Three Days To Die Part 16

Aaron nodded and relaxed a little, then laid his head back and closed his eyes.

w.i.l.l.y was at a loss. He wandered through the kitchen, absently opening cabinets in the hope of triggering an idea. He came across a large curious s...o...b..x which he promptly removed from its shelf. He set the box on the table and pulled off the lid a it looked like the inside of a doctor's medical bag.

Among the many items packed into the box were several small pill bottles. w.i.l.l.y picked one of them up and checked the label: Morphine Sulfate - Sustained Release Tablets, 15 mg.

He recalled, as a child, seeing similar bottles in his mother's medicine cabinet, and had since read up on morphine's dangerous, yet superior pain-killing properties. He shook two tablets out into his hand, then went over and knelt next to Aaron.

"Aaron ..." he said softly, as not to startle him. "Put these under your tongue."

Aaron opened his eyes and looked at the suspicious pills. "What are they?"

"It's morphine."

"Morphine? Where the h.e.l.l'd you get morphine?"

"Someone left a s...o...b..x full of medical c.r.a.p in the cupboard," w.i.l.l.y explained. "There's a ton of it in there. You've probably been whacked out on the stuff for hours."

Aaron made a face, then placed the tablets under his tongue and took a sip of water.

"Have a bit of a rest," w.i.l.l.y said, comforting him. "You'll be nickers in half an hour." He pulled up a chair next to his friend.

Aaron closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Chapter 42.

Sand Castle Magic At 5:46 p.m. Aaron abruptly sat up, like an awakening corpse, scaring w.i.l.l.y half to death. He opened his eyes, but w.i.l.l.y wasn't sure they were seeing him. Aaron mumbled a few syllables of nonsense and flopped back down. w.i.l.l.y tucked the blanket up under his chin and waited.

Aaron's mother pulled back the lace curtains, letting the rising sun s.h.i.+ne through his leaded-gla.s.s bedroom window. The sun seemed to s.h.i.+ne right through her, and she glowed like something from heaven.

He got out of bed and looked out across the rooftops of a strange but wonderful world. It was as if he'd gone back in time a 150 years a to old England perhaps a and yet he wasn't surprised by it. He felt refreshed and wonderful.

His mother smiled at him.

"Am I asleep?" he asked.

"Only if you wish to be," his mother replied.

He walked down a grand staircase into a s.p.a.cious, marble-floored entry hall. Priceless antiques, furniture and paintings adorned the room.

Aaron's father, Danny Quinn, stood by the hand-carved front door with the fingers of one hand tucked into his vest pocket and the other holding a gold pocket watch. The war medals around his neck gleamed as sunlight struck off of their polished detail.

He smiled at Aaron and opened the door for him. "We've been expecting you," he said.

"Am I dreaming?" Aaron asked.

"Only if you wish to be," his father replied.

Aaron shook his father's hand firmly then stepped through the front door to the outside.

Where his front porch and the crumbling concrete steps should have been there was now a stretch of beach running right up to the threshold. Aaron stepped out onto the warm white sand and enjoyed the sensation as it moved between his bare toes. He scooped up a handful and let it run slowly through his fingers.

A young black boy was sitting in the sand nearby. He was building a fantastic sandcastle. Aaron had never seen such wonderful attention to detail. The stone walls and corbeled corner turrets looked stunningly real. The boy had even dredged a moat around the perimeter of the castle and filled it with sea water to slow marauders. The drawbridge was a chunk of flat driftwood, and the boy had fas.h.i.+oned an iron gate from a piece of an old picnic basket. Aaron was drawn in by this amazing work of art.

"Am I alive?" Aaron asked the boy.

He looked up at Aaron and smiled. "Only if you wish to be," the boy replied, and Aaron started down the sandy road leading to the front of the castle.

Before him, Aaron saw the thick wooden drawbridge, its heavy chains arching gracefully up into the stone gatehouse wall. He started across ... but as he stopped to look over the edge, a feeling of unease chilled him: Far beneath him, like an opaque ribbon of glaucous jello, the forbidding moat wrapped the castle. Largely smothered by thick vegetation, the moat was undoubtedly home to an odious a.s.sortment of grotesque creatures a each doggedly waiting to administer a fabulously hideous death upon anyone unfortunate enough to take a plunge.

Aaron shuddered ... then he stepped back from the edge and walked on under the ma.s.sive iron gate and into the castle gatehouse, where hidden pulleys and counterweights stood ready to help raise the drawbridge in the likely event of an attack.

Beyond the gatehouse Aaron entered the inner ward of the castle, which in this case was a vast inland ocean. The air was warm and soft. A sparkling ground-coral beach stretched a hundred yards in front of him and as far as he could see to his right and left. Puffy, cartoon clouds arched across the sky a like a great cotton canopy a forming the distant ceiling of the cavern.

The little black boy had followed him. Aaron turned and waved to him; the boy smiled and waved back.

Aaron walked slowly out to where the ocean waves were breaking and running up on the sand. The cool sea-water washed over his ankles and splashed up his legs.

He continued on, deeper and deeper into the water. It was fresh, invigorating and exceptionally clear. Soon his head was completely under a yet he had no trouble breathing. Rainbow schools of s.h.i.+mmering fish flew over the coral sculptures surrounding him.

A large, colorful grouper swam up to Aaron, its pectoral fins oscillating like a pair of silvery, j.a.panese hand fans.

Aaron looked at the fish curiously and asked, "Am I in Heaven?"

"Only if you wish to be," the grouper replied, its big, fish lips puckering as it spoke. Then it turned and slowly swam away.

Aaron smiled and continued on his wondrous journey.

He came upon a pirate s.h.i.+p with its Jolly Roger flying in the swift current flowing by the masthead. A badly decomposed, wooden CONDEMNED sign was nailed to the side of the s.h.i.+p above a gaping hole in the hull, where the s.h.i.+p, no doubt, was rammed during a desperate sea battle. Aaron stepped through into the darkness of the doomed s.h.i.+p's bowels.

Great stacks of supply barrels and coiled rope lined the inside of the vessel's hold, along with several swords, flintlock pistols, and automatic rifles. A store of green duffel bags filled a corner, stacks of $100 bills spilling from a split in one of them. A black plastic trash bag lay open, revealing its cache of treasure; Aaron reached in and found a leather wallet, but as he lifted it out it crumbled to dust.

Sprawled in every bearing, the skeletal remains of the unfortunate s.h.i.+p's crew. Inky eye-sockets followed Aaron as he moved through the sunken cemetery, their alabaster skulls grinning as if the scavengers feeding on their trailing flesh tickled.

Aaron noticed a plastic name tag stuck between the ribs of one of the corpses. It read BANK MANAGER.

Hanging nearby (with no apparent means of support), Aaron found a rope macrame hammock, and suddenly he grew very tired. He climbed into it and fell deeply asleep.

Chapter 43.

Sally's or Bust Ashley lay across the bed in Room 107, staring at the TV. The local station's weather man looked if he had been through the dry cleaners along with his suit. His forecast was for rain and high winds throughout the night.

NEWS FLASH:.

A hostage was reported killed today during an armed robbery at the downtown branch of Community Plaza Bank. The murder took place at approximately 9:30 this morning. Witnesses said the gunmen wore the same brightly painted ski masks and carried a.s.sault rifles similar to the ones used in a series of robberies that took place in the city yesterday. Police have initiated a citywide manhunt.

Ashley took no notice of the report. She checked her watch. 6 p.m. She stood and turned off the TV, slipped the gun into her purse, grabbed her car keys, and stepped outside.

She paused on the sidewalk for a moment, scanning the parking lot as leaves and bits of trash bounced by on a wind gearing up for a heavy storm. Darkness was approaching and a light rain had begun to fall a and it was very cold. Ashley b.u.t.toned her light jacket, pulled up her collar, and turned to lock the door.

Suddenly a voice said, "Going somewhere?"

Ashley whirled around, expecting Death himself, but it was only the pint-sized proprietor of the Sands Motel: Doolin Mars, in his print pajamas.

"Doolin!" she cried, staggering back a step. "d.a.m.n you! Don't do that!"

She moved toward her Nova, favoring her ankle as she leaned into the wind, each step hurting. She could feel the loathsome creep following her.

"Can't talk now, Doolin," she said over her shoulder. "I'm in a hurry ..."

Doolin called after her into the wind. "I was hoping you'd have dinner with me tonight, Arlene."

My G.o.d, she thought, this guy's unbelievable. "Can't tonight ... I really have to go."

With a surprising burst of speed, Doolin ran around her and blocked her path. "I worked real hard preparing a special dinner for you," he said, breathless from the effort. "I expect you to show me the courtesy of a"

"Screw you, Doolin, you freaking weirdo. You're insane! Get out of my way."

Doolin stood firm, looking at Ashley with a puzzled expression on his face, as if surprised by her att.i.tude.

Ashley shoved him aside. "I said move, you little fly!"

Doolin grabbed her arm with a grip that would leave a bruise, but Ashley twisted free. She fell back a step and pulled her gun, gripping it with both hands, aiming at Doolin's crotch.

"Keep your filthy paws off me, you slimy little b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" she screamed. "Or I swear a I'll blow your f.u.c.king b.a.l.l.s off!"

Doolin stumbled backward, hands in the air. "Okay, okay," he said, "I get it. It's cool. I get it."

Ashley sighted on him as he moved away from her. "And stay away, you maggot! Leave me the f.u.c.k alone!"

She jumped in her Chevy, tossed the gun on the pa.s.senger seat, and started the engine. Then she slammed it in gear and floored it out of the parking lot a swearing never to return.

Chapter 44.

Rather Dapper Aaron jolted awake, terrified: One of the pirate skeletons had leaned over him and was shaking him by the shoulder with an osseous hand.

"Aaron ..." it hissed through gnas.h.i.+ng teeth. "Aaron, wake up ..."

A cold, deep-ocean current moved through the s.h.i.+p like a limpid sea monster, rocking Aaron's hammock and sending a s.h.i.+ver through him. He cried out, delirious, clawing desperately at the hand on his shoulder.

"Aaron," the voice repeated, but sounding different. "Wake up. It's w.i.l.l.y. It's time to go."

Aaron gave a deep shuddering sigh and opened his eyes. w.i.l.l.y's familiar face emerged.

"Oh, man ..." Aaron said, looking around to get his bearings. "You wouldn't believe the weird dream I had." More like the fantasies of a lunatic, he thought.

w.i.l.l.y was torn between relief and anger; it hadn't been easy for him either. "It was weird, all right," he said. "I thought you were OD-ing or something. You were flying all over the couch, waffling on and on, and I couldn't understand a b.l.o.o.d.y thing you were saying. You really put the w.i.l.l.i.e.s up me, mate."

He walked over to the sink and splashed some cold water on his face, then returned with some damp paper towels and used them to cool Aaron's forehead.

"We need to go," he said. "The morphine should help for a few hours. Can you walk?"

Aaron pulled back the blanket and slowly sat up. "There's one way to find out," he said confidently. Then he carefully swung his feet out onto the floor.

He stood, pausing with his hand on the arm of the sofa, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pa.s.s. The table with the medical supplies was a few steps away, and he marked it as a goal. Then, with considerable effort, he shuffled to it and leaned on it for support as another wave of dizziness came and went.

His tongue was puffy and sticking to the roof of his mouth. "Can you get me some water?" he asked. "My mouth tastes like a handful of dried cat t.u.r.ds."

w.i.l.l.y laughed, happy to hear Aaron's humor returning. He poured him another gla.s.s. "Are you gonna be okay, mate?"