Heartless: a Derek Cole Mystery Suspense Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thriller Book 1) (34 page)

The stench of death and decay was growing too powerful for the windowless rooms. Derek needed to cover his mouth and nose in an attempt to keep out the stench and to keep in the vomit that was threatening to escape.

“You are probably wondering what the horrible smell is, aren’t you Derek?” Straus asked.

“Now that you mention it,” Derek said.

“Our heartless captor here is dying a very smelly and soon-to-be-painful death. See, I injected a virus into his cells a few weeks back and discovered that the virus was having quite an unexpected and drastic effect on poor Alexander Black. I did, however, offer to provide a solution in exchange for my release. But I must assume that his brain is in a state of rapid decay because instead of allowing my release, he shot me in the ass.”

“Your death will be much more painful if you do not tell me the cure,” Alexander said.

As he spoke, Alexander began to shake and drift from side to side.

“It won’t be long now,” Straus said.

The next bullet that entered the body of William Straus hit his right knee dead center, shattering his kneecap and spilling a disturbing volume of blood.
 

“The next shot will award you with matching knees,” Alexander whispered. “The cure, Doctor Straus. Now.”

“In . . .my. . .bag,” Straus said, struggling to apply pressure to his femoral artery.

Alexander, keeping the revolver trained on Straus, backed out of the bedroom and into the hub. On the shelving that ran the length of the two-way mirrors, Alexander spotted a black leather bag. He grabbed the bag and returned to the bedroom.

When he was back in the room, Thomas was standing over Derek, who had removed his shirt and was using it as a tourniquet on Straus’s leg. The flow of blood diminished to a trickle, but Straus was slipping in and out of consciousness and had all the signs of someone preparing to stop slipping and of staying on the unconscious end of the slide.

Alexander pulled the leather bag open and saw a small, black box sitting beside three syringes still in their sterile wrappings. He stood straight, pointed the gun at Straus’s left knee.

“Tell me now, Doctor. My patience is at an end.”

“Open the black box,” Straus mumbled, his eyes rolling back. “Three vials inside. Your old blood. Inject the vial labeled ‘Plan C’ into your neck.”

Alexander broke open the black box, found the vial marked ‘Plan C’ written on it with a grease pen. He tore open one of the syringes, used it to draw from the vial. Once the vial was filled, he turned to Straus.

“And this is all that I will need?”

“Not all,” Straus said.

“Then what else?”

“Your brother has a fresh supply of blood. You’ll need to consume at least two pints.”
 

Alexander turned towards Thomas and pointed the gun towards his gut.

“It seems that I am still in need of our heart, dear brother.”

Thomas backed away, tipping over the chair and falling onto the ground. As Alexander moved closer to improve his aim, Derek grabbed the seven-inch knife he had concealed in the small of his back and in one quick and trained moved, plunged the entire knife into Alexander’s neck.

Alexander fell forward onto the bed, holding the back of his neck with his left hand. Derek leaped towards Alexander, hoping to secure the gun. As he landed on top of Alexander, Derek discovered that, despite having a deep and what would be a fatal stab wound in any other person, Alexander’s strength was still much greater than his. With a single thrust of his arm, Derek was thrown off the bed and landed hard on the floor a few feet away from where Straus had slipped into unconsciousness.

Alexander stood, aimed the gun at Derek, and pulled the trigger.

The .45 caliber bullet hit Derek two inches to the right of his navel. At first, it felt like he had been kicked hard in the gut. But seconds later, the burning and intense pain emerged. He reached his hand down to cover the wound. When Derek raised them to his line of sight, they were covered in bright, red blood.

“Too bad your blood won’t suffice,” Alexander said to Derek before turning back towards Thomas. Without changing the direction of his gaze, Alexander turned the gun towards Straus and pulled the trigger. Straus’s body, already battered and near death, offered only a quick jolt of movement before becoming too still.

Derek reached around to his back, hoping to find an exit wound and praying that any exit wound found was not spilling blood. As his hand returned from its exploration, Derek saw that fresh blood covered his hand. Too much blood for a clean exit wound.

“Son of a bitch,” he cried.

He knew that he didn’t have long before the internal bleeding would stop. His heart, though undamaged from the shot, would soon run out of blood to pump and would, hopefully painlessly, stop beating. Derek rested his head on the floor and watched as his vision began to darken at the edges. Slowly, his pain began to numb as he felt his skin grown cool and damp.
 

Derek tried to remain as still as he could, knowing that any struggle would only serve to speed up the bleeding. He closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his heart rate. He remembered reading about Tibetan monks that were able to get their heart rates down into the teens. He would be satisfied with any rate under seventy-two.

He heard voices in the background of his mind yelling at each other, but it seemed as if they were miles away. Then, clearly and loudly, he heard a high-pitched snap, echoing for what seemed like to Derek for several seconds before fading slowly into a distant hum. Another pop, followed by a series of crackles and ripping screams. And then he saw her.

Her face, flowing with the smile he had sought for so long, filled the side of his vision. It evaporated the cloudy darkness that had crept in slowly when the pain began to fade. He smiled back, remembering so much about that face, about her smile. He remembered so vividly the times he overlooked the simple and elegant beauty of that smile and still, the smile was offered.

The vision began to drift further into an expected distance when he remembered. That was what he saw that day. This was the smile that caused him to turn his head away at the last possible moment the day he tried to end his searching forever. It was always there, waiting for him. Always beside him as he focused his sights behind. He smiled in the knowing, then everything went still.

Alexander stood over Straus for several seconds before confirming his suspicions.

“I am afraid that I lack the motivation to write out another list so that I can cross off another name,” he said. “Good night, Doctor Straus.”

Thomas had found his feet and stood, his back pressed hard against the wall. Alexander motioned for Thomas to sit on the floor. The pain in his neck was severe, and Alexander could feel that his left side was growing weaker and was charged with a disturbing sensation. The fingers of his left hand burned with the sensation, and he felt his left leg shaking under the weight of his body.

“Move an inch, and you’ll join these two,” he said to Thomas.

“I’m your brother. I helped you,” Thomas protested. “That day I saw you at the lake, when you were walking with Straus and the other doctor, I knew that what I found out was true. I knew that I had to help you. And now you stand over me with a gun and threaten to kill me?”

“You stole my heart,” Alexander said. “You stole my father, my mother, my life. Why were you chosen over me? What was special about you?”

“I didn’t steal anything. Our heart was in
my
chest. I didn’t make the decision to cut you off from it.”

“You’ve been selfish with it too long. I need it now.”

Alexander carefully plunged the syringe into the side of his neck, and depressed the plunger, emptying the syringe’s contents into his body. He paused, hoping that the injection would provide an immediate report of effectiveness. Instead, he felt a terrible burning being pulled by gravity through his body. He cringed in pain as the fire reached his chest and abdomen. He dropped to his knees as the
 
substance was pulled through his pelvis and into his thighs before finally collecting itself together in his feet.

Thomas stood, raced to his brother’s side and removed the revolver from Alexander’s limp hand. He backed away from Alexander, training the gun’s barrel on Alex’s head. When he reached Derek, Thomas reached down and was relieved when he felt Derek’s chest rising under the pressure of breaths. He glanced at Straus and knew without the aid of feeling for a pulse or visual confirmation of a rising chest that Straus was dead. He was slumped against the wall, his eyes were cloudy and partially closed, staring at nothing.. Seeing a dead body this close disturbed Thomas. Besides attending a few wakes of family members, Straus was the first dead body Thomas had ever seen.

“What have I done?” he asked himself. “What have you done?” he asked Alexander who had fallen to his knees in pain. “I told you that I would help you. I didn’t mean to help you kill people.”

“The help you offered,” Alexander said, “did not include specific forms.”

“You’re a animal. No, you’re evil. I should kill you now,” Thomas said.

Alexander seemed to collect himself, pushing the pain away from his thoughts.

“I still need to fill my prescription,” he whispered towards Thomas. “And to continue working on my list.”

When he stood as quickly and as authoritatively as he did, Thomas wondered if what Straus had put into the vial labeled “Plan C” really was the cure for whatever was killing Alexander. Thomas pointed the gun at Alexander’s head and though his hands were trembling, squeezed the trigger, and released the hammer.

“Out of bullets,” Alexander said, smiling his vacant smile. “I highly doubt that even if you brought additional ammo for your gun, that you can load the bullets and fire off a round before I tear open your chest and take back what is rightfully mine.”

Sensing no reason to hurry, Alexander walked towards Thomas, who was still standing still, repeatedly squeezing the trigger of the revolver. Alexander was just beyond an arm’s length away when he felt the barbs dig into his back.

“Now y’all had best move back a few steps.”

Alexander was all too familiar with the Taser gun’s barbs to wonder what would happen next.
 

“My name is Ralph Fox, Chief of Police in the town where you started all this ruckus. That man laying on the ground next to you is someone I consider to be a good friend. Now, I will admit to being tempted to just depress this trigger and see just how sensitive you are to electricity, but, being a man of the law, I’m gonna give you a couple of options. Option one is that you lay flat on your face with your hands in such a position that placing handcuffs on them would be a simple matter.”

“And option two?” Alexander asked.

“Well now, Alexander, seems I don’t really have another option,” Ralph said. “Kinda just hoping you’d take the first one offered.”

He could feel the acidic-like substance fading yet still burning in his feet. His vision was becoming disturbingly blurry, and he felt the sudden need for sleep wash over him.

“That there option I gave you does have an expiration attached to it,” Ralph said.

Alexander, sensing that Straus was truthful in his prognosis, felt he needed another option. An option that he needed to grant to himself. Thomas stood just out of his reach, his heart, pounding away in his chest. Alexander could almost feel the heart’s rhythmic pattern. Could almost feel blood surging through his body.

“I do have another option,” Alexander whispered then lunged towards Thomas.

 
The charge raced through the lines and the barbs and into his body. Immediately, his muscles constricted, then went utterly limp, though the current was still charging into him. There was no pain. No moment of regret or of remorse. Just a horribly familiar feeling, then nothing.

When he again opened his eyes, it was the face of Ralph Fox staring back at him.

“Had me scared there for a minute. Thought we’d lost you” Ralph said, his voice sounding faded.

“Black. . .Thomas. . .” Derek struggled to say.

The area around him was brilliantly bright and sterile. Ralph’s face was certainly familiar, but the others around him, those ushering orders, were wholly foreign.

“Don’t worry about them. Old Ralph took care of things for you. You just need to hold on there for a bit longer. These fellas will get you fixed up and running like a horny colt in no time flat.”