Interesting Times (Interesting Times #1) Read Free Page B

man, but it was his
right leg that moved. Mr. Teasdale looked at him in surprise. “Impressive,” he
said. “I’ve never seen anyone recover from my stunner that quickly. It won’t be
quickly enough, of course.” He moved the needle to within a hair’s breadth of
the space between Oliver’s toes.
    He was
about to die, Oliver thought. What a stupid thing to have happen. But an
instant before Mr. Teasdale could give him the injection, the conference room
door flew open. Oliver tried to turn his head. Someone must have heard him
fall, he thought. He was saved!  But it was the man in the Hawaiian shirt that
was standing there in the doorway. He held a small pistol aimed at Mr.
Teasdale’s head. “Drop it,” he said.
    Mr.
Teasdale regarded the newcomer with interest. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he
said. “What are you doing here?”
    “Put the
syringe down,” the man in the Hawaiian shirt said.
    “I will
not.”
    “Last
warning.”
    “You
know that’s not going to kill me,” Mr. Teasdale said. “Leave now and I’ll…”
    “Help
me!” cried Oliver, finally finding his voice.
    The man
in the Hawaiian shirt gritted his teeth, and then pulled the trigger. The
pistol made a noise no louder than a quiet sneeze and Mr. Teasdale was struck
in the head. The impact sounded like a watermelon being hit with a baseball
bat.  Teasdale crumpled to the ground next to Oliver.
    It was
over. “Help me,” Oliver repeated, relieved. 
    The man
in the Hawaiian shirt tucked his pistol into a belt holster that had been
concealed under his shirt, then moved to Oliver’s side. “Can you stand?” he
asked.
    Oliver
wasn’t sure. The tingling in his extremities had faded, and it seemed like his
body was starting to respond to him. With the other man’s help he managed to
roll over and climb to his feet, but his balance was off and his legs were
shaky. It was a little like being drunk, he thought. He hadn’t been drunk in
years, but he was pretty sure this was what it had been like.
    The man
in the Hawaiian shirt held Oliver by the arm. “Good job,” he said. “He hit you
pretty good, looks like. It’ll wear off in another couple of minutes.”
    “Who are
you?” Oliver asked.
    “I’m
Tyler,” the man in the Hawaiian shirt said. “Nice to meet you. Well, nice to
meet you again. Now come on. We have to get out of here.”
    As much
as Oliver wanted to be somewhere far away from here, he knew he couldn’t leave
the scene of his own attempted murder. “I can’t go,” he said. “I have to call
the police.”
    Tyler
shook his head. “Look, I hate to rush you before you’re ready, but we don’t
have a lot of time here. He’s not going to be down long.”
    Oliver
stared at him in disbelief. The would-be killer had just been shot in the head!
But then out of the corner of his eye he saw the other man stir. Oliver took an
unsteady step closer and looked down at him. Had the movement been a reflex
act? He had read somewhere that bodies could keep moving on their own for a few
minutes after death. It was weird and unsettling to see, but entirely natural.
    But then
the assassin drew a sudden breath and moaned. Oliver jerked backwards in
surprise. He was sure the man had not been breathing a moment ago. He could
clearly see where the impact from the bullet had punched a hole in the man’s
skull, but something about it wasn’t right. Oliver leaned closer. The wound was
changing shape. “My god,” Oliver said. There was no doubt about it. The wound
was getting smaller, the damaged skin and bone slowly knitting back together.
    Mr.
Teasdale was healing from a bullet wound to the skull.
    Oliver
gaped. “Come on,” Tyler said, pulling Oliver toward the door.
    “But…”
    “Questions
later.” Tyler pushed Oliver out of the conference room, where he promptly fell
to the ground, his legs numb and twitching again. “God damn it,” said Tyler.
“Come on, buddy.” He pulled the shaky Oliver to his feet.
    The two
men