Free Blood and Rain by Glenn Rolfe Page B

this the Bruce residence?” Joel said.
    â€œIt’s actually the Hersom residence; Bruce is my ex-husband’s name. Are you boys looking for Nick?”
    Wes stepped up next to Joel. “Ah, yes, ma’am. Is he in?”
    â€œHe’s here.” She nodded for them to follow.
    Joel looked to Wes and shrugged.
    â€œHe’s been in his room since I got home this morning. Says he doesn’t feel good.”
    She led them past a bathroom and down a short hallway that stunk like cat piss and was taken up mostly by a washer and dryer. She rapped on the door. “Nick? You got visitors.”
    There was no answer.
    â€œNick?” She turned back to them. “If he don’t answer, feel free to walk on in. I gotta go get ready.”
    Another shrug from Joel. Wes put his hand on the doorknob and turned.
    â€œNick?”
    He was on the floor, tangled up in a faded blue sheet and sweating like a pig. Wes walked over to him. “Hey, Nick. You okay?”
    â€œHuh…uhh…”
    â€œIt’s Joel and Wes, man,” Joel said.
    Wes watched Nick’s eyes open. They rolled back in his head almost instantly. He moaned and clutched at his stomach.
    â€œShit, Wes. I think he’s gonna throw up.”
    â€œI saw the bathroom at the start of the hall. Help me get him up.”
    â€œLook at this. Man, it smells too.” Joel held his head back from the bandaged wound on Nick’s arm.
    â€œHurry up,” Wes said.
    They got him down the hall and into the bathroom just in time. Nick flung himself at the toilet and hurled.
    â€œI can’t watch this, dude. I’ll blow too.” Joel squeezed past Wes.
    Wes heard the front door open and close.
    Once Nick stopped puking, Wes spoke up, “Hey, Nick, you want us to come back tomorrow?”
    Nick moaned and belched in response. The burp brought forth another round of vomiting.
    â€œAll right, Nick. We’re staying at the Motel 6 in Hollis Oaks.” Wes pulled a business card and a pen from his pocket and scratched down the phone number and their room number. “This is where we’ll be. Call me tomorrow when you’re up and feeling better.” Wes stepped toward the door. “Do you need help back to your room?”
    Nick didn’t answer.
    Wes met Joel at the car. He couldn’t help but eye the moon. It looked full.
    â€œWhere to now?” Joel said.
    â€œLet’s see if we can find the crime scenes. Maybe we’ll luck out and find something.”
    â€œFuck yeah. Let’s do it.”
    â€œThis is the park where Nick took that picture.”
    â€œKeep going, man.”
    Joel was right. Police lines blocked off the park entrance. Something bad had happened.
    â€œShit, looks like we had another attack. That makes three total.”
    â€œWe don’t know that for sure. This could be anything.”
    Wes didn’t believe it, but the scope of last night’s events demanded he find out.
    Nick tried to get up from the toilet. The chills that hijacked his body raked icy claws from the nape of his neck to his tailbone. All he could smell was the sour scent of death, like the time the squirrel curled up and died in the wall next to his bed. It was a sickly sweet rot.
    His stomach tensed. Another hot wave of bile splashed the murky toilet water under his nose.
    I’m dying. I’m fucking dying here.
    His stomach lurched again, but this time came up empty.
    Had he heard Wes and Joel? Or was that a fever dream?
    He couldn’t think straight. The walls inside his skull kept going from black to red, to dots and tracers. Awful, awful dreams. He couldn’t recall of what, but knew his few waking moments had been filled with terror. Yet each time he reached for help, he was dragged back under.
    Nick’s arms shook as he pushed away from the puke-filled toilet and tried to open his eyes. He fought hard to keep them open against the undertow, but his will caved,