Blackbone

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Book: Blackbone by George Simpson, Neal Burger Read Free Book Online
Authors: George Simpson, Neal Burger
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers
searching for the arteries where the blood pumped in rhythmic jets. It flooded his chest cavity and seeped into his heart, where its molecules thrashed excitedly with every beat of the muscle. The blackness thinned and flowed like soup heating on a stove. For now, Kirst generated enough energy to sustain his unwanted guest and, as he lay immobilized on the bunk, his mind dulled by a soothing, shrouding narcotic, he was driven to laugh inwardly at the ludicrous bracelet chaining him to the bunk.
    He wasn’t going anywhere, not without his guest’s permission. From the hospital bed in Brooklyn clear across this strange new country, Kirst’s awareness had been stifled by the gloomy darkness inside him.
    His whole body went limp as the thing fed on his circulatory system. The green metal of the upper berth casing swam before his eyes, turned liquid, and flowed into his brain, merging with the black, swallowed up in it until all was quiet and Kirst floated in limbo, and the blackness filled his body, gathering strength for its first foray into the world in centuries.
     
    Kalmus sat with his legs dangling over the side, bored. Most of the other berths had been made up and their heavy green curtains were already drawn. There was a lady up the aisle in a long flannel nightgown, brushing out her hair in front of a portable mirror she had hooked to the upper bunk. She was at least forty-five, but Kalmus didn’t care: he hadn’t seen anything so sweet and domestic since leaving home and joining up. His mother used to stand like that, combing her hair. But Kalmus wasn’t thinking of his mother. He was thinking it would be nice to trot down the aisle and pull up that flannel nightgown and let his hands roam over the woman’s flesh....
    She finished brushing, then shook her head and let her hair fall naturally. Satisfied, she reached into the upper bunk for a whiskey flask and passed it to someone unseen in the lower berth. Then she bent over, rested her hands on her knees, and chatted quietly with whoever it was.
    Kalmus’s eyes were glued to her ass, the curve of it prominent beneath the flannel. The flask was returned. She took a long pull, then a man’s hairy arms came out of the berth and pulled her in. She gave a sharp laugh, then the curtains were drawn.
    Kalmus sat still, contemplating what old hairy arms was up to.... Gradually, he became aware of a gentle pressure on his leg and looked down to see what it was. Kirst’s hand settled on his ankle and held it. Kalmus kicked it away and jumped off the bunk.
    Kirst’s hand groped involuntarily, his fingers clutched and unclutched. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted. Kalmus felt an inner chill as he watched. The fingers twitched again, extended, then curled, and for one brief instant the hand was a quivering claw, then it relaxed and dropped, dangling outside the bunk.
    Kalmus hesitantly picked it up and placed it on Kirst’s chest. He wondered if the sonofabitch kraut had died on him. Only one way to tell. He leaned over and placed his ear to Kirst’s chest. He listened. There was a heartbeat, slow but steady. He moved his cheek to within an inch of Kirst’s open mouth. He felt hot breath on his skin. Hot like the man was on fire. Kalmus laid his palm on Kirst’s forehead. Odd. It was cool. Hot breath, cool forehead.
    Kalmus shrugged and decided to forget it. He pulled Kirst’s curtains then climbed back into the upper. He swung his legs up and relaxed against the pillow. Okay, Strann, he thought. You want to go stand out in the cold, fine. Me for comfort.
     
    The nightform spilled out of the lower berth and flowed across the floor, a thick black vaporous substance that hugged the shadows to remain unseen. It hovered just above the rattling floor, trying to make sense of its surroundings, disturbed by the sensations of speed and noise.
    But it couldn’t wait any longer. Avoiding the aisle lights, it undulated toward the vestibule door, its excitement

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