Thicker than Blood - Mike Omer Page 0,117

on the front page. It wasn’t the usual picture the newspapers used, the pretty one from the picnic. No, they used one when she looked slightly sideways, with a tiny sad smile. A real-life version of the Mona Lisa. His dad had once told him, when he was a child, that the Mona Lisa always seemed to look at you, no matter where you stood. It had scared him back then. And he could see it now.

Catherine watched him.

The dark secrets. He knew what they were talking about. Catherine knew about him. About his craving for blood. She would tell everyone all about him. Just like Daniel had said she would.

That cryptic smile. He knew it all too well. How many times had she smiled like that when he’d talked to her? It was the smile of a person who saw right through all your facades. Saw your twisted, sick true self.

He stumbled away. Began walking hurriedly back home. All the people he brushed past followed him with their gazes. He wanted to shut his eyes so he couldn’t see them staring. Halfway home he remembered that he had actually driven to the pharmacy, and now he’d left the car in the parking lot.

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going back for it. He could walk; his house wasn’t too far anyway.

It started raining.

He would get home and have a hot shower. And then maybe later, Daniel and he could watch some TV.

Except the woman was in the bathroom. And Daniel’s brain had been consumed by a malignant tumor that wanted to infect him as well.

Was Daniel still in his own body, somewhere? Could he maybe still save him? Daniel had been there for him so many times. He owed it to Daniel to do everything in his power to save him.

He reached the front door of their house, unlocked it, stepped inside.

Something was wrong; he could feel it as soon as he closed the door behind him. Daniel waited for him in the kitchen, holding a bottle of beer, smiling warmly.

“You’re drenched!” Daniel said cheerily. “You must be freezing. Go change—I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

The bathroom door was shut. He stepped toward it, and Daniel stepped into his path.

“We need to talk. Something happened while you were gone,” Daniel said.

“What?” His voice was high. Panicky.

“That woman managed to free herself. She had a knife. I had to take care of it.”

He pushed Daniel aside, lunged at the door, swung it open.

The woman lay in the bathtub, motionless, eyes staring at nothing.

It was then that he finally knew. Daniel was beyond saving. The tumor had consumed him completely. Because Daniel would never have done this to him.

“I know you’re upset,” the tumor said in a measured tone behind him. “And I promise we’ll find someone else. With even better blood. But first we need to fix this.”

He had to stay focused. Because the most important thing right now was to stop the tumor from infecting him as well. He saw the scalpel on the floor, bent, and picked it up.

“See? She had that thing with her. I don’t know how she got it. I think you may have been a bit careless when—”

He turned around and thrust the scalpel at the tumor. The tumor stepped back, shouting, and the blade nicked its shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” the tumor screamed. “Put that down, you psycho!”

He swung it in a wild arc, cutting the tumor’s chest. Panic and rage churned in his mind. He was truly out of control now.

“Jesus,” the tumor blurted, stumbling back. It raised its hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Listen, put the knife down, we can talk about—”

Another swing. A spurt of blood from the tumor’s hand.

The tumor turned around and bolted outside.

He stood there, staring at the open door. The rain had built up to a torrent, water pouring from the sky, crashing on the earth in a horrendous constant cacophony that matched the noise in his mind. He trembled with fury at the unfairness of it all. They’d been doing so well.

He shut the door, stumbling to his room, letting the scalpel tumble from his fingers to the floor. A feral, helpless sob escaped his mouth. It had all gone to pieces. He noticed the laptop on his desk. Abchanchu had sent him a message, asking him if he’d gotten what he needed. For a moment he panicked, thinking he was somehow talking about Daniel. About the tumor. How did he know? Did

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