III
Nancy sipped her coffee and kept her eyes on his. The gun lay in herlap. The big kitchen was a place for coffee, brown and black, woodceiling and iron stove and pans. Collins sat across the twelve squarefeet of table from her, and nursed the smoking mug.
"Sam, I want you to take whatever comfort you can from the fact that Idon't think the same thing about you as the rest of Waraxe."
"What does the rest of the town think about me?"
"They think you are a pathological degenerate who should be lynched. ButI don't believe that."
"Thanks. That's a big comfort."
"I know what you were after when you tore Mom's dress."
In spite of himself, Collins felt his face warming in a blush.
"You were only seeking the mother love you missed as a boy," the girlsaid.
Collins chewed on his lip a moment, and considered the idea. Slowly heshook his head.
"No," he said. "No. I don't think so."
"Then what do you think?"
"I think old Doc Candle _made_ me do it. He said he was going to buryme. Getting me lynched would be one good way to do it. Ed Michaelsalmost blew my head off with his shotgun. It was close. Doc Candlealmost made it. He didn't miss by far with you and that target pistoleither."
"Sam--I may call you 'Sam'?--just try to think calmly and reasonably fora minute. How could Dr. Candle, the undertaker, possibly make you do athing like you did in Mr. Michaels' hardware store?"
"Well ... he _said_ he was a superhuman alien from outer space."
"If he said that, do you believe him, Sam?"
"_Something_ made me do that. It just wasn't my own idea."
"It's easier that way, isn't it, Sam?" Nancy asked. "It's easy to say.'It wasn't me; some space monster made me do it.' But you really knowbetter, don't you, Sam? Don't take the easy way out! You'll only getdeeper and deeper into your makebelieve world. It will be likequicksand. Admit your mistakes--face up to them--_lick them_."
Collins stood up, and came around the end of the table.
"You're too pretty to be so serious all the time," he said.
* * * * *
"Sam, I want to help you. Please don't spoil it by misinterpreting myintentions."
"You should get a little fun out of life," Collins listened to himselfsay.
He came on around the big table towards her.
The first time he hadn't realized what was happening, but this time heknew. Somebody was pulling strings and making him jump. He had as muchcontrol as Charlie McCarthy.
"Don't come any closer, Sam."
Nancy managed to keep her voice steady, but he could tell she wasfrightened.
He took another step.
She threw her coffee in his face.
The liquid was only lukewarm but the sudden dash had given him someawareness of his own body again, like the first sound of the alarmfaintly pressing through deep layers of sleep.
"Sam, Sam, _please_ don't make me do it! Please, Sam, _don't_!"
Nancy had the gun in her hand, rising from her chair.
His hands wanted to grab her clothes and _tear_.
But that's _suicide_, he screamed at his body.
As his hand went up with the intention of ripping, he deflected it justenough to shove the barrel of the gun away from him.
The shot went off, but he knew instantly that it had not hit him.
The gun fell to the floor, and with its fall, something else droppedaway and he was in command of himself again.
Nancy sighed, and slumped against him, the left side of her breastsuddenly glossy with blood.
* * * * *
Ed Michaels stared at him. Both eyes unblinking, just staring at _him_.He had only taken one look at the girl lying on the floor, blood allover her chest. He hadn't looked back.
"I didn't know who else to call, Ed." Collins said. "Sheriff Thurstonbeing out of town and all."
"It's okay, Sam. Mike swore me in as a special deputy a couple yearsback. The badge is at the store."
"They'll hang me for this, won't they, Ed?"
Michaels put his hand on Collins' shoulder. "No, they won't do that toyou, boy. We know you around here. They'll just put you away for awhile."
"The asylum at Hannah, huh?"
"Damn it, yes! What did you expect? A marksman medal?"
"Okay, Ed, okay. Did you call Doc Van der Lies like I told you when Iphoned?"
Michaels took a folded white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped hissquare-jawed face. "You sure are taking this calm, Sam. I'm telling you,Sam, it would look better for you if you at least _acted_ like you weresorry.... Doc Van der Lies is up in Wisconsin with Mike. I called DocCandle."
"He's an undertaker," Collins whispered.
"Don't you expect we need one?" Michaels asked. Then as if he wasn'tsure of the answer to his own question, he said, "Did you examine her tosee if she was dead? I--I don't know much about women. I wouldn't beable to tell."
It didn't sound like a very good excuse to Collins.
"I guess she's dead," Collins said. "That's the way he must have wantedit."
"_He?_ Wait a minute, Sam. You mean you've got one of those splitpersonalities like that girl on TV the other night? There's somebodyelse inside you that takes over and makes you do things?"
"I never thought of it just like that before. I guess that's one way tolook at it."
The knock shook the back door before Michaels could say anything. Thedoor opened and Doc Candle slithered in disjointedly, a rolled-upstretcher over his shoulder.
"Hello, boys," Candle said. "A terrible accident, it brings sorrow to usall. Poor Nancy. Has the family been notified?"
"Good gosh, I forgot about it," Michaels said. "But maybe we better waituntil you get her--arranged, huh, Doc?"
* * * * *
"Quite so." The old man laid the canvas stretcher out beside the girl onthe floor and unrolled it. He flipped the body over expertly like awindow demonstrator flipping a pancake over on a griddle.
"Ed, if you'd just take the front, I'll carry the rear. My vehicle is inthe alley."
"Sam, you carry that end for Doc. You're a few years younger."
Collins wanted to say that he couldn't, but he didn't have enough yet toargue with. He picked up the stretcher and looked down at the white feetin the Scotch plaid slippers.
Candle opened the door and waited for them to go through.
The girl on the stretcher parted her lips and rolled her head back andforth, a puzzled expression of pain on her face.
Collins nearly dropped the stretcher, but he made himself hold ontight.
"Ed! Doc! She moved! She's still _alive_."
"Cut that out now, Sam," Ed Michaels snapped. "Just carry your end."
"She's alive," Collins insisted. "She moved again. Just turn around andtake a look, Ed. That's all I ask."
"I hefted this thing once, and that's enough. You _move_, Sam. I've gota .38 in my belt, and I went to Rome, Italy, for the Olympics about thetime you were getting yourself born, Sam. I ought to be able to hit atarget as big as you. Just go ahead and do as you're told."
Collins turned desperately towards Candle. Maybe Nancy had been right,maybe he had been imagining things.
"Doc, you take a look at her," Collins begged.
The old man vibrated over to the stretcher and looked down. The girltwisted in pain, throwing her head back, spilling her hair over the headof the stretcher.
"Rigor mortis," Doc Candle diagnosed, with a wink to Collins.
"No, Doc! She needs a doctor, blood transfusions...."
* * * * *
"Nonsense," Candle snapped. "I'll take her in my black wagon up to myplace, put her in the tiled basement. I'll pump out all her blood andflush it down the commode. Then I'll feed in Formaldi-Forever NumberZero. Formaldi-Forever, for the Blush of Death
. 'When you think of aPretty Girl, think of Formaldi-Forever, the Way to Preserve thatBeauty.' Then I'll take a needle and some silk thread and just a fewstitches on the eyelids and around the mouth...."
"Doc, will you...?" Michaels said faintly.
"Of course. I just wanted to show Sam how foolish he was in saying theBeloved was still alive."
Nancy kicked one leg off the stretcher and Candle picked it up andtucked it back in.
"Ed, if you'd just turn around and _look_." Collins said.
"I