Cause to Kill

Not like this, she fought. I can’t go out like this.

Energized by the thought that she only had moments before some strange concoction took effect, Avery screamed a muted, barely perceptible howl and stumbled up the hall. She slammed against walls on her way. Pictures flew off and smashed to the floor. Every door she found was opened. The flashlight whipped from one side to the other.

Blindly, she fired.

Images appeared in a dreamy blur: a room that was more like a holding cell with bars and a straw floor; another room full of stuffed cats and dogs.

When she reached the last door, Avery sank to her knees.

The flashlight dropped from her hand.

She turned the doorknob and pushed it open.

Edwin Pesh could be seen on the outer edge of the flashlight’s glow.

Avery sank to her chest. She held the gun ahead of her and prepared to fire. Suddenly, as light as a feather, Edwin hopped from one side of the room to the other, again and again, in fast, catlike bursts that made him difficult to target.

Woozy. Avery’s mind was woozy and fading fast. The gun was heavy, too heavy to hold up. She lowered the weapon to the ground. Her cheek touched the cold floor but she continued to watch Edwin Pesh.

Edwin settled into his low crouch, yellow eyes illuminated from the flashlight.

Avery could feel herself slipping out of consciousness.

Edwin stood to his full height and walked toward her.

“Shhhhh,” he whispered.

Not like this, Avery thought.

With great effort – and her wrist balanced on the ground – Avery raised the muzzle of her gun toward Edwin’s groin and fired three times. Crack! Crack! Crack!

The gun dropped from her hand.

Edwin’s feet were in front of her. She could see his legs buckle. Suddenly, he dropped down and sank to the side.

Edwin lay there, collapsed, beside her. His face was but inches away from hers. The two of them lay beside each other, each frozen, each dying, eyes locked on each other’s.

His eyes locked on hers. In the dreamy haze of whatever drug had poisoned her system, his eyes appeared incredibly large, wide open pools of darkness. A smile curled on his lips.

“More,” he whispered. “More.”

Nothing else came out of him, nothing else moved. The lips remained in a partial curl, and his eyes, fully open, burned into her soul.

In her mind, Avery heard, More. MORE!

A male voice resounded through the halls.

“Avery!?”

A hand touched her neck and checked for a pulse. Someone cursed and then spoke in a warped, barely recognizable voice: “Talk to me, Black. Can you hear me? Try to stay alive. Help is on the way.”

But she felt herself weakening.

His voice came again, this time panic in it.

“Shit, Black, don’t die on me now!”

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Avery awoke in a hospital bed, groggy with a very dry and painful sore throat. Everything in her body ached, as if she’d had all of her blood flushed out and replaced with some kind of heavy, toxic fluid. An IV bag was hooked up to her arm. A heart monitor bleeped from somewhere outside of her view.

The room was filled with balloons and flowers.

On a chair beside her, slumped over in sleep, was Ramirez. He was just as relaxed and perfectly dressed as the first day they’d met. A shiny blue suit adorned his form; the white shirt was bright and highlighted his tan and his slicked-back dark hair.

A nurse walked in.

“You’re awake,” she noted in surprise.

Avery opened her mouth.

“Don’t try to speak just yet,” the nurse said. “I’ll call the doctor. You must be hungry. Let me see what I can rustle up.”

Ramirez roused himself from sleep and yawned.

“Black.” He smiled. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Avery whispered a very painful, scratchy question.

“How?”

“Three days,” he said. “You’ve been out for three days. Oh, man. That was some crazy shit, I can tell you that. You’re at Watertown General Hospital. You OK? You want to rest more? Or do you want me to talk?”

Avery never felt so vulnerable in her life. Not only was she laid up in a hospital bed practically unable to move, but she could barely speak.

She nodded and closed her eyes.

“Talk.”

“Well, you are one crazy loca, Avery Black. At least somebody gave you the good sense to call me, and to dial 911 when you were in the house. Now, if you’d waited, maybe you wouldn’t be here today. But that’s for another time.

“You got him,” he said.

The smile came again.

“Three shots, every one of them hit. One in the groin, one through the heart, and the last one in the face. He’s dead. No more girls for him.

“You’re lucky to be alive.” He whistled. “You know that? He pumped you full of some real nasty stuff. Paralyzes the body for about six hours and it slowly eats away at your insides until you die. Doctors had never seen anything like it, but they were able to concoct an antidote based off the syringe he used. Still, it was touch and go there for a while.”