Frankenstein

had dealt with Murdock. They had hoped to begin delivering the patients to the Builders after visiting hours. But if someone had seen the killing, and if he had a visitor, they risked exposure if that visitor left the hospital.
    “Midday visiting hours are over?” Jarmillo asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Evening hours are … ?”
    “From five till eight.”
    “It’s going to complicate things for us, but we’ll have to prevent the evening visitors from leaving. They’ll all have to be rendered to the Builders, as well.”
    “We’ll need some help.”
    “I’ll give you three more deputies.”
    “Then we’ll be fine.”
    Jarmillo turned his attention once more to Murdock’s face. “I think the Creator might call Cody obsessive.”
    “And I think,” Lightner said, “you seem to be obsessing about obsession.”
    The chief met Lightner’s eyes again. After a mutual silence, he said, “For the Community.”
    “For the Community,” Dr. Lightner replied.

    
chapter
44

    Jocko’s big moment. The first people he’d met in two years. He wanted to make a good impression. To be liked. To be accepted as a fellow American. To make Erika proud. To not be a screwup.
    Scaring them was a bad start. Stop grinning. Just a small smile.
    Maybe wiggle his ears. No! No, no, no! That old woman that time, that alleyway, Jocko wiggled his ears, she beat him with a trash can. And threw the cat at him. The cat was horrible. No ear wiggles.
    Extending his right hand in greeting, he went to Deucalion. “I am Jocko. Jocko juggles. Jocko pirouettes. Jocko is a monster like you but not as pretty. Jocko is immensely pleased to make your great acquaintance.”
    Deucalion’s hand was so large that he only used his thumb and forefinger to shake Jocko’s hand. But it still counted as a shake.
    So far so good.
    He went next to Carson O’Connor. “I am Jocko. Jocko cartwheels. Jocko writes poetry. Jocko used to eat soap. But he doesn’t anymore. Bowel problems. But Jocko still likes the taste.”
    Carson O’Connor grimaced when she shook Jocko’s hand. But she didn’t recoil. Didn’t spit at him. He didn’t think she’d throw a cat even if she had one. Very nice. A nice lady.
    “Ms. Carson O’Connor, if you please. Jocko apologizes for his nasty hand. It is cold. Clammy. Sticky. But Jocko assures you, it is clean.”
    “I’m sure it is,” she said. “Please just call me Carson.”
    Never had Jocko thought it would go this well. Jocko was making an impression. Jocko was almost debonair.
    To Carson, he said, “Jocko is supremely delighted to see you again.”
    She looked confused. “Again?”
    “Jocko met you briefly. New Orleans. A warehouse roof. In a thunderstorm. You had a shotgun. Another lifetime.”
    Michael Maddison accepted Jocko’s outstretched hand.
    “I am Jocko. Jocko does backflips. Jocko can eat a big cinnamon roll in one bite. Jocko collects funny hats with bells.”
    He shook his head. All the little bells rang on his hat.
    “Jocko is enchanted to see you again.”
    “Forgive me,” Michael said, “but I don’t recall … ”
    “Back then, things were going wrong with Victor’s people. So wrong. Strange things. Jocko was a strange thing that went wrong. Jocko grew inside Jonathan Harker.”
    Harker had been one of Victor’s New Race. The replicant of a police detective. In the homicide department with Michael and Carson.
    “Jocko was sort of a kind of a tumor. But with a brain. And hope. Hope for a better life. Freedom. Maybe go to Disney World one day. That’ll never happen. Still, one can dream. Anyway, Jocko burst from Harker’s chest.”
    They remembered. Eyes wide. Jocko was happy they remembered.
    “Jocko has Harker’s memories. But is not Harker. Jocko lived fora while in sewers. Ate bugs to survive. So tragic. But kinda tasty. Then Jocko met Erika. No more bugs. Life is good.”
    Suddenly, Jocko feared they might misunderstand. Might get the wrong idea. Jocko felt himself blush.
    Jocko clutched Michael’s hand in both of his. “Please to understand—Jocko and Erika are not lovers. No, no, no!”
    Jocko let go of Michael. Spun to Carson. Seized one of
her
hands with both of his.
    “Erika is virtuous. Erika is Jocko’s mom. Adopted mother. Jocko has no genitals. Zero, zip, nada.”
    “That’s good to know,” said Carson.
    “Jocko doesn’t need genitals. Jocko is only one of his kind. No one to reproduce with. Jocko doesn’t want genitals. Ick! Bleh! Ugh! Gag me with