Marcus Hartwell's Arc

Chapter 7 of 7

Three weeks later, Marcus climbed the stairs to the apartment he had bought his family. Tall windows caught the city light. A fire escape zigzagged past the brick. He carried the briefcase in one hand. He had not opened it since the town. Sarah waited at the door, wiping her hands on a towel. "You're home," she said. She had crossed three towns and a whole country to be here. She pulled him inside by the collar. The kids ran from the kitchen, a boy in a striped shirt and a small girl with pigtails. They wrapped his legs. For a moment Marcus forgot everything. "Show us," the boy said. "You said you'd show us the money." Marcus set the briefcase on the table. Sarah smiled and shook her head. "He's been talking about it all day." She touched Marcus's cheek. "You look tired. What happened out there?" "Later," Marcus said. He wanted this first. He wanted to see their faces. He turned the latches and lifted the lid. No money. Four green shapes lay coiled inside, ridged and smooth, each the size of a cat. Claws twitched against the leather. Yellow eyes opened. Marcus knew them. He had watched one slide into Emma's neck. "Get back," he said. He grabbed for the lid. Too slow. The first parasite sprang. It struck Sarah's throat and vanished under her skin. She gasped once, then went still. The towel dropped from her hand. The boy screamed. A second creature leapt and took him. His scream cut off. The girl turned to run. The third caught her at the ankle and climbed inside her leg. She fell without a sound. Marcus reached for the revolver in his coat. His hand shook, the way it had shaken in the town. The last parasite launched from the case. It hit his face. Cold legs raked his cheek. He felt it push through the skin below his eye. Heat spread through his head. His arms dropped. The gun clattered on the floor. He looked at his family. They stood around the table, breathing slow and even, staring at nothing. The same dim look Emma had worn. Marcus tried to speak Sarah's name. His mouth would not move. His legs folded. He sat against the wall and could not rise. Aldrich had never sent money. He had sent this. A gift for the man who saw too much. Now four quiet hosts stood in a New York apartment. Marcus felt the thing settle behind his eyes. The girl walked to the tall window and opened it. The boy climbed onto the fire escape. Sarah followed. One by one they went down toward the street, toward the crowds and the lights and the millions of people. Marcus watched them go and could do nothing. The parasites had learned a new hunting ground, and the door to it stood wide open.