Free It Lives Again by James Dixon Page A

quick!” she called back to Billy.
    Dr. Westley, pressing his cheek, a wild, terrified look in his eyes, yelled up at Dr. Forrest, holding the now-still infant above him.
    “It was out. I could swear it was out!” he cried.
    “It must have been a reflex action,” said Dr. Forrest, now quietly examining the unconscious infant with his scientist’s eyes.
    Billy and Barbara helped Dr. Westley to his feet. They moved him over to a stool in the far corner to care for his torn cheek. The doctor, in shock, his eyes widened, reached up to his bloodied face and probed the gash with his hand.
    “Please, Doctor,” said Barbara as she moved his hand away from the ugly laceration and started to tend to it.
    Dr. Westley stared across the medical unit as his colleague handled the bizarre specimen. The infant was quiet now. Look how he handles it, Dr. Westley thought, watching Dr. Forrest place the infant gently, ever so gently, as if it were a real baby, into the steel-barred incubator.
    Standing by, Steven closed it at once and locked the cage tight.
    “He’s out,” said Dr. Forrest, smiling at Steven, who carefully checked and rechecked the locks. “Just let him lie there.”
    Jody, still on the delivery table, had missed most of this. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Where’s my baby?”
    “Nothing,” said Eugene, standing as he had since soon after the birth, blocking her view of the creature. “Everything’s all right.”
    “Is the baby all right?”
    “The baby’s fine,” he lied. “Just get some sleep.”
    “Oh, yes . . . that’s what I want to do, to sleep.” She smiled. “Did you see him?”
    Eugene turned away. He couldn’t answer. He hadn’t seen it because he had chosen not to look.
    Jody looked up. She saw him turn away, saw the evasion in his eyes. She knew immediately. She screamed up at his averted face: “Tell me! Why don’t you want to see him? Why won’t you look?”
    Then suddenly she dropped off in exhaustion, as if some drug taken earlier were now taking effect. Eugene stood there, still holding her hand.
    The vehicle moved smoothly, only occasionally hitting a bump.
    Eugene looked away from his wife to the figure of Dr. Westley, whose dazed eyes were gazing across the room. Eugene followed his stare, right to the incubator. From this distance he could not see inside. He heard his wife’s words ringing in his ears: “Why don’t you want to see him? Why won’t you look?”
    Steadying himself, he moved slowly across the vehicle. Reaching the incubator, he leaned over and stared down at what was lying inside. He saw for the first time his child, his monster! The fangs! And the hands, each with three claws, one already smeared with the blood of Dr. Westley.
    “Oh, my God! No!” Eugene cried, recoiling in horror.
    Dr. Forrest watched him, his eyes sad, his mind racing. What are we doing here . . . are we doing the right thing, he wondered, keeping this thing alive?

CHAPTER FIVE
    At a small, independent landing field not far from the hospital, six helicopters stood ready to go. Almost in unison they catapulted into the night sky, fanning the air in some sort of a holding pattern.
    Inside what appeared to be the lead helicopter sat a young man wearing the uniform of the Arizona State Police. He was intently awaiting instructions.
    The radio crackled to life. “Subject moving east on Ninety-seven.”
    “Got it,” said the young policeman, adjusting his aircraft and moving out in the direction indicated.
    Another voice came over the radio, this one older, more authoritarian. “Units close off Route One-oh-one. Under no circumstances attempt to enter the vehicle in question. Repeat, under no circumstances attempt to enter the vehicle in . . .”
    In the mobile home, Frank Davis was now at the wheel. Mallory, still his prisoner, sat beside him, although the way Frank held the gun on him, Mallory could have overpowered him if he’d had a mind to. Mallory, however, sat there content