It Lives Again Page 6

  In the mobile unit behind the hsopital, Drs. Forrest and Westley waited anxiously.

  The three nurses, Steven King, Billy Grant, and the girl, Barbara, peered out the large front window of the motor home, up toward the hospital.

  “We could all go to jail for this,” said Steven, no doubt having second thoughts about this whole operation.

  “I’m not so sure,” said Barbara, smiling. “We’re here to prevent a murder, aren’t we?”

  “That’s right,” said Billy with a wry grin, “that’s what we’re doing.”

  In the delivery room, Dr. Fairchild was just about to begin the delivery procedure when the door burst open and Mallory was shoved in, followed by Frank Davis and Eugene Scott. Davis pointed his gun at whoever dared come close.

  “Stay away from the patient, Doctor,” Frank warned, suddenly swinging the gun in his direction.

  “You can’t do this,” Fairchild protested.

  Eugene moved toward his wife. “Jody,” he called softly.

  Jody looked up and tried to focus. She was too weak to talk.

  “That’s okay, honey. Everything’s okay,” Eugene said.

  “I want you to give her a shot,” Frank said to Fairchild.

  “A shot!” said Fairchild. “What kind of shot?”

  “A shot to retard labor,” said Davis.

  “Oh, of course,” agreed Dr. Fairchild, looking at the gun, “of course. Nurse,” he said.

  The nearest nurse approached. Dr. Fairchild whispered something in her ear. Immediately she proceeded to the counter at the side of the delivery room and began filling a hypodermic needle.

  “Give it up, Davis,” Mallory said. “It’s too late.”

  “Shut up,” said Davis.

  “Isn’t it too late, Doctor?” insisted Mallory, addressing Fairchild.

  The nurse returned with the filled hypodermic needle.

  “Not necessarily,” said Dr. Fairchild, grabbing the needle from the nurse. Dr. Fairchild saw this whole intrusion as a godsend. Shrewdly, he knew that if he could delay the birth and let someone else take over, he could be safely out of it when the time came to kill this creature. He could save himself a lot of grief and an almost certain multimillion-dollar lawsuit.

  “Fairchild, you son of a bitch, don’t give her that needle! You understand?”

  “Don’t be silly, Mr. Mallory. The drug is perfectly safe and the man is holding a gun on me,” the suave doctor insisted. “Besides, I am obeying the instructions of my patients. Do you want me to give her this needle, Mr. Scott?” Dr. Fairchild asked, looking at Eugene.

  Eugene looked at his wife. She looked up at him, her eyes, despite the pain, pleading to save her baby.

  “Yes,” said Eugene emphatically.

  Quickly Dr. Fairchild injected the drug into his patient. “There, it’s done,” he said, handing the empty needle to his nurse.

  “You’ll be sorry for this, Dr. Fairchild,” said Mallory evenly.

  “I don’t think so.” Fairchild smiled and walked away from the table. He sat down on a stool in the corner, relieved to be out of it. “I don’t think so,” he repeated.

  Eugene unstrapped his wife, freeing her from her bondage, and Frank yelled instructions to policemen and medical people, moving them around with his gun. “Wheel that cart in here! Get her out of those stirrups! Tell them, Mallory!” he commanded.

  Mallory, as if waiting his turn, now shrugged his shoulders as he instructed the policemen and the nurses to do exactly what Davis wanted. “It’s his ball game,” he said calmly. “Go ahead, do whatever he tells you.”

  “Help him,” said Frank to the policemen, “help him with his wife,” he ordered. Eugene, with the policemen’s help, moved his wife from the maternity table onto the cart and stood ready to wheel her out of the delivery room. “All right, stand back! You ready, Eugene?”

  “Ready,” answered Eugene.

  “All right, let’s go,” said Frank.

  “You’re committing suicide,” warned Mallory. “It’ll kill all of you.”

  “Well, don’t worry about it, Mallory,” said Frank, “ ’cause we’re bringing you along to watch.”

  Davis grabbed Mallory, and putting the gun to his head, instructed the two policemen: “Yon help Mr. Scott with the cart. Mr. Mallory is staying right with me just in case anyone tries anything. Let’s go!” he ordered.

  Off they went, this strange caravan, Jody being pushed down the narrow hallway toward the emergency elevator, Frank warning anyone who wanted to be a hero to “stay back,” his gun leveled at Mallory’s head, using him as a hostage.

  Other policemen, who had already passed them in the hallway, were now on their radios telling the policemen downstairs what the situation was. “Let them alone,” they warned. “They got Mallory. We’ll take them outside the hospital.”

  As the emergency-elevator doors opened, a surprised attendant stared out at the strange waiting group. There was Jody on her table, Eugene, two policemen, and behind them Mallory with a gun in his ear. Running the whole show was Frank Davis.

  “Get on,” Davis said. “Everybody!”

  Downstairs, in the emergency area of the hospital, two derelicts were seated on the edge of a bench, holding each other up. Obviously they had been in some sort of fight, for they were explaining to the nurse’s aide that they always ended up “messing with each other when we get liquored up, we don’t mean nothing by it.”

  Just then the elevator doors opened and out came the cart with the enormously pregnant Jody Scott on it, followed by the rest of the group. Right through the emergency section they marched, heading for the back door.

  “Hey,” said one of the derelicts, “look at this!”

  “You can’t come through here!” cried the nurse’s aide.

  Mallory pointed to Davis, who still held the gun to his head. “It’s okay, lady, it’s okay. Let them alone!”

  Sure of himself, Frank knew exactly where to go. “Take her down that ramp,” he said.

  In the mobile home, Barbara was agitated. Big Steve, with all his muscles, was sitting there like a six-year-old child, methodically cracking his knuckles. Someday I’m going to tell that big jerk off, she thought to herself. She recalled with annoyance the trip down from Los Angeles earlier that night with Billy driving. Steve had tried to corner her in the back of the mobile home.

  Suddenly the back door of the hospital crashed open. There they were, the woman on the table, the cops, Davis, two other men. “Look,” Barbara gasped. Drs. Westley and Forrest came running from the back of the motor home.

  Speechlessly they watched this strange procession as it moved across the empty parking lot directly toward the mobile unit.

  “Incredible!” said Dr. Westley, finding his voice.

  Dr. Forrest, meanwhile, had the door open just in time to hear Davis instructing the policemen.

  “Lift her; the cart comes apart. Just lift her off the cart,” he ordered.

  Following his instructions, the police did just that. Lifting Jody, they handed her in through the open door to the two waiting male nurses.

  “Easy,” said Davis, “easy,” taking charge as if he had been doing this sort of thing all his life.

  Suddenly from around the corner six or seven police cars pulled up, surrounding Davis and the motor home.

  “Inside,” shouted Frank. “Hurry up.” Eugene rushed into the unit. “All right,” said Frank, “lock it up.”

  The door slammed shut, leaving Frank outside alone to face the police, with Mallory still his hostage.

  In the mobile unit, Steve and Billy very cautiously placed Jody on the delivery table. Dr. Forrest stood by, ready to go.

  “Is she all right?” asked Dr. Westley anxiously.

  “She’s all right,” said Dr. Forrest.

  “You’re going to save the baby, aren’t you?” moaned Jody, suddenly finding the strength to talk.

  “We’re going to damn well try,” said Dr. Forrest, smiling down at h
er.

  Through her pain she smiled back. I like this man, she thought. I can trust him.

  Outside the mobile medical unit—mass confusion. The unit was completely surrounded by police cars and armed police. The police advanced cautiously toward Frank, who still held the gun at Mallory’s head. A police sergeant, the same one who had confronted Davis earlier in the lobby, seemed to be in charge. He advanced on Davis slowly, as one would approach a bomb, saying softly:

  “All right, mister, put it down, put it down and everything will be just fine.”

  Frank stood his ground, answering, “No crime has been committed. You have no right to arrest me.”

  “All I know is you’ve got a gun, mister,” said the sergeant. “That’s all I’m interested in.”

  “I’m protecting that woman’s right to have her child, that’s all I’m doing,” Frank said.

  “Look, mister, I don’t know anything about any woman’s right. All I know is you can’t run around a hospital, or anywhere else for that matter, holding guns at people’s heads,” said the sergeant. He knew he should have stopped this bastard downstairs. He should have known, he thought to himself, that this guy was a psycho.

  “Take it easy, Sergeant,” said Mallory. “I’ll take care of this.”

  Who is this? the sergeant wondered. Who is this guy who has been running around Tucson the past week ordering everybody here, there, and everywhere?

  “Listen, everybody . . .” Gun still at his head, Mallory started to speak. “You’re going to hear some screams coming from in there,” he said, pointing toward the motor home, “and it’s not going to be pretty.” He turned to Davis. “You’ll be responsible for butchering a lot of people,” he said, obviously referring to something he and Davis were familiar with.

  Davis moved toward the front of the mobile unit, pushing Mallory with him. Reaching the door, he knocked on it heavily, and almost immediately Billy appeared at the door.

  “A baby shouldn’t be born in such a hostile environment,” Davis said, poking Mallory with his gun. “Get in there.”

  Mallory looked toward the police. He spotted one of his men, Gentry, breaking through the mob.

  “It’s all right,” said Mallory, “everything’s all right. You’re in charge, Gentry,” adding to the sergeant, “Do exactly what he says.”

  Orders given, he stepped into the motor home, followed by Davis, who quickly slammed the door, keeping the gun at his captive’s head.

  Billy regarded Mallory warily.

  “It’s okay, Billy,” said Frank. “I’ll take care of him. You go on back, see if they need any help.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Billy, moving toward the rear of the unit.

  “Move over there,” said Frank to Mallory. “Get behind the wheel.”

  “You’ll never get away with it,” said Mallory, nevertheless doing what he was told.

  “I know, I know.” Frank nodded. “You told me that already. Just do as I say. First of all,” he said, still holding the gun perilously close to Mallory’s head, “get those police cars out of the way.”

  Reluctantly Mallory rolled down the window. “Get those police cars out of there,” he shouted down at Gentry. “All of them.”

  Outside, the police followed Gentry’s shouted orders and backed up the police cars, clearing a path for the giant motor home.

  “Okay,” said Frank, “drive. Nice and smooth, though. Keep it under thirty.”

  “You want me to drive while they’re delivering the baby back there?” Mallory asked, pointing toward the rear of the motor home.

  “Why not?” said Frank. “They deliver babies all the time on airlines, don’t they?”

  “You’re crazy, you know that?” Mallory said, starting up the huge machine.

  In the back of the motor home, Dr. Westley looked up. “It’s moving,” he said. “The van is moving.”

  Dr. Forrest, without lifting his head, went straight ahead with the delivery. “It’s too late now. This baby is coming right now. Oh, my God, it’s enormous! You ready, Barbara?”

  “Yes, Doctor,” Barbara answered. She held a hypodermic needle ready to sedate the child as soon as it was delivered. Suddenly Barbara’s face went pale; she saw the child! The child, or whatever it was, was coming out!

  “Oh, my God!” cried Dr. Forrest. He could not believe what he was seeing. “The needle,” he yelled at Barbara, “use the needle!”

  Barbara, with all her fright, managed to plunge the needle into the baby. It seemed to work as the baby lay there, grotesque, on the table, emitting its first sound: a low moan.

  “I think we’ve got it,” said Dr. Westley, watching this “thing,” fascinated.

  Then the eyes opened slowly. The baby looked around as if at that moment, seconds after its birth, it could SEE!

  The low moan was gone, and in its place was an animal GROWL. It was a singular sound, the wailing sound of a creature born to a world it does not understand, a world totally alien that wanted to kill it. Only now it had fallen into the hands of those who wished to save it. But how was the baby to know that?

  The growl increased, as if it were about to attack.

  “Another one, another needle,” said Dr. Forrest. “Quick.”

  Barbara ran to the side cabinet. She began refilling the hypodermic needle. Then she started to shake. She dropped the needle. “Oh, my God, I’m sorry.”

  “Another one,” cried Dr. Westley, panicked. “Get another one, quick!”

  Barbara pulled another needle out of a drawer and began filling it.

  Meanwhile Jody struggled to raise her head, trying to see what was there on the small table, wanting to know what she had brought into the world. “I want to see it,” she said. “I want to see my baby.”

  “No!” cried Eugene, running to her, holding her, refusing to let her get up, making it impossible for her to see the baby.

  The growls were getting louder and louder. Dr. Westley turned to Barbara. “Hurry,” he demanded.

  “Yes, Doctor,” Barbara replied, close to tears.

  Steven, the karate expert, watched intently, ready with his lethal hands. “We’re wrong in doing this,” he said. “It shouldn’t be allowed to live.”

  “Shut up,” said Dr. Westley, looking again toward Barbara.

  Suddenly the creature growled as never before. The growl of an attacking animal, a desperate, piercing shriek.

  “What’s happening?” cried Jody, still trying to see the baby as Eugene held her down. “What’s happening to my baby?”

  Eugene, his head turned away, would not look at this thing. He clamped his hands over his wife’s ears in a vain attempt to drown out the horrifying noise.

  “What is it?” Jody cried. “What is it?”

  “Please, Jody,” begged Eugene, “please don’t look.”

  Now Barbara was back with the needle.

  “Give me that.” Dr. Westley grabbed it from Barbara and then callously stabbed it into the creature’s stomach.

  Then, all at once, the growl diminished. The infant seemed to be sedated, the drug taking effect. The grotesque body went limp. The ghoulish thing seemed to be completely tranquilized.

  “Let’s put it away at once,” said Dr. Westley.

  Dr. Forrest, closest to the infant, bent to pick it up, but Dr. Westley moved in quickly. Clearly he wanted to be the first to touch it, handle it. “I’ll do it,” he said.

  Deftly he picked up the drugged baby, and wasting no time, moved to the special incubator with the bars—a cage, really, for a wild beast. He opened the incubator and, about to put the infant in, looked down.

  “It’s a male,” he said, turning to Dr. Forrest and the rest of the people in the mobile unit with a triumphant, proud-of-himself smile.

  And then, all at once, a shriek!

  Dr. Westley screamed. A clawed hand ripped across the doctor’s face in a flash, tearing his cheek open as it went for his throat.

  Dr. Forrest rushed forward. Armed only with a cl
oth drenched with chloroform, he stuffed it into the creature’s face. Dr. Westley fell to the floor, leaving Dr. Forrest to grab the infant, who suddenly went limp. Barbara ran to Dr. Westley’s aid, trying to stop the bleeding.

  “Antiseptic, quick!” she called back to Billy.

  Dr. Westley, pressing his cheek, a wild, terrified look in his eyes, yelled up at Dr. Forrest, holding the now-still infant above him.

  “It was out. I could swear it was out!” he cried.

  “It must have been a reflex action,” said Dr. Forrest, now quietly examining the unconscious infant with his scientist’s eyes.

  Billy and Barbara helped Dr. Westley to his feet. They moved him over to a stool in the far corner to care for his torn cheek. The doctor, in shock, his eyes widened, reached up to his bloodied face and probed the gash with his hand.

  “Please, Doctor,” said Barbara as she moved his hand away from the ugly laceration and started to tend to it.

  Dr. Westley stared across the medical unit as his colleague handled the bizarre specimen. The infant was quiet now. Look how he handles it, Dr. Westley thought, watching Dr. Forrest place the infant gently, ever so gently, as if it were a real baby, into the steel-barred incubator.

  Standing by, Steven closed it at once and locked the cage tight.

  “He’s out,” said Dr. Forrest, smiling at Steven, who carefully checked and rechecked the locks. “Just let him lie there.”

  Jody, still on the delivery table, had missed most of this. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Where’s my baby?”

  “Nothing,” said Eugene, standing as he had since soon after the birth, blocking her view of the creature. “Everything’s all right.”

  “Is the baby all right?”

  “The baby’s fine,” he lied. “Just get some sleep.”

  “Oh, yes . . . that’s what I want to do, to sleep.” She smiled. “Did you see him?”

  Eugene turned away. He couldn’t answer. He hadn’t seen it because he had chosen not to look.

  Jody looked up. She saw him turn away, saw the evasion in his eyes. She knew immediately. She screamed up at his averted face: “Tell me! Why don’t you want to see him? Why won’t you look?”