-6-
A head.
It took a moment for me to recognize the guy without his cheap suit. Or his body.
Someone—something—crouched outside the door. His face was all scales and teeth—somewhere between human and reptile. But it shifted back as I watched.
“Richter.” Sam Yung snarled the name.
The albino reached into his coat pocket and drew out a brown, furry claw. He held it to his body.
Across the room, I heard Sam Yung fumbling through a desk drawer.
I heard John whisper something in Chinese.
I heard the roar of a bear.
The albino crashed through the remaining portion of the door. His body was still rippling and changing. He dropped the dried claw on the floor. The lower half of his face was that of a bear. One hand was a claw. His massive shoulders stretched his shirt.
As he ran past us, he threw a backhanded swipe. The blow lifted me off my feet. John and I crashed into the wall.
For an instant, as my head and body struck the plaster, the room went soft and black. I fought the darkness, knowing that if I sank into the comfort of unconsciousness, I would never wake.
My head cleared just in time to see Sam raise a gun. His hand jerked as the gun spat out a small pop, no louder than a cap pistol. A patch of flesh in the albino’s shoulder exploded in a mass of red.
It didn’t slow him.
He crossed the room before Sam Yung could fire again. The claw swipe caught Sam under his chin. With no effort, the albino removed most of the man’s face.
It happened so fast, Sam didn’t seem to realize yet that he was dead. For a moment, as flesh and gore dripped down the splattered wall, and most of his jaw bounced across the floor like a shattered ash tray, Sam Yung stood in place, a life-sized version of that plastic man in science class, half exposed to the eyes of the curious, brain and muscle and bone revealed for all to see. A bubbling sound rose from the ruins of his throat. His tongue moved, as if searching for teeth.
Then he fell across his desk.
The albino turned toward us.
I staggered to my feet. “John, run!”
John didn’t move. I reached down to help him up, but he was knocked out cold. There was no way I could carry him. There was no way I could protect him. There was nothing I could do for him except try to lure the monster away.
I ran into the hallway.
Heavy footsteps followed me.
Another of Yung’s men rushed up the stairs. He pulled a gun from inside his jacket. It would be the final sick joke of my life if I ended up getting shot by the lesser of two evils while running from the albino. I ducked into an open doorway.
Outside, a single gunshot punched the air. Then I heard a scream overlapped by a wet, ripping sound. A body thudded down the stairs. I knew it was the gunman.
The albino stood at the edge of the doorway, red clots of skin dripping from his claw as it completed its transition back to a hand.
“My curious friend,” he said, nodding toward me, speaking almost in a whisper. He pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped his hand. “You have been a bit of an inconvenience. An amusing one, but an inconvenience nonetheless. I can’t allow your continued existence.”
I backed away from him. As the earthy stench of hides and bones hit my nostrils and I realized the full meaning of where I was, I lost hope. I’d truly screwed up. Of all the places to seek shelter, this was the worst imaginable.
“Lovely,” the albino said, his eyes caressing the stacks of animal parts. He patted his coat pocket. “I brought my own supply, but this is truly splendid. What shall it be?”
He reached out to the nearest crate and stroked a wolf’s head. “Our noble pal canus lupus, perhaps?” His hand, where it met the gray fur, began to change. “I think not. Too swift. Wolves kill quickly, efficiently. They have no instinct for cruelty. You deserve better, my young friend.” He studied me with those pink eyes.
“I want you to linger. I want to savor our time together. Now, where would they keep the snakes?” He flicked his tongue like a serpent.
I moved deeper into the room. Beneath my feet, the wood creaked. Behind me, I heard a rasping breath.
The albino took another step. “Or maybe a leopard?” he said, reaching down to stroke a spotted skin. “Yes, that seems right. Cats play with their prey. Sometimes for hours. Thank goodness there’s such a large stockpile. We’re going to have so much fun.”
I could hear the old man, the one with the file. He was crouched under a table, whimpering. I risked a glimpse over my shoulder. One chance.... If I was wrong, I was dead. If I was right, I might still be dead. If I was right and very lucky, I’d live to have nightmares about today.
– End Chapter Six –
