Contagious Page 81

One had two X’s.

Oh, sweet God . . . what had he done? He’d destroyed them. Three of them.

Are you awake?

His head snapped up. A voice. A little girl’s voice. But he wasn’t hearing it—it was in his head. He put his hands on his face and lay back down on the bed. He was a sinner. He had destroyed perfection, and now he would have to pay.

Wake up, sleepyhead.

“I’m awake,” he said. “Your man tried to kill me, and now I understand why. I’m ready to pay the price.”

You don’t have to pay a price, silly. You didn’t know. And he wasn’t trying to kill you. He sacrificed himself so that you were a hero—you killed the man who killed the other soldiers. He only shot you so no one would question why you were tired and wanted to sleep. He died so that you could see my pretty dollies. Do you see now? Do you understand?

“Yes,” Dustin whispered. “Yes, I see them. I . . . I killed them.”

That’s okay. You didn’t know, so it wasn’t your fault.

“No, I didn’t know. I didn’t know how beautiful they were.”

You can make up for it.

“How?” He sat up again. “How can I? I’ll do anything!”

You need to make others see, the voice said. You are the protector. You need to make them all see, especially your leader.

“Colonel Ogden?”

Yes. You need to give him smoochies and let him see the pretty dollies.

More images flashed in Climer’s brain. Images of Chelsea watching her mother sleep. Images of Chelsea’s tongue.

You know what you need to do?

Dustin nodded. “Yes.”

Then hurry, but be careful. Don’t get caught. You are a protector now. You and the others must join us, because we want to open the gates to heaven.

The tent curtain opened, and two men came in. Doc Harper and Nurse Brad.

“Well, look who’s up,” Doc Harper said. “You jabbering to yourself in here?”

The men walked over to the cot.

Dustin shrugged. “I guess so, Doc.”

“Well I’m not surprised,” Doc Harper said. He slid a stool next to Dustin’s bed and sat. “You’re probably a better conversationalist than Brad here.”

“Ha-ha-ha,” Brad said. “Keep it up and I’ll stop letting you win at chess.”

Doc Harper picked up Dustin’s wrist and checked his watch. “Brad, you couldn’t beat me in chess if I played with my queen shoved up my rectum.” Doc released Dustin’s wrist, then pulled a penlight out of his breast pocket and started flicking it in Dustin’s eye.

“Just stare straight ahead, Private,” Doc Harper said. “Everything looks okay. How’s your head?”

“Hurts a bit,” Dustin said.

Harper nodded as he switched to the other eye.

“Describe the pain on a scale of one to ten,” Doc Harper said.

“Um, maybe a three.”

“Doesn’t sound like a major problem,” Doc Harper said. “Well, since you’re alert, the colonel wants to see you ASAP. I’ll let him know you’re ready to talk. Brad, grab some Tylenol packets. Four should do the trick.”

Brad knelt down to open a drawer of the cabinet next to Dustin’s cot.

Dustin grabbed the back of Doc Harper’s neck and head-butted him in the nose. Before Harper even slid off the stool, Dustin picked up his M4 with both hands.

Brad turned his head to see what was happening, just in time to catch an M4 stock right in the mouth. He sagged to his left butt cheek, mouth bleeding, staring out with eyes that didn’t really focus on anything. Dustin hit him again. Brad fell to his back, arm resting awkwardly against the open medicine drawer.

Dustin looked down at the two men. Doc Harper blinked like mad. Tears poured from his eyes, and blood gushed from the bridge of his broken nose. He tried to back away, a reverse crab-walk, but he couldn’t seem to send enough strength to his feet. The heels of his shoes pushed weakly at the floor.

Dustin pulled his zip-ties from his pants pocket.

“Does that hurt, Doc?” Dustin said. “Let me kiss it and make it all better.”

Chelsea let her mind spread farther and farther. This was so cool. Better than all her best toys combined. She’d felt Dustin hit those men, like she had been there, like she had hit them herself.

She liked it. It was really fun.

Every time she spread her mind, the feeling got stronger, the connections got stronger. Each host, each dolly, each converted person—they all felt a little different. Kind of like how vanilla ice cream tastes one way and chocolate another way. That was it; each had its own taste.

Dustin was a long ways away, but she could still connect with him. She could connect with Bernadette Smith, too, with each of the three dollies growing in her body.

Those three tasted like anger. Anger and fear.

Sending Bernadette to the highway worked, but Chelsea had thought the soldiers would shoot the woman. Chelsea even had Bernadette kill her daughters and bring the knife. But the devils captured Bernadette, and that was bad.

Bernadette’s dollies were growing so fast! Maybe soon they would come out to play, come out to build. Chelsea sensed needles poking into them, so many needles. Just like the doctor had always stuck needles into her. Poking, prodding, testing. Dollies didn’t feel pain like she did, though. The needles were really just kind of annoying to them.

So why were they so scared and angry? None of the other dollies tasted like that. Chelsea concentrated on those three dollies, listened to their thoughts, and she found the answer.

The sonofabitch.

The boogeyman.

They were staring right at the boogeyman! Of course they were angry, of course they were afraid. Chelsea felt a stab of that same fear, a stab of that same anger. Chauncey had told her not to connect to the boogeyman, but that was before. She was stronger now. The dollies were so close to the boogeyman, maybe only a few feet away. She could connect through them and talk to him.

Chapter end