The Uninvited (24 page)

Read The Uninvited Online

Authors: William W. Johnstone

“Wonder where Luther is?” Slick asked.
“Probably sittin' on the pot,” Vic said. “He was bitching about being constipated when he came in. That and his hemorrhoids. I'm going to the clinic. After you get through at the Plano's, meet me there. I can't wait till dawn to make a decision. I've got to do it now.”
Chapter Nine
Bob had stalked into the theater and left with Sarah in tow, protesting all the way.
“I have
never
been so humiliated in my life!” the teenager yelled at her father. “Everybody was laughing at me. Don't you care about my feelings?”
“Yes.” He dragged her toward his pickup.
“But what have I done?” she wailed.
“Nothing.” He put her between Brett and himself. “Your mother has gone to Dr. Long's clinic and I want you with me, that's all.”
Mother's been hurt!”
“Not seriously, honey. Now you just sit quiet for a couple of minutes and we'll all find out what is going on around town. We'll find out together.”
“I don't understand, Daddy.”
“It'll be explained to you, honey. Just sit tight.”
 
 
“Now see here!” Dr. Bond said as the front door of the clinic slammed open. “You just can't burst in here. We're busy.”
“Shut your goddamn mouth!” Bob told him.
The doctor took in the bulk of the man behind the words. “Yes, sir,” he said.
I'll do just that. But for your sake, would you please put on masks?“ He pointed. ”They're right there in that container.”
“Bob?” Dr. Long said.
What's wrong?”
Bob glanced at Brett, deferring to him. In as few words as possible, Brett told them what had happened, ending with, “I've got about two dozen of the roaches in this popper.” He laid the popper on a table.
“Young man,” Dr. Whitson said. “I thank you for your presence of mind. You've done us a great service. Numbed them with foam from a fire extinguisher, eh? Very good.” He glanced at Dr. Long. “Draw some blood samples from the lady and then pump her full of Garamycin. We should know something in fifteen minutes.”
Know what?” Bob said, big fists clenched. “What the hell is going on around here?”
“The roaches that bit her were not very large,” Brett said. “Two to three inches long.”
“Ah,” Whitson smiled. “That's even better.”
Tanya was taken into an examining room by Dr. Ashley.
Bob,” Dr. Long took his arm, “come in my office. You, too, Mr. Travers. Ms. Forrest, you wait out here, please.”
“I'll be damned!” she fired at him. “You can take your Southern chauvinism and stuff it! I want to know what's going on around here as much as the next person. And by God, I intend to find out.”
Dr. Whitson laughed. “Very spirited young lady. I used to like them with lots of pepper. My first two wives were high-spirited. My only two wives, I might add.”
In his office, Dr. Long quickly explained the situation, beginning with the night—it seemed so long ago—he had gone with Sheriff Ransonet to the Cole house. He concluded with what was happening with Captain Jack, Tommy Sabatier, and the prisoner.
After a moment of silence, allowing the news to sink into their numbed and horrified brains, Bob said, “I want to see this prisoner, Bruce.”
Bob . . .”
“No!” Bob silenced him. “No, I think I have a right to know what to expect—what might happen.”
Before the doctor could reply, Dr. Masterson stuck his head in the office. “Sheriff Ransonet's here. He wants to speak to all of us.”
In the large outer office, Vic came right to the point. “Looks like Dick Piano went beserk. Killed his wife and kids.” He glanced at Bob. “I'm sorry about what happened to your wife, Bob.”
The lawman and the ex-ball handler stood for a moment, looking at each other. Then Bob told him about Dick attacking his wife.
“He was foaming at the mouth, you say?” Dr. Whitson asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Umm.” Whitson shook his head and muttered something under his breath.
The phone rang in the office. “Rollie Satler, Vic,” Dr. Long said, holding out the phone to the sheriff.
Vic listened intently for half a minute. “Okay,” he said, quietly. “How many you think got out? Jesus Christ!” He hung up.
“What's wrong, Sheriff?” Dr. Terry asked.
“Rollie says a city patrolman called him. Big disturbance at the theater. Those bugs are all over the damn place. People runnin' out of the movie covered with them. Screaming.”
“How many people got out?” Whitson asked, a sharp edge to his voice.
“Rollie said the city cop told him about twelve or fifteen got out. He said at first there was a lot of screaming from inside the movie. But now it's real quiet in there.”
Dr. Ashley walked up to Bob. “I've cleaned the bites and pumped her full of Garamycin. Dr. Bond is checking blood count now. But so far it looks normal. I'd say she's going to be all right.”
Vic put his hand on the phone, hesitated, then jerked up the receiver. “Maybe the lines are still open,” he muttered. He dialed Sheriff Grant in Baronne Parish, sighing with relief when the buzzing of the number ringing leaped into his ear. “Mike? Vic. Listen.” He quickly explained what had happened and what was happening now.
Your bridge over the Velour needs to be guarded and kept open. No eighteen-wheelers allowed on it. We've got to keep it open in case of evacuation. Yeah, I think I'm going to. Right. I appreciate it, Mike.”
Dr. Bond brought the good news to Bob. “Your wife seems to be all right, Mr. Campbell. There is no sign of infection. Her blood count is normal. No sign of cell mutation, and that would have occurred by now. I think those bugs that bit her were not adult, not toxic.”
Bob walked to the rear of the clinic to be with his wife.
“I wonder why no one has come here to be treated?” Kiri wondered. “Those from the movies, I mean.”
“Dean.” Sarah said just that one word. Then she went to a corner of the office and sat down. She put her face in her hands and wept.
“I think they're probably beyond help,” Dr. Whitson said. “As for these smaller roaches you brought in, Mr. Travers, they are nontoxic. Any above three inches in length are very toxic. I don't know yet what size has to do with the toxicity level, but it certainly must have something to do with it.” The old doctor looked at Sheriff Ransonet. “You are, I assume, considering evacuation of the Parish?”
Yes.”

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