21

To say he was pissed off would be an understatement.

Mark watched the thing get to its feet, feeling his anger boiling just under the surface. It had started as soon as he understood what was happening. His intuition – instincts – whatever – had only told him that Harper was not in the hotel. He was driving around, trying to decide where the most likely place for her to go would be, when a light exploded in his head. For a second he worried that he'd had a stroke; that was how intense it was. He was blinded. Luckily he was on a deserted road and managed to stop the truck. As his vision cleared her felt her for the first time. Not only did he feel her but he felt some of what she was going through.

The fact that Harper was scared only elevated Mark's anger into new levels. She was in trouble, just as he had been sensing but somehow her fear had ignited a rage in him. It was one thing too many. Especially from Harper who had seemed so unshakeable.

He let the force that drove him take over, pushing him to hurry. He had no idea where Harper was, not really, but he knew she was still alive and that his instincts would lead him right to her. Something wanted him to protect her, and he hadn't failed her yet.

He understood, even as he plowed through the iron fence, that the naked man standing in the driveway was more than just a naked man. It was the thing that Mark had been chasing, back to finish what it had started. Harper had changed things maybe, to the point where the old rules didn't apply.

Mark could not deny the satisfaction he felt when the truck slammed into its body. Peripherally he was aware that the thing had done something to Harper, and that she was hurt. When he had gotten out of the truck he had seen nothing but red and wanted to get his hands around the throat of the thing that had done this.

Until he saw Harper getting shakily to her feet. It seemed to drop him back into himself somehow. Forgetting the broken thing on the ground, he went to her and damn near cried in relief when she held on to him. He felt her stiffen in his arms when the thing spoke though. It was getting to its feet, broken and hurt but unwilling to stop.

And even though Mark was standing there with Harper the thing still looked at her as if she were the main course on its menu. He muttered a curse, infuriated all over again. Harper clutched at his shirt before he could do more than shift his weight in that direction.

"His heart." She said it in a low voice. "Try his heart."

Mark looked down at her, taking in her tear streaked face and the bruise that was forming on her forehead. She looked tired but resolute. He reached a hand up and rubbed his thumb over her cheek, wiping her tears away before nodding. Reluctantly he let her go. She squeezed him one more time before releasing him and leaning against the fence once more.

Mark turned his attention to the thing in front of him. It had shuffled forward a few steps but apparently its leg wasn't working. Every time it moved, that crunching noise resumed. It was the sound of a fractured bone rubbing against itself. It set Mark's nerves on edge.

"Go ahead. Finish it. I'll just come back again. She'll never be safe." The thing said, its voice grating and liquid-sounding.

"And I'll get rid of you again." Mark paused for a moment before stooping to pick up a piece of iron fencing that had been knocked loose from the impact of the truck. The point on top was wickedly sharp. It was almost two feet long, plenty of room to hold on to.

The thing touched him, grabbing his arm weakly. Mark grimaced but turned, looking into the thing's eyes. He could see the man this person had been, in pain and suffering, but still with an eye cast toward Harper. And the thing he was after was there too, gloating. As if it knew something Mark did not.

Even if it was a temporary fix, he had to try. Even it all it did was buy them time to find a way to end it for good. He grabbed the thing by the hair and without speaking a word – Mark didn't trust himself to speak at that moment – he thrust the sharp end of the gate post into the thing's chest, piercing its heart.

The death was anti-climactic. Its mouth opened and closed and it looked confused. Then it slowly sank to the ground, dead before it was fully down. Mark wiped his hand on his shirt and found himself staring once more at person whose life he had ended. It didn't feel any different this time. Or so he thought.

He was hit by something. He understood even as he staggered and caught his balance that it had been more mental than physical. Whatever power had been driving him since he lost his wife and their unborn was gone. For a moment his head felt like a popped balloon and his vision blurred, making him feel dizzy.

It passed as quickly as it happened. He realized two things. The body in front of him was just that. A body. It had an iron fence pole imbedded in its chest, and it was naked but for all that there was nothing else there.

The second thing was that whatever had tethered him to Harper was gone. She was right behind him, not ten feet away, and he sensed absolutely nothing. Mark turned around and saw that Harper had moved – she was kneeling on the grass next to another man that Mark had not noticed.

"Jack…" Harper was speaking to the man, who was breathing shallowly. His face was stark white in the backwash of the truck's lights. "Gonna get you some help now, ok? You hold on."

The man muttered but didn't say anything. His breath was wheezing. Harper looked up at Mark helplessly. "There are phones in the house. In the entryway…can you call somebody?"

Mark nodded and hurried up the drive to the front door. It was standing open. Inside the massive entry, there was a trail of blood. He stepped over it carefully and grabbed the phone off the table. He dialed 911 and ignored the dispatcher's questions. "Trace this call. There's a guy that needs an ambulance." He left the phone turned on and set it on the table. The cops would be able to trace the call. He had no idea what the address here was.

He went back outside. Harper was still with her friend, gently pushing his hair back from his forehead. The dead guy was still dead. Mark fought the urge to kick his body on the way past. In the distance they could both hear sirens. Mark saw Harper tilt her head to listen.

"We should go before they get here."

"I'm not leaving Jack." Harper said resolutely.

Mark nodded in understanding. It didn't change the basic facts though. "Up til now the cops have pretty much ignored everything. Something is different. I'm hoping that isn't one of the things. Because there'd be a lot of explaining to do, and to somebody who hasn't lived it, it'll just sound like we're both crazy."

Harper sniffled and picked up Jack's hand, squeezing it. Jack blinked his eyes open and tried gamely to smile at her. "Go." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"But…Jack…"

"Be fine." He squeezed her hand weakly.

"You'd better be. You die on me, I'm going to have you stuffed and mounted." Harper said through her tears. Her equilibrium hadn't deserted her.

"All the more…reason…to not die. Go on. Get out of here." Talking was taxing his energy. Harper kissed the back of his hand and slowly let him go, accepting Mark's help to her feet.

"This isn't right."

"It's what has to be. They'll get him in time, take him to the hospital. We'll have enough time to go get you some clothes." He pointed out her blanket. "But we have to hurry. Like I said the cops might still play dumb, just this one last time. But not if we're standing here."

"Ok." Harper spared another look at Jack. He was rubbing his chest, and trying to breathe deeper. She couldn't speak to him because she'd be tempted to stay. Instead she let Mark lead her to the truck and help her inside.

Even after the crash into the gate and hitting Michael the truck still ran perfectly. Mark fought the urge to reverse out the drive – running over the body one last time in the process. He didn't want to risk that iron rod jamming the undercarriage of the truck though. He smirked inwardly. Talk about skewed priorities.

Once they were on the road he kept to the speed limit. There was a rattle and Mark wondered for a moment if the truck had taken some damage after all. Then he realized that it was Harper. Her teeth were chattering.

He slowed and looked over at her. She was crying silently and shaking, hugging herself to try to get warm. Reaction was setting in – or her adrenaline was wearing off. Maybe a combination of both. Mark pulled over and put the truck in park then pulled her toward him. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her tremble against him.

"It's all right Harper. It's over." He soothed her as best he could, but he didn't know what had happened to her. It made him angry all over again to even think about it.

"Is it?" Her voice caught on a sob. "Fuck I'm blubbering like a baby." She angrily wiped her eyes and he could feel her getting a hold on herself.

"I think you've earned it." Mark said, kissing her on the forehead. Near where she'd hit her head. "How did you know?"

"How did I know what?" She asked, wincing when bright lights washed across the truck's windshield. An ambulance and two police cars sped by, sirens wailing.

Mark waited until they passed. "The heart." He said simply.

"Lucky guess?" She huffed what might have been a laugh. "It said that when it left a body before it died, it would have a heart attack. It made a stupid kind of sense I guess."

"I think it worked." Mark said, brushing her hair back from her face.

Harper raised an eyebrow. "How can you tell?"

"I don't know. It just feels different this time." He hugged her close. She grabbed on to him and held him tight, relaxing against him for a moment. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

Harper hesitated and shook her head. "I will. But right now all I want is a hot shower, some clothes, and a trip to the hospital to make sure Jack's ok."

"Well. That's three things we can do pretty easily." He lightly traced his finger over her forehead. "We're going to get you checked out too."

"I'm fine."

"That might very well be. But you're swelling and bruising. Don't wanna risk a concussion."

"If you say so." Harper pulled away from him but didn't go back to her seat. She sat in the middle so she could rest her head against his arm as he drove.

"Don't you fall asleep on me." Mark said, shifting the truck into drive.

"Wasn't gonna." Harper punctuated that by yawning. It made Mark grin even though he was worried about her. She seemed a bit loopy, a little out of herself. He supposed that was to be expected considering what she'd been through.

He got her into the hotel unseen, which was good. He didn't know how he'd have answered questions about why Harper was wearing only a blanket. He shared her shower, assuring himself that she was basically unharmed. More specifically quieting his mind about what had happened. That dream had stuck to him but Harper was fine. She'd hit her head, and she was tired, but fine.

He drove them to the hospital in her Jeep, aware that the damage to his truck might draw a bit of attention. She was quiet, deep in her own thoughts, at least until he insisted she be seen by a doctor before she went looking for her friend.

It was an argument that he won easily. Mark could tell that Harper was bothered – the exam was thorough but the doctor didn't bother to ask how or why she had taken a knock to the head. He had seen her without really seeing her, which was something Mark had gotten used to over the years. Sometimes it was a blessing.

She put up with as much poking and prodding she could stand before hurrying things along. The doctor said he saw no signs of concussion, and it was true that the lump was already going down and the bruise had stopped its progression across her forehead. The doctor prescribed ice, rest, and aspirin, which caused Harper to roll her eyes.

"Massive waste of time." She said as he led her toward the elevators. While she'd been in the exam room Mark had spoken to a receptionist and found out that Jack was on the fourth floor in the cardiac care unit.

"Better safe than sorry." He shot back at her, threading his fingers through hers, squeezing.

Only one of them was allowed into the room to visit with Jack, and even that could only be a 10 minute visit. The doctors had stabilized him but he had suffered what the cardiologist had called a 'coronary incident'. Mark wondered why they didn't just call it a heart attack. He sat in the waiting room while Harper had her visit, glancing at the clock every few minutes. It was nearing on seven in the morning. He might write this down as the longest night in history.

Harper finally reappeared. She was dry-eyed and seemed to be relieved. "He's going to be ok." She said, taking a seat next to Mark. "They said he would be in cardiac care for at least seven days, and they might have to install a pacemaker…" Her throat caught on that word but she heaved a sigh and went on. "He's pretty well out of it too. Doesn't remember anything. He doesn't even know why he's here. I didn't know what to tell him so I just shushed him."

Mark smiled albeit sadly. "You might not have to tell him anything. I've found that sometimes people make up their own memories."

"I guess." Harper said tiredly.

"Before you go to sleep, do you want to get some breakfast? I know they want your friend to rest, so no sense waiting around here for four hours til you can visit again."

"I guess. I'd rather find a bed to crawl into."

"And you can tell me what happened." Mark knew it would eat at him if he didn't know. His imagination could be worse than the reality.

"Yeah. I can do that too." Harper took his offered hand and let him lead her toward the exit.