A breeze stirred the leaves outside his window, but tonight the sound was flat. Well, what had he been expecting? Of course it held no more words. The villains always leave their lackeys to deal with the aftermath of a disaster.

He heard a click outside his room, but did not turn around. The locked door slid soundlessly open.

“You know I had to come for you.”

“And you know that won’t solve the problem.”

The room tightened with a smile. “Be good to me, Jack. It doesn’t take much.”

“I told you, I have nothing to give you.”

“That’s not any sort of proof.”

He turned from the window, tired. “It’s left me, Jack.”

“For now, perhaps. But you were once a host. And if it can’t find someone else, it’ll use you again.”

He reached under his coat.

He reached out the window.

“Can you hear this, Jack? Can you? ‘Cause I can’t.”

“Shut the window, Jack.”

“I didn’t open it.”

“Shut it now.”

“He’ll get mad!”

“I thought you couldn’t hear him.” The leaves ceased their rustling.

A step. “You know I had to come for you, Jack.”

A step. “Yes, Jack. I know.”

Out flew his hand, grasping something black.

In flew his hand, grasping something white.

He staggered, clutching the window frame, pulled it down as he fell.

He stood, lowered his gun, felt a warm spot in his gut.

“Good night, Jack.”

Even the sirens couldn’t break the inner silence.