The Reincarnation

John found the Lab with little trouble. Aside from Hannibal’s tracker, there were signs everywhere pointing the way. The Lab was a major landmark in its sleepy little town, and the town wasn’t shy about letting people know about it. Although the letters and numbers on the signs appeared as a tangle of dashes and whirls, John understood them from the symbol they all shared – the logo of The Medical Church of America. It was a cross with two snakes intertwining it. John looked at the signs with the dawning realization that he didn’t need to be able to read to get by. He thought in a distant way, whatever was left of his mind revealing it, that lots of things were like that – you didn’t really need to know anything and you could still function; get money from a bank machine, drive, get a room at a motel, buy a gun.

He left the car and walked to the gate that blocked the short driveway to the building, not knowing what his explanation to the guard would be. He didn’t need one. The guardpost was empty. A computer buzzed and clucked inside it. John slipped past the reflective orange and white car barrier-arm.

The tracking device worked better than he expected. More powerful than the tracker, though, was John’s feeling of wholeness the closer he got to the man’s room. Life seemed to seep back into him as he closed in on his objective.

After walking the outer perimeter of the building, both the tracker and John knew when they were in the right spot. The pull he had felt in his chest earlier was now throbbing. It seemed to speak to him, wanting him to do something, but John ignored its coercion. It was getting near dawn now, and he didn’t want to ruin his chances.

Outside the room that held Hannibal and David, John scratched an “X” on the wall with the butt of his gun. He looked up at the building towering above him. Thank God he’s on the first floor, he thought. He jogged back to his car, drove to a motel, and paid in cash. He again didn’t let the nightman see his face.

John studied himself as he slowly lost control of his body. As he concentrated, he could feel it happening. A brief, scurrying sound distracted him for a moment. He ignored it, analyzing the different signals his body gave as his consciousness slipped away from him. He studied it harder than anything he had ever studied before. He wanted to know all the signs and subtleties of the disease that controlled him. He was getting quite good at it.

Soon, he thought, I’ll know exactly when it strikes.