And that was if they could remove the triangles at all. Margaret had seen the X-rays. The ones on the hip and the forearm would be tricky but doable. In each case the triangle’s barbed tail was wrapped around bone and arteries, but during surgery Margaret could repair a damaged artery.
The one on Bernadette’s chest… that was another matter.
The tail of that one was wrapped around Bernadette’s heart. The X-ray showed dozens of those wicked hooks, like sharp rose thorns, pressing up against it. One wrong pull and they’d cut multiple holes. If that happened, even with Bernadette on the operating table and Dr. Dan at her side, Margaret didn’t know if they could save her.
The heart monitor began to beat faster. Margaret punched buttons on the display, calling up the woman’s EKG. Pulse rate increasing.
“Shit,” Margaret said. “She’s waking up.”
“I thought you knocked her out for a couple of hours.” Otto said.
“I did. The triangles are countering the anesthesia somehow. Daniel?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Call Dew,” she said. “Tell him to bring Dawsey. The patient is waking up. We’re going to have to knock her out again and operate right away. If Dew wants to ask these things some questions, he’d better do it fast, because in thirty minutes I’m going to save this woman’s life and kill these little bastards in the process.”
DUSTIN GETS RELIGION
Dustin Climer woke up on a cot. His shoulder hurt. His head felt like it was going to explode. A fever washed through his body, and every nerve throbbed with shooting pains. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. The infirmary tent, and he was the only one there.
His training kicked in, and his hands found his weapon. The empty M4 carbine was leaning against a small metal cabinet of drawers at the side of his cot. Just having the M4 in his hands made Dustin relax a bit.
The tent’s soft plastic windows showed darkness outside. He’d been attacked in the morning, so he’d been out for what, eight hours? His clothes and shoes were folded up under a metal rack next to the bed. Something about his jacket bothered him. The shoulder patch…
Images flashed through his mind. A little girl. A blond, perfect, angelic little girl. Had he ever seen anything so gorgeous? He had. When he’d been out, he’d had visions of something black, something triangular.
The hatchlings.
Beautiful?
Yes, beyond beautiful. Perfection. Utterly divine.
Shame washed over him. He looked down at his jacket again, at the shoulder patch depicting a lightning bolt hitting an upside-down roach. And even worse, the three small black triangle patches sewn beneath it. One of those patches was just black. One had a glossy white X embroidered on it.
One had two X’s.
Oh, sweet God… what had he done? He’d destroyed them. Three of them.
Are you awake?
His head snapped up. A voice. A little girl’s voice. But he wasn’t hearing it—it was in his head. He put his hands on his face and lay back down on the bed. He was a sinner. He had destroyed perfection, and now he would have to pay.
Wake up, sleepyhead.
“I’m awake,” he said. “Your man tried to kill me, and now I understand why. I’m ready to pay the price.”
You don’t have to pay a price, silly. You didn’t know. And he wasn’t trying to kill you. He sacrificed himself so that you were a hero—you killed the man who killed the other soldiers. He only shot you so no one would question why you were tired and wanted to sleep. He died so that you could see my pretty dollies. Do you see now? Do you understand?
“Yes,” Dustin whispered. “Yes, I see them. I… I killed them.”
That’s okay. You didn’t know, so it wasn’t your fault.
“No, I didn’t know. I didn’t know how beautiful they were.”
You can make up for it.
“How?” He sat up again. “How can I? I’ll do anything!”
You need to make others see, the voice said. You are the protector. You need to make them all see, especially your leader.
“Colonel Ogden?”
Yes. You need to give him smoochies and let him see the pretty dollies.
More images flashed in Climer’s brain. Images of Chelsea watching her mother sleep. Images of Chelsea’s tongue.
You know what you need to do?
Dustin nodded. “Yes.”
Then hurry, but be careful. Don’t get caught. You are a protector now. You and the others must join us, because we want to open the gates to heaven.
The tent curtain opened, and two men came in. Doc Harper and Nurse Brad.
“Well, look who’s up,” Doc Harper said. “You jabbering to yourself in here?”
The men walked over to the cot.
Dustin shrugged. “I guess so, Doc.”
“Well I’m not surprised,” Doc Harper said. He slid a stool next to Dustin’s bed and sat. “You’re probably a better conversationalist than Brad here.”
“Ha-ha-ha,” Brad said. “Keep it up and I’ll stop letting you win at chess.”
Doc Harper picked up Dustin’s wrist and checked his watch. “Brad, you couldn’t beat me in chess if I played with my queen shoved up my rectum.” Doc released Dustin’s wrist, then pulled a penlight out of his breast pocket and started flicking it in Dustin’s eye.
“Just stare straight ahead, Private,” Doc Harper said. “Everything looks okay. How’s your head?”
“Hurts a bit,” Dustin said.
Harper nodded as he switched to the other eye.
“Describe the pain on a scale of one to ten,” Doc Harper said.
“Um, maybe a three.”
“Doesn’t sound like a major problem,” Doc Harper said. “Well, since you’re alert, the colonel wants to see you ASAP. I’ll let him know you’re ready to talk. Brad, grab some Tylenol packets. Four should do the trick.”
Brad knelt down to open a drawer of the cabinet next to Dustin’s cot.
Dustin grabbed the back of Doc Harper’s neck and head-butted him in the nose. Before Harper even slid off the stool, Dustin picked up his M4 with both hands.
Brad turned his head to see what was happening, just in time to catch an M4 stock right in the mouth. He sagged to his left butt cheek, mouth bleeding, staring out with eyes that didn’t really focus on anything. Dustin hit him again. Brad fell to his back, arm resting awkwardly against the open medicine drawer.
Dustin looked down at the two men. Doc Harper blinked like mad. Tears poured from his eyes, and blood gushed from the bridge of his broken nose. He tried to back away, a reverse crab-walk, but he couldn’t seem to send enough strength to his feet. The heels of his shoes pushed weakly at the floor.
Dustin pulled his zip-ties from his pants pocket.
“Does that hurt, Doc?” Dustin said. “Let me kiss it and make it all better.”
Chelsea let her mind spread farther and farther. This was so cool. Better than all her best toys combined. She’d felt Dustin hit those men, like she had been there, like she had hit them herself.
She liked it. It was really fun.
Every time she spread her mind, the feeling got stronger, the connections got stronger. Each host, each dolly, each converted person—they all felt a little different. Kind of like how vanilla ice cream tastes one way and chocolate another way. That was it; each had its own taste.