Page 37 of Creature
“Robert Dunn.” That hadbeen a farmer who, when Harry was sixteen or so, gave him a job forone season. Funny how that was the name that came to him now. “Hehas an office in downtown LA.”
“Robert Dunn. Verywell.”
Harry expected him to run off right away.Instead, smiling, Swan walked behind Harry. Metal clattered againstmetal, and John became agitated again, making desperate sounds andpulling against the manacles. Harry understood when Swanreturned.
He held a scalpel.
“You said—”
“I know what I said,Harry. And I will keep my promise—I won’t kill you tonight. Butit’s too late to make inquiries about this Dunn fellow, and I’mfeeling restless. It won’t hurt your value as an experiment if Imake some modifications now.”
“You sick motherfucker!You piece of shit, you—” He went silent as Swan grabbed Harry’sballs and poised the blade inches away.Maybe I’ll bleed to death. Or die of shock.Either would be a mercy.
Harry turned his head to look at John. “I’msorry, John. So, so sorry. Don’t forget the man you truly are.”
Unable to face either John or the scalpel,Harry closed his eyes.
Swan squeezed Harry’s scrotum moretightly—
And then a mighty roar shook the room.
Harry’s eyelids flew open just in time tosee John rip the manacles out of the wall and tear the metal collarfrom his throat. He charged toward Harry and Swan.
Screaming, Swan let go of Harry and backedaway, holding the blade in front of him. Harry screamed too,shouting John’s name. But John flew around Harry’s table and,heedless of the scalpel, launched himself at Swan. They fell ontothe floor, where Harry could see only flashes of arms and legs.
Swan’s shrieking grew loud enough to hurtHarry’s ears. And then it abruptly stopped.
A moment later, John stood and staggeredover. Several fresh wounds marred his torso, but the blood on hisskin wasn’t his own. He bent over Harry and, after unfastening thestraps with some difficulty, helped him to sit up.
The first thing Harry did was take thedamned gag out of John’s mouth. “Jesus, he hurt you! What can Ido—”
“I killed him.” John’svoice was heavy with anguish.
“You saved me. You were—Fuck.”
“I murdered someone. Justlike Frankenstein’s monster. Just like—”
Harry caught John’s shoulders. “No. Hekilled out of hate and revenge. You did this because you….”
“Because I love you,” Johnwhispered.
“I love—”
And the door to the lab crashed open.
Chapter Sixteen
John leapt in front of Harry, ready toprotect him from this new danger. The wounds inflicted by Swan nowhurt, and despite Harry’s reassurances, John’s mind reeled fromhaving committed murder. But he knew with every fiber of hisexistence that he’d do anything to save the man he loved.
Several men burst into the room. Anexplosion resounded. Something hit John’s belly with such forcethat he fell, instinctively howling at the new pain.
Harry scrambled off the table and screamed“Stop!”
Miraculously the four men listened, freezingin their tracks, guns raised. One of them was Townsend.
Harry dropped to his knees beside John, hisarm raised toward the agents. “Don’t hurt him!” Then he turned toJohn. “I don’t know— What can I— How do I help?”
After a moment of assessing the damage tohis body, John managed a smile. “It’s all right. I’ve been hurtworse than this.” It was true. The Bureau had done worse when theyfirst acquired him—and he’d always healed eventually, with newscars as souvenirs.
