Well, I just couldn't let it end like that -- without a teaser -- without some hint of things to come -- and without explaining what happened to the Emoder.
He could tell what was going on around him, especially as day broke over the area. He just could do nothing about it.
Damn that man! Damn him to the seven frozen moons of Iaegar!
The humans found him when they found their dead one. And he couldn't say anything to prove he was not one of them. They just assumed, as they were far too likely to do with their smallish minds, that he was one of them just because of how he looked. When how he looked was nothing more than a necessary shell to move about and feed.
Then more came, dressed in white. Medical ones, he figured. They shone lights into his eyes, touched his wrists. And they declared he was dead.
Well of course he'd seem dead. This shell didn't need to breathe. Didn't need to have a heartbeat. Those superficial components cost extra. And this was just supposed to be a one night kinda deal. Get in, get full, get out. Why pay for silly things that these humans would consider as signs of life.
That was until that man showed up, with that device of his, and shut off the shell. Locked up his brain so that he could no longer control any of his motor components that had given him the appearance of being alive.
So the humans hoisted him onto some slab and carried him off to a vehicle with flashing lights and sounds -- which were drowned out by the roar of the crowd and what they called music. They slid him in next to the human he'd minutes before considered food. And all he could do was be aware of them fussing over him like he was their friend, a poor soul who lost his life at Woodstock.
As the vehicle rumbled away, all he could think about was that man. His face. His device. And the delicious pent up, submerged, and very ripe emotions just waiting to be plucked. Oh what a feast he would be. He could probably feed an entire family. And he should. Far better than any of these little humans could -- although they would make a nice apéritif.
The shell maybe couldn't move any more, but that didn't mean he was helpless. No, Jaegor Erzwelt, connoisseur of the Ieagar Royal Collective, was nothing if not resourceful. He had always looked for the best dishes to serve the Collective. And it looked like he just found the pièce de résistance!
When the ambulance got to the Horton Memorial Hospitalin Middleton, New York, that fateful night in 1969, there were two stretchers in the back. But only one stretcher was occupied. The drivers were adamant that they had picked up two bodies at the festival. But the morgue that night would only register one man, who reportedly died of a heroin overdose.
Whatever became of the second body, if indeed there was a second body as the ambulance driver insisted, was unclear.
However, some local farmers and other residents, those who were no where near Woodstock and thus could not be considered affected by the atmosphere of the festival, claimed to have seen some streak of light from the ground into the heavens. Like lightning in reverse. In a completely storm-free sky.
But who's going to believe a drug-free person, any way?