face.
‘Well, that’s an even bigger pile of no help , you smartass,’ Logan said, sitting back in his chair.
He thought for a moment, then leaned forward to flick through Markenson’s report. After a few seconds he folded his arms, smiling.
‘ More closely resembling that of the great apes – and whatta you know, the circus is in town. Priority one, find that fucking lion.’
He pushed back his chair, then paused to look at one of the pictures he’d pasted at the side of his screen, that of the figure standing in falling snow. He frowned. He hoped the disappearances weren’t the result of a lion on the loose, but at the same time a small part of him hoped they were.
SEVEN
Alex groaned and sat up, holding his head. The pain was like a blast furnace in his skull. Within the agonised fire, a whirlwind of images flashed across his consciousness – people, places, things monstrous and alien. There was a giant bearded man pointing a gun at his face. With a shaking hand, Alex touched a small scar above his eye.
He rocked back and forth for a few minutes until the pain became bearable: a vice instead of a hot spike. The images faded and he rubbed his face. After another moment, he felt able to open his eyes. He remembered being in a laboratory, and feeling like he was drowning. A foul liquid in his nose, mouth and lungs – a dream perhaps. He flexed his hands and turned them over. There were scars on his forearms and running up his biceps. It looked like skin had been removed or carved out.
‘What happened?’
His voice sounded strange to his ears. He blinked a few times and waited for the dizziness to settle.
He looked around. The room was small and sparsely furnished – the bed he was sitting on, a chair, a chest of drawers with a bowl of fruit on top. No windows. There was a small bathroom containing a few toiletries; again, no window.
Alex went to the chest and pulled open the top drawer. There was clothing inside, all new. He lifted a pair of slacks and let them unfold at his side to gauge their length. Satisfied, he pulled them on, and followed with a T-shirt. The smell of the fruit made him hungry. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten anything. Grabbing a green apple, he lifted it to his mouth, then paused and closed his eyes for a second. The smell reminded him of something. He tried to concentrate, but as soon as he pressed for the answer, the furnace swung open again.
He groaned as the pain intensified, and staggered back to the bed, sitting down heavily. Once again the faces swirled around him, like silent ghosts demanding to be acknowledged. There came a young woman, attractive and dark-haired, with blue eyes that changed colour as he watched. Next was an older man, square-headed and brutal-looking, then a woman, older, her face . . . comforting somehow. There was a large dog beside her and she called to it, said its name. He strained to hear, but the words were muted.
The pain intensified, and he felt a warm wetness on his top lip that ran quickly down to his chin. Blood, running from his nose. He let the images go and tried to relax his mind. The pain immediately eased.
Alex took off his T-shirt and held it to his face, waiting for the flow to subside. He pulled it away and noticed the dark blood was thick with black oily streaks. ‘Nice.’ He flung the shirt into the bathroom and got to his feet.
After showering, and finishing off most of the fruit, he decided to check out his surroundings in more detail. He reached for the door handle; the round, metal knob was cool to the touch and only turned a fraction before stopping – locked. He frowned; there was no key or locking mechanism on his side. Jammed?
He squeezed the knob and tried again. The handle squealed in protest, then came off in his hand. Huh? He held up the steel ball. It was dented and compressed from where he’d gripped it. The part that had attached to the door was twisted as though it had been wrung in an
‘Well, that’s an even bigger pile of no help , you smartass,’ Logan said, sitting back in his chair.
He thought for a moment, then leaned forward to flick through Markenson’s report. After a few seconds he folded his arms, smiling.
‘ More closely resembling that of the great apes – and whatta you know, the circus is in town. Priority one, find that fucking lion.’
He pushed back his chair, then paused to look at one of the pictures he’d pasted at the side of his screen, that of the figure standing in falling snow. He frowned. He hoped the disappearances weren’t the result of a lion on the loose, but at the same time a small part of him hoped they were.
SEVEN
Alex groaned and sat up, holding his head. The pain was like a blast furnace in his skull. Within the agonised fire, a whirlwind of images flashed across his consciousness – people, places, things monstrous and alien. There was a giant bearded man pointing a gun at his face. With a shaking hand, Alex touched a small scar above his eye.
He rocked back and forth for a few minutes until the pain became bearable: a vice instead of a hot spike. The images faded and he rubbed his face. After another moment, he felt able to open his eyes. He remembered being in a laboratory, and feeling like he was drowning. A foul liquid in his nose, mouth and lungs – a dream perhaps. He flexed his hands and turned them over. There were scars on his forearms and running up his biceps. It looked like skin had been removed or carved out.
‘What happened?’
His voice sounded strange to his ears. He blinked a few times and waited for the dizziness to settle.
He looked around. The room was small and sparsely furnished – the bed he was sitting on, a chair, a chest of drawers with a bowl of fruit on top. No windows. There was a small bathroom containing a few toiletries; again, no window.
Alex went to the chest and pulled open the top drawer. There was clothing inside, all new. He lifted a pair of slacks and let them unfold at his side to gauge their length. Satisfied, he pulled them on, and followed with a T-shirt. The smell of the fruit made him hungry. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten anything. Grabbing a green apple, he lifted it to his mouth, then paused and closed his eyes for a second. The smell reminded him of something. He tried to concentrate, but as soon as he pressed for the answer, the furnace swung open again.
He groaned as the pain intensified, and staggered back to the bed, sitting down heavily. Once again the faces swirled around him, like silent ghosts demanding to be acknowledged. There came a young woman, attractive and dark-haired, with blue eyes that changed colour as he watched. Next was an older man, square-headed and brutal-looking, then a woman, older, her face . . . comforting somehow. There was a large dog beside her and she called to it, said its name. He strained to hear, but the words were muted.
The pain intensified, and he felt a warm wetness on his top lip that ran quickly down to his chin. Blood, running from his nose. He let the images go and tried to relax his mind. The pain immediately eased.
Alex took off his T-shirt and held it to his face, waiting for the flow to subside. He pulled it away and noticed the dark blood was thick with black oily streaks. ‘Nice.’ He flung the shirt into the bathroom and got to his feet.
After showering, and finishing off most of the fruit, he decided to check out his surroundings in more detail. He reached for the door handle; the round, metal knob was cool to the touch and only turned a fraction before stopping – locked. He frowned; there was no key or locking mechanism on his side. Jammed?
He squeezed the knob and tried again. The handle squealed in protest, then came off in his hand. Huh? He held up the steel ball. It was dented and compressed from where he’d gripped it. The part that had attached to the door was twisted as though it had been wrung in an
Similar Books
