do. Baroque music is still alive so long as there are those who play and enjoy it. In that sense, rock and roll lives, too. But the possibilities of baroque were depleted hundreds of years ago. The same with rock.”
“When did it die?”
“There’s some debate. Many say 1970, when McCartney sued the Beatles. Others put it as late as 1976. Some prefer 1964, for various reasons.”
“What do you prefer?”
“Between ’64 and ’70. Closer to ’64.”
He now had a series of eight holes drilled. He began using a saw to cut between them. He worked in silence, and for a while Cirocco had nothing to say. There was just the sound of the bone saw and, outside, the quiet lapping of the water against the side of the boat.
“I’ve read critics who speak highly of Elton John,” Cirocco said.
Rocky just snorted.
“What about a rock revival in the 80s?”
“Rubbish. Are you going to mention disco next?”
“No, I won’t mention it.”
“Good. You wouldn’t want my fingers to slip.”
Cirocco screamed.
Rocky’s hand almost slipped on the rotary saw. He had never heard such agony in a human voice. The scream was still rising in pitch and volume, and Rocky wanted to die. What had he done? How could he be causing so much pain to his Captain?
She would have ripped the skin from her face but for Valiha’s strong arms. As it was, every muscle in Cirocco’s body stood out like cables. She fought, the scream dying for lack of air. Its very silence was more painful to Rocky’s ears. She began to bite her tongue; Serpent moved in and jammed a piece of wood between her teeth, but it was only in one side. The tension was uneven. Rocky heard her jawbone crack.
Then it was over. Cirocco’s eyes opened, and moved cautiously back and forth, as if looking for something about to spring on her. The stick of wood was bitten nearly in two.
“What was that?” she said, slurring the words. Rocky gently felt her jaw, found the fracture, and decided to fix it later.
“I was hoping you’d tell me.” He leaned over to let Serpent mop the sweat from his face.
“It was…like all the headaches in the world, all at once.” She looked puzzled. “But I can hardly remember it. Like it’s not there, or never was there.”
“I guess you can be thankful for that. Do you want me to go on?”
“What do you mean? We can’t stop now.”
Rocky looked down at his hand, which had stopped shaking. He wondered why he’d ever studied human anatomy. If he hadn’t been so damn curious someone else could have been handling this.
“It just seemed like a warning,” was all he would say. Though he had told no one, he actually had a pretty good idea what he would find under Cirocco’s skull.
“Open it up,” Cirocco said, and let her eyes close again.
Rocky did as he was told. He finished his last cut, and lifted the section of bone away. Beneath was the dura mater, just as Gray’s had said it would be. He could see the outlines of the cerebrum beneath the membrane. In the middle, in the great longitudinal fissure between the two frontal lobes, there was a swelling that should not have been there. Cruciform, inverted, like some unholy devil’s mark…
The mark of the Demon, Rocky thought.
As he watched, the swelling moved.
He cut around it, lifted the membranes from the gray matter beneath, and looked down at a nightmare. The nightmare looked back, blinking.
It was pale white, translucent, except for its head. It looked like a tiny snake but it had two arms which ended in miniscule clawed hands. Its body nestled into the longitudinal fissure, and it had a tail that descended between the hemispheres.
Rocky saw all that in the first few seconds; what he kept coming back to was the thing’s face. It had outsize, mobile, troglodyte eyes set in the face of a lizard. But the mouth moved; it had lips, and Rocky could see a tongue.
“Put that
back
!” the thing shrieked. It started to burrow between the lobes of Cirocco’s
“When did it die?”
“There’s some debate. Many say 1970, when McCartney sued the Beatles. Others put it as late as 1976. Some prefer 1964, for various reasons.”
“What do you prefer?”
“Between ’64 and ’70. Closer to ’64.”
He now had a series of eight holes drilled. He began using a saw to cut between them. He worked in silence, and for a while Cirocco had nothing to say. There was just the sound of the bone saw and, outside, the quiet lapping of the water against the side of the boat.
“I’ve read critics who speak highly of Elton John,” Cirocco said.
Rocky just snorted.
“What about a rock revival in the 80s?”
“Rubbish. Are you going to mention disco next?”
“No, I won’t mention it.”
“Good. You wouldn’t want my fingers to slip.”
Cirocco screamed.
Rocky’s hand almost slipped on the rotary saw. He had never heard such agony in a human voice. The scream was still rising in pitch and volume, and Rocky wanted to die. What had he done? How could he be causing so much pain to his Captain?
She would have ripped the skin from her face but for Valiha’s strong arms. As it was, every muscle in Cirocco’s body stood out like cables. She fought, the scream dying for lack of air. Its very silence was more painful to Rocky’s ears. She began to bite her tongue; Serpent moved in and jammed a piece of wood between her teeth, but it was only in one side. The tension was uneven. Rocky heard her jawbone crack.
Then it was over. Cirocco’s eyes opened, and moved cautiously back and forth, as if looking for something about to spring on her. The stick of wood was bitten nearly in two.
“What was that?” she said, slurring the words. Rocky gently felt her jaw, found the fracture, and decided to fix it later.
“I was hoping you’d tell me.” He leaned over to let Serpent mop the sweat from his face.
“It was…like all the headaches in the world, all at once.” She looked puzzled. “But I can hardly remember it. Like it’s not there, or never was there.”
“I guess you can be thankful for that. Do you want me to go on?”
“What do you mean? We can’t stop now.”
Rocky looked down at his hand, which had stopped shaking. He wondered why he’d ever studied human anatomy. If he hadn’t been so damn curious someone else could have been handling this.
“It just seemed like a warning,” was all he would say. Though he had told no one, he actually had a pretty good idea what he would find under Cirocco’s skull.
“Open it up,” Cirocco said, and let her eyes close again.
Rocky did as he was told. He finished his last cut, and lifted the section of bone away. Beneath was the dura mater, just as Gray’s had said it would be. He could see the outlines of the cerebrum beneath the membrane. In the middle, in the great longitudinal fissure between the two frontal lobes, there was a swelling that should not have been there. Cruciform, inverted, like some unholy devil’s mark…
The mark of the Demon, Rocky thought.
As he watched, the swelling moved.
He cut around it, lifted the membranes from the gray matter beneath, and looked down at a nightmare. The nightmare looked back, blinking.
It was pale white, translucent, except for its head. It looked like a tiny snake but it had two arms which ended in miniscule clawed hands. Its body nestled into the longitudinal fissure, and it had a tail that descended between the hemispheres.
Rocky saw all that in the first few seconds; what he kept coming back to was the thing’s face. It had outsize, mobile, troglodyte eyes set in the face of a lizard. But the mouth moved; it had lips, and Rocky could see a tongue.
“Put that
back
!” the thing shrieked. It started to burrow between the lobes of Cirocco’s
Similar Books
Fairly Wicked Tales
Armand Rosamilia, Hal Bodner, Laura Snapp, Vekah McKeown, Gary W. Olsen, Eric Bakutis, Wilson Geiger, Eugenia Rose
