"Police officer, stop!" he commanded. She didn't look around or even break stride. She had reached the door and was snatching it open. Jake changed tactics and made a line for the front of her vehicle, bringing his weapon up to firing position.

The Mustang's powerful engine caught and he heard it slip into gear just as he arrived. He pointed the Sig Sauer at the woman's face just as she began moving forward. Jake saw there was a passenger in the vehicle, a large black man. He was surprised at that and the moment of indecision nearly cost him his life. The Mustang shot forward, tires squealing. He dove to his right, squeezing off two rounds from the small automatic. The shots were wide, slamming into the side of the fleeing vehicle which continued to accelerate, tires smoking. Jake rolled, getting to his feet quickly and took aim at the back window of the retreating car. Just then a white sedan slid to a stop beside him and the passenger door flew open; Howard was motioning him inside.

Jake jumped in the assistant M.E.'s car and closed the door. "Go, go, go!" he yelled and his friend complied, stomping on the accelerator.

The woman apparently was convinced that Jake was still on foot, because she stopped at the roadway before pulling out. Howard was immediately on her tail and Jake reached for the door handle, preparing to get out and put a bullet in one of her tires. Just then she glanced in her rear view mirror and realized her mistake. The Mustang's tires squealed again and it darted onto Richmond Avenue, toward the Highland Village area. Howard pursued, and Jake noticed that he was grinning from ear to ear.

Jake reached down for a radio that wasn't there. "Howard, where's your radio?"

"What radio?" muttered his friend.

"You don't have a radio?" Jake asked incredulously.

"Nope," replied Howard "only the investigators get them." Glancing at Jake, he raised his eyebrows, still grinning. "God! I've always wanted to do this!" he exclaimed.

Jake suddenly realized his situation. He was in a pursuit with no radio, no red lights, no siren and was being chauffeured by an inexperienced doctor who watched too many Mel Gibson movies. 'We are gonna die' he thought grimly.

The county issued car was simply outclassed by the Mustang. The woman was not an exceptional driver, but the advantage of superior horsepower was on her side. Had Jake been driving he would have been able to make up some of the difference during twists and turns, but Howard was untrained and steadily fell behind. She turned right onto Kirby, cutting across to Westhiemer and Howard was able to gain a little ground, but lost it moments later during a poorly executed lane change. The little blue car slid onto Westhiemer, heading through Highland Village and on toward the Loop. Jake looked around desperately for a patrol car but was disappointed. The Mustang was again accelerating away from them.

Without warning, she slammed on the brakes and tried to make a hard left on Drexel. Losing control for a moment, she regained it, then abruptly lost it again. Howard, using heretofore un-demonstrated driving skills managed to make the turn without rolling over or hitting anyone. Jake was bounced around unmercifully and cursed himself for not wearing a seatbelt. The crown of the road shifted most of the vehicle's weight to his side and his head slammed into the door post hard enough to blur his vision. He looked up in time to see the front end of the Mustang crash through the front window of John's Hobby Shop and come to rest half in and half out of the store.

"Wahoo!" shouted Howard, obviously delighted as he screeched to a stop behind the woman's car. Jake spared him a brief look of disbelief then bailed out of the car.

"Stay put, Howard," he ordered, then ran toward the front of the Mustang, weapon held at the ready.

Dusk was approaching rapidly, but Jake could still see well enough to note that the woman was slumped over the steering wheel. There was blood on her face. He looked at the passenger but couldn't really see the man's condition very well other than that he wasn't moving. Howard sidled up next to him, making Jake jump.

"I thought I told you to stay in the car." he snapped, holstering his pistol.

"They're probably hurt and I'm the nearest doctor."

Jake thought about that for a moment and couldn't come up with a valid argument. "All right, help me get her out of the car and then check on him."

The two men were able to get the unconscious woman out of the front seat and drag her clear of the broken glass from the hobby shop. People were beginning to take an interest in what was happening and Jake instructed the first group onlookers arriving to phone an ambulance and H.P.D.. They ran toward the corner gas station leaving them alone for the moment.

Howard made a quick examination of the woman, pronounced that she would live, then went to the passenger side of the car and leaned inside. He popped out immediately and called to Jake.

"Man, this guy's dead."

"Just leave him for now."

"No, I mean he's dead and has been dead for a few days. Your girlfriend there is either a necrophiliac or extremely desperate for a date. Apparently her weapon of choice is a butcher knife."

Something about that bothered Jake, but there was too much happening at the moment for him to puzzle it out. He walked over to the car and looked inside. Through the odor of antifreeze and burnt oil, another more familiar smell hit him. The malodorous decay of human flesh was one of those things that once experienced, you never forgot and never failed to recognize.

The man was large, with skin the color of a coal sack. He was dressed in black work pants and a white t-shirt. There was a reddish brown stain spread across the front of the shirt pierced with a butcher knife, buried to the hilt in his abdomen. Jake noticed a white wrist band on his left arm and was leaning over for a closer look when he heard a scraping noise behind him. He whirled and saw the woman on her knees and trying to stand; she had crawled toward them and that had been the source of the noise. She wiped her blood soaked hair out of her eyes and looked about, slightly dazed. Jake stepped over to her and placed a hand on her bare shoulder.

"You're not going anywhere. We've got a lot to talk about." he said gruffly, pressing her back down onto the ground. He was forceful, but not cruel. She sat up and glared at him, then spat out blood onto his shoes.

"Destroy them!" she said loudly.

"That doesn't sound good," observed Howard. Then he saw the black man's head swing around and fix him with a dull glare. The dead black man, he corrected himself.

Howard's instinctive reaction to back away or run was canceled out by his disbelief of the situation; he stood transfixed, watching the impossible. The now animated corpse turned toward him and began working the door handle, its eyes never leaving his. Even in the dimming light, Howard could see fly larvae at the edges of the creature's eye sockets and lips. The adult insects scurried in and out of its mouth, disturbed by the motion.

Jake blinked twice, convinced he was seeing things. He then recovered and drew the Sig back out of its holster. "Get away from him Howard! He's still alive."

The assistant M.E. was shaken from his trance and backed away. The thing struggled with the door for a moment longer, then struck it with the flats of its hands. The sound of wrenching metal filled the air as it forced open the jammed door. Howard tripped over some debris and went down just as the door opened with a scream.

Jake leaped forward. The car was between him and his adversary; he could not see Howard as he began making his way around the rear of the vehicle.

The creature advanced on the prone physician, who tried to crab scramble away through a sea of glass, wood and model parts. It stood over him and slowly drew the butcher knife from its mid-section, as if from a scabbard. Blood and intestinal fluid oozed out of the now open wound, landing on Howard's suit pants. An involuntary groan escaped his lips as he anticipated the knife penetrating his chest.

That was all Jake needed to see. He fired two rounds into the hulking figure, followed by two more in quick succession. There was no reaction, though he saw the bullets hit their mark in the center of the back of the white t-shirt. The knife plunged downward just as Howard made a lifesaving dart to the left. The blade grazed his right shoulder, cutting a deep swath through his jacket and opening up the flesh of his biceps. Bright blood flowed and the doctor screamed in pain.

The knife was raised again, but did not fall. Jake slammed headlong into the thing, staggering it from behind. Both went down and into a display cabinet, adding more glass and wood debris to the floor; the Sig clattered onto the tile somewhere. Jake wound up on top and managed to get hold of the knife hand. He gripped the wrist, squeezed and tried to slam it into the ground. Even with the benefit of adrenalin he found himself unable to force that hand down. He thought suddenly that he might be in trouble as the creature began to rise. Like Howard, he instinctively realized it was no longer human.

Jake felt himself lifted while clinging to its back as if he were on some malevolent mechanical bull ride. He desperately clutched the thing's wrist, trying to keep clear of the knife. Wrapping his other arm around its neck with fear-induced strength, he heard cartilage twist and snap as it regained its feet. He felt rather than saw coagulated blood ooze out of its mouth and into the crook of his elbow. With its free arm the creature attempted to dislodge him while turning and stumbling around. It was moving quickly now, crouching and spinning despite the detective's weight. With a twist of its forearm it broke Jake's grip. He was able to block the knife thrust that followed, but the blow nearly shattered his arm. The thing backed him hard into a wall and he felt the sheetrock give way as he sank into it. As the creature surged forward, Jake lost his hold on it's neck and began to slip down.

Howard appeared in front of them, holding the Sig in his left hand at arms length.

"Die, you ****!" he screamed and pulled the trigger.

Jake closed his eyes just as the gun fired. Brain matter and skull fragments peppered his face and he felt the creature collapse beneath him. He lay still for a moment catching his breath, then looked up at Howard.

The pathologist looked like a wildman, he still held the Sig at arms length; its slide was locked back. His hair was askew and his mouth hung open, his eyes were darting about as if frantically searching for new threats; blood flowed freely from his right shoulder. Jake knew the look, he'd seen it on countless rookies after surviving their first **** storm.

Jake stood and took the gun from Howard's hand. He gave it up reluctantly, the looked into Jake's eyes, perhaps seeking an explanation or maybe, absolution. Jake gave it to him.

"Thanks Howard." he said, letting a smile curl on his lips.

"Is it dead?"

"I'm gonna say yes," replied Jake dryly, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Let's do something about that shoulder." Suddenly, Jake remembered his prisoner "Find a phone Howard, call 911 and get us some help. I'll be right back."

The detective made his way through the debris as quickly as possible, stepping out through where the front window used to be and into the parking lot. Scanning the area, Jake noted that a crowd was gathering and his prisoner was gone. From the reaction of the people close enough to get a good look at him, he decided that he must look like a bit of a wildman himself. He quickly produced his badge and waved it around.

"Did anyone see a woman get up from the ground and leave here?" he asked the six or so people, indicating the pavement where he had seen her last. "She was a prisoner. . .anybody?"

There was a negative murmur; some of them looked at the ground where he pointed as if she might still be there, somehow camouflaged. He wasn't surprised that no one saw the woman leave and was even less surprised that no one moved to help him. He supposed that made him a cynic, although he tended to believe that realist might be a more appropriate term. He instructed everyone to keep back, invoking the 'crime scene' words that seemed to have an almost magical power to hold back onlookers; just as it seemed to cause them to cling to the perimeter. Shaking his head, he re-entered the store in search of Howard. He could hear sirens approaching.

Howard was bent over the body, looking at the wristband Jake had noted earlier. He looked up at Jake and let the arm fall back to the floor. "This guy was at the Tub a few days ago."

Things fell into place with an almost audible click. Jake remembered Captain Daly complaining about a missing body at Ben Taub, the one he claimed Detective Hollman 'lost'.

"Jake." said Howard, frowning. "Just what in the hell is going on?"

"I don't know, but it's some weird ****."

"Weird? Unbelievable is more like it. Just what are we going to say happened here?"

"I don't know."