Ch. 3

Ca-rl.

He's still standing there, eyes fixed on the silver strip of horizon. She's still on the ground, bleeding empty. And they are still calling.

There are no stars in the sky where its blackest, and he finds that fascinating and frightening. He can see the darkness hovering above his vision, drifting inches away from the horizon where the last strip of light lingers. It makes him think of a doorway between today and tomorrow, and if it fades he will never be able to find it again, and the darkness would descend like a veil over everything. He wouldn't be able to see her if that happened.

He still wants his answers, and they still have them. They have everything; ends and begginings. He wants them more than he has wanted anything else...

No, that can't be right. There had been something else, something far more powerful. But his mind is fogged with the whispering promises of what he could have, and they are pulling him to the horizon without him actually moving.

He's still refusing to move. He sees her more clearly now, and smells only the metallic stench of blood soaking into the ground around his feet. The desert was drinking it up, and the thought, the knowledge, was pissing him off.

The desert was eating what was left, and there was nothing he could do except stand there.

But he found a small amount a pleasure in not moving, something akin to vindictiveness. It felt right, not moving though the voices and desire beckoned. It was as though he were starving, and food was beyond that horizon. To get that food, however, required a price, a price he already knew he did not want to pay. He was not sure how he knew, it was just a feeling gnawing the back of his mind, giving him pause. So he was justified, probably more than he realized, in not going beyond that horizon.

Caa-aarl!

It wasn't fair. The answers were before him, just a few steps away, but he had to come to them. They wouldn't come to him.

He didn't want to leave her, because he knew that if he did... something far worse would happen. As though it could get any worse. Deep down inside, something told him it could, and very much so.

Caaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrllllllllllllll!

NNNNNNNNN

Carl awoke, gasping. But it was not the quick gasp of one waking from a nightmare. His was the ragged, throat-rending inhalation of lungs starved for oxygen, as though he had been trapped beneath water far longer than what was possible and only now broke the surface. Again, his back arched, and his ribs spread to the breaking point. He gripped the couch until his nails dug into the fabric, ripping it with the strength of his terror. Finally, his lungs reached their capacity, and he released the breath in a rush of air, his body dropping back onto the couch.

He lay there, panting, heart slamming, and his grip refusing to relent its hold on the couch. He stared, wide-eyed and trembling, at the blue-gray ceiling.

Morning twilight, the coming of day. He was awake, but he could still smell – and even taste – the metallic consistency of blood. In fact, the taste of it was very strong, becoming stronger as it mixed with saliva. The nauseating flavor began creeping to the back of his throat, choking him. He tried to get up, but the pain radiating from every joint and muscle in his body wouldn't let him. So he rolled over and spit on the floor. A dark glob stretched from his mouth and fell onto the carpet, and the carpet soaked it up thirstily. Carl stared at it and became caught in the grips of deja vu. He did not need any light to know that it was blood.

Blood began filling his mouth again. He forced his body to move against the pain, only to fall off the couch and utter a small cry of agony. He lay there, gritting his teeth. He hurt everywhere far worse than he had the other day. It felt as if his muscles were actually tearing apart whenever he so much as moved a finger. The blood filling his mouth leaked out against his will and traced a warm path down his chin and neck.

" Son of a...!" he murmured, grimacing. Even talking was nightmare.

Finally, he stopped trying to move all together and just lay there. He had his ear pressed into the now stained carpet, and could hear his heart's bass reverberation like a muffled drum through the floor. He closed his eyes and evened out his breathing, listening to that steadying thump and counting out the beats until he could no longer hear them because his heart had finally calmed. He could have stayed like that forever, and would have out of fear of moving. But he didn't have time to be infirm. He never had time.

He moved a finger first, and when that produced no ill effects he tried his arms, then his legs. He took a deep breath, testing the muscles of his ribcage. Nothing happened except for the usual uncomfortable twinge of an aching body. So he pushed himself onto his feet slowly like a man with arthritis, and stood. The excruciating pain of only moments ago might as well not have existed. He felt – for the most part – fine, pretty much the same as yesterday, though perhaps a little dizzier.

Kolchak lurched to the bathroom and flipped on the light. The glaring brightness burned his eyes, burrowing into his brain like a drill made of fire. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them cautiously. He blinked a few times and stared wearily at the pale, drawn, sallow-eyed face in the mirror, the front of his shirt sweat-soaked past his sternum. Perri hadn't been kidding when she said he had looked like hell, though he was probably worse off today than when she had said it.

The taste of blood was back in his mouth, not as potently but enough to make him feel sick again. He spat blood into the sink, then opened his mouth, checking the interior. Sure enough, he had bit both his tongue and his cheek. He flipped on the faucet and gathered cold water into his hand. He rinsed, then spit, only to take more water, this time drinking it. He took another swallow after that, then another and another. He had not realized he was so thirsty until he had the water in his mouth. The pain had been a little too distracting to notice much else.

Carl looked back at the image that was supposed to be his own face.

" Crap," he breathed uneasily. He wasn't just pale, he was verging on white. He backed away from the mirror, and the tremors returned. He would admit it, he was starting to get scared.

Why does it have to take two days to see a doctor? He contemplated the emergency room, but the fact was, whatever had been seriously wrong with him had abated. He felt tired, nauseous, and he ached, but doctors would only pass it off as the flu and tell him to get bed rest and some Nyquil. He needed a thorough examination, not just a perusal while those with more serious problems were forced to wait.

Carl went ahead with the rest of his morning routine, which had now narrowed down to just a shower and dressing. He had even less of an appetite today than he had yesterday.

Once ready, he headed to the door, only to stop. He braced himself for what he hoped wouldn't come next. With a shaking hand and stiff arm, he opened his door and stepped out.

No smells assaulted him, and no panic attacks crippled his mind. He let out a breath of relief, then hurried to his car before his mind and body decided to have a change of heart.

I really probably shouldn't be going in today. But neither did he want to stay home. At the moment, the idea of being alone was frightening.

It has to be the dream. But all I do is stand there. Unless I am sleepwalking. Even sleep running. So why the sleep apnea then? Why so much pain?

Carl had never felt that much pain at one time in his life. It had almost been as bad as breaking a bone, but every bone at once.

Carl wasn't aware when he arrived at work, and only vaguely aware of heading to his desk. His mind was lost slogging through a mire of questions, and he sank deeper into that mire when he tried to recall the dream. All he could remember was standing there, the blood, the scent of it, and something calling his name.

There had been something else, a feeling, but that was the only way he could describe it.

The place was busy, but it was supposed to be busy. Carl maneuvered around hurrying bodies with practiced ease, almost like an instinct. He noticed this, momentarily, because he found it odd. Normally, he would have bumped into someone by now.

He was also becoming uncomfortable around so many. It made him feel pressed in, enclosed... trapped. He quickened his steps to his desk, and if someone had called his name, he didn't hear it, not until he reached the safety of his work station. Once he sat, he breathed an unsteady sigh of relief.

Yeah, really shouldn't have come in. Bad idea.

Carl closed his eyes, letting his vision rest and shutting out the images of so many people rushing every which way. He was shivering again, but as he sat staring into the darkness behind his eyelids, he felt himself finally begin to relax. The sounds and smells of the office became back ground existences, like fading dreams. His mind began to wander. He could see a desert. He could smell the sand – as well as the blood.

Ca-arl... Farther away now, much farther.

" Carl!"

Carl snapped his eyes open, gasping though it was not the chest-splitting gasp of this morning. His heart jolted like a spooked rabbit, and his mind reeled dizzily. Smells, once again, assaulted him; coffee, water, wood, plastic, ink, colognes and perfumes, human sweat, metal and much more besides. Sounds attacked him, closing him in; shouts, laughter, loud talking, multiple conversations, telephones chirping incessantly, and, strangely enough, heartbeats.

Then, as though some switch had been pulled, it all stopped. The smells vanished, and the noises died into the mundane cacophony he was used to.

" Carl?"

Carl looked up into the blatantly concerned face of Perri. He was momentarily distracted by something biting into his hands. Looking down, he noticed himself gripping the desk so tight that his knuckles were white and his hands shook. He released the desk and looked at the angry red lines on his palms.

Carl dropped his hands, rubbing them on his thighs as though it might get rid of the imprints. He looked up at Perri, and refused to hide the worry he was feeling.

" Carl, you're shaking," she said, her face darting up and down in the act of worry scrutiny.

" I know," Carl replied.

" You look sick, and I mean really sick."

Carl shrugged, looking away. " It's not as bad as it looks. I haven't been feeling well, so I haven't been eating well. That kind of thing."

" Maybe you should go home, get some rest."

Carl shuddered. " Yeah, rest, right. I'd kill for some rest right now."

Perri turned and headed for her own desk, then rolled her chair over to Kolchak, moving around so that she was within his space and able to face him when he turned. She leaned forward, all ears and all business.

" What's going on Carl?"

Carl did not turn to face her, but instead slumped with his arms on his desk. He curved his back, trying to get out a kink that refused to leave.

" Bad dreams."

He could see Perri glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. " Seriously, Carl, what's going on?"

He turned his head to meet her gaze and let her see all truths, including his fear. " I am serious. Bad dreams. Nothing even happens in them. It's just me, standing there, hearing things." He lowered his voice, because he did not want others to hear. " I see my wife," he said unsteadily. " Dead. I'm with her and I can't leave her. So I stand there. But when I wake up... It hurts, Perri. It hurts to wake up. It's like I'm drowning and being ripped to pieces at the same time. I can't even move, then I can't even eat. That's what's going on with me. At the moment, it really sucks to be me."

Carl couldn't believe he had just confessed everything like that. In all truth, though, he really didn't care. He was scared, and he wanted some answers. But even if he didn't get those answers, and he doubted he would, he at least wanted someone else to know. Secrets tended to create solitude, and right now solitude was the last thing he wanted.

Perri's wide-eyed gaze was transfixed on Carl, and for a moment it seemed as though she had frozen permanently in that position.

" Oh," she finally said. She sat back stiffly, absorbing everything Carl had told her. Then she arched her eyebrows. " Well, even I have to admit that dreams have been known to cause strange things to occur. Could you be – you know – sleepwalking?"

Carl would have smiled, but didn't feel up to it. Perri was actually thinking on his terms for a change. " Yeah, I considered that."

" How bad is this pain you feel in the morning?"

" This morning, I couldn't even move, not for a while. It hurt too much."

When Carl said those words, Perri stood abruptly. " We need to get you to a hospital..."

Carl, however, raised a placating hand and shook his head no. " I already have an appointment tomorrow and I plan to stick with it. Going to the emergency room won't help. I feel better now since the pain goes away after a while."

" Carl, this is serious!"

Carl felt irritation prickle along his spine. " Don't you think I know that!" he snapped, then looked away, abashed. " Sorry."

Perri lowered herself back into her seat. " Don't be sorry. Listen, there's not much to look into today anyways. In fact, that's why I came over here, to tell you that that interview we had planned was canceled on us just now. You know, the granddaughter of that old woman who was killed? Someone beat us too it."

" The Star?" Carl asked. Tabloid papers were like worms, slipping in under the noses of the bigger papers by dishing out dirt, half of which tended to be over-exaggerated truths.

" Yeah. It's like I said. She was open to talk because she wanted the recognition, not because she wanted to help." Perri patted Carl's knee. " Come on, let's talk to Tony, see if we can't help get you some time off."

Perri rose from her seat. Carl reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. She looked back in alarm.

" No," Carl said desperately. " I really need to stay here. If I go back home, to rest, I'll fall asleep and I'll dream. I don't want to dream, Perri. That's when it happens. I really, really would rather it didn't happen again."

The despair in his voice was just as apparent on his face, his eyes, shocking Perri. She turned back, facing him, and dropped herself back into her chair.

" All right, Carl. It's all right. I suppose if you've lasted this long..." she shrugged. She fell silent for a moment, fiddling with the hem of her black blouse.

" It really hurts? That bad?"

Carl nodded numbly. " Like I'm being ripped to pieces."

The panic attacks he opted to keep to himself, just for now. One problem to deal with at a time.

Perri went quiet again, twitching an uneasy smile at Carl in an attempt at being reassuring. It caused Kolchak a small twinge of remorse to burn at the back of his skull. All his supernatural speculations had never left Perri as speechless and uncomfortable as she was now. And neither had they brought about so much open concern in her.

" So," she said after a time. " How do you think our Ghost Man chooses his victims?"

It was a blatant change of subject, and Carl appreciated it. He managed a small smile, which made Perri visibly relax a little.

" You really want to hear what I have to say?"

Perri smirked. " Try me."

Carl nodded. " I warned you. Personally, I think it's random."

Both of Perri's eyebrows lifted high up her forehead. " Random?"

" Random. The profiler says he kills to take away from those what he either doesn't have or lost. So, it makes sense he would look for that something to take away – public displays of affection, outward happiness, or whatever it is he despises so much. Once he's spotted it, then he proceeds into research; watching and waiting. He wouldn't need long, though. Just a little visual to go by, that's all."

" You mean watching to get a good illusionary image to disguise himself in?"

Carl nodded again. " Exactly."

Perri shook her head in another show of slight exasperation. " Carl..." but she knew better than to finish that sentence. There was never any changing Kolchak's mind about anything, and she was apparently starting to accept this.

" Next question," he said jokingly.

" Okay, then. So, if he picks his victims by what they're doing in public, then he must go to a lot of very crowded places..."

" That's not a question."

Perri raised her hand. " Not finished. Okay, so he picks a victim because he or she is kissing someone else or hugging a child or something. So then what, he follows them?"

" How else is he going to find them?"

Perri held up a finger. " Right. So he has a means of transportation. Probably hangs out at restaurants, grocery stores, parks..."

Carl narrowed his eyes, half in suspicion and half out of amusement. " Are you trying to get inside this guy's head?"

Perri, still talking, stopped with her mouth hanging open, ready for the next word. " Uh, what? His head? No, no of course not," she said laughingly. " I'm just..." she took a deep breath, then nodded. " Yeah, okay, I'm trying to 'get him'. Doesn't mean I'm trying to get in his head. Besides, I thought that was more your thing."

Carl shrugged. " Well, obviously, I've been a little distracted." Then he narrowed his eyes again. " You're really getting into this Ghost Man thing. Hoping to catch him yourself?"

Perri chuckled softly. " Yeah, right. I mean don't get me wrong, the reward money's pretty good incentive, but I value my life a little more than that. It's the story of the century and it's ours; that's why I'm into it. We were really lucky to grab this story first... but, you already know that," she added hastily.

Getting the story had actually been a fluke. The first death had been at the beginning of the month, and big news in the small town's paper because of the victim's missing heart. Yet that paper hadn't reported the details. Those details had been withheld by police and the coroner until an official investigation was under way. So all Carl knew of the situation was that a mutilated body had been found, and no evidence of breaking and entering though the family had been home.

Carl had misread the situation. He had thought, right off the bat, that the killing would end up being similar to what happened to his wife. So he and Perri were the first reporters to receive the facts the authorities were finally ready to release. Then another person had died, in public and with their heart removed, and another. After that, it was officially labeled a serial killing, and the story officially belonged to the Beacon; namely Carl and Perri.

Carl's obsession had paid off. Even he had to admit that. But his disappointment, for a time, had made him hate the potential story. It had dashed his hopes like glass on a rock. However, the unusual nature of the story – the deaths happening in public – had sparked his fascination fairly quick. He just couldn't say no to the unusual.

" I would say I'm shocked that you're not even more all over this thing than I am," Perri said. " But, in light of," she gestured at him vaguely, " situations, I'm really not."

Carl lifted his hand to rest his head against it. It was still shaking, so he dropped it back onto the armrest of his chair. Perri frowned, which meant she had taken notice. Carl took a deep breath and peered around uneasily. That's when he noticed people glancing periodically his way, reminding him that he still looked like something that had just crawled from a crypt.

When he looked away, he continued to feel those curious eyes like cold water being flicked onto the back of his neck. He cleared his throat, dredging up a sudden idea though he doubted it would prove fruitful.

" You know, I think I need a little fresh air. You up for a ride?"

" To where?"

" I don't know. Maybe some place public, crowded. There's that fair going on down town. Lot's of people there."

Perri straightened, wrinkling her brow. " What do you hope to find there, exactly?"

Carl tilted his head to one said. " I don't know. A little more insight into our Ghost Man, maybe. Who knows, maybe we might spot something."

" And what do we tell Tony? That we're profiling for ourselves?"

" No, just tell him we're out getting public opinion for the story, which we'll do. We're not doing much just sitting around here."

Now it was Perri who narrowed her eyes suspiciously. " I thought you weren't feeling good? Are you up to something?"

Carl shifted uncomfortably in his seat, once again glancing around to avoid Perri's gaze though it meant having to notice people staring his own way. It made the indoors too confining all of a sudden, and the air heavy and overly warm.

" I'd just... rather be outside. You know, moving around, getting the blood flowing. Gotta be healthier then staying cooped up in a stuffy office. Besides, who knows, I might be contagious."

Perri kept her eyes narrowed for a moment, then relaxed the muscles of her face with a sigh. " Fine. But you'd better not pass out on me or anything. Oh, and I'll drive."

Carl held up both his unsteady hands. " No arguments here."

NNNNNNNNNNNN

It was a weekday, but the mild weather with its clear skies and air throbbing with the distant percussion of some band argued otherwise. The district where the annual, city sponsored fair was held was thick with people, flowing like a flooded river throughout downtown. Families, couples, friends; all people who on any other day would either be at work or school. They crowded the sidewalks without congesting them, vanishing into restaurants or into parking lots where booths were set up. There were games, food stands, people selling crafts, raffles, carriage rides, and live music. It was a party no one was going to miss out on, especially on this fine day.

And even with a serial killer probably wandering around among them.

It was a negative outlook, Carl knew. But then that's why truths were always considered cold and hard. If Kolchak was right in his thinking, then the fair was happy hunting grounds for the Ghost Man.

The smell of various foods that dominated the aether was making Carl sick on two fronts. For one, he was practically starving after having gone two days without even a snack. Secondly, the thought of eating still made him nauseas. If organs tended to have minds of their own, then his stomach was opting for being a jerk.

One or the other, pal, can't have it both ways, Carl thought in frustration. He took a swallow from the bottle of Seven Up he'd got from a vending machine, and the split protests of his stomach quieted some. Sodas actually had a benefit when it came to problems of the gut. His wife had told him that.

" Oh, I don't think they'll catch his guy," a woman in her early forties was saying to Perri. She was a short, petite woman with shoulder-length brown hair verging on gray. Her eyes were shielded behind a pair of sunglasses and her forehead shadowed by a pink visor. Hanging onto her arm and swinging slightly from side to side was a girl of about six with her dark hair tied up in pigtails. Both were in capris and sleeveless shirts.

" Why do you think that?" Perri asked after writing into her notepad.

" He kills right under people's noses and no one even sees or hears anything? Come on, don't tell me it's possible?"

Carl looked away, scanning the crowds. Jain was off to his right, snapping pictures of a train of restored classical cars being paraded slowly down the street

" I won't even open my windows anymore..." the woman continued. " And I've started picking up my kids. Their stop is ten houses down. Too far if you ask me."

Perri wrote some more, then thanked the woman and turned to Carl, squinting against the day's brightness.

" It's unanimous," she said. " People are freaked."

Carl smiled slightly. " That going to be the headline?"

Perri smiled back. " Then we wouldn't have a story since it kind of sums everything up. Fresh air doing any good?"

Carl took another swallow of soda when he felt his stomach try to resume its churning. " I wouldn't really call this air fresh."

Perri grimaced. " Well, sorry to say but you don't look any better. I would say this little field trip was a bust, but at least we got something to write about. Though opinion polls aren't really my thing."

" Mine neither," Kolchak replied. He scanned the crowds again, stopping his sights on figures that were simply standing around. Way too many to count, let alone be suspicious of.

The smells of food was overpowering, and the crowds – though moving freely – too close for comfort. Carl was beginning to regret coming to the fair.

But neither did he want to go back to the office, or go home for that matter. He didn't know where he wanted to be, so shoved back his rising sense of unease, honing his thoughts to focus only on the story, and not on his immediate surroundings.

Jain joined the two, storing his camera back in its bag. " Well, got some good stuff for the arts and leisures page. Do you guys really think that G-Man might be here?"

Perri gave Jain her most incredulous stare. " G-man?"

Jain returned her look with his own offended one. " What? Better than saying his full name and scaring the crap out of anyone who's listening."

Perri rolled her eyes. " Whatever. Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised."

Carl did another pass with his eyes over the faces and forms of the people passing or standing still. He wasn't naïve; he knew he wouldn't just spot the guy and get a sudden premonition of who he was. But knowing that he could be around had sparked an instinctual need to look all the same. It was more of an action of self defense, keeping watch for those that might be watching him, Perri, or even Jain with a little too much keen interest.

" Wow, that's creepy if you think about it," Jain said. " Makes you not want to be outside anymore. Of course, not that being inside was any safer for the people that died."

The food smells took on a sudden, overwhelming intensity, so much so that Carl could distinguish between scents and the shock of it made him drop his soda. He could pick out the smell of warming hot dogs from that of fried chicken. He could even pick out the scent of sweat on a woman passing by beneath her thick coating of perfume. And the noise became like a constant roaring in his ears.

But the sounds he could ignore. Through the mess of scents assaulting his senses and seeming to pack his lungs, he caught something that soon stood out like red on white. It was metallic, foul - a smell Carl despised.

Blood. Somewhere nearby was the scent of blood. It had not been strong until he had noticed it, and now it was the only smell that mattered. He turned his head, searching for he source of the smell. It became potent when he looked over his shoulder. So he turned, and began walking away while Jain and Perri were still talking.

" Just don't turn into a paranoid..." Perri was saying, then stopped. " Hey, Carl? Carl, where are you going?"

Carl heard Perri and Jain following, and sensed their presence at his back. But he was too intent on the smell to answer. As he followed it, it became stronger. He didn't have to sniff, the scent entered into him unbidden, like the noises of the fair beating against his eardrums. Had it not been for the smell occupying his mind, he would have ran. He wanted to. Being around so many – it didn't feel right to him. It was too closed, stifled, dizzying. It wasn't where he belonged, or where he should be, and he wanted to leave. It wasn't so much panic, but more like a need. He was afraid, yes, but still in control. But only because he had something to focus on. And when his mind tried to drift away, he felt the fear rise up like a flood of ice, and only concentrating back on the blood pushed it away.

Carl crossed the street, staring intently ahead, following a small crowd. A tall, bald man with a thick-muscled body kept peering over his shoulder at Carl. The man's arms were bare, and splotched with a number of tattoos in various sizes. A slightly shorter man with receding brown hair and glasses was doing the same, as was a thin blond woman in a business suit, and a man about Carl's age with stringy brown hair and a heavy build. Each glance was different; the big man threatening, the balding man questioning, the woman nervous, and the young man slightly curious. There were other people around them, but none took notice of Carl. Only these four. And when he neared them, the scent of blood became stronger. So strong, in fact, that Carl could practically taste it, and it made his stomach roil with disgust.

" Carl?" Perri said. He could hear her voice, and took notice of her out of the corner of his eye, but she might as well have been left far behind and be only an echo of thought. The blood was right before him, within the small crowd, maybe from one of the four continually glancing back at him.

Suddenly, the tattooed man stopped, turning abruptly to put his heavy hand on Carl's chest, stopping him. The other three continued on to become lost in the masses.

The smell of blood vanished, as did each individual smell trying to suffocate him. Carl's head swam, and his limbs felt suddenly heavy and unweilding.

" Hey, you got a problem pal?" the bald man sneered. " Something about me you find fascinating? That why you're following me?"

Carl shook his head, trying to clear it, then looked up at the man, accepting his presence for the first time. " What? I wasn't following you. I was just walking. Got a problem with people just walking?"

The big man's hand never left Carl's chest. He took a step forward, radiating menace, and stinking of sweat. But not the sweat of a warm day. It was the sweat of fear. Carl caught the scent, though it was fleeting as a darting mouse, and knew it for what it was. He did not know how he knew, he just did. It was different from the smell of bodies flowing around him. Tainted with something extra, something chemical and profound.

The man was afraid. He could snap Carl's neck like a dried twig, but was afraid.

But Carl's shock could not smother his irritation at being interrupted in his search. The source of the smell had been right in front of him, drifting off of one of the four. Apparently, though, not the guy hulking like sasquatch in front of him. Carl met the man's gaze with his own menacing glare.

" I got a problem with people staring at me like that..." the man snapped.

It was then that Perri interceded, appearing beside Carl as though out of nowhere. She placed a hand on Carl's shoulder, and another on his arm, looking up at the tattooed man.

" I'm sorry. Please don't mind him. He's not feeling well. We've been trying to get him to the car, but he keeps wandering off. He didn't mean anything by it. Delirious, you see. Sorry about that, really."

She then began pulling at Kolchak's arm until he finally relented, letting Perri drag him away. Carl continued to glare at the bald man until he became sallowed up in the throngs crossing the street.

Perri placed her hands on both of Carl's shoulders and forcibly turned him so that he was facing her. She was looking at him with a mixture of disbelief and deep concern written all over her face.

" Carl? What the hell was that?"

He blinked several times. It felt as though he had just woken up from a less-than restful nap, and desperately needed another one.

" What was what?"

She thrust her hand out toward the street where the bald man had been. " That! I swear, for a moment, I thought you were going to attack that guy. I mean the look on your face..." she shook her head. " It scared me, Carl, I mean really scared me."

" Yeah," Jain added. " It was kind of... I don't know... vicious – like you wanted to tear that guy to pieces. Actually, you looked like you wanted to tear everyone to pieces. Like Perri said, scary. Really, really, really scary."

Cold filled Carl, prickling his skin. He swallowed, looking from Perri to Jain, as though they could explain to him what just happened. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, then looked back, hoping the bald man wasn't trying to shove his way through and finish what Carl apparently had almost begun.

Fear. I smelled fear on him. That scary?

" Maybe we should go," Perri said.

Carl nodded numbly. " Yeah, maybe we should."

NSNSNSNSNSNS

A/N: I would like to sincerely thank Lone Tread for your help in spelling sleep apnea and pointing out that I had photographer dude's name wrong. I have no idea where the crap I got Anthony from. The site that I had looked at when getting the names wasn't exactly clear on names, I don't know why.