F. Paul Wilson - Legacies

Christ in heaven, what did he do?

"What the fuck—?" said the black guy, his head pivoting between Jack and his buddy who had dropped to his knees now and was pawing at his eye with bright red fingers and screaming, screaming.

The Hispanic crouched to look at his buddy. "Joey! What he do?"

"My eye! Oh, shit, my eye! "

"I like eyes," Jack said in a strange, garbled tone. His own eyes had a strange, unfocused look, and Alicia noticed with a start that his mouth was smeared with red. "Blue eyes are especially delicious."

And then he opened his mouth to reveal a bloody eye clenched between his front teeth.

Alicia's stomach lurched. She'd seen traumatic horrors beyond most people's wildest nightmares on her ER moonlighting stints during her residencies, but never anything like this. She was sure the gaping shock on the faces of the black and the Hispanic mirrored her own. She wanted to turn away but couldn't. She had to keep watching.

As a child, she'd once had the misfortune of being in a pet shop when it was feeding time for the snakes. She'd been passing the cage of a large garter snake swallowing a frog headfirst. She'd been repulsed, especially since the frog's legs were still kicking, but she'd stood rooted to the spot until the poor frog was gone from view.

That was how she felt now. Only this time the frog was eating the snakes.

No… not eating.

Jack spit out the eyeball. Alicia felt her gorge rise as it splatted against the side window of the car. The bloody, gelatinous mass stuck there for a heartbeat or two, then began a slow slide down the glass, leaving a glistening red trail.

Joey's screams devolved to moans as his two buddies watched the misshapen eye come to rest at the bottom of the window.

"But brown eyes are tasty too," Jack said with a bloody grin as he took a step toward them.

Both men jumped back, the Hispanic almost knocking over the black in his haste to get out of Jack's reach.

"I'm outta here, meng!" he said as he backed away.

"Yo, Ric! What about Joey!"

"Fuck him!"

The black tried to grab him, but Ric slipped from reach and backpedaled down the sidewalk.

"That guy's fuckin' crazy!"

Jack took another step toward the black. "You have such big brown eyes."

That did it. The black guy turned and hurried to catch up with Ric.

"Yo, Joey," he said to his fallen buddy. "Catch you later."

But Joey didn't seem to hear. He was bent far over, his head almost on the pavement, wiping at his face.

Jack watched them go, then pumped his fist toward the car.

"Yes!"

As Jack spat red into the gutter and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, Alicia began backing away. Slowly. She didn't want to attract Jack's attention. What had she got herself into? She was glad she hadn't hired him to burn the house. She didn't care if he'd found the stolen toys, she wanted nothing more to do with this maniac.

But then Jack turned and spotted her.

"Did you see that?" he said with a bloody grin. "It worked! Worked like a charm!"

And then his grin faded. Maybe he'd seen her expression. Alicia was trying to hide the fear and revulsion roiling within, but she doubted she was doing very well.

"Hey, wait!" he said. "You don't really think—"

He started toward her. Alicia turned to run but felt a hand close about her upper arm after two steps.

"No, please," she said as he pulled her to a stop. "Let me go! Let me go or I'll scream!"

"Just give me a second," he said. "I just want you to look at something, then you can go. Okay?"

He sounded so reasonable, so… sane. The nerdy voice was gone. She glanced over her shoulder at him. That vacant look from a moment ago was gone too.

But his mouth was still smeared with red.

"Look," he said, and extended his free hand toward her.

Hesitantly, Alicia glanced down.

Eyes… two eyes… one brown, one blue… soft, glistening, sticky looking… rested in his palm.

She recoiled at first, ready to scream, then noticed the lack of blood. A closer look and she realized…

"They're fake."

"Of course they are," Jack said. "You can buy them in any of the funkier novelty shops in the Village."

Alicia glanced over Jack's shoulder at Joey who was sitting up now, but still hunched over, cupping a hand over his eye.

"But what did you do to him? "

Jack showed her a little plastic squeeze bottle filled with red liquid. "Just a little squirt with this. It's Hollywood blood mixed with ten percent capsicum—you know, that pepper extract they use in those defense sprays? I fill the eyeballs with non-spicy fake blood so when I bite down on them I get red in my mouth. Excuse me." He turned away and spat more red into the gutter. "Looks real and tastes awful."

"Looks real is right. I could have sworn—"

Jack's eyes were bright as he looked at her. "Really? You bought it too? A doctor and all? That's great! I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for a chance to try this out."

"For a minute I thought you were going to start a fight with them."

"One against three?" He shook his head. "That's movie stuff. You might get away with it if you take them by surprise and you've got a weapon of some sort. But most times, you try something like that in real life, you get your face rearranged. I'm not into pain. And this is so much neater."

He stepped over to the car and retrieved the faux-bloody faux eye from the window.

"It worked," he said, more to himself than to her. "It was perfect."

He's like a little boy, she thought. A little boy who made something—a wood block car, or a slingshot, maybe—and is delighted to find that it really works.

She watched him grab the ring in Joey's eyebrow and haul him to his feet.

"Come on, Joey," he said, turning him toward Alicia. "I don't think the lady really believes me. Show her your eye."

"I believe you," she said.

But Jack didn't seem to be listening. "Come on, Joey. Open up and show her both baby blues."

Joey's red-smeared left eyelids parted to reveal a teary, very irritated but intact eye.

"Good boy," Jack said, then turned Joey and pushed him off in the direction his friends had taken. "Go find your buddies."

Jack watched Joey for a moment as he stumbled away, then he turned to Alicia.

"I'll be in touch."

He waved, then turned and walked off.

Alicia stared after him. She hoped he decided to help her out. This was someone she wanted in her corner.

3.

" There you are!"

Sam Baker spoke aloud in the otherwise empty car as he caught sight of the Clayton babe. For a few bad moments there he'd thought he'd lost her.

He settled back in the driver seat and loosened his grip on the wheel. His shoulders ached. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been since that cop had told him to move his car.

Relax, he told himself. We're back on track now.

He'd followed her to the Upper West Side from the AIDS center, and had watched her go into that dive called Julio's. He'd found a spot with a good view of the door and had settled in to watch.

Well, he'd been sitting there only a few minutes, just starting to memorize the license plates around him, when this cop came along. Seemed Baker's vantage point came with a fire hydrant attached to it. And though Baker had tried to explain that he was just waiting for someone and would keep the motor running, the cop didn't care.

"Drive it away or it gets towed away."

Not much of a choice.

So he'd pulled out and rolled down the street, looking for an empty legal spot. Fat chance. He would have loved to step into that bar and have a quick beer while he checked out who she was meeting, but he couldn't risk getting towed. So he'd kept moving, kept circling the block, waiting for her to come out.