WATCHERS by Dean R. Koontz

his way into the NSA’s own computers, Johnny had confirmed that they had taken

over jurisdiction in that case, too, which meant it had to be the work of The

Outsider.

Since then, nothing.

Vince was not ready to give up. Not by a long shot. He was a patient man.

Patience was part of his job. He would wait, watch, keep Johnny The Wire at

work, and sooner or later he would get what he was after. He was sure of it. He

had decided that the dog, like immortality, was part of his great destiny.

At Bolsa Chica State Beach, he stood for a while with the surf pounding against

his thighs, staring out at the great dark masses of surging water. He felt as

powerful as the sea. He was filled with scores of lives. He would not have been

surprised if electricity had suddenly leaped from his fingertips the way

thunderbolts flashed from the hands of the gods in mythology.

Finally, he threw himself forward, into the water, and swam against the powerful

incoming waves. He went far out before turning parallel to the shore, swimming

first south and then north, keeping at it until, exhausted, he at last allowed

the tide to carry him back to shore.

He dozed for a while in the hot afternoon sun. He dreamed of a pregnant woman,

her stomach large and round, and in the dream he strangled her to death.

He often dreamed of killing children or, even better, the unborn children of

pregnant women because it was something he longed to do in real life. Child

murder was, of course, much too dangerous; it was a pleasure he had to deny

himself, though a child’s life energy would be the richest, the purest, the most

worthy of absorption. Too dangerous by far. He couldn’t indulge in infanticide

until he was certain he had achieved immortality, whereupon he would no longer

need to fear the police or anyone else.

Although he often had such dreams, the one he woke from on Bolsa Chica Beach

struck him as more meaningful than others of its type. It felt . .. different.

Prophetic. He sat yawning and blinking in the westering sun, pretending not to

notice the bikinied girls who were giving him the eye, and he told himself that

this dream was a glimpse of pleasure to come. One day he would actually feel his

hands around the throat of a pregnant woman like the one in the

dream, and he would know the ultimate thrill, receive the ultimate gift, not

only her life energy but the pure, untapped energy of the unborn in her womb.

Feeling like a million bucks, he returned to his van, drove home, showered, and

went out to dinner at the nearest Stuart Anderson steak house, where he treated

himself to filet mignon.

6

Einstein bolted past Travis, out of the kitchen, across the small dining room,

disappearing into the living room. Carrying the leash, Travis went after him.

Einstein was hiding behind the sofa.

Travis said, “Listen, it’s not going to hurt.”

The dog watched him warily.

“We’ve got to take care of this before we go off to Vegas. The vet will give you

a couple of shots, vaccinate you against distemper and rabies. It’s for your own

good, and it really won’t hurt. Really. Then we’ll get you a license, which we

should’ve done weeks ago.

One bark. No.

“Yes, we will.”

No.

Crouching, holding the leash by the clip with which he would attach it to the

collar, Travis took a step toward Einstein.

The retriever scrambled away. He ran to the armchair, leaped up, and stood on

that observation platform, watching Travis intently.

Coming slowly out from behind the sofa, Travis said, “Now, you listen up, fur

face. I’m your master—”

One bark.

Frowning, Travis said, “Oh, yes, I am your master. You may be one damn smart

dog—but you’re still the dog, and I’m the man, and I’m telling you that we’re

going to the vet.”

One bark.

Leaning against the dining-room archway, arms folded, smiling, Nora said, “I

think he’s trying to give you a taste of what children are like, in case we ever

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