"Oh, God!"
"Yeah, God. If He's paying attention at all, this will express mail you straight to Him. You won't feel a thing, padre, but you'll reduce every dracula you've managed to lure in here to meat confetti. That's what I call a blaze of glory."
"Yes. Glory. 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"
"Yeah, there's that," the deputy said, shaking his head as he stared at his weapon. "But how about, 'Greater love hath no man than giving up his MM-1 for his friends?'"
Adam felt his muscles beginning to cramp.
"I think you'd better go."
The deputy looked at him, then nodded. "Gotcha."
He pulled a pistol from the small of his back, stepped to the door, and yanked it open.
"Don't let me down, padre."
"That would mean letting myself down, letting God down."
The deputy smiled and nodded again. "You'll do fine, padre. We've all got it coming. You just happen to know when."
And then he ducked out, leaving the door open behind him.
It didn't take long.
The deputy had been uncannily accurate in his description.
They came like a school of sharks. First the scouts. He spotted them through the windows onto the hall, dark shapes weaving through the shadows, popping into view when they passed through a pool of light.
One darted through the door and dropped to the floor with a screech. Two more followed, then a dozen, then a dozen more, pushing, shoving, fighting for a place at the blood buffet. Their struggles spread them further and further around Adam's chair barricade until they completely encircled him.
The sight of the huddled, struggling shapes, limned by the light from the hall and the flashes from the parking lot, chilled his blood. But the sounds were worse. Adam couldn't see the blood moat, but the frenzied lapping, the hissing and screeching made his gorge rise.
And then two of them got into a fight, tearing at each other. Others joined the fray in a cannibalistic orgy that drew even more of their kind to the room.
But worst of all for Adam...the room no longer smelled bad.
In fact, the aroma was almost...mouth watering.
No, wait...that wasn't water in his mouth. It tasted like blood. It tasted good. And something else there. Three, no, four hard lumps. He knew what they were: teeth. He'd seen Nurse Herrick's teeth fall out before she became...
God help me, it's happening!
He spit them out and moved his finger from alongside the trigger guard and curled it around the trigger.
How long to wait? To maximize his impact, he had to delay until the room couldn't hold any more draculas, but not so long into the change that he couldn't--or wouldn't--pull the trigger.
He had to hold out in memory of Stacie, who had sacrificed everything for Daniella. And especially for Daniella. She had to live. She'd grow up without her mother and father. They'd miss her first steps, her first day at school, her wedding day...but at least she'd grow up. His parents or Stacie's parents, or maybe all four together would raise Daniella, and he prayed they'd tell her that her folks loved her so much that they gave their lives for her.
So hold off...hold off as long as--
The creatures decided for him. When the smell of the fresh blood he'd spit out with his teeth reached them, they froze. Then slowly, almost as one, they turned toward him, noticing him for the first time.
"I forgive you," he told them. "You're not responsible. You didn't want to be what you've become, and I am going to relieve you--us--of this hideous affliction."
Oddly, instead of a passage from the bible, the last lines of A Tale of Two Cities came to mind. He didn't remember them exactly, but he did his best: "Listen to me and believe this," he said to them. "It's a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done; it's a far, far better rest we go to, than we have ever known."
With a chorus of shrieks and hisses, they leaped at him as one.
Adam pulled the trigger.
Clay
HE ducked into the report room--a landlocked cubicle just off the OB nursing station, where one shift briefed the next on the floor's patients and their status. He'd been tempted to head straight for the stairs but didn't know how many draculas he'd run into along the way. Once they caught the scent of that blood, they'd come swarming from all directions. He had north of fifty .40 caliber rounds for the Glock, but knew from his first foray into the ER that it took a good three hits to put down a dracula. One on one, that was okay, but if he got swarmed he'd go down.
He closed the door and plunged into perfect darkness.
Didn't know if his hacks on the H-E rounds had been successful. No way to test them.
So he locked the door, found a chair, and waited.
Soon he heard movement outside--feet scraping the floor as they passed. Someone rattled the doorknob. A dracula had probably smelled him--no surprise since he was pretty much covered in dried blood. He raised the Glock, ready to fire if the creature somehow managed to break in, but it moved off. The smell of the fresh blood in the education room had to be more enticing.
Okay, Part A of the plan was working--the draculas were taking the bait. Part B depended on two factors: the hacks and the padre. Clay was pretty sure about the hacks. He'd rotated the firing pin in each round to line up with the detonator. Any impact would--should--set them off.
Adam was a bigger unknown. Pulling that trigger would take a certain level of intestinal fortitude. He didn't know if a noncombatant and officer in the God Squad like the padre had it in him. Just have to wait and--
The explosion shook the walls and floor, practically knocking Clay off his seat. Even through the locked door, the compression wave from the blast popped his ears.
Sorry for doubting you, padre.
Via con Dios.
He waited half a minute, then unlocked the door and stepped out. He'd expected smoke but instead felt a cool, clean breeze. Outside air?
He looked left and saw that windows on the far side of the building, opposite the explosion, had been blown out. He made his way through the rubble to the education room--or rather where it had been. The hallway wall and windows had been blown out. Everything in sight was coated with gore. The outer windows and wall were gone as well. He could look out at the night and see the flashing lights in the parking lot.
The parking lot...that was where he wanted to be. With Shanna.
He saw the TV copter idling in a clear corner of the lot. Great. The kids were safe.
But he heard another copter--a much heavier engine noise than the KREZ bird--though he couldn't see it. Sounded like it was directly over the hospital. Another pickup? Jenny was the only one left up there.
But would she go? Maybe, maybe not. Women were crazy sometimes.
He headed for the stairs. He'd get up there and force her onto the bird--even if he had to sling her over his shoulder and carry her aboard. She felt she owed it to Randall to stay with him, but that was the last thing her ex would have wanted. Last thing Clay wanted too. She was a good nurse and good people. Not enough of those around.
Randall...man, he'd misjudged him big time. But then, he'd known only the drunk Randall. The sober one was one helluva stand-up guy. Come to think of it, he'd underestimated the padre as well. Hazard of the job, he supposed. As a cop he saw too much of the worst side of people. After a while he couldn't help but start expecting it.
In the stairwell, he made it up one flight before stumbling to an abrupt halt. He wasn't going any farther. The flights above were packed with draculas.