Marcus Pelegrimas - Blood Blade

He wasn’t even moving.

“Gerald?”

He had to be certain that Gerald was dead before he would leave him there to freeze. As soon as he reached out to feel for Gerald’s pulse, he was introduced to something even worse than the stillness he’d been expecting.

Beneath the collar of Gerald’s coat, dark gray marks stained his neck as if dozens of threadlike tendrils were creeping beneath his flesh. The lines also snaked along Gerald’s arm from beneath his sleeves. For a second Cole swore he saw those lines shake like shadows being cast by a flickering light. A small syringe still protruded from the middle of the dark marking on Gerald’s wrist.

“Oh my God,” Cole muttered as he reached out with one hand to touch the vein in the side of Gerald’s neck. What he felt instead of a pulse was the last, desperate twitch of another dark tendril wriggling somewhere between the meat of Gerald’s flesh and the outermost layer of his skin. Those dark gray filaments stretched and strained as if doing their best to reach Gerald’s throat from the inside.

Cole snapped his arm back with so much force that he nearly sprained his own elbow. A flurry of obscenities poured out of him as he jumped to his feet and backpedaled from Gerald’s body until the back of his heel knocked against the bag he’d brought from the cabin and his backside thumped against the snow. The sight of Gerald’s contorted face was repulsive, but also mesmerizing. The gray threads kept sliding beneath Gerald’s flesh, wriggling like frantic tadpoles.

“He’s dead,” Cole said to himself. “He’s dead. That’s all I need to know.”

Snatching up a flannel shirt from inside Gerald’s bag, he ran toward the road so he could signal for any vehicle that might pass by. He made it about seven paces before remembering what the old man had told him and the plan of action they’d agreed upon. He felt like an idiot for agreeing to any of those orders.

Then he heard a howl in the distance.

It wasn’t like anything in the movies or nature shows he’d seen on TV. It was powerful and pained at the same time. It could have drifted through the air from miles away or it could have originated from the closest row of trees.

Cole laughed to himself and shook his head. “I gotta be out of my damned mind.”

Turning toward the cabin, he took another few steps and heard the howl again. It came from that direction.

He didn’t know if there were survivors, where they would have gone or how long ago they’d started running. What he did know for certain was that the only thing he could do if he found that creature was make it sick by clogging its stomach with his own body.

Hefting the bag over his shoulder, Cole turned from the cabin and ran.

Cole ran until his legs could no longer carry him. Surrounded by tall trees and with the cabin nowhere in sight, he felt safe. Then he realized the creature was probably more at home in those trees than it had been inside the cabin. Dropping Gerald’s bag, he leaned against the nearest tree and slid down the trunk until he was seated with his legs splayed out in front of him.

“What the hell do I do now, Gerald?” he asked aloud as he laughed and leaned his head back against the tree. “Come on! You wanna guide me? Show up and guide me! What’s the matter? There are monsters, but no ghosts? Of course there aren’t any ghosts! A ghost would be too fucking helpful right now, so heaven forbid one might actually show up to make my life easier!”

Cole was suddenly very conscious of the fact that sweat was freezing onto his forehead. When he tried to touch his brow, he cracked the handle of Brad’s knife against his head. Having forgotten he was even carrying the knife, he set it down so he could open the bag and sift through it. Some of Gerald’s clothes were in there, along with a shaving kit, books, a pair of glasses, and then all the way at the bottom he came upon an object that made him smile.

Recognizing the brand of the satellite phone in his hand, Cole fought the urge to kiss it. “Screw it,” he muttered as he placed his lips upon the plastic cover and gave it some love. He almost gave it some more when he flipped open the cover and saw one bar of signal strength showing up on the display. Sure enough, the phone was connected to a satellite service that had always been too expensive for him to use. He took Gerald’s laminated card from his pocket and read it over so he could be sure to dial the correct number. The last thing he wanted to do was waste battery life on stupid mistakes. After checking the number once more, he pressed the Send button and held the phone up to his ear.

There were a few clicks, followed by a series of beeps. Then, like a song from an angel, there came a ring tone. Finally, someone answered.

“Hello, this is MEG Branch 40,” said the voice on the other end of the connection. It wasn’t an angel and it sure as hell didn’t sound like someone who would be named Meg.

“Uh, hello?” Cole replied.

“This is MEG Branch 40. How can I help you?” The voice on the other end sounded like a man at least ten years his junior, and more than a little perturbed. After sighing heavily, the man asked, “Are you looking for anyone in particular or do you have an instance to report?”

“An instance?” Cole chuckled to himself and let out a breath. “I sure do have an instance, but I don’t think you’d believe it enough to write it down in a report.”

“Try me.”

Using a cell phone and speaking to an annoyed operator had given Cole a small dose of normality. He’d also settled down enough to remember why he’d dialed the number in the first place.

“I need to speak to Paige,” he said.

“Paige who?”

And, with that one simple question, Cole realized an important question he’d forgotten to ask Gerald. “Uhhh, the one in Chicago.”

“Look, I understand you may be a bit confused right now,” the operator said in a surprisingly calm and supportive tone. “If you have someone you need to speak to, I can try to get you in touch with them. We don’t have a Paige who works here, though. You said you had an incident to report. Why don’t you start with that?”

Lowering his voice as if he was afraid a nearby beaver might be eavesdropping, Cole said, “I’m a friend of Gerald’s and he had this phone on him.”

“Gerald, huh? Is this a prank?”

“No. You’ve got to listen.”

The annoyance was back in force within the young man’s tone. When he spoke again, Cole had no trouble picturing one of the skinny little code crunchers from Digital Dreamers rolling his eyes and doodling on whatever paper was in front of him.

“You got some story you want to tell?” the young operator asked. “Then go ahead and tell it. Just make it real funny or real dirty, otherwise I’m sure I’ve heard better from some of the other comedians that call us.”

“There’s a man named Gerald—” Cole started.

“Cool. I’ve never had someone call with a limerick before.”

“Just shut up and let me finish.” Sensing he’d just bought himself no more than a few seconds of the operator’s attention, Cole went for the jugular. “Gerald’s dead.”

Without much of a pause, the operator said, “All right. Have you been seeing this Gerald person or do you just hear his voice? Are you certain the man you’re talking about is Gerald and not some other manifestation?”

Cole stared down at the snow and then at the phone in his hand. Although he wasn’t convinced he was insane just yet, he was getting awfully close. “What in the hell are you talking about? Who are you?”

“This is MEG Branch 40, sir. You dialed us, remember?”

Looking at the same words as they were printed upon Gerald’s card, Cole asked, “Does MEG stand for something?”