Jack could have called Carl right away and told him that his suspicions were no longer just suspicions — someone from the past, someone he had sworn was dead, had returned. And they were full of rage, ready to kill.
But there was no time. The phone rang, and what Sheriff Jackson heard on the other end of the line sounded like a true nightmare.
"What? At the clinic? Where's Morales?? What??? How many dead?? Alright, I'm on my way. I'll call some of my men, but cover everything for now." Jackson was nervous.
Mack Del Rio had already had his share of misery in life. That's why he thought it was time to leave. Money had bought him a good lawyer and decent muscle, but it couldn't save him from the kind of danger he knew — and regretted knowing.
"The Martels are still locked up. The lawyer said he can get them out tomorrow morning, but it might be too late. I have to get out of here. Damn it, I won't see Dahlia's funeral… That's awful. I wanted to say goodbye one last time. Maybe I can catch the twins in prison, then head to the funeral. But I'll have to go in disguise, or I might be arrested again… That's the best-case scenario," Mack thought, frantically.
He was at the apartment where he lived. He packed a small bag with only the essentials: fake passport, some drugs, three pairs of underwear, two Louis Vuitton scarves, a pair of sunglasses, and, of course, his outrageously golden gun, loaded with silver bullets.
He went to the bathroom, quickly spread shaving cream on his face, shaved off all his hair, then, nearly crying, shaved his head down to the scalp — becoming nearly unrecognizable.
He ate a garlic lamb burger he had bought nearby. It tasted awful, and he decided it would be safer to hide in a hotel. Mack lived alone in the blue building — not very big, but with the occasional visitor and a janitor.
He thought he heard footsteps while showering, but concluded it might have been drug-induced paranoia.
He sat in the armchair. While putting on his boots, a faint noise echoed, catching his attention. He was facing the door, and the gun was beside him on a small table. He reached for it, swallowed hard, and held in his pee… but then came the crash. The heavy wooden door fell to the floor, sending up a cloud of settled dust.
Mack didn't shoot — which would've been expected. He just shielded his face with his hand and, when he finally reacted, he saw her standing there — paler than ever — his friend Dahlia.
"It can't be…" — a tear rolled down Mack's face. Not just a tear of sadness, but as if he had found something worse than death. As if he had died and discovered that hell really existed — and it was worse than expected.
Mack's bladder gave out, and the yellow, foul-smelling liquid soaked the armchair and floor. Dahlia looked at him. She was covered in blood. And naked. Completely naked.
"Dahlia… I'm sorry… please, I'm sorry…" — Mack was terrified. He somehow knew what she was now. He just accepted that this would be his end. Trembling, with great effort, he stood up and hugged his friend. She was cold, with a texture he didn't recognize.
Dahlia didn't hug him back. She just closed her eyes for a moment and then opened her mouth, revealing sharp canine fangs.
Sheriff Jackson thought about calling Adam and Steven for a task force, but he still wasn't sure what had happened. Morales, even in shock, was the one who answered the questions:
"We have three dead: two security guards and an assistant. We don't know who did it. Miss Dahlia's body is gone. I… I don't know what to do," said Morales, clearly in a state of shock.
Jack looked around and saw men placing a body on a stretcher. He approached and lifted the sheet, finding a brutally mangled corpse — his stomach turned in disgust.
Kowalski arrived in his car faster than Jack expected, and instead of calming Morales, gave him a scolding:
"Where were you? You know this is your fault! If you had been here…"
Before he could finish the sentence, Jack whistled, calling him over.
"Morales is out of it. Irresponsible. What is it, Sheriff?" — said Kowalski.
"I'm lifting this sheet. I want you to tell me, quietly, what you see here," said Jack.
When he did, he revealed the first victim: a coroner's assistant. His neck had two crude bite marks, and his body looked like a sack of bones — like a deflated blow-up doll.
Kowalski, who never cursed, couldn't help himself:
"Shit!!" — he held his head and repeated — "Shit, shit, SHIT!!!"
Jack kept a calm appearance.
"That bastard…" Jack muttered.
"He knew we'd look at Penelope, that we wouldn't pay attention to a prostitute. Penelope must've been bait. The kidnapping, all of it — bait," said Kowalski.
Jack felt like an idiot. Something common when he was around Kowalski, whom he considered very intelligent. But falling for a setup like that was too much.
"No, no…" Jack tried to argue.
"How not? Here's the proof: a body is missing. It was Dahlia Graves' body, and from what I heard, it had marks. That idiot Morales didn't report that little detail. He said the cause of death was inconclusive," Kowalski was irritated.
"Kowalski, what is that kid, 26? Maybe he wasn't even born… He doesn't know what you and I know. I'm going after her. Maybe she's still out there, leaving a trail of blood. I'll get Lucille. You go get the gun from the station — it has three silver bullets. Try not to miss if she shows up here," said Jack.
"Shit…" Kowalski was great with a scalpel, but terrible with guns. And against those creatures, a scalpel was useless.
Jack followed the trail of blood left by Dahlia to a large glass window. She had jumped through it and headed toward a small forest.
Jack knew he couldn't hunt those creatures aimlessly. He thought about where Dahlia might want to go. Two options came to mind: the priest or the pimp. He chose the Church of Saint Junípero — something told him she would be there.
It was past two in the morning, and Mayor Carl was getting ready for bed. He had written and rewritten his speech four times. In a moment of reflection, he realized something: his friends, Jack and Kowalski, knew the man he believed to be responsible for Penelope's abduction. They knew the nature of that creature. They knew there was a possibility that "something" had been placed inside Penelope.
Several gears started to turn in Carl's old white head. He grew furious—but didn't have time to finish his train of thought. The phone rang. Normally, he wouldn't answer at that hour, but he did. He was still the mayor.
"This is Mayor Carl speaking," he said.On the other end, a hysterical voice recounted the events, and Carl jumped from his chair:"What? At the municipal morgue??? Jackson's already there??" — To Carl, this was just the beginning.
Adam took the box Geraldine had given him, containing Stacy's belongings. The next day, he would bring it to the station and file anything he found useful.
He had read a bit of the book where Geraldine said she had even consulted a medium during her daughter's disappearance. What the medium said was: "Your daughter is already dead." Adam thought that was a terribly harsh thing to say to a mother—even if that mother was Geraldine Mistake.
He didn't feel right reading a missing girl's diary, but one of them caught his attention. It was from the year Stacy disappeared, when she was fifteen, and it read:
"Friday, January 10th.The year's barely started and I'm already annoyed. I think it's because Geraldine insists I pose for that awful magazine, and I don't want to. I think it's outdated.If Dad were alive, he'd never allow it.I can't even go to the movies today because of the auditions tomorrow.On the bright side, I have Cedric's company. He's fun—a bit rude sometimes, but generally kind.When I have control over my money, I'll pay to have all the magazines I posed for pulled from the stands, and those stupid soap operas I appeared in too.I thought I liked the fashion world and everything it represents, but spending time with people like Cedric, I see life has more to offer me.I don't want to be famous at eighteen and forgotten at twenty-six by the media.I don't want to be touched during fittings—even if it's by a flamboyant man.I don't want to go to dinners where men old enough to be my grandfathers lick their lips and secretly desire me, even if my body still looks like a surfboard, all flat.I want to be loved—deeply loved—by good people, not bad ones.The love of bad people is like poison: it enters your veins and kills you slowly.Cedric thinks I'm lucky, but there are things money can't buy."
Adam read the passage with a knot in his stomach but quickly moved on to the next pages. His curiosity had grown.
"Just a few days until my birthday—or rather, Geraldine's lie.David gave me a car (nothing special; Dad had already paid for it and it would've been mine at 16).David just gave it early. I think to make up for the fight he had with Cedric.I have to say, it's been exhausting watching how he reacts to my driver.Geraldine's been hateful these past few days. She pretends nothing happened. Sometimes I wonder if she really knows anything.I know she used to read my diaries, but stopped when I threatened to expose what David did on the trip to Cancún.I don't know if she loves me. As a mother, I know she doesn't. Maybe as a friend... or niece... but not as a daughter.And how could she love me? I didn't come from her. She can't even resent me for ruining her beautiful body.No matter. Tomorrow, my convertible and I are going to the beach. I want Cedric to come too.He's so pale, and he needs a break."
Adam looked at a photo of Stacy and the driver on the beach beside the red convertible. The wind was blowing Cedric's hair across his face, but Abrax could see Stacy was right—he was very pale, and his dark hair only made it more noticeable.
Stacy looked happy. And Adam smiled at the thought.
He fell asleep in front of the TV. He dreamed of a long road, alongside mountains and the sea.A growing engine roar echoed until a red convertible approached. At the wheel, a Nordic blonde.And then, suddenly, he saw her from the front, singing Bohemian Rhapsody:"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?..."The girl sang along, and when Adam blinked, she was in the passenger seat.After singing the chorus, Stacy, in the dream, turned to Adam and started again:"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?..."She looked so real, so alive, that Adam could even smell her perfume.When he looked ahead, he saw the road stretching on.And when the chorus repeated, he turned to Stacy—but this time, she was singing with her mouth smeared in blood, sharp fangs, and eyes... the eyes of a starving feline.
Adam jumped awake, startled. The phone was ringing.On the TV, a Queen music video was playing."Ah, so that's why..." he thought.He rubbed his head and grumbled something before answering. It was cold, and the day was beginning to break.
"Hello?" said Abrax, groggy.On the other end, Steven spoke without pause, telling him everything that had happened overnight."What??? What do you mean?? She what?? Jack what??? Wait... I'm coming!" Adam replied.
At the Church of Saint Junípero, a naked body lay stretched out on a table.Father Benson covered it with a sheet and said a prayer. Jack stood silent, waiting for Kowalski, while Steven and Mack sat side by side.
"Sir, are you sure I shouldn't arrest him?" Steven asked.Jack sighed deeply."Steven, leave him alone. Wait for Adam to arrive. And don't speak to me until then."
Adam parked in the garden so hastily that the car ended up crooked. Steven met him."Jack is inside. You should go in.""What the hell is going on?""That's what I want to understand too."
Finally, when Kowalski arrived, someone started talking.
"Jack, I was late because I had to dismiss the press, call other staff, and speak to Carl. It's been a crazy night. What are these two doing here?" he asked, pointing at Adam and Steven.
Adam didn't know what to say. Steven stepped forward:"Well, I had the vague idea that maybe Mr. Mack Del Rio here might try to run off in the middle of the night. I know he was released, but as the priest said, he's an idiot—and I was counting on that to catch him with something illegal and arrest him again.I drove by the church street and ran into him carrying Dahlia's body in his arms, already lifeless and covered in blood.It took me a second to recognize him because of that shiny bald head.But that's it.When I stopped the car and tried to apprehend him, Jack came out of the church—which was a surprise.And now we're here."
Kowalski nodded, agreeing, and then asked:"Okay. But… what about him?" — pointing at Abrax."I let Steven call Abrax, just like I let the priest know what's going on.I think it's time to tell the boys a few things," said Jack.
"Okay… and where do we start?" asked Kowalski."We'll take the body out of here and cremate it as soon as possible. For safety. We'll talk at the station," Jack replied.
The priest intervened:"No! She was Catholic! You can't cremate her!""Father... why don't you come with us? You'll understand why she must be cremated.Then you can hold a proper ceremony—as she wanted in life," Jack said kindly. He made an effort, though what he really wanted was to scream. Scream so loud his lungs would burst from the pain.
The priest didn't argue.And all the men left together.