Doctor Who_ Warlock - Andrew Cartmel [69]
But the breathing was nothing compared to the talking. As soon as Artie began to speak, Creed knew that he was on Creed’s side. It was like they were old friends. Within about three sentences their relationship had been defined and Creed had learned a lot about the way Artie felt about the other pair. He regarded them with a mixture of fondness and contempt and impatience.
And now the woman was talking to him. All she said was, ‘Get up,’ but she was telling him things about herself she couldn’t begin to imagine. Every word was like a window into her mind. She gestured with the gun as he got to his feet.
Creed tried not to let her see how carefully he was listening but he could tell she had picked up on it. That was one of the weird things about this drug. It seemed to have an effect even on those who hadn’t taken it.
Creed knew he was behaving a little strangely. On some subtle level he was giving off all kinds of signals. And he’d triggered some psychic alarm in the woman and she was reacting to those signals. She looked as if she was sorry she had spoken, but she wasn’t about to quit.
‘Lie on the floor.’ Creed slowly got down on his knees, but all the while he was listening to what she said, holding the words in his mind and analysing them. It was as if there were two meanings to the sentence. There was the obvious command, but then there was the hidden message, too. It was one of the words. It stood out from the others, like a mountain range on a topological map. Some subtle emphasis in her voice singled it out.
‘I said lie down.’ There it was again. The word ‘lie’. It was as if she couldn’t say it without drawing attention to it. She might as well be highlighting it with a pink marker pen. Creed wondered what it meant.
‘Move away from the couch,’ said the woman. She was speaking more quietly, as if self‐conscious. It was like everyone in the room was listening to her and her voice was being blotted out with shyness. Even Bert had stopped barking in the backyard.
‘Keep moving,’ she said. ‘Farther away.’ Again Creed did as he was told. As he moved clear of the couch the woman stepped over him and began to frisk him – something they should have done even before they put on the cuffs. Creed hardly felt her hands on his body. He was listening in fascination to what she’d said. Again one word stood out from the other. It was red hot while the other words were cold. The word was ‘farther’. Except Creed had the odd feeling this wasn’t exactly what she’d said. She hadn’t really said, ‘Farther away.’ She’d said, ‘Father away’. That was the word.
‘Father.’
Lights exploded in Creed’s head. He felt a sudden brutal shock of pain. Everybody in the room was yelling and out in the yard Bert resumed barking furiously. It took Creed a second to work out what had happened. The woman had stopped patting him with her hands and then suddenly smashed him on the head. Maybe with the butt of her gun. As the flashing lights cleared from his vision Creed looked up to see the two men holding onto her, restraining her.
‘Shit, Christine,’ Artie was saying.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ The other man was as shocked and angry as Artie. ‘Why did you hit him?’
‘He made a move. He was going for me.’
‘No he wasn’t. He didn’t do anything.’
‘He was going to hit me,’ said Christine.
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ said Artie. ‘You guys have gone too far now. We’re in deep shit.’
‘Come on,’ said the other man. ‘We’d better be going. Bring him out to the car.’ He led the woman towards the door as Artie helped Creed get to his feet. ‘Sorry about that, man,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what got into her.’
Creed didn’t say anything. The pain in his head was easing and as it went the surprise and fear dissipated to be replaced by a pure luminous flame of rage.
Creed didn’t like people hitting him.
His mind was working at high speed, lucid and clear.