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   Chapter 34 No.34

Demonspawn By Christina Engela Characters: 5144

Updated: 2018-06-30 12:02


"My sentiments exactly." Harry continued, seeming to turn something complicated over and over inside his mind, like mental calculus. "Of course, there is a third option."

"A third option." Lofflin nodded, impressed. "I'm listening."

"Billingham killed Blaine, but neither Billingham nor our mystery crew member killed Mr. Pollard."

"That sounds a lot like option one." Lofflin grunted. "What are you saying, Doctor?"

"No, not exactly. Think about it, Joe. Ok, so maybe Billingham killed Blaine – it could just as easily be him as any one of us on this ship. Whoever it was, it had to be one of us because we were on the ship, right?"

"Okay." Joe conceded, wondering where the Doctor was heading. "Right."

"Now, look at the derelict ship we have just across the road. Our nice new neighbor. Alien, as in not from anywhere we know, and, full of dead people. You've seen how they died. One, plus one, equals two."

"What's your point, Harry?"

"Somebody killed all of them too – and in a strikingly similar fashion to poor Mr. Pollard."

The implication slotted into place like a heavy iron bolt. Clang.

"Oh, now wait a minute, " Lofflin objected. "Are you nuts, Harry? That ship's been stuck out here for nearly seven thousand years – are you suggesting whoever killed them, also killed Pollard?"

"I only said it's a third option." Harry clarified, sipping his tea. "So fuck me, it's a very old somebody. Hell, I wasn't suggesting a ghost or anything, Joe – I'm a Doctor of medicine, not a paranormal investigator,

hing you mentioned?"

Harry nodded, almost smiling as he saw the penny drop. At about the same time as Joe Lofflin's jaw.

"Well, you're going to love this news, Joe. Mark Pollard's blood samples came up exactly the same – a perfect match. Identical."

"Identical? They're aliens."

"Aside from the basic genetics, I mean. C'mon Joe, you know what I'm getting at!"

"But surely the fall…" He began. Then Harry put into words what had just dawned on him.

"Not enough time to pump that much adrenalin into the bloodstream." He said. "Don't ask me why I checked it, just being thorough I guess. Pollard was probably dead before he hit the bottom."

The story about Pollard's screams told to him by Specialist Johnson resurfaced in his memory and waved a little red flag at him. This threw a whole new light on things – and it didn't look good from where Lofflin was sitting. It seemed farfetched, but plausible at the same time. Perhaps that was just because it seemed to explain all the gaps in the story so far.

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