The infamous Jack hung from the galleries, his motionless body twisting this way, now that. The blood that had spurted from his arteries was barely trickling out now. In his mind's eye Gary could see the golden energy of his life, once fierce and self-contained, turning to wisps of wan smoke, his body barely warmer than the air around him.
A drop of blood fell from his dangling left hand and struck the flagstones with a soft spattering sound.
"So... I win," Gary said, not really sure what that meant. He sloshed backward into the welcoming embrace of his bath. His weight had become an issue of late - his bones complained when he stood up and forced them to accommodate all that extra fat tissue. It felt far better to just lie back in the formalin and let his natural buoyancy hold him up. "It's over." It had been fifteen minutes since the last rocket-propelled grenade struck the broch. Ayaan must be out of ammunition. Dekalb and Jack were accounted for. The prisoners, according to Noseless, were scared but calm. In the entirety of New York City no one remained to challenge him. "I win," he said again.
Another drop of blood fell. Drip.
Dekalb's jaw shook as he opened his mouth to speak. He visibly forced the words out. "I suppose you do. So just finish me already. Eat me now and put me out of my misery."
Gary grinned and rested his hands across his swollen belly. "No," he said.
"...no?"
"No." Gary nodded at Jack where the Army Ranger had turned as pale as a sheet. Drip. Drip. "He's about to die. When he does he'll come back - as one of mine. Then I'm going to let him eat you. It'll be awesome."
Drip.
Dekalb's stomach quaked, the muscles under his blood-soaked shirt moving violently as his chest heaved with fear. He would be having trouble controlling his bowels, Gary thought. He might shit himself. That would be amusing. Dekalb ran his hands down his front, trying to smooth away the shaking maybe or perhaps he was trying to wipe the sweat off his palms. He pushed his hands across his pockets and seemed to find something there. His wallet? His house keys? Something safe, comfortable, reassuring. Some false hope. His eyes were slits, though, hurt, lost and impotent. "You... you don't have to do that. You didn't have to do any of this - Gary, there's still a chance. You can turn this around. Save the day."
"Oh, really?" Gary sneered.
"Yeah." Dekalb sat down cross-legged on the lip of Gary's tub and rubbed at his face. "You could... you control the dead. You could march them all into the ocean if you wanted. You could save us. You could save the human race."
drip.
Gary drew his head under the preserving fluid for a moment. Felt it fill his mouth, his nose, the labyrinth of his sinus cavity. He reared upward again and let the liquid drip out of his face before he went on. "The human race. The living, you mean - the people who hate me. Who can't stand to look at me. Why is that, Dekalb? Why do I disgust you so much? Give me an honest answer to that, at least."
The enemy at least thought before answering. "Because you're just like us. You can talk, you can think - the restless dead out there, your army, we can look at them and think they're just animals. They don't know what they're doing. But you chose this."
"I chose it," Gary repeated. He hadn't considered that - he'd always seen himself as a victim of circumstance. Pushed along by events until he ended up on top of them.
"You're human - you might as well be human. And you eat other humans. There's nothing complex about it. It's the oldest taboo in the book. You're a cannibal."
Gary's stomach roiled at the thought. A dozen defenses for his actions sprung to his mind but he abandoned them at once - they were false. Dekalb was right, he had chosen to be who he was. It changed nothing. Anger clawed its way out of Gary's chest and into his mouth. He felt like spitting. "You still don't get it, Dekalb. I'm not the villain here. I'm not a fucking monster. People have been trying to kill me almost since the day I was reborn - Ayaan and her girl scout troop from hell. Marisol, and because of Marisol, Jack over there. You came here to kill me today. There were others you don't even know about - one guy I thought was my friend, or at least my teacher. Why? Because I'm unclean, unnatural? Because I'm evil? I'm not any of those things. I'm just hungry," Gary roared. "I have a right to exist, a right to stay alive as long as I can and that means I have to eat. That means I have a right to eat."
drip.
"You can judge me all you want but here we are. I win. I'm going to live forever - and you're going to die."
drip.
Jack's body began to convulse, the muscles staging a final protest. He quivered on his line, his shoulder smacking against the wall and sending him spinning. His mouth opened and a liquid cry of horror came out, a raw, wet animal sound that trailed off into a rattle. Partly the symphony of the damned and partly the wail of a newborn baby.
Vomit flowed out of his nose and mouth. His chest gave one last spasmodic heave and then he just stopped. His systems shut down. He died.
"You have about a minute before he reanimates," Gary suggested, both of them staring at the brand new corpse. "Any last requests?"
Dekalb laughed, a bitter explosive sound. He reached into his pocket and grabbed something there. Gary stirred but relaxed when he saw what Dekalb had found - a hand-rolled cigarette and a pack of matches.
"I didn't know you smoked," Gary giggled.
"If I'm going to start, now's the time." He tucked the cigarette between his lips and opened the matchbook. "Osman - you never met him - gave this to me before I left Governors Island. He said it would relax me. Maybe it'll make it less painful to be eaten alive. But that would ruin your fun, wouldn't it?"
Gary lifted one dripping arm in a dismissive gesture. "I'm not a complete asshole. Go for it. A last act of mercy."
"Thanks." Dekalb tore one of the paper matches free and put the head against the striking strip on the matchbook cover. "By the way, somebody owes you an apology."
"Oh?"
Dekalb nodded, his absurd joint bobbing in his mouth. "Yeah. Your teachers in med school. They forgot to tell you that formalin is highly flammable." The match struck and lit with a tiny hiss. Dekalb snapped it away from himself in a fluttering arc that dropped it right into Gary's bathtub.