The Law of Nines

“Dead Fred there caught her arm with the knife. Fortunately it hasn’t been sharpened in a thousand years or it might have done more serious damage. I’m not a doctor, but I’m sure she’s going to need stitches.”

Alex let out a sigh of relief.

“What’s the plan, Alex?” Hal asked as he walked Jax over to the wet bar, pressing a towel against her forearm the whole way.

“The plan is not to have any more surprises.”

“That was a pretty big one,” Ralph said from his place on the floor. “I’ve known Fred Logan for years and I never thought him capable of anything like that. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“That makes two of us,” Mike Fenton said.

Alex kept his finger alongside the barrel of the gun as he sighted through the iron sights, fearing to hold his finger against the trigger lest something make him flinch and cause him to accidentally press it. He knew from countless hours of practice that from where they were on the floor no one could beat him to his gun before he could twitch his finger down to the trigger.

Hal cursed under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye Alex saw him leading a somewhat wobbly Jax around behind.

“That damn bar sink isn’t big enough to wash a grape,” Hal said. “I need to take her into the bathroom and use the sink in there, or the tub.”

“How bad is it?” the doctor asked.

“It didn’t seem to cut any veins. She’s lucky.”

“Right, lucky,” Jax growled.

Underlying the sarcasm, Alex could read the anger in her voice. He was relieved that she was angry. That meant it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared at first.

“I have a kit in my car,” the doctor said.

“You just do as Alex asked, Doc, and stay right there for the moment,” Hal said.

“Well, wash around it good but don’t get soap in the laceration, then wrap it tight enough to put compression on the wound to stop the bleeding.”

“Will do,” Hal said, his voice echoing from the bathroom as he flicked on the light.

“Mr. Rahl?” Mildred said, unable to take her eyes off the bloody corpse sprawled on the floor in front of her. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Mildred, look at me.” The frightened woman looked up at him. “You’re going to be fine. Don’t look at him, look at me. You’re not going to be sick. You’re a member of the Daggett Society. You’re going to be strong.”

That seemed to buck her up a little. She took a deep breath and kept her eyes on Alex. He hoped she wasn’t in on it.

“I don’t understand,” Mike Fenton said. “We’ve all known Fred Logan for years.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Alex said. “I’ve been fooled by these people as well. They’re good at what they do. You knew Fred here for years. I’ve only known most of you for hours. There is a lot at stake. I hope you understand why I can’t take any chances.”

Most of the people nodded.

Alex was glad to see Jax coming out of the bedroom. Her left forearm had a makeshift bandage made of strips of motel towels.

She drew her knife as she knelt down beside Alex. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’m just angry with myself that he caught me off guard like that. I feel stupid letting him cut me.”

“Now you know how I felt,” Alex said.

A number of the people watching from only a few feet away gasped when Jax leaned over and started cutting symbols into the dead man’s forehead. The beige carpet was soaked with blood all around his head. Yet more trickled down as Jax cut.

Finished, Jax sat back on her heels. Alex concentrated on trying to stop his hands from shaking as he sighted down the gun at people he hoped he wouldn’t have to shoot.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Hal said under his breath. “He’s vanished.”

Alex glanced down and saw that the dead man was indeed gone. The carpet was clean. Jax’s knife was clean.

“He was from my world,” Jax said to the people watching in wide-eyed shock. “I sent him back.”

Everyone began asking questions at once.

“Quiet!” Alex shouted. The room fell silent.

“What now?” Jax whispered to him.

“Now,” he said so that everyone could hear, “we’re going to test all of these people to see if any of them vanish and go back like Fred did.”

People gasped in fear. Alex gestured with one hand to quiet them down.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to use a knife.”

Struck with a sudden worry of his own, he glanced over at Jax and whispered, “You don’t need to cut the skin, do you?”

“No. I only use a knife because I want to send their people a message, a message delivered in blood. I can use anything that will make marks.”

“Hal,” Alex said, gesturing with his gun, “frisk them. I want to know if any of them are armed.”

Hal apologized as he went from one person to the next, doing a thorough job of looking for hidden weapons. When finished, he stood.

“No hand grenades, no rocket launchers.”

“Good. Can you get Jax a pen off the table there, please?”

Hal stayed out of the line of fire and walked around behind to hand Jax the pen.

Jax crooked a finger at Mike Fenton, then pointed at the carpet a few feet in front of her. “Stay on your knees and come forward.”

Mike moved forward, keeping his fingers locked behind his head. He looked up at Hal, as if pleading his case.