find him, but he moved, always remaining in her peripheral vision, and she couldn’t get a good look at him. She whirled and whirled, the people around her becoming insubstantial, the one man she was trying to see staying one step ahead of her. And Rod Glover moved through the crowd as if it were made of mist, walking straight for her, his lips twisted in a malicious grin.
CHAPTER 57
Saturday, October 22, 2016
The door creaked open, and Rhea blearily raised her eyes. It was the blood drinker. He held a glass of water.
Her palm throbbed. She’d spent the night struggling against the pipe until finally she’d sunk into unconsciousness. Had she done it? She definitely remembered it budging a bit more. But she’d been too weak to keep going. It had been easier to give up.
He crouched by her side, removed the gag from her mouth, and put the glass to her lips. She drank greedily, doing her best not to spill anything. She emptied the entire thing.
He put his hand on her forehead and said, “Your fever is still high.”
“Infection,” she whispered. “I need some antibiotics.”
“We don’t have any here.”
“I need to see a doctor. The infection and the fever could kill me.” He seemed to care if she lived or died. Perhaps he could be persuaded.
He didn’t listen, staring at her neck. “What’s that?”
“What?”
“That cut.” He touched the place where he’d cut her the day before.
“You did this with the scalpel yesterday, remember?”
He frowned. “No, I didn’t. I did the one on the leg.”
“And the arm and the neck.”
“I didn’t. I would have remembered. I would definitely have remembered. I bled you only once. I remember. Once. And not on the neck, never on the neck, I wouldn’t have . . .”
“No . . . you did those too,” she said desperately. “You cut me several times.”
“I . . . didn’t. I’m not . . . it’s impossible.” He shook his head violently. “You did those. You’re trying to bleed yourself to death to take the blood from me!”
Spit flew from his mouth, his eyes bulging. Fury twisted his face, turning him into a beast. He was going to kill her. Heart thrumming in her chest, she blurted, “It was the other guy. Daniel, he did this.”
He paused, frowning. “Daniel?”
The man had clearly lost any connection with reality. Could she use it? “He came in at night. Stepped over you when you were sleeping,” she said, voice trembling. “He cut me and drank my blood. He wants all the blood for himself. He wants to bleed me dry.”
He seemed to struggle with the concept. “It wasn’t Daniel.”
“It was. I swear.”
“No, it was the tumor. The tumor took control over him. Now he wants to infect us. It’s the tumor. Rod Glover. The tumor.”
“That’s right,” she babbled. “It’s his tumor. It came here, it drank my blood. It was the tumor, I remember now. You have to help me. The tumor wants to steal your blood.”
“Yes. You’re right. I need to take care of it.” His lips quivered. “I need to take it out.”
“Exactly. Cut him up and take it out. It’s the only way.” She could do it. Get him to kill his partner.
He thought about it. “No. I’m going to buy you some antibiotics. I’ll ask them if they have something for the tumor. I’ll ask them.”
If he left the house, his friend would kill her for sure. “Don’t leave! He’ll kill me. Take care of him first!”
“Don’t worry.” He took the rag, shoved it into her mouth. She struggled, tried to spit it out, and he tightened the knot, making sure the rag stayed in her mouth. “He took his pills last night. He sleeps until noon when he does that. I’ll be back long before.”
He got up. She screamed through the gag, tried to dislodge it with her tongue. It was no use.
“Just don’t make too much noise. He’ll sleep right through,” he told her and shut the door.
She wasn’t going to wait for this maniac to come back. One guy had left; the other one was sleeping, medicated. If she freed herself now, armed with the scalpel, she had more than just a slight hope. She had a real chance.
Invigorated by that thought, she twisted the nut connected to the sink’s drainpipe with all her strength.
And with a rusty squeak, it turned.
CHAPTER 58
Zoe woke up with a start, nightmares lingering in the back of her mind, her breath short. She was on the brink