lived on the fifth floor. We found the building just as it is now."

"I want to get out of here," Rico said quietly. "I can't stand being in this place anymore."

"A little longer, okay?" Palatazin said. He looked back to Silvera. "You saw the bodies. Tell me. Are they dead or alive?"

"Dead," Rico said.

Silvera took a while longer in answering. "I don't know," he said finally. "No heartbeat, no pulse . . . and yet they move . .."

"Sergeant Teal tells me thirty-nine bodies have been found. How many people lived in this building?"

"Sixty or seventy, at least."

"But not all of the apartments were occupied?"

Silvera shook his head.

"All right. Thank you." Palatazin turned and started for the door, but Silvera's voice stopped him. "What's happened to these people, officer? What kind of thing did this to them?"

He almost answered, almost said the terrible word, but fear gripped his throat and squeezed it. He left the room without another word and stood outside, clutching at the stairway railing like a man on a heaving ship in a world that had suddenly tilted crazily on its axis and begun to spin backward in time. He was only dimly aware of someone—no, two people—coming along the corridor toward him. When he looked up, he saw that it was Teal and a middle-aged Chicano woman with haggard circles under her eyes. "Captain?" Teal said. "This is Dr. Delgado."

The woman extended her hand, and Palatazin shook it. Another body was carried past them through the corridor, and Palatazin cringed at the sight of those staring eyes. "Captain, to be perfectly honest with you, I don't know what in the name of God we have here," Dr. Delgado said in a soft, weary voice. "These are not corpses technically, yet there are no outward signs of life; no rigor mortis is setting in, and no fluids are collecting in the intestines or extremities. I pricked the finger of one of them, and do you know what came out? Absolutely nothing. The body was drained dry. I don't know about the others, but that body was totally bloodless. And yet when the ambulance attendants were strapping it to a stretcher, the body—what should've been a corpse—
moved."

"Jesus!" Teal said, his eyes icy blue circles.

"As I say, I don't know what we have. I may not
want
to know, but that's my profession. One of my colleagues at Mercy, Dr. Steiner, is on his way over right now. Possibly he can help . .."

"Nothing can help," Palatazin said suddenly and realized it was all about to pour out, all of it like bile flowing up from the secret pit of terror, and he was going to be unable to stop it. He clenched his teeth, his eyes widening, but the torrent of words forced them apart. "It's too late, nothing can help. We've got to . .. got to leave all of them inside here and burn this building to the ground right
now
before the sun goes down I Then we've got to scatter . . . scatter the ashes and pour holy water on the ruins!" He looked from Teal to Delgado and back again —they were too shocked to speak. The priest and the boy were standing in the doorway of that room, watching him, as was a uniformed officer further along the corridor who stood staring at Palatazin in amazement.

"What are you all looking at?" Palatazin shrieked and felt something give way, like timbers exposed too long to vicious weather. "You've seen the bodies! You've seen what they can do! They can sweep through a whole building in less than one night! What will they do soon to whole streets? Neighborhoods?" He trembled, and a voice within him roared, "STOP," but he couldn't stop, he had no power now over the words tumbling from his mouth. Cold beads of sweat had popped up on his face, and the only sound in the entire building was his voice. "We can burn this building to the ground and kill some of them, because when these . . . when these wake up they're going to be thirsty, too!" He looked at Dr. Delgado, the raging fear in his eyes completely exposed. "You can't take them to Mercy Hospital! You can't let them get out into the streets!"

Someone gripped his shoulder. He spun around, panting.

Sully, his expression grave, said quietly, "Captain, come on with me. Let's get some fresh air, okay?"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" He jerked free and shoved Sully away. His gaze fell upon the priest. "You! You of all people should realize the evil that's creeping up on this city! God in Heaven, can't you feel it in here? Tell them not to let these things wake up tonight!"

Silvera glanced quickly at Teal and then back to the police captain. He felt he was on the verge of madness himself, split between a shudder and a scream. Of course he felt the evil; it was everywhere in this place, like viscous mist, but what was this man saying?

"Father," Palatazin said, and in his voice there was now something of a terrified nine-year-old boy. "Please don't let the
vampir
loose on the streets! Tell them we have to burn the bodies!"

Vampir?
Silvera thought. The word struck him in the chest like a sledgehammer blow.
Vampire?

And then Palatazin was suddenly drained, like a bottle whose contents had just spilled all over the floor. He blinked, looked around, and then staggered back against the railing. Sully and Teal both rushed forward to prevent him from falling. Palatazin's face was ashen, the sweat glittering on his cheeks and forehead. As Sully was helping him down the stairs, Palatazin lifted his head and looked back at Dr. Delgado. "Don't take them to the hospital," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Burn them. Burn them." His head slumped forward. "Come on, captain, take it easy," Sully said. "Watch that step now. That's right, real easy."

"Can I go now?" Rico asked Teal.

"Yeah, sure. But I may be talking to you again."

Rico nodded and hurried away without looking back. On the stairs he gave a wide berth to that big crazy cop, then moved past the dog the cops had had to kill because the damned thing wouldn't let them into the doorway.

"What
are
you going to do with them?" Silvera asked Dr. Delgado when the boy had gone. He was visibly pale and shaken, his hands twitching out of control, the fibrillations in his wrists now as well.

"They're going to Mercy, of course. Probably an isolation ward until we can . . ." She dropped her gaze to his sides and stared. "How long have you . . . ?" she asked softly.

"It started about three months ago," he replied. "It's getting worse all the time."

"You've seen a doctor?"

"I'm seeing Dr. Doran at County General."

The full impact of that took a moment to sink in. Dr. Delgado said, "Doran? Isn't he a specialist in muscular atrophy?"