Robert Walker - Extreme Instinct

Karl Repasi came into Jessica's line of vision, and she heard him ask, "Is that right, Dr. Coran?"

Jessica's eyes lit up, and she reached out with her half-bandaged right hand, the bandage like a spectral gauze peeling from a mummy, laden as it was now with the sulfur-filled, phantasm-like breezes here. She pointed to Rideout, asking, "Then you saw him die?"

Everyone turned to Rideout for an answer. He'd been ahead of the other men with his high-powered rifle, in search of the killer and first to hear Jessica's distressed cries, and first to find Jessica here. It had been Rideout who had lifted her onto the boardwalk with the help of other rangers.

"Well?" asked Santiva, "Did you see the man drown in that?" He pointed to the boiling, steaming water alongside the boardwalk.

Rideout had their attention, including Jessica's. His answer must corroborate her story. It meant at least a second witness to the man's final demise, that she would not be alone in that judgment, as she had been alone all along with the man's evil phone calls.

"Well, no, I didn't exactly see him go down, no… but I sure heard his screams, screams straight outta Hell. All the rangers and savages with me-park employees, I mean-they all heard him, too, didn't you, boys?"

A wave of agreement went up among the rangers and park employees, known in Yellowstone parlance as savages.

"He tried to drag me into Hell with him," she explained. "Had some idea that an exchange would be made, that his soul would be set free for mine. It was some supernatural message he'd received from the ruler of Hades himself."

"Satan himself wanted a go at you, heh, Dr. Coran?" asked Repasi. "That should play big in the press."

"Shut up, Karl!" shouted J. T., losing control. "One more word from you and I'll knock your lights out."

Repasi ignored J. T., continuing with, "You must admit, Jessica, your ahhh… relationship with this fiend is big news. The National Enquirer's gotten hold of it."

"And how much did they pay you for it, Karl?" snapped Santiva.

"Damn you, Repasi," J. T. exploded, gaining his feet and shoving the other man away from Jessica. "Go chew on somebody else's bones." When J. T. returned to Jessica, continuing to minister to her medical needs, he said to her, "Karl's rantings can't be taken any more seriously than those of that madman Dorphmann."

Repasi called out, ''I never meant to imply for one moment that Jessica was the root cause either of this man's obsession or the god-awful acts he has committed in the name of that obsession."

"Well, thank you for that," replied Jessica, but she didn't believe Karl was here in the interest of mending fences.

Gallagher quickly agreed with Repasi's last words. "Dr. Repasi is absolutely correct, Dr. Coran. Listen to him."

"Thank you, gentlemen," she replied. "Whatever the truth, we may never know, not completely. All the same, I'm just glad that we've been able to put an end to this madness."

"But did we?" asked Repasi. "Or did Dorphmann end it?"

"Either way, it's over," Jessica countered. "Thank God."

"Whose god, yours or Dorphmann's?"

"Goddamn you, Repasi," said J. T. "I mean, it! Shut up!"

Around them, the park was coming awake, into the light of a new dawn. There was a softness to the light as it filtered in among the steam pools here, like a scene filmed through a filter, Jessica thought.

"Dorphmann was a raving lunatic, a madman," muttered Santiva. "No doubt his god was also a lunatic."

"A lunatic god," muttered Repasi. "Very good, Agent Santiva."

Eriq ignored Repasi and spoke directly to Jessica. "We'll have the pool dredged now that light is coming on. We'll recover the body."

"Maybe the skeletal remains, the bone and teeth," she replied, "but nothing else."

J. T. quickly added, "We have the bastard's dental records. We'll ID him."

"Problem is, sometimes these pools don't give back anything of a person who's fallen victim to 'em," said Rideout. "We might get lucky, maybe in a few days, what little remains of the man might rise to the surface, maybe not."

''Just hafta wait and see's all,'' added one of the rangers standing by.

"How's Sam Fronval?" asked Jess.

"Hold still, Jess," complained J. T. as he continued bandaging her hands. "Both your hands are badly scalded. It's going to be a while before you wield a scalpel again."

"How bad, J. T.? How bad is Fronval?"

The ranger in charge replied, "Sam's a tough ol' bird. From what everyone could tell, he's going to be all right. The medics took him on down to Mammoth, to the hospital there. He was sittin' up and cursin' when they hauled his ornery ass off."

This made for an eruption of laughter from all those who knew Sam.

"I'm more worried about your burns, Jess," J. T. told her.

Jessica considered her injuries. "I don't feel any pain. How bad off can I be?"

"You will," he replied.

Her eyes implored him for the truth.

"Don't worry. Like I said, it'll take some time, but you'll heal. Your ankles and feet aren't quite so badly burned. You must have had quite a struggle with that maniac. I can't believe you got so close!" He was angry with her. "Can't believe you let him get his hands on you. Damn you, Jess." J. T. was near to tears, and to combat them, he finished off the bandages about her feet and ankles, shouting orders to the rangers to get a stretcher out to them and to have an ambulance waiting, that he wanted Dr. Coran transported to the nearest burn facility.

"That'd be Mammoth hospital, over to Mammoth," said Rideout. "We don't need to wait for assistance. I'll take her in my bird."

Jessica felt herself being lifted in the hands of her pallbearers, but these pallbearers were carrying her away from the death that Dorphmann and his Devil had planned for her, Gallagher, Repasi, J. T., Santiva, and Rideout, all fussing for the privilege to help her away from the grave. She closed her eyes, exhaustion settling in over her, and she blacked out.

Later, at Old Faithful Lodge, the team recuperated, sitting out on the massive deck, drinks in hand, watching from comfortable knotty pine chairs the eruption of Old Faithful every half hour or so. Everyone was pleased that the Phantom had finally been put down, and a twenty-four-hour watch had been placed on Hellsmouth in the hope that something of Feydor Dorphmann might return to the cauldron's surface.

Jessica remained in Mammoth for now, her injuries being attended to by people who knew a great deal more about rehabilitating burned tissue than J. T. or Repasi or anyone else on the deck here. The bus that Feydor Dorphmann had been using for the greater part of his trek to his wished-for freedom from his demon had arrived, bus 67, carrying its cargo of sight-seeing passengers and Doris, the tour guide. J. T. recognized the VisionQuest bus as soon as it pulled up at midday. Had Dorphmann not been interfered with in Salt Lake City, if J. T. hadn't run down the bus and tour group that one Chris Dunlap had attached himself to, if Dorphmann hadn't had the run-in with Warren Bishop, the fiend might well have remained on this schedule, today's schedule. Feydor Dorphmann would be arriving this moment at Old Faithful Lodge, awaiting Jessica's arrival in a less agitated state of mind, far more prepared to face her and put an end to his fevered brain one way or another.

J. T. considered this possibility. What might Dorphmann have done differently had he the luxury of time? The night Dorphmann had arrived here, he believed he must kill two more sinners for his crusade or puzzle before facing down Jessica Coran. Dorphmann had hastily done just that, killing two more innocent bystanders, hurrying his showdown with Jessica.