by Robin Cook
Back in the truck, Curt gunned the engine and took off toward Willow Street. He left his lights off.
"Did you hear those yells? " Mike questioned.
"Of course I heard them, " Curt snapped.
"It pisses me off, " Mike said. "I miss all the fun." Curt shot his minion a dirty look but resisted telling him off.
Curt screeched to a stop in the middle of the intersection so he could look both ways on Willow. He saw Nat's truck about half a block down the street in the direction away from the commercial part of town.
Turning the steering wheel hard, he headed in its direction. Off to the right on a lawn he could just make out figures in the darkness pummeling others who were sprawled on the ground. Lights in the surrounding houses were coming on in response to the commotion. That's when he heard the.. police siren.
"Shit! " Curt yelled. As he pulled to a sudden stop behind Nat's truck, he glanced in the rearview mirror.
The blinking lights of a police cruiser were racing toward them.
"Get their asses into Nat's truck, " Curt barluxi to Mike, who jumped out of the cab. Mike didn't protest, the urgency of the situation was obvious.
Curt watched the police car approaching in the mirror. At first he thought he'd merely hunker down "Ad stay out of sight until the cop exited his car and joined the melee. That would give him a chance to speed away and leave the troops to the fate they deserved. But then he got another idea. Having been to a half dozen demolition derbies, he knew the best way to incapacitate another vehicle with your own was to back into the other's front.
The critical question was whether the cop would pull up behind Curt as he expected. Fortunately he did.
The moment the lone policeman began to exit his vehicle, Curt put his truck into reverse and stomped on his accelerator, pressing it firmly against the floor. The truck tires spun with an ear-splitting screech before suddenly catching. The heavy king cab pickup lurched backward and gained considerable speed in the short distance between the two vehicles before smashing into the police cruiser.
Despite tensing for the collision, Curt's head snapped back on impact.
The sound was like beer cans being crushed and the siren, which until that moment had been piercing the night, went silent. The police cruiser's hood popped open and a geyser erupted.
More important from Curt's point of view was that the opened driver's side door had been ripped off its hinges by its own momentum. It went skidding out across the road. The policeman, whose hand was still on the door, ended up face down on the pavement.
"Glory be, " Curt remarked. He put his truck into drive and stepped on the gas. At first the cop car remained attached to his rear bumper.
By backing up a little and then going forward again, Curt succeeded in detaching the vehicles. Glancing into the street, he noticed the policeman had not moved.
Ahead, amid laughter and loud banter, the troops were piling into Nat's truck, except for Mike. He sprinted back and got in next to Curt. In the middle of the lawn were two still, supine figures.
"Hey, cool move with the fuzzmobile! " Mike shouted while looking back through the rear window at the crushed front of the cop car. The geyser had abated. Now the engine just steamed in the glare of the car's still functioning revolving lights.
Curt didn't say anything. He pulled forward, then braked alongside Nat's vehicle. "Listen, you clowns, "
he snapped after the windows had come down. "No stops, drive the speed limit, and go directly to the White Pride for a debriefing! Got it? "
"Got it, " Nat answered amid more laughter.
Curt accelerated, shaking his head in frustration. The whole operation was like a comedy movie that wasn't funny.
"The cop car looks like it's going to catch on fire, " said Mike.
Curt glanced at the vehicle and was going to explain that the smoke was merely steam from the coolant coming in contact with the hot manifold when he caught his troops' final stupid move of the night. Instead of pulling forward, Nat backed up so that he ran over the prone policeman.
Curt winced. He didn't regard local sheriffs as the enemy the way he did federal agents or city police.
Mike faced forward when Curt turned west at the next intersection, heading back toward the city. "I know why Kevin and Luke took after those two fags, " he said.
"Sure you do, " Curt mumbled irritably and without particular interest.
No matter what the explanation, Curt was planning on giving Kevin and Luke one hell of a dressing-down when they got back to base.
Disobeying orders, even implied orders, was not to be tolerated.
"They were a mixed couple, " Mike said. "One of them was a paleface, the other was a nigger, and the bastards were holding hands."
"No wonder! " Curt's change of heart was genuine. Queer miscogenators.
He immediately understood how provocative such a situation would have been.
Yuri's eyes blinked open. He sat up from where he'd fallen asleep on the couch. He wasn't sure what had awakened him. He looked at his watch. It was a little after one in the morning. The sound of the TV
drifted through Connie's closed door.
With a few choice Russian expletives, Yuri lifted his feet from the couch and slipped them into his slippers. Since driving the cab required early morning rising, Yuri always went to bed early.
Consequently, he had no idea of Connie's bedtime habits other than knowing she stayed up later than he did. Yet after one was later than he'd imagined she stayed up. There was a good chance she'd fallen asleep without having enjoyed her butter pecan ice cream.
Standing up, Yuri winced against a momentary pulsating pain in his temples. He shivered through a fleeting wave of nausea that made him quickly close the cover of the cold, half-eaten pizza on the coffee table. Its congealed surface looked disgusting.
Yuri was exhausted and felt miserable. He drained off the residue of vodka in his tumbler and collected his thoughts. He had to do something.
He couldn't wait any longer for Connie to request her dessert.
Outside her door he paused for a moment. He debated whether to knock or just open it as he usually did on the rare occasions he went into her room. In the end, he just opened the door.
Connie looked away from the classic movie she was watching and glanced briefly at Yuri. Her left eye was even more swollen than before. At the side of her bed was the open and empty pizza box.
r "What about your ice cream? " Yuri said in a gravelly voice.
"Are you still up? " Connie questioned. "What's the matter? Are you sick?"
"Just tired."
"I thought you'd gone to bed."
"I fell asleep on the couch, " Yuri said. "How about that ice cream?"
"You're like a dog with a bone about this ice cream, " Connie said.
"Be sides, it's pretty late. I was about to fall asleep myself."
"Come on, " Yuri urged. "You made me buy it from the take-out place."
"Are you sure you're not sick? " Connie asked again. "You're making me worried the way you're acting."
"God damn it! " Yuri yelled, losing patience. "I told you, I felt guilty after hitting you and smashing your TV. I'm trying to do something nice, but you won't even let me do that."
"Now you're sounding more like yourself, " Connie said. "Fine! Bring the ice cream if it'll make you feel better! And you can take this pizza box while you're at it." Relieved but still exasperated, Yuri snatched up the empty box and carried it back to the kitchen. He took the ice cream out of the freezer.
From a drawer he got a spoon. He carried both back into Connie's room and handed them to her.
Straining under her own weight, Connie worked her way up to a semi-sitting position and took the ice cream and spoon.
"This container has been opened, " she said. She looked up at Yuri for an explanation.
"I tried a taste earlier, " Yuri lied.
Connie let out a huff. "You didn't ask me, " she complained.
; Yuri didn't respond. He was eyeing the phone next to Connie's bed.
He hadn't thought of the possibility of her calling someone to describe her soon-to-arrive initial symptoms, provided she ate the ice cream.
Anxious that she not reach a doctor, Yuri had to do something about the phone.
"I'm talking to you, " Connie persisted. "You know I don't like people eating my food." , ..
"It was just one taste, " Yuri said.
"Just one? " Connie questioned. "You didn't put the spoon in and out a bunch of times? "
"Just once, " Yuri said. "Open it up and look." Connie grumbled as she pushed the flaps open. The ice cream bulged from the container with a smooth, unblemished surface.
Yuri couldn't think of any excuse to take the phone out of the room without raising Connie's suspicions.
"I don't see where you ate any, " Connie said.
"Because I took such a small amount, " Yuri said. "For crissake, forget it! Just enjoy it! "
"All right, " Connie said. "Leave me in peace."
"Gladly, " Yuri said. "Just give a yell when you want me to come in here and take the container." Connie raised her unswollen eyebrow in disbelief, glared at Yuri suspiciously, then redirected her attention to her movie. "Maybe I'll call you and maybe I won't, " she said.
Yuri backed out of the room. He saw Connie absently take her first spoonful and swallow before he pulled the door partway closed.
Retreating back to the sitting area he found that by positioning himself at the very end of the sofa, he could see into Connie's room.
It was only a narrow swath, but it included the foot of the bed and the tips of her toes.
Time dragged incredibly slowly for Yuri. He couldn't be sure that Connie was eating the ice cream, although he would have been shocked if she didn't once she'd started. The movie seemed to go on forever despite the numerous times the soundtrack seemed to come to a concluding crescendo. He was hoping that Connie would get up and go into the bathroom, giving him time to get the phone off her bedside table.
Finally, forty-five minutes later, Connie obliged him when the movie concluded.
Yuri moved quickly. He pushed open the door. The ice-cream container was on the floor next to the bed with the spoon sticking out the top.
Unfortunately, the door to the bathroom was not completely closed.
A commercial was playing on the television. It was the only source of light in the room.
With his pulse racing, Yuri stepped over to the bedside table. From that angle he could see a portion of the bathroom but no Connie. He picked up the phone and pulled the connecting wire taut to lead him to the wall plug. The trail led behind the table laden with dirty dishes and glasses.
As Yuri slipped his hand down the wire, he nudged the table. Several of the glasses toppled off and shattered on the floor. The noise was louder than the high-volume commercial on the TV.
Guessing that Connie would appear in an instant, Yuri yanked on the wire, tearing it out of the wall. The motion sent another glass smashing to the ground. Yuri bent down to retrieve the empty ice-cream container.
As he feared, the bathroom door swung fully open, and Connie's form filled the doorway. She was brushing her teeth.
"What was that crash? " she demanded, cupping her mouth for fear of drooling her toothpaste. The toothbrush was clenched in her large fist.
"I don't know, " Yuri said, hoping for the best. "Maybe it was something on the television." He was holding the phone behind his back with his left hand. His right hand had the ice cream container.
He raised it to show her and said, "I just came in to get this." Connie was as bewildered at Yuri's behavior as she'd been earlier. But she didn't say anything. She stuck her toothbrush back into her mouth, recommenced brushing, and returned to the bathroom.
Relieved, Yuri stepped out of the room and hurried into the kitchen.
The first thing he did was hide the phone under the sink. Then he washed out the ice-cream container before throwing it away. He did the same with the spoon, the bowl he'd used earlier, and the fork.
With a trembling hand, Yuri got out a highball glass and poured himself another healthy dollop of iced vodka. He was in dire need of its calming effect. In truth, he was disappointed to realize how nervous he was.
Retreating to the couch, Yuri sat down to wait. Unfortunately, he had no idea how long he would have to sit there. He wondered what would happen if Connie were to fall asleep before any symptoms appeared. He worried that maybe she'd just never wake up.
Yuri looked at his watch. The other thing that was bothering him was that it was two o'clock in the morning and there was still no pest control truck. Curt had promised. Yuri wondered what it meant for the future of Operation Wolverine.
Despite his anxieties, Yuri fell asleep again. When he awoke a half hour later, he knew immediately what had disturbed him. Connie was calling his name repeatedly but in a peculiar manner. She couldn't seem to pronounce the letter "R." She sounded drunk.
Yuri stood up and swayed. He had to lean on the arm of the couch to steady himself before walking toward his wife's bedroom on rubbery legs.
He pushed open the door. Connie was Lying on the collapsed bed. But there was something different about the way she was looking at him.
Instead of the usual angry defiance, Yuri could tell that she was afraid.
"What's the matter? " Yuri questioned.
"Something's wrong, " Connie managed. She was having difficulty articulating her words.
"What now? " Yuri asked. He pretended to be irritated.
"I got stomach cramps, " Connie said. "And I threw up. I don't think the ice cream agreed with me."
"If something made you sick it was probably the pizza, " Yuri said.
"Personally, anchovies always do a number on my stomach."
"But it's not my stomach that concerns me."
"What is it then? " Yuri questioned impatiently.
"I can't watch the TV, " Connie said, having particular difficulty pronouncing the letter T. "I'm seeing double. There're two TV sets."
"Then turn it off, " Yuri said. "Go to sleep. It's late."
"I can't sleep, " Connie said. "I'm all jazzed up for some reason and it scares me to see double."
"Try covering your swollen eye, " Yuri suggested.
Connie reached up with her hand.
"What's it like now? " Yuri asked.
"It's better, " Connie agreed. "There's only one TV set."
"Call me if there are any more problems, " Yuri said. He began to back out the door.
"There is another problem, " Connie said, slurring her words. "I'm thirsty. My throat is as dry as a bone."
"Well, get yourself some water, " Yuri said. He started to close the door.
"I'm afraid to get up! " Connie called. "When I got up earlier I was dizzy and weak. I almost fell over."
"With all that fat it's no wonder, " Yuri said.
"Please, get me some water." Yuri wondered if the thirst had anything to do with the toxin. He didn't know. But he was certain the double vision did, and the difficulty in speaking. What was worrying him was the vomiting. It would be tragically ironic if she threw up most of the poison because he'd used too much. But then again, the nausea could be coming from a bolus of the toxin having been absorbed. Yuri didn't know too much about botulism except with mice, rats, dogs, and monkeys.
"All right, I'll get you some water."
"Maybe I should go to the hospital, " Connie said without pronouncing the "H" at all.
"What? IFOR some stomach cramps? Don't be ridiculous! "
"I'm scared.
I feel strange."
"I'll get the water, " Yuri said. He closed the door and walked into the kitchen. The whole affair was more nerve-racking than he'd anticipated.
If a doctor saw her now they might make the diagnosis. While he was filling a glass under the faucet at the sink, a sudden, loud knocking reverberated against the front door. The unexpected sound made
him jump from a type of fear only someone who'd been forced to live under a despotic, totalitarian government would understand. His own throat went dry. He took a quick sip of water, steadying the glass with both hands.
Trembling, he went over to the venetian blinds to peek out to see who could be there. He'd been so focused on Connie, he'd forgotten about Curt until he saw the man's familiar features illuminated by the exterior light. Steve was standing behind in the semi-darkness with his hands thrust into his pockets.
At first Yuri was relieved. But as he unlocked the door, he cursed under his breath. This was the wrong time for them to be showing up.
"We got a present for you, partner, " Curt said. He motioned over his shoulder.
Yuri glanced into the alleyway. Behind Curt's truck was a dark vehicle with "Wouton's Pest Control"
written in block letters on the driver's side door.
"Does it have a sprayer? " Yuri asked.
"Let's get the goddamn thing in the garage before we get into that, " Curt said.
"Okay," Yuri said. "I'll be right out." He closed the door. Running into the kitchen, he picked up the water and dashed back into Connie's room. He extended the glass toward her. When she tried to take it, her arm flailed aimlessly, missing entirely.
"I'm too weak, " she admitted. Her arm flopped helplessly back onto the bed. "It's even hard for me to breathe."
"Never mind, " Yuri said. "I'll hold the glass for you." He lowered the tumbler and pressed it to her lips as she tried vainly to raise her head. She sputtered and the water dribbled down the side of her face.
She coughed and her face turned red.
"I'll be right back to give you some more, " Yuri said. He tried to put the glass on the bedside table.
Since there was no room he put it on the floor in the midst of the broken shards. Connie tried to speak in the midst of her coughing but Yuri ignored her.
Dashing out of the room Yuri went to the kitchen to get his keys before returning to the front door.
When he opened it, it was apparent Curt was none too happy.