Scott Sigler - Nocturnal - A Novel

The small room’s metal door screeched as it opened, the bottom scraping heavily against the cinder-block floor. Aggie instinctively turned the baby away from the door, protecting it with his body. He looked over his shoulder to see who had come.

Hillary.

She entered, and smiled. “How nice. You are holding the baby.”

Aggie nodded.

She reached out her wrinkled hand and smoothed the baby’s blanket. Aggie fought an instinct to pull the baby away from her. He had to keep his cool.

She again looked at Aggie; her happy eyes returned to their normal hard-ice stare. “Are you ready to learn what you must do?”

Aggie nodded again.

“You are to find this baby a good home,” she said. “You take him out of here, find him a good home, a loving home, a safe home.”

She stared at him, as if waiting for an answer, waiting for confirmation.

He had no idea what he should say.

“Repeat it,” she said. “A safe, loving home.”

“Yes, ma’am. A safe, loving home. But … well, how do I do that?”

Hillary pointed a finger at the ceiling. “You live up above. Find someone who wants a baby. Someone who will stay in San Francisco, do you understand? They have to stay here. You must find someone. Do you know people?”

Aggie had zero idea of who would take in a little black baby, but he nodded. “Sure, of course. I know people just like that.”

“Good,” she said. “I knew I chose right when I chose you. When you find the people who will take him” — she reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out an overstuffed brown envelope — “you give them this.”

Inside the envelope, Aggie saw a thick stack of hundreds.

“You listen to me now,” Hillary said. “You listen carefully . I have people up there. No matter where you go, we can find you by your smell . You do what I say, and you are free. You do not do what I say? Then wherever you go, I will reach out from here and pull you back in, and then you will be the groom.”

That giant slug of a woman, being tied to the dolly, then the maze, the monster children … Aggie nodded madly. If this was the price of freedom, he would fulfill her mission.

“Yes, ma’am, I understand, but …” His voice trailed off. He wanted to ask a question, but what if the answer made her change her mind? No, with all the trouble she’d gone through, she wasn’t going to suddenly take the baby away. He had to ask.

“Why don’t you take him?” Aggie said. “I mean, I’ll do what you ask and thank you for letting me live, thank you , but why wouldn’t you just take him up yourself?”

She caressed the sleeping baby’s cheek. “I can’t go far from Home. When I am away from Mommy for too long, I start to change.”

“Change into what?”

She didn’t say anything. For a long moment, it was so quiet Aggie could hear her fingertips sliding across the baby’s cheek.

Finally, Hillary looked up. “You ask too many questions. Don’t you want to help me?”

Oh shit, had he blown it? Aggie nodded, hard . “Yes! I want to do this for you. Never mind I asked, just let me take the boy up, please .” He would find the boy a home. Forget the questions, that was stupid — all Aggie wanted was to get away from this crazy place and this crazy old woman.

She reached out again, but this time her fingertips caressed Aggie’s cheek. It took everything he had not to recoil in disgust.

“Now I let you go,” she said. “I give you life. In return, you give this baby a future.”

He nodded again, couldn’t stop himself from nodding. “Thank you, Hillary,” Aggie said, and he meant it. “I’ll do it.”

“Follow me, and be very silent. I will show you the way out.”

None More Black

Bryan Clauser at his side, Pookie Chang stepped out of the elevator onto the third floor of the SFGH mental health wing. Pookie had sweet-talked their way into the building. The staff was on edge, but Bryan’s badge helped overcome initial objections.

Pookie couldn’t wait to get his own badge back from Zou.

They walked down the hallway of Ward 7A. Pookie took note of the reinforced doors with their electronic locks. SFGH was one of the few places with a “psychiatric emergency room.” The hospital took in patients with all manner of psychiatric issues, and at all times of the night. It was to be expected that some of those patients were violent and needed secure holding facilities. That made 7A the most locked-down, defensible spot in the hospital, which was probably why Zou had put Erickson here.

Pookie and Bryan turned down a hall to their left. It wasn’t hard to spot which door led to Erickson’s room — the two men in full SWAT gear standing outside of it gave things away.

They wore thick black jackets made even bulkier by the body armor that covered them. The men had armored gloves and kneepads, heavy black boots, and black helmets with goggles waiting to be pulled down in front of their eyes. Black AR-15 assault rifles hung from their necks, barrels angled to the floor.

“They look serious,” Bryan said.

“You’re just jealous because they wear more black than you do,” Pookie said. The men did look serious, though, and not at all happy about pulling what appeared to be guard duty. “I know those guys.”

“Shocker,” Bryan said.

“The one on the left is Jeremy Ellis. The other guy is Matt Hickman. Come on.”

Pookie walked toward them. Bryan followed.

Helmeted heads swiveled toward them. Hickman’s hands flexed on his AR-15. Ellis held up a black-gloved hand, palm out.

“Hold it, Chang.”

Pookie stopped. “Jeremy, my man. How’s the softball team? Still doing the department proud with that three-fifteen average?”

Jeremy looked surprised. “Uh, three-seventeen.”

“A hitting streak? Awesome.”

Jeremy smiled, but only a little before his oh-so-serious cop face returned. “I’m guessing you want in here, but it’s not going to happen.”

Pookie thought of bringing up the fact that Hickman’s son was the starting point guard for Mission High, but it didn’t look like small talk was going to get him anywhere.

“Maybe you didn’t get the memo,” Pookie said. “Chief Zou reinstated us. She told the duty sergeant.”

Jeremy shook his head. “News to me. Last word I have is you guys aren’t cops. I’m not supposed to allow anyone in this room, especially you, Clauser.”

Bryan looked at the door. For a moment, Pookie wondered if Bryan might rush it. Hickman must have wondered the same thing, as the barrel of his gun moved up a tiny amount.

Jeremy pointed a black-gloved finger back down the hall. “Guys, do us all a favor and hit the road, okay?”

Bryan shook his head. “We just want to make sure Erickson is safe.”

“He is,” Jeremy said. “We have three guys on the roof and four more in a ready room they made for us downstairs. No one is getting in here. I’m not going to tell you again — get out of here.”

Pookie flashed his best smile. “All right, gents. Keep up the good work. Bryan, let’s go.”

Pookie started heading back down the hall. Bryan paused; his hands flexed into fists, then he followed. Pookie stayed tense until the elevator doors shut and he knew Bryan wouldn’t try to go back.

“Bri-Bri, Zou’s got it covered.”

Bryan didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know, man. What if one of those basement creatures attacks?”

“Then those creatures get shredded. Zou mapped it out for us, Bro. This isn’t chasing shadows in a darkened alley. The SWAT boys are serious business. They’ve got this.”

Bryan chewed at his lower lip. He nodded. “I guess. I’m still going to hang out on the hospital grounds tonight. You good for that?”