croix’s self-control was tenuous, he managed to speak. His voice was so
thick with emotion that sometimes his speech slurred, and when he seemed
in danger of breaking down completely, he paused either to take deep
breaths or to drink something, presumably whiskey.
“This is a warning. A testament. My testament. A warning to the world. I
don’t know where to begin. Begin with the worst. They’re dead, and I
killed them. But it was the only way to save them. The only way to save
them.
You have to understand … I killed them because I loved them.
God help me.
I couldn’t let them suffer, be used. Be used. God, I couldn’t let them
be used that way. There was nothing else I could do …” I remembered
the snapshots arranged beside Delacroix’s corpse.
The elfin, gap-toothed little girl. The boy in the blue suit and red bow
tie. The pretty blonde with the appealing smile. I suspected that these
were the people who, to be saved, were killed.
“We all developed these symptoms, just this afternoon, Sunday afternoon,
and we were going to go to the doctor tomorrow, but we didn’t make it
that far. Mild fever. Chills. And every once in a while this .
..
fluttering … this odd fiuttering in the chest … or sometimes the
stomach, in the abdomen, but then the next time in the neck, along the
spine … this fluttering like maybe a twitching nerve or maybe heart
palpitations or … no, nothing like that. God, no, nothing I can
explain … not severe … subtle … a subtle uttering but so.
.. disturbing … nausea … couldn’t eat much …” Delacroix paused
again. Got control of his breathing. Took a swallow of whatever he was
drinking.
“Truth. Got to tell the truth. Wouldn’t have gone to the doctor
tomorrow. Would’ve had to call Project Control. Let them know it isn’t
over. Even more than two years later, it isn’t over. I knew. I knew
somehow it wasn’t over. All of us feeling the same way, and not like
anything we’d felt before. Jesus, I knew. I was too scared to face it,
but I knew. I didn’t know what, but I knew something, knew it was Wyvem
coming back to me somehow, some way, Jesus, Wyvern coming back to get me
after all this time. Maureen was putting Lizzie to bed, tucking her in
bed … and suddenly Lizzie started … she was .
..
she started screaming …” Delacroix swallowed more of his drink.
He banged the glass down as though it was empty.
“I was in the kitchen, and I heard my Lizzie … my little Lizzie so
scared, so … screaming I ran … ran in there, into the bedroom.
And she was … she … convulsions … thrashing..
. thrashing and kicking … flailing with her little fists. Maureen
couldn’t control her. I thought … convulsions … afraid she was
biting her tongue.
I held her … held her down. While I got her mouth open, Maureen folded
a sock … going to use it … a pad to keep Lizzie from biting herself,
But there was something … something in her mouth .
.. not her tongue, something in her throat … this thing coming up her
throat, something alive in her throat. And … and then ..
.
then she had her eyes tight shut … but then … but she opened them .
.. and her left eye was bright red … bloodshot … and something was
alive in her eye, too, some damn wriggling thing in her eye.
…” Sobbing, Delacroix switched off the recorder. God knows how long
the poor man required to get control of himself. Of course, there was no
lengthy blank section of tape, just another soft click as Delacroix hit
the record button and continued, “I run to our bedroom, to get … get
my revolver … and coming back passing Freddie’s room, I see him …
he’s standing by his bed.
Freddie … eyes wide … afraid. So I tell him … get in bed and wait
for me. In Lizie’s room … Maureen has her back against the wall, hands