. . . Where a reeling, gagging figure collided with him and brought him to a halt! It was the esper. He knew Harry at once – sensed the awesome power of his metaphysical mind, that and the vampire in him – and threw up a hand to ward him off. The hand was bloody as the gaping wound in his cheek, where Johnny Found had torn a third of his face away.
Harry held him upright, snarled at him, then thrust him toward one of the paths through the trees. ‘Go and get help, quickly, before you bleed to death!’
And as the esper choked out something inarticulate and staggered away, the Necroscope reached out with his vampire awareness to cover the entire park. He found three people at once: Penny, unconscious; Johnny Found, furious and bloody; and the policeman, dead where Pound’s weapon had crashed through his ear to gouge into his brain.
Harry pinpointed their location, conjured a door and ran through it … and out again at the rear of the Frigis Express truck, where even now Johnny was slamming home the bolt on the roller door. At his feet, the policeman lay crumpled in a pool of his own blood, the left side of his face a raw red pulp.
The necromancer had taken the policeman’s gun; he sensed Harry’s presence, whirled, aimed and fired! Harry was coming head-on; he felt a colossal blow as the bullet smashed into his collarbone on the right side, spun him round and hurled him down on the tarmac.
Then, startled by the explosion and the flash, Johnny was fumbling the gun and dropping it. Stumbling across Harry, he kicked at him where he lay curled up in his pain; and running past the trailer toward his truck’s cab, the madman raved, cursed and laughed all in one.
The pain in Harry’s shoulder was a living thing that took hold of his flesh with white-hot pincers and twisted it, causing him to moan his agony. And he thought: Bastard thing in my blood, my mind! Your fault, you berserk, headlong, idiot! Very well, you’ve caused me to be hurt – now heal me!
Found was in his cab, starting up and revving the engine. Air-brakes hissed and the reversing lights blazed crimson to match Harry’s eyes or the jelly coagulating on the side of the dead policeman’s head. Racked by pain, the Necroscope saw the huge bulk of the truck jerk, shudder and start backing up; in another moment a pair of its twinned wheels skidded viciously, then gripped and dragged the policeman’s body under. Blood and guts gushed as the wheels lifted up barely an inch and the weight of the truck squeezed the corpse’s innards like toothpaste from a tube.
He’s lucky he’s dead! Harry dazedly, unthinkingly thought. It’s something he wouldn’t want to happen while he was still alive! They were instinctive thoughts, shocked out of him by the squelching eruption of brains and shit and flailing guts, but they were also deadspeak and the policeman heard him.
Exhaust gases belched in Harry’s face where he rolled desperately from the path of the reversing truck; the scarlet-dripping wheels missed him by inches; but through all the roar and the stink and the mess on the tarmac he heard and was riveted by the policeman’s answer:
But I did feel it! And God, it was like dying twice! And Harry’s blood – even his blood – froze as he remembered who was driving the truck: Johnny Found, necromancer, whose actions his victims could feel even as the teeming dead had once felt Dragosani’s!
Then the air-brakes hissed again and the truck jerked to a halt, shuddered, started forward, turned and rumbled away towards the exit. Johnny Found was making his escape, with Penny aboard. But: No, you fucking don’t! Harry fixed the truck’s location in his mind, got to his knees, toppled through a Möbius door and out again into the refrigerated trailer. It was dark in there but that was nothing to the Necroscope. He saw Penny, crawled to her, put his left hand under her head and drew it into his lap. She opened her eyes and looked into his where they blazed.