Hillary_Flesh and Blood (49 page)

Hillary ran after Maddie, but not at full speed. She was enjoying the chase. She knew how terrified Maddie must have been. It was part of her fun. She would let Maddie get a little exercise and tire herself out before she finished her off. She stayed a few feet behind Maddie, purposely running as noisily as she could so that Maddie would know
just
how close she was.

Maddie
’
s heart hammered heavily as she ran for her life. She pushed branches out of her way as she panted. Were the cops still watching her? Could they still see her now that she was running?
Where were they?

Hillary laughed out loud as she heard Maddie struggling to catch her breath, wheezing loudly. The sound of the twigs snapping under her sneakers excited her. She was the queen of the jungle hunting for her prey.

Maddie was not a strong runner. She felt an intense pain in her side. She had to stop, she wanted to stop but she knew that would be the end of her. Hillary was just a few steps behind her. She could hear her laughing like a lunatic. She was having the time of her life.

Please God, don
’
t let her catch me,
Maddie prayed as tears blurred her vision. She was exhausted. Her stomach cramps were becoming intolerable. She began to slow down. She knew if she turned around, she would see Hillary right behind her. She could hear her breathing. She could smell her sweat.

Grabbing her left side, Maddie slowed to a jog. Hillary smiled as she reached out and grabbed the hood of her white sweatshirt. Panicking, Maddie unzipped it and squirmed out of it as she forged on quickly. Hillary threw it to the floor, stepping over it as she, too, increased her speed.

Maddie was left wearing a blue tank top now. The chilly air felt good on her feverish skin. It was refreshing and invigorating. She began to think that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to outrun Hillary just as Laura had.

Hillary proved her wrong seconds later. She grabbed her golden hair and yanked it hard, causing Maddie to fall back against her. Maddie screamed as Hillary put her in a head lock.

“
Help me!
”
Maddie screamed frantically as she tried to escape Hillary
’
s grasp,
“
HEEELLLLPPP MEEEEEE!
”

She felt hopeless. The cops had failed her. They were not there to protect her as they promised. She would have to fight for he
r
life. She thrashed her head back, butting Hillary in the mouth. H
illary’s
teeth pierced her lower lip causing blood to drip down he
r
chin.

“
You whore!
”
Hillary shouted furiously.

She leaned forward and bit into Maddie
’
s left shoulder. As Maddie howled in pain, Hillary gnashed her teeth deep into her flesh. She clenched her teeth and jerked her head to the side, ripping out a large chunk of flesh and muscle. Hillary chewed it like a piece of steak. She remembered just how hungry she was.

Maddie
’
s body became putty as she dropped to the ground. Hillary bit off piece after piece of the soft flesh on her uppe
r
arm. She feasted and drank Maddie
’
s blood as the shocked girl stared off at the treetops
and
moaned
loud
ly.

Hillary pulled the knapsack from her shoulder and opened it. She wasn
’
t ready to use the large carving knife just yet. She carefully pulled out the old pocketknife. She pulled up the longest rusty blade. It didn
’
t look very sharp or intimidating. Hillary didn
’
t think it could inflict much damage. She used it to slice across the side of Maddie
’
s neck.

She had been wrong about the knife. It was rusted but sharp as a razor. It effectively cut through Maddie
’
s throat. She gagged on her spilling blood as she nervously grabbed at the mortal wound. Her groans became a raspy gurgling sound.

Where are the cop
s, w
here are the cops
,
she thought in the frenzy of her dying mind.

“
Shit!
”
Hillary screamed. She hadn
’
t meant to kill Maddie so quickly. She wanted her to suffer an
d
now she
’
d be dead in mere seconds.

Without sparing another moment, she lowered the elastic waistband of Maddie
’
s jogging pants and underwear and slashed the rusty pocketknife across he
r
creamy white abdomen. She hoped that Maddie could feel this new pain and realize what she had done. She worked quickly tugging down her pants and underwear to expose the long, deep, gushing incision. She dug one hand deep in and yanked fierc
el
y, prying the wound wide open. She sunk her other hand in deep and could feel her stomach and intestines. They felt hot and slimy in her hands.

By now, Maddie no longer felt or thought anything. She was dead. With her glassy eyes wide open, her face was a frozen expression of fear and sadness, of somber resignation.

Hillary was seething with rage. Such a quick death was too good for Maddie. She wanted her to feel all the pain she had planned for her. She screamed out in fury, cursing the dead girl as she pulled and yanked at her innards. Viscera spilled to the ground from the gaping wound. It had an unholy smell, a thousand times stronger than the stench from the bathroom garbage can when discarded sanitary napkins sat for too long. It smelled like rot and shit and blood and death.

Hillary reached down and grabbed a section of Maddie
’
s folded, coiled large tubing
—
her intestines. She stretched it out across the ground, curious to see how long it would unfold. She hand it within her hand when something hit her thigh. It felt like she had gotten bit or stung by something. She dropped Maddie
’
s gut and placed her hand to the spot where she felt the burning pain. There was something there...a metal....

Everything went black as Hillary slumped down to the ground. Her reign of terror was over...for now.

EPILOGUE

Dr. Patrick Morrison, a neurosurgeon, was on shift at Whiteshore Psychiatric Hospital when Hillary arrived on a gurney pushed by two men dressed in military uniforms. It was highly unusual, highly suspect. Dr. Morrison looked confused, then concerned when he saw all of the blood on the girl
’
s mouth, hands and clothing. The taller of the two men approached Dr. Morrison.

“
Does that
—”
Dr. Morrison started to say.

“
Dr. Patrick Morrison?
”
the taller soldier interrupted.

“
Yes,
”
Dr. Morrison answered,
“
does that young girl require medical attention?
”

“
No,
”
the soldier replied haughtily,
“
where
’
s your closest empty room?
”

“
What? What
’
s going on? Has this patient been admitted? Who is she? Why is she covered in blood?
”

Hospital personnel began congregating nearby. The other soldier flashed some sort of ID and shooed them off.

“
I
’
ll explain everything as soon as we can get the subject secured in a room. Peter Wu is expecting her.
”

“
Peter Wu? I...I don
’
t understand.
”

“
You will, Dr. Morrison, please, let
’
s get this girl in a room.
”

Puzzled, Dr. Morrison led the soldiers to an empty room in the north wing of the hospital.

“
I
’
ll call
—”

“
You
’ll call no one,”
the tall soldier said firmly.

“
What
’
s this, you can
’
t
—”
Patrick raised his voice as he grew angry. Who were these people anyway? How dare
they give him orders?

“
Neuronentin,
” the soldier said. H
is hand
was
raised
,
motioning for Dr. Morrison to stop talking and listen to him.

“
Neuronentin? What do you know about Neuronentin?
”

Dr. Morrison
’
s curiosity was piqued.

“
Help us secure this girl to the bed and then we
’
ll go to your office and talk all about it.
”

“
I was just going to get the orderlies to
—”

“
No, Dr. Morrison, for all intents and purposes, this room is empty. No one is here. No one is to know about her, do you understand me?
”

Dr. Morrison nodded slowly as he got a better look at the girl on the gurney. He frowned.

“
Is that...Is that Hillary Greyson?
”
he asked, his eyes widened in astonishment.

The soldier looked at him straight in the eyes for a long three seconds before answering.

“
She
’
s no one, Doctor...Jane Doe.
S
he
’
s just here temporarily.
”

The soldier
’
s pause affirmed his question despite the actual reply. It was Hillary Greyson lying on the gurney. He recognized her from the photos of her on television and in the newspaper. She was a murderer. A cold-hearted murderer who had killed
all of
her family members
except for her mother who had been
left
badly disfigured. She was in a different psychiatric facility wishing that Hillary had killed her too.

Once Hillary was placed on the bed and secured by arm and leg restraints, the shorter soldier remained in the room while the taller one accompanied Dr. Morrison to his office. Dr. Morrison took a seat in his leather chair and gestured for the soldier to sit across from him. He was anxious to learn what was going on.

“
What
’
s she doing here?
”
he asked eagerly.

The soldier put out his hand to shake Dr. Morrison
’
s.

“
Allow me to introduce myself,
”
he said,
“
I
’
m Lieutenant Alan Langford, Lieutenant
Doctor
Alan Langford.
”

“
You
’
re a doctor?
”
Dr. Morrison asked, shaking the soldier
’
s hand.

Lt. Langford nodded,
“
in the field of neurology.
”

Dr. Morrison arched his eyebrows, curious to hear what the military doctor had to say.

“
I
’
ve been reading about your research, Doctor.
”

“
Neuronentin,
”
Dr. Morrison nodded,
“
what are your thoughts?
”

“
Very promising,
”
Lt. Langford replied with smile,
“
it
’
s such a shame they didn
’
t give you the green light for clinical trials.
”

“
Don
’
t even get me
—”
Dr. Morrison began to vent his frustrations then abruptly stopped. He suddenly knew why Hillary Greyson was there. He was being handed a gift...his first test subject.

“
I
’
m sorry, where did you say you were from?
”

“
Let
’
s just say I
’
m from The Division,
”
he reached into his wallet and handed Dr. Morrison an ivory business card with his name and contact information embossed in jet black ink over the United States Army emblem.

“
What is it that you
’
re proposing?
”

“
I think you know what I
’
m proposing, Doctor. Hillary is the perfect candidate for Neuronentin, wouldn
’
t you agree?
”

“
And Peter Wu approved it?
”

“
Well, not quite. You see, we were thinking you could conduct your own trial, from your own location
—
maybe your home. Of course, you would receive a hefty compensation for your service.
”

“
You mean...my home? Hillary Greyson in
my
house?
”

He could just imagine what his wife Monica would say. It would sound like this:
“NO.”

“
I hate to rush you, Doctor...I realize an important decision like this deserves greater consideration, but under the circumstances, time is of the essence. If you agree to this, our department will send the word to issue a statement declaring that Hillary Greyson was killed in the process of being apprehended. You will have free range to conduct your research on her. I say, given your results with animal populations, you should have a better understanding of your drug
’
s safety and efficacy in humans in as little as six months.
”

“
It
’
s all very tempting, Lieutenant, but what good would it do? Even if I agreed and my research yields the most promising results, I could never publish my findings or
—”

“
Don
’
t underestimate The Division, Dr. Morrison. You give us the results we
want
and we
’
ll get you that green light you
’
ve been after.
”

Dr. Morrison nodded slowly. It all sounded good to h
im. Indeed,
too good to be true. And when things sounded too good to be true, they usually were. What price would he pay for participating in this covert, unethical research? As his instincts warned him to refuse the Lieutenant
’
s incredibly generous offer, he put out his hand and agreed to do it. With a firm handshake, Hillary became a ghost.
His
ghost. And his life would never be the same again.

You can find out what happens next in “Hillary: Tail of the Dog.”

Available October 31, 2013, “Hillary: Retribution,” the conclusion in this disturbing trilogy.