Graham Masterton - The Manitou

"Aaahh, shit, shit, aahh, shit," he screamed. "Oh God, it's taken half my fucking hand! Oh Christ!"

I knelt down beside him and whipped out my handkerchief. Working as well as I could in the dark, I bound up the bitten flesh. From what I could feel the demon's beak had scrunched off at least two or three fingers and half his knuckles. The pain was obviously unbearable, and Jack Hughes was twisting around and weeping with agony.

Singing Rock knelt down too. "The creature has gone," he said, "It just faded and vanished. But I don't know what kind of spirit Misquamacus will summon up next. That thing was only a minor creature. There are far worse manitous than that." "Singing Rock," I said, "we've got to get Dr. Hughes out of here."

"But we can't leave Misquamacus now. I don't know what he'll do if we let him alone now."

"Dr. Hughes is in terrible pain. If he doesn't have that hand attended to, he's going to die. It would be better to lose Karen Tandy than Dr. Hughes."

"That's not the point," said Singing Rock. "If we let Misquamacus alone now, he'll destroy the whole place. Hundreds of people could die."

"Oh God," wept Dr. Hughes. "Oh God, my hand, oh God."

"Singing Rock," I snapped, "I've got to get him out. Look, do you think you can hold Misquamacus off by yourself for a few minutes? Keep that fire away from us while I take him up the corridor, then I'll get him to a medic and come straight back."

"All right," said Singing Rock. "But don't take your time about it. I need at least one other person on my side."

I lifted Dr. Hughes up to a standing position, and wrapped his injured arm over my shoulder. Then step by step, I helped him down the corridor toward the elevators. He groaned in pain at every move, and I could hear his blood dripping on to the floor, but I found a new surge of strength to carry us on.

There was no lightning, and no attempt to stop us. Perhaps this was what Misquamacus had wanted — to get Singing Rock on his own. But as far as I was concerned there was no choice. Dr. Hughes was too badly hurt to stay in the corridor, and that was all there was to it.

We finally made the elevator. Its small red light was still glowing through the darkness, and I pressed the button for UP. After an unbearable pause, the elevator arrived, the doors opened, and we flopped inside.

The light was so bright after the gloom of the corridor that it hurt my eyes. I sat Dr. Hughes down on the floor, with his bitten hand across his lap, and crouched down beside him. We rose swiftly up to the eighteenth floor, and I helped him out.

There was quite a reception committee waiting for us in his office when I carried Jack Hughes inside. Wolf was there, with a party of male nurses and medics, all equipped with flashlights. Two of them carried guns, and the rest were armed with crowbars and knives. A red-faced balding doctor, in a white coat and spectacles, was standing with them.

When I came in, they gathered around and gently lifted Dr. Hughes off my shoulder, and laid him down on a couch in the corner of the office. Wolf called for a first-aid pack and antibiotics, and they gave Dr. Hughes a quick shot of novocaine to ease the agony.

The red-faced doctor came up to me and introduced himself.

"I'm Winsome. We were just about to go down and help you out. What the devil's going on down there? From what Wolf says, you have an insane patient or something."

I wiped the thick sweat from my forehead. Up here, in the calm light of the early morning, everything that had happened in the fetid darkness of the tenth floor seemed totally unreal. But Singing Rock was still down there on his own, and I knew I had to get back with help for him.

"Pleased you could come, Dr. Winsome. I can't explain it all now, but we do have a very dangerous patient down there, yes. But you mustn't come down with all these people and these guns."

"Why not? If there's an emergency, we need to protect ourselves."

"Believe me, Dr. Winsome," I said shakily. "If you come down with guns, lots of innocent people are going to be hurt. All I need is that influenza virus."

Dr. Winsome sniffed. "This is ridiculous. You have a wild patient down there, injuring our doctors, and you want an influenza virus ?"

"That's all," I said. "Please, Dr. Winsome. As soon as you can."

He stared at me with bulging eyes. "I don't seem to recall that you have any authority in this hospital, sir. It appears to me that the best solution is for me and these other gentlemen to go straight down there and catch this patient before he tries to take bites out of any more of us."

"You don't understand !" I shouted wearily.

"You're right," said Dr. Winsome. "I don't understand at all. Wolf, are you ready with those flashlights?"

"Right away, Dr. Winsome," said Wolf.

"Wolf," I appealed. "You saw what happened down there. Tell them."

The male nurse shrugged. "All I know is, Dr. Hughes got hurt by that patient. We ought to get down there and sort it out once and for all."

I didn't know what to say. I turned around to see if there was anyone else who could help me, but everybody in the office was ready for a vigilante raid on the tenth floor.

Then, from his couch, Dr. Hughes spoke up.

"Dr. Winsome," he said hoarsely. "Dr. Winsome, you mustn't go. Believe me, you mustn't go. Just give him the virus. He knows what he's doing. Whatever you do, don't go down there."

Dr. Winsome walked over to Jack Hughes' couch. "Are you sure, Dr. Hughes? I mean, we're all armed and ready to go."

"Dr. Winsome, you mustn't. But please hurry. Give him the virus and let him do it in his own way."

Dr. Winsome scratched his bald and crimson head, then he turned and said to the rescue party: "Dr. Hughes is in charge of this patient. I have to bow to his better judgment. But we'll stand by just in case."

He went over to the desk, and produced a thin glass vial of liquid from a small wooden box. He held it out to me.

"This solution contains potent influenza virus. Handle it extremely carefully, or we'll have an epidemic on our hands."

I took the vial gently in my fingers. "Okay, Dr. Winsome. I understand that. Believe me, you're doing the right thing."

I was almost tempted to take a gun back with me, even though I knew it would be foolhardy and dangerous. But I did take a flashlight. I went swiftly back to the elevator, punched the button for ten, and sank into the darkness again.

When the doors opened, I peered cautiously out into the gloom.

"Singing Rock?" I shouted. "It's Harry Erskine! I'm back."

There was no reply. I kept my foot against the door of the elevator to prevent it from closing.

"Singing Rock?" I yelled again. "Are you there, Singing Rock?"

I switched on my flashlight, and directed it down the corridor, but there was a corner in between me and the door to Karen Tandy's room, and I couldn't see any further than that. Perhaps Singing Rock couldn't hear me, way around here. I would have to go and investigate.

I knelt down and took off my shoes, and wedged them in the elevator door to prevent them from closing. The last thing I wanted was to be waiting for an elevator to arrive from the foyer while one of Misquamacus' grisly beasts came after me.

Then, keeping a pool of flashlight in front of me, I padded down the corridor toward Karen Tandy's room, and the battle of the medicine men. It was very silent down there — much too silent for comfort — and I didn't feel like calling out to Singing Rock again. I was almost afraid I might get a reply.

As I approached the door to Karen Tandy's room, the thick sickly odor of blood and death came crowding into my nostrils again. I directed a long jet of light all the way down the corridor into the distance, but there was no sign of Singing Rock. Perhaps he was in the room, having a face-to-face conflict with Misquamacus. Perhaps he wasn't there at all.