by David Wiltse
Kom switched the flashlight on momentarily, then decided that it was not necessary and snapped it off again. He raked for a moment, smoothing the ground over and around the grave site, and with his amplified hearing Becker could hear every slap of stone against the tines of the rake, the rustle of the parted leaves, the mild grind of metal slicing through soft dirt. After a moment Kom dropped the rake and swatted at his face and neck as if he had been attacked by mosquitoes.
Becker took the earphones off and watched in fascination as Kom hopped and slapped frantically at himself. He pulled the hood of the windbreaker over his head and ran, swinging a hand in front of his face like a windshield wiper. Mosquitoes could not have brought about such a response, Becker thought. Kom had disturbed a nest of wasps or bees.
Becker stifled a laugh as he watched Kom scurry toward the safety of his house, his arms flailing like propellers, his fat-hipped, splayfooted waddle carrying him as fast as he could go.
Within a minute Kom's car appeared in the driveway, tearing into the street. Becker wondered if the man was allergic to bee stings, if he was racing to the hospital to be treated for anaphylactic shock. People could die of bee stings-Becker had witnessed a case himself, the woman's face and hands swollen within minutes like sausage casing pumped full to bursting, her eyes all but vanished amid the turgid skin. He sprinted to his own car, which was parked a block away, ready for just such a trip, and wondered about the irony of it all if he was forced to save Kom's life if the man passed out in his car before he could make it to the hospital.
Kom drove rapidly and recklessly, cutting through the stoplight by the center as it turned red, and Becker let him go, allowing the intersection to clear before running the light himself. He caught up with Kom as the car entered the Merritt, and stayed with it when it got off three exits later and fishtailed its way onto the local road, endangering itself several times before pulling into the parking lot of the hospital. Becker paused at the bottom of the hill as Kom got out of the car, his windbreaker hood still drawn over his head, and ran to the hospital. When Becker saw the long-legged strides, he knew he had been fooled. He raced his car up the hill and left it in the emergency entrance. Flashing his Bureau badge in one hand, he grabbed Tovah as she was about to enter the elevator, spun her around and tore the windbreaker hood from her head. The security guard, excited by the commotion, retreated when he saw Becker's badge.
"Where did he go?" Becker demanded.
"You," she said, throwing her arms over her face as if she expected him to strike her.
"Where is he?"
"He's changed," said Tovah, cowering. "He's changed, he's different.
"I won't hurt you," Becker said, pulling her arms from her face. "He said you might. I saw what you did to him in the elevator."
"That has nothing to do with you. Where did he go?"
"I know I told you about his women, but that's all over. He's so different now. He loves me, John, he does. He's so attentive, so loving, it's all over, all of that other stuff is finished, I can tell.."
"Why did he send you out like this?"
"He needs some peace from you," she pleaded. "You're making him crazy.
He told me how you're harassing him, how you won't let him breathe-John, he's not interested in Karen, I know it. They're just friends."
"This isn't about Karen," Becker said.
"That was all my fault, I was jealous, I exaggerated things-I should never have said anything to you." She continued to back away from him, her arms held high, still expecting a blow. Becker walked her into the corner at the edge of the elevator block so she could no longer evade him. Her voice was too loud, too fast, hovering on the verge of hysteria, and it had brought a small crowd of onlookers who stood several yards away, watching.
"Tovah, listen to me. I don't know what he told you. I don't know what has frightened you, but I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know where he is. I want you to tell me where he went."
"You should see him," she said, shaking her head as if it were impossible to make him understand. "You were his friend, he liked you, he counted on your friendship, and now you've turned on him, you've broken his heart. You should see him, he's not himself, his eyes-he hasn't slept-his eyes-He's afraid of you, John, he thinks you're going to attack him again. He sees you in the shadows, he thinks you want to mug him, he's heard the stories about you, we've all heard the stories about you, but he's seen what you can be like, he can't get that beating out of his mind-his eyes..
"He's lying to you, Tovah. He's lied to you all his life and he's doing it now."
"He's not, he's changed, he loves me now, you wouldn't know, but I'm there, I'm the one he touches. I'm the one he kisses. Not Karen, not anybody else, just me, it's just me…
He fought an urge to slap her, to shut her up, to make her stop being so afraid of him. "Why did he send you out like this?"
"He needs some peace. You're so paranoid about Karen..
"Karen has nothing to do with this," he said again, still fighting the urge to slap her. And then he stopped, frozen by the sudden realization that it did have to do with Karen. It had everything to do with Karen.
He fled from the hospital as if pursued.
Kom approached the house from the south, coming through the trees. He paused at the edge of the lawn, surveying the layout, mapping his exits, plotting an escape route if needed. The light was on in the master bedroom, an easy drop from the ground-floor window to a flower bed-he could be out and away in no time. He glanced at the sky where dark clouds rolled and seethed across the moon like scum atop boiling water.
It would rain before the night was through and would be very dark long before then. Kom smiled; he liked the dark.
A form passed before the bedroom window and Kom moved toward it. He paused just outside the cone of light that fell onto the grass and watched with delight as Karen passed again, the backlight shining through her T-shirt. He moved closer, inching into the light. Karen stood with her back to the window, reaching her arms to her hair, and the T-shirt crept up her naked legs, revealing the first rounding of her buttocks. Grinning, Kom moved still closer. Karen froze in place for a second, then moved toward the bedroom door and out of his sight.
He walked to the house and listened for a moment just under the window.
He could hear her moving about distantly and he peeked into the light, standing on his toes. The bedroom was empty. He thought for a moment of crawling through the window, of waiting for her in the bed. The wolf greeting Red Riding Hood in Grandmother's clothing, smiling to show his big teeth.
He worked his way around the side of the house and was heading for the front door when he heard a sound and stopped. The night was preternaturally still, waiting for the storm. He looked upward again.
In the clearing surrounding the house there was still some faint light coming from the sky through the gaps between clouds, but in the woods it would be much darker. The clouds were massing now, rolling into each other like flows of black lava, and the sky would be solid black within minutes. The scent of moisture was heavy in the air. Kom could sense it hanging all about him, suspended.
Kom took two more steps to the corner of the house, then suddenly found himself falling forward. He landed heavily, then felt a knee in his back and the hardness of metal pressing into his temple just in front of his ear.
"Don't move," Karen said. "Federal agent with a gun to your head."
"Karen, it's me. It's Stanley."
"Stanley? What are you doing sneaking around like that?"
"Can I get up?"
"Of course."
He stood slowly, checking himself out, brushing off his clothes. "What did you do to me?" he asked, half laughing.
Karen shrugged. "Just a takedown." She still gripped the pistol in both hands, holding it where her arms fell at groin level, the barrel pointing to the ground. Measured against the bare skin of her legs, the white T-shirt, the gun looked enormous. They could hear the phone ringing i
n the house.
"I never even saw you," Kom said.
"You weren't supposed to," she replied. "What were you doing, Stanley?
I thought you were a prowler."
"Sorry. I didn't know what else to do, where else to turn. I don't know who else to talk to…" He allowed his voice to trail off.
"What's wrong?"
"Tovah attacked me," he said.
"Attacked you?"
He hung his head. "I feel so ashamed."
"No," she said sympathetically. "No." The phone rang for the fourth time, then stopped as the answering machine took over.
"I didn't know what to do. I couldn't hit her back, I couldn't make myself do that… I just left. Like a child, like a baby. I just walked away. You mustn't tell anyone, please, Karen. I know how I would look, being beaten by a woman…"
"Of course..
"I tried to stop her, I held her arms, but she kicked me, I tried to hold her down, she bit me. And when I let her up she started to throw things at me… Karen, I don't know what to do, I just don't know what to do."
"Oh, Stanley."
"I can't control her.. He took a step toward her, his head still hanging, forcing her to embrace him. She put her arms around him awkwardly, aware for the first time of her skimpy clothing. When she pulled away Kom noticed her nipples standing erect against the cotton.
"Did I do the wrong thing coming here?" he asked dolefully.
"No, of course not," Karen said. "You just- Maybe you should have called first."
"I had to leave then, I mean right then… I shouldn't impose on you this way, I have no right..
"We're friends," Karen said.
"I know, but I've put you to so much trouble." He looked at the sky again. The clouds were solid now. The only light came from the house.
A large raindrop, startlingly cold, hit him on the chest. "I should go … somewhere," he said.
Karen said, "Come inside."
He lingered, reluctant, and Karen touched his hand to motion him forward. He gripped her hand and she led him into the house that way, leading him as she would a child.
Becker called Karen from the car as he sped back toward Clamden, then hung up when the machine's recorded message came on. When he called Tee, Marge answered, sounding harried.
"He's in the shower," she said. "Is it important?"
Becker hesitated. At best, Tee could get to his house ten minutes ahead of Becker. If he had to get out of the shower and dry off and dress, the advantage was all but gone. "No," he said. "I'll deal with it."
Marge hung up and turned to Tee, who lay naked in bed beside her.
"You make me shirk my coply duties," he said.
"You have other duties," she reminded him. Her hand had gripped his swollen penis throughout the phone call and it gently tugged him toward her now.
They giggled together in the dark, and for that moment at least, Tee thought only of his wife.
Karen returned their pistol to the dresser drawer and threw on a robe before returning to Kom, who waited in the living room. When she saw him clearly under the interior light she had to check herself to keep from starting. His eyes were so bloodshot they seemed to have turned fiery red and they were wild and darting in a way she had never seen before.
"Stanley, your eyes.. "I haven't slept for days," he said. "Nights with Tovah have been so bad, this storm has been building… I can't sleep."
"You're a doctor. Prescribe some pills."
He chuckled. "Tovah takes pills," he said contemptuously. "I have to be alert. The captain doesn't sleep."
Kom looked around the room expectantly. "Are you sure John won't mind my being here?"
"John's not here."
"You agents have terrible hours."
"I work behind a desk, mine are normal. John more or less makes his own."
"What's he working on now?" he asked, smiling.
"Johnny Appleseed… Tell me what happened, Stanley." Karen sat on the sofa next to him, trying not to look at his eyes, which were still wild and unsettling. "Tell me about Tovah."
Kom twisted his neck, groaning, and put his hand on it "She hit me with a plate. I think… I have to have it looked at. It feels like a tear."
He turned toward her, craning his neck, inviting Karen to look and touch. She placed a tentative hand on the spot.
"Oh God, that feels so good," he groaned. "Leave your hand there, leave it there. Oh God, you're ' so warm."
He moved closer on the sofa, making it easier for her to reach him, and leaned over at the waist so that his hands fell naturally onto her thighs for support.
"Don't stop, don't stop," he moaned. "Your fingers are magic. "
He shifted his weight, writhing slightly under her touch, and one of his thumbs came to rest on the bare skin of her leg where the robe had opened. He froze the thumb in place, not moving it until she was used to its touch.
"It's been so long since anyone touched me like that. Oh God, Karen, you have no idea. I think you could heal just with your hands alone. What a wonderful touch. Ohhh. Ohhh." Twisting his body slightly, as if to position her hand in the right place, he moved his own hand on her leg so that it slid smoothly along her skin.
Karen pulled back and closed her robe.
"Don't stop…"
"Stanley, this is a little dangerous."
"Is it?"
"I can talk to you, but we have to leave it at that."
His face took on the look of sweet sadness that she knew well, the look that made her want to cradle him and comfort him. She recognized it was a dangerous impulse indeed.
He nodded as if he understood everything without being told.
"You're right," he said. "You're right." He stood, cranking himself up by degrees and wincing at every stage. "Can I just use the bathroom?" he asked, moving toward the bedroom.
"What did she do to you?"
He took a step and stopped, clutching his hamstring, then continued, limping.
"I just need some water on my face," he said. "I feel a little dizzy."
Karen hurried to his side and held on to his arm to offer support. "What did she hit you with?"
"Whatever she could reach," he said. He put a hand on her shoulder and leaned some of his weight on her, "A kitchen chair, one time. I'll be all right, really. I just need to… Just a little dizzy."
"I'll call the paramedics," she said, leading him into the bedroom and to the door of the master bathroom.
"No, no. I need to talk more than I need medical help," he said.
"Please, Karen, just give me a few minutes and I'll be out of your hair."
"You're not in my hair… It's a little messy in there," she said, as he entered the bathroom. He kept his hand on her shoulder until he closed the door, looking at her with that brave and doleful smile.
Kom regarded himself in the mirror, smiling with approbation. Damn, he was good, he thought. He didn't have her yet, but he was making progress, he would get her, he knew it. He looked closely at his reflection, tilting his head from one side to the other with admiration.
His fiery eyes glared back at him, bloody, staring… mad. For the first time, Kom saw his demon emerge, saw it come and slide behind those eyes and take control.
He gripped the sides of the sink as the mania launched itself upon him and shook his body. It had never been stronger, he felt himself crumble under the onslaught and knew he was powerless. It was the wrong time, the wrong place, too dangerous, too dangerous, but the mania gripped him and shook him like a rag and he knew he must give in to it. He tried to struggle, tried to assert his reason as he had done when the demon had demanded that he kill To vah, but his will was impotent. Kom had never known it like this, it was not merely insistent, it was titanic and absolutely imperious. He had to clutch the sink in order not to be knocked to the floor as he trembled and quaked with the mania's might.
When he gave in, when he relinquished his will to the mania, he began to laugh with the joy of it. Still watching himse
lf through his crimson eyes, he tossed his head back and laughed and laughed. He unzipped his pants and his penis sprang forth, swollen and ready. He clapped a hand over his mouth lest his laughter tear the house apart.
Karen heard the noise coming from the bathroom and moved closer. It sounded like laughter, wild, unrestrained, lunatic, and she felt an instinctive fear that she quickly suppressed. She was a strong, competent, highly trained professional; she had nothing to fear in her own house, and certainly not from a marshmallow like Stanley Kom. The sound was abruptly muted and became a sort of strangled cry.
"Are you all right?" she asked, leaning toward the bathroom door. She heard his voice but could not make out the meaning.
"Stanley?"
"Help," he murmured. She put her ear to the door, not sure she had heard him correctly, not wanting to intrude if she was wrong. "Stanley? Are you all right?"
"Help me," he said, scarcely louder. Karen opened the door and found him on the floor, his back to her, his face resting on the side of the bathtub. "What happened?" she demanded in alarm.
"Can't get up," he said weakly. "Dizzy."
She stepped to his side, took hold of the hand that he lifted toward her.
"Help me up," he said, rolling his eye toward her, unable to lift his head. She bent beside him, putting her arm around his back. Kom slid his own arm around her back, then grabbed her legs with his other hand and lifted. Karen pitched face forward into the bathtub and Kom scrambled atop her, pinning her in place with his weight on her back.
As she came to herself from the first shock of the fall, Karen felt Kom's hand gripping her neck. He was saying something about letting him do it, it wouldn't hurt, but it was not his words that had meaning, it was his weight upon her, the insistent thrust of his swollen flesh against her, the squeezing of her neck. Prevented by the confines of the tub from moving, she reached back with her arm and pulled his hand from her neck.