Zero Cool by John Lange

Author:John Lange [Lange, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-07-23T04:00:00+00:00

Part III

“Radiologists have the shortest lifespan of all medical specialists.”

—U.S. Bureau of Medical Statistics

Prologue

HE WAS A BIG MAN, shouldering his way through the darkness, his face concealed beneath the broad hat. He hummed to himself as he walked along the Barcelona waterfront, down dark streets which smelled of fish and urine, a lonely and quiet part of town. But he was walking quickly, because he had to meet someone.

He was far from the red-light district, and so he was surprised when the girl appeared, stepping out from a doorway in front of him. Even in the dark, he could see she had short blonde hair and a trim body; she stood lewdly, with one hand on her hip.

“Howdy,” he said.

“Interest you?” she said.

He paused in amazement. “You’re American?”

“Americans for Americans,” she said, and stepped close, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. Gently, he pushed her away.

“I’d sure like to,” he said. “But I can’t.”

She pouted. “I’ll give you a bargain price.”

“I’d sure like to…”

She kissed him again.

“Nice perfume,” he said; hesitating. He was thinking that he was late for the meeting already, ten minutes late, and yet…

“I’m glad you like it,” she said.

She kissed him and put her arm behind his neck. He felt something damp: sweaty hands. That tore it. He hated a woman, even a pretty woman, with sweaty hands.

He broke away. “I’m awful sorry,” he said, “but I’ve got to go.”

And he left her, standing in the alley. He looked back once and glimpsed her, still standing and watching him. Then he turned the corner and was alone once more with the smells and the night.

As he walked, he continued to smell her perfume. It was too sweet, but sensual in its way, a kind of heady, strong aroma. It seemed to cling to him, but perhaps he was imagining that.

He had walked another block when it happened. Without warning, something fell on him, knocking him down, cutting his face in an instant of sharp, searing pain. He grunted and rolled over, feeling a flapping and a musty breeze around him.

A bird.

He kicked and scrambled to his feet. When he stood, he was alone in the street, with blood pouring down from a cut on his head. He looked around, then up.

It happened again. He saw it coming, a giant bird with the wings folded tight to the body, crashing down on him like a missile, and he tried to duck away, but it struck him in the throat, and he felt himself falling, and then he felt nothing at all.

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