'No more!' he cried. His eyes were huge and swimming with tears.'No more, don't! Don't hurt mef And then: 'Mom! MOMMY!'
'Don't bother, your mommy didn't raise you right,' Sammy said, and shot him again, this time in the chest. He jumped against the wall. His hand left his wrecked head and thumped to the floor, splashing in the pool of blood that was already forming there. She shot him a third time, in the place that had hurt her. Then she turned to the one on the bed.
Georgia was huddled in a ball. The monitor above her was beeping like crazy, probably because she'd pulled out the wires connected to it. Her hair hung in her eyes. She screamed and screamed.
'Isn't that what you said?' Sammy asked. 'Do that bitch, right?'
'I horry!'
'What?'
Georgia tried again. 'I horry! I horry, Hammy!' And then, the ultimate absurdity: 'I take it ack!'
'You can't!' Sammy shot Georgia in the face and again in the neck. Georgia jumped the way Frankie had, then lay still.
Sammy heard running footsteps and shouts in the corridor. Sleepy cries of concern from some of the rooms as well. She was sorry about causing a fuss, but sometimes there was just no choice. Sometimes things had to be done. And when they were, there could be peace.
She put the gun to her temple.
'I love you, Little Walter. Mumma loves her boy'
And pulled the trigger.
8
Rusty used West Street to get around the fire, then hooked back onto Lower Main at the 117 intersection. Bowie's was dark except for small electric candles in the front windows. He drove around back to the smaller lot as his wife had instructed him, and parked beside the long gray Cadillac hearse. Somewhere close by, a generator was clattering.
He was reaching for the door handle when his phone twittered. He turned it off without looking to see who might be calling, and when he looked up again, a cop was standing beside his window. A cop with a drawn gun.
It was a woman. When she bent down, Rusty saw a cloudburst of frizzy blond hair, and at last had a face to go with the name his wife had mentioned. The police dispatcher and receptionist on the day shift. Rusty assumed she had been pressed into full-time service on or just after Dome Day. He also assumed that her current duty-assignment had been self-assigned.
She holstered the pistol. 'Hey, Dr Rusty. Stacey Moggin. You treated me for poison oak two years ago? You know, on rny - ' She patted her behind.
'I remember. Nice to see you with your pants up, Ms Moggin.'
She laughed as she had spoken: softly. 'Hope I didn't scare you.'
'A little. I was silencing my cell phone, and then there you were.'
'Sorry Come on inside. Linda's waiting. We don't have much time. I'm going to stand watch out front. I'll give Lin a double-click on her walkie if someone comes. If it's the Bowies, they'll park in the side lot and we can drive out on East Street unnoticed.' She cocked her head a little and smiled. 'Well... that's a tad optimistic, but at least unidentified. If we're lucky'
Rusty followed her, navigating by the cloudy beacon of her hair. 'Did you break in, Stacey?'
'Hell, no. There was a key at the cop-shop. Most of the businesses on Main Street give us keys.'
'And why are you in on this?'
'Because it's all fear-driven bullshit. Duke Perkins would have put a stop to it long ago. Now come on. And make this fast.'
'I can't promise that. In fact, I can't promise anything. I'm not a pathologist.'
'Fast as you can, then.'
Rusty followed her inside. A moment later, Linda's arms were arourid him.
Harriet Bigelow screamed twice, then fainted. Gina Buffalino only stared, glassy with shock.'Get Gina out of here,'Thurse snapped. He had gotten as far as the parking lot, heard the shots, and come running back. To find this. This slaughter.
Ginny put an arm around Gina's shoulders and led her back into the hall, where the patients who were ambulatory - this included Bill Allnut and Tansy Freeman - were standing, big-eyed and frightened.
'Get this one out of the way,' Thurse told Twitch, pointing at Harriet. 'And pull her skirt down, give the poor girl some modesty.'
Twitch did as he was told. When he and Ginny reentered the room, Thurse was kneeling by the body of Frank DeLesseps, who had died because he'd come in place of Georgia's boyfriend and overstayed visiting hours. Thurse had flapped the sheet over Georgia, and it was already blooming with blood-poppies.
'Is there anything we can do, Doctor?' Ginny asked. She knew he wasn't a doctor, but in her shock it came automatically. She was looking down at Frank's sprawled body, and her hand was over her mouth.
'Yes.' Thurse rose and his bony knees cracked like pistol shots. 'Call the police. This is a crime scene.'
'All the ones on duty will be fighting that fire downstreet,' Twitch said. 'Those who aren't will either be on their way or sleeping with their phones turned off.'