Robert Walker - Extreme Instinct

"I have my good days; others, the well seems dry, the source gone, you know."

"In any case, it's great to hear from you. How's Ginger?" Jessica always asked after Kim's calico cat.

"Never mind Ginger. I want to caution you about what you're dealing with. Santiva's just as concerned over this madman's obsession with you. We're both very worried. How do I know Santiva's worried? Easy! He came straight to me for my input on this creep, and I've become increasingly worried, too, so look-"

"I'm all right, Kim, really."

"Listen to me. There's no worse a fanatic lunatic than a religious nut, and it feels to me as if this guy has some religious quest he's on, and you, dear, are at the heart of it all. Obviously enough."

"The hardest part is knowing that others are dying because of me," Jessica replied.

"Stop it right there, kiddo. You mustn't and cannot ever blame yourself for this screwball's actions."

Kim always knew precisely how to cut through the bullshit, Jessica thought now. "I will try not to-"

"Don't try anything, just do it!"

"All right, I'll do as the Nike ads say."

"I just had to make sure you're all right there, Jess."

"Seems you're not the only one."

"Really? Don't tell me, a new man?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Well, dear, Ginger is fine, and it is quite late this side of the Rockies, so good night."

"Night, Kim, and thanks for the support."

"Always. Ciao."

Jessica decided sleep wasn't going to come until she telephoned J. T. with the latest news on the whereabouts of the killer at the time he had called in his second kill. If the killer was as close by as she feared, J. T. had as much right to know as she.

She lifted the receiver and began dialing for J. T.'s room when she realized someone else was on the line. She heard breathing. It sounded like flames being fanned.

"You can't hide from me, Dr. Coran," he said. "Nor from the truth, from this!" Jessica froze on hearing his now familiar voice, replaced now with a whining gibberish, as of someone attempting to speak through a gag- yet another fright-filled, slurred voice, the voice of a fourth victim on the other end, she surmised.

She desperately held on to her calm and resolve to learn more about the Phantom, this creature behind the awful string of fire murders. She recalled the calmness of the actress who'd played her, and grasping at straws, she pretended to be that actress.

"Are you in the lodge?"

No answer, just the gasping noise of the poor sacrifice at the other end.

Jessica shouted, "At least tell me where the hell you are! You coward!"

Taking the phone off the victim, the raspy-voiced killer replied, "I am climbing from the depths of Hell, which takes courage. I am no coward."

"We can help you out of the pit," she assured him.

"You can help me? Really?" he asked, his voice rising maniacally.

"Yes, we can get you the best doctors in the country to-"

His laugh drowned her out. "You are going down into the pit as I rise from it, Doctor. Don't you see that? Don't you feel it? You can help no one. Not even yourself."

"Where are you?"

"You must know by now. You must see."

"No, I don't see a thing. Make it clear for me."

"You're a smart woman. You can figure it out. Isn't that how you normally play out your petty games, Doctor?

I just want you to know that we are both cut of the same cloth, Dr. Coran…"

"Really? How so?" Damn this bastard, damn his soul and his body, she thought.

"We are both concerned with the same… fears, phobias, you and me."

"What the hell fears are you talking about? And what's your name?" she challenged, hoping to keep him on the line for as long as possible, to somehow reason with him, to somehow save the poor victim he held hostage somewhere in the lodge, or somewhere beyond.

"Call me… call me Nessus."

"Ness? Ness-suss? How do you spell that?"

"Spell it how you wish."

"Is that your name?"

"It is the name my god calls me. I am his messenger and your guide."

"I see, Nessus. So you're not responsible for your actions, your having killed three people? You're just an instrument of some power you cannot control. Is that it, Mr. ahhhhhh…?" It isn't working, she realized. He's not giving out any names or reasons that make sense.

"Perhaps if you'd crack a book once in a blue moon, you'd know what the fuck's happening here!" The sound of the torch and the screams of his latest victim suddenly filled Jessica's ears, along with the back-scatter noise of a clicking camera, followed by the deafening stillness after he, the man of the moment, the godhead in control, slammed down the receiver.

"Where are you, you cowardly freak bastard?!" Jessica shouted into the dead receiver. "Cowardly bastard!" Tears of frustration filled her eyes.

Jessica was left alone with the sound of the victim's screams filling her ears and her silent room. The phone was untapped. No one knew that the monster had again somehow reached out and touched her. She felt angry, confused, outraged all at once. She wanted to lash out at the creature causing her such pain. But how? How did she fight what she could not see?

Jessica immediately called J. T. to inform him of the latest communique from the killer and her certainty that another victim had already been sacrificed in the Phantom's unholy game. When Thorpe arrived, half dressed, at her door, his hair wildly disheveled, he was still zipping his fly while asking if she were all right. She pulled him through the doorway, clinging to him, telling him verbatim what the killer had said, ending with the fact he no longer called himself Charon but Nessus.

"The names must mean something important, at least to him," suggested J. T., who now watched Jessica pace tigress fashion about the small room.

''More likely to his developing, his metamorphosis, perhaps. Maybe he thinks he's going to turn into some sort of superhuman being or winged creature or god by killing nine victims and sacrificing them to his fucking demons."

"Easy, Jess."

She continued, not hearing him. "I don't know, but whatever we can learn from these bits and pieces he's offering, we've got to take full advantage of-now, J. T., before there's a number five, you understand?"

J. T., seeing she teetered on the edge, pleaded, "Calm down, Jess."

"Calm down? I don't fucking want to calm down."

"You're on your way to a burnout, Jess, if you keep this up," he warned.

"Burnout-just the right image, as always, with you, John."

He knew that she seldom called him John, and when she did, it meant she was either displaying real affection for him or that she'd become annoyed. "You're going to stay in my room tonight." He instantly waved his hands to any disagreement she might have, adding, "You'll take my bed, and I'll sleep here, in your room. And I'll take any calls that come in for you. Okay? Understood?"

"No way. If that creep comes looking for me here in this room, finds you, and kills you, I'd never forgive you, John."

"All right, then, we'll compromise."

"Compromise? How?"

"We'll both stay in my room with you on the sofa, then. Happy?"

The following morning they learned of a fire that had gutted several rooms at Ruby's Inn the night before. Ruby's, they learned, referred to a well-known stopping-off point for people going into Bryce Canyon National Park in Utah, west of Glen Canyon.

"We've got to get out there," Jessica told J. T.

"But Bishop's arriving here this morning. Don't you want to wait for him?''

"I left word in Vegas about what happened last night," she explained. "Talked with Harry Furth. Bishop'll figure it out; he'll catch up with us at Bryce Canyon."

They arranged for a shuttle run to the airport. Along the way, J. T. asked, ' 'Suppose we can get a helicopter pilot who doesn't think he's Buck Rogers?"