He returned to the bedroom with a glass of water and a foil strip of Tylenol tablets. From downstairs, he could smell coffee, and hear Serenity singing along to REM. ‘Only to wake up . . . only to wake up . . .’
‘Take your time,’ Robert grumbled.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Feely, sitting on the side of the bed. ‘Here.’
Robert shook five tablets into the palm of his hand and clapped them into his mouth. ‘God, this hurts. As if God hasn’t punished me enough.’
‘Serenity’s making coffee.’
‘Good. My mouth feels like the inside of a vacuum-cleaner bag.’
‘Last night . . . that was amazing, wasn’t it? It was . . . revelatory.’
Robert stared at him.
Feely said, ‘I can’t believe that we’ve become so close . . . I mean, when you picked me up on Route Six, you were a total stranger, right, and the snow was so thick that you might not even have seen me. But you did see me, and you stopped. And last night . . . the three of us . . . it was revelatory.’
‘If you say so,’ said Robert, cautiously.
‘Yes,’ said Feely, and without warning kissed him on the cheek.
Robert immediately dragged up the corner of the quilt and wiped his face. But he could see by the beatific smile on Feely’s face that he wasn’t making a pass at him. Feely looked shiny-eyed and truly inspired.
‘Coffee!’ called Serenity, from the foot of the stairs.
‘OK, sweetheart!’ Robert shouted back. ‘Just give us a minute!’
Feely stood up, but Robert said, ‘Wait up for a second, Feely. There’s something I want to talk to you about . . . something I need you to do.’
Feely hesitated, and then sat down again. ‘Sure,’ he said.
Robert cleared his throat. ‘You remember we were talking yesterday about making your mark. Doing something cataclysmic.’
‘Sure I do. Ho-o-o-oly shit!’
‘That’s right. Well, the thing is, I’ve started doing something cataclysmic already.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’ve already started making my mark . . . showing those bastards that I’m not quite as crushable as they thought I was. Because they thought I was crushed, you know, when they took my kids away from me, and my house, and my job, and everything that made me the man I was. They thought, that’s Robert Touche ground down for good.’
‘That’s right,’ said Feely. ‘But you’re going to show them, aren’t you? You’re going to manifest your resilience.’
‘Like I said, Feely, I started already! The day before yesterday.’
Feely blinked at him. There was something in the tone of Robert’s voice that was starting to unsettle him, like somebody trying to laugh when they’ve had their legs torn off.
‘That guy who was shot, at the gas station, down near Branchville.’
‘Yeah?’
‘That woman who was shot, at that yellow house, here in Canaan.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Feely.
‘It was me,’ said Robert. ‘I shot them. Me.’
‘You shot them? You shot them?’ Feely was totally bewildered.
‘That’s right. I shot them.’
‘But—’ Feely looked desperately around the room, as if there was an explanation pinned to the wall somewhere. ‘Why?’
‘I just told you why. I had to do something cataclysmic—something to show those bastards that I wasn’t crushed. And I had to make them understand that their happiness can be smashed apart just as easily as mine was. It’s no good them feeling smug, and safe, and superior. Fate can come and whack them just like it came and whacked me. Right out of the ether. Whack, for no apparent reason.’
‘That’s, ah—Robert, that’s horrendous.’
‘Of course it’s horrendous! That’s the whole freaking point! Don’t you think it was horrendous, what happened to me? They didn’t even have the humanity to put me out of my misery!’
‘I don’t know. You actually shot those people? I find that really, really hard to assimilate.’
‘You’d better assimilate it, because I’m going to go on shooting people, one person per day, for every day they’re making me suffer.’
‘Really?’
Robert nodded.
Feely looked down at his fingers, silently counting. ‘Seven people a week, Robert. That could add up to be an awful lot of people.’
‘It could and it couldn’t. It depends how long it takes them to recognize what they did to me, and show some genuine remorse.’
‘I don’t know, Robert, this is a shock.’
‘It is a shock. It’s supposed to be a shock. That’s the holy shit factor.’
Feely looked at Robert. That round, tired face, and that gnomon nose. It was hard to imagine him deliberately shooting an innocent person. But he knew that even the gentlest person could be driven to extreme measures. Robert’s happiness had been bulldozed, all around him, for making one misjudgment, and who had allowed that to happen? The same people who had allowed Bruno to beat his mother, and Jesus to die of an overdose, and Feely’s brother and sister to spend the rest of their life in squalor.
Robert was right. Society couldn’t tear a man’s life to little pieces, not as comprehensively as that—and not expect him not to retaliate.
‘So . . . you’re going to shoot one person every day?’
‘More than that. I’m going to shoot one happy person every day.’
‘Man.’
Robert shifted on the mattress, and gritted his teeth because of the pain in his fingers. ‘You don’t approve? You don’t think I’m right to seek revenge?’
‘No, no. I think you have an overflow of justification. What they did to you: your wife, and her lawyers, nobody should do that to nobody. I mean they treated you like ordure. I was treated like ordure, so I can understand how you feel.’
‘So you’re not going to call the cops on me?’
Feely shook his head. For a split second, he thought about the three of them in bed last night, all joined together. ‘What do you take me for? I never called the cops on nobody all of my natural existence.’
‘So if I ask you to do something for me . . . you won’t turn it down without at least thinking about it first?’
‘Sure. Of course not.’
Robert held up his bandaged hand. ‘I can’t hold a rifle properly, until this heals. I was wondering if you could do it for me.’
‘A rifle? Me? I don’t know one end of a rifle from the other.’
‘It’s child’s play. You hold it, you squint down the telescopic sight, you see your target in the crosshairs, and you squeeze the trigger.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Of course you can. My grandmother could do it.’
‘Then OK, maybe you should ask your grandmother.’
‘I would, but unfortunately she’s suffering from cremation. And besides, I’m asking you to do it. It’s not like I’m asking you to kill anybody. I’m the one doing the killing. You’re just holding the rifle for me.’
Feely felt a chilly ripple of dread; but exhilaration, too. Last night he had discovered the wonders of complicated sex. Today, he could find out what it was like to kill somebody. He had never expected his destiny to take him so far, and so fast.
‘Coffee!’ Serenity screamed. ‘If you don’t want it, I’ll pour it down the sink!’
‘We’re coming,’ said Robert, so softly that only Feely could hear him. ‘Don’t worry, Serenity, we’re coming.’
Trevor Puts His Foot Down
Sissy called Sam on the telephone a few minutes after 7:00 am.
‘Sam? Sissy.’
‘Morning, Sissy! Hope you slept good. I know I did. Three pages of Clive Cussler and I’m in dreamland.’
Sissy took out a cigarette, one-handed, and lit it. ‘Sam, I read the cards again last night.’
‘Oh, yes? I hope they told you that we’re due for another blizzard.’
Sissy coughed. ‘Something wo
rse than that, Sam. Those three people—they’re going to kill somebody else, and I think they’re going to do it today. I have to go talk to the state police.’
‘Phone them. Or send them an email.’
‘I need to talk to them in person, Sam. They won’t believe me, otherwise.’
‘I’m sorry, Sissy. It’s snowing, and I’m seventy-one years old.’
‘But we might prevent an innocent person from being killed!’
‘I don’t think so, Sissy. I know you believe in what your cards have to say to you, but I don’t.’
‘Sam, the cards have given me a very clear and specific warning. Somebody in a vehicle is going to be killed, and the vehicle is going to carry on going, even though they’re dead.’
‘I’m sorry, Sissy. I really am.’
Sissy blew out smoke. ‘No, you’re not. You’re all out of moxie, that’s your trouble.’
‘Sissy, don’t you think that I feel useless, too?’
‘What? What the hell are you talking about?’
When he spoke, Sissy could hear Sam’s false teeth clicking. ‘We’re lonely, Sissy, you and me. Both of us lost the person we loved more than anybody else. Our children have all growed up, and we don’t like to impose on them too much. So we sit alone, believing that we’re no good to nobody.’
‘Sam—I am not doing this because I feel sorry for myself, or because I feel redundant. I am doing this because I know that somebody is going to die. You can’t deny that I heard voices yesterday! You can’t deny that I was irresistibly drawn to go to Canaan, whether I wanted to go or not!’
‘I never heard voices, Sissy; and the only place I felt irresistibly drawn to go was stone-nowhere.’
‘Sam—’
‘Sorry, Sissy. I’m staying inside today, close to the fire, and so should you.’
‘You eunuch!’ she snapped, but Sam had already put the phone down. She took a fierce drag at her cigarette and muttered, ‘You eunuch.’ But she knew that she didn’t really mean it. If the situation had been reversed, and Sam had asked her to drive all the way to Canaan, in the snow, because of something that he felt in his water, she wouldn’t have wanted to go, either.
She went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She felt hungry but she didn’t really know what she felt like eating. A big fresh-cream cake, with a shortbread base, and heaps of strawberries on it, and strawberry syrup—that was what she really felt like. But all she had in the fridge was a slice of blueberry cheesecake that was three days past its sell-by date.
She was still waiting for the kettle to boil when there was a quick rap at the kitchen door. It opened almost immediately and Trevor came in, his shoulders and his balaclava sprinkled with very dry, granular snow.
‘Trevor! I wasn’t expecting to see you! Especially this early!’
Trevor shut the door. He took off his hat and his gloves and briskly chafed his hands together. ‘I wasn’t expecting to come here.’
‘Look,’ said Sissy, ‘I’m so sorry that I didn’t call you about going away to Florida, but I was so busy . . . I had to go up to Canaan to see about that poor woman who got shot.’
‘I know,’ said Trevor.
He took off his windbreaker and went through to the hall to hang it up. Sissy followed him to the doorway and said, ‘What do you mean, you know? How do you know?’
‘It’s not very easy to explain.’
‘All right.’ Pause. ‘But why don’t you try me?’
Trevor cleared his throat. ‘Last night I couldn’t get to sleep.’
‘You should try verbena. Verbena’s very good for insomnia.’
‘Momma, this wasn’t insomnia. This was like—’ Trevor hesitated, trying to find the exact word for it. ‘This was like sleepwalking, only I wasn’t asleep.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I don’t, either. I don’t understand it at all. But I couldn’t stop feeling this tremendous urge to get out of bed and get into my car and drive north.’
Sissy stared at him. She very much hoped that he wasn’t telling her what she thought he was telling her. ‘You’ve been working too hard, that’s all. You wait till you get to Florida, you’ll feel much better after a few days’ rest.’
Trevor shook his head. ‘What did you tell me? You said you could feel it in your bones. Well, that’s exactly the way that I felt it. I felt I had to go to Canaan, to save more people from getting killed. And it wasn’t like I had any choice in the matter. I was physically being pulled.’
‘Really?’
‘I kept tossing and turning and telling myself that it was ridiculous. I tried a sleeping pill, but that only made me hallucinate, on top of being awake. Jean woke up and asked me what was wrong, so in the end I told her.’
‘And what did she say?’
‘She said the same as you, that I was stressed. But I could feel it, Momma, I could feel it dragging me out of the house, and I can still feel it, just as strong.’
Sissy took hold of both of his hands. She looked into his eyes and for the first time she saw uncertainty, and magic.
‘You may look exactly like your father, but inside you’re just like me, aren’t you?’
Trevor nodded. There were tears in his eyes, and Sissy suddenly realized how much this was affecting him.
‘I didn’t think—I never had any idea that I could feel this way. It’s like I’m needed, urgently. It’s like I’m important to people that I don’t even know.’
‘Yes,’ said Sissy. ‘You are.’
‘But how can I be? I just want to lead a normal life, you know, and take care of Jean and Jake, that’s all.’
‘Trevor—we’re all important to people we don’t know, but not many feel it as strongly as you and I do. It’s like there’s a whole pool of consciousness, which everybody’s floating around in. For some reason, you and I can feel other people’s love, and other people’s distress, just as clearly as we can feel our own.’
Trevor sat down at the kitchen table. ‘I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t just ignore it. But it’s making me feel like an alcoholic who has to have another drink.’
Without a word, Sissy went through to the living room and came back with Le Cocher Sans Coeur. She laid the card on the table in front of him. ‘I turned this up last night. A man being killed on a moving vehicle, which doesn’t stop. With any luck, it hasn’t happened yet, but I seriously think it will.’
Trevor wiped his tears away with his fingers. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘I think it’s time to talk to the police. I didn’t want to do it yesterday, in case they thought I was nothing but a silly old fool, but yesterday I think I found the people who shot that woman.’
‘You found them? You’re kidding me.’
‘I don’t have any proof . . . only the cards, and the same feeling that you have. They live in Canaan, on the north side, just across the railroad track.’
‘Are you sure about this?’
‘How can I be sure? I might be mad, for all I know, and the cards might all be nonsense. But if this prediction comes true, and I don’t try to stop it, then I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘OK . . . let’s call the police.’
Sissy said, ‘No . . . I think we have to talk to them face-to-face. We have to show them this card, so that they can see it for themselves.’
Trevor looked up at her. ‘Were you as old as me—you know—when you first had this feeling? Or did you always have it?’
‘I guess I always had it, in a way. I can remember crying, when I was a small girl, because I knew that somebody was very sad, even though I didn’t know who it was. And I could always sense when two people really loved each other, even when they were pretending not to. But—’
She took out another cigarette, and lit it, but Trevor didn’t say anything, and did nothing to stop her.
‘—I have to say that it wasn’t until I met your father that I really began to develop any genuine talent for for
tune-telling. It was your father who taught me not to be spoiled, and self-centered. He made me look at other people, and consider what they were feeling, instead of always thinking what was best for me.’
‘I can’t imagine you being self-centered.’
‘Oh, believe it. I didn’t give a hoot about anyone, so long as I was having a good time. I hurt a lot of people, along the way. But, well, most of them are dead now, and I don’t suppose the others can even remember. That’s one thing your father taught me: if you ever do anybody a bad turn, they might forget it, but you never will.’
Trevor stood up. ‘Let’s go, then. If this prediction is going to come true, then the sooner we tell the police, the better.’
‘You’ll drive me?’
‘I told you, Momma. I have to.’
Sissy put on her mother’s fur coat and her big furry hat and wound a long green angora scarf around her neck. Trevor helped her down the driveway to his Land Cruiser and then they set off down the steeply sloping road to Route 7. The morning was like a black-and-white photograph. The snow was fine and dry and it scuttled off the hood of the SUV in tiny pellets.
‘Don’t you think you ought to call Jean?’ Sissy suggested.
‘I’ll call her later. She didn’t really want me to come round to see you.’
‘I see.’ Sissy was silent for a while, until they reached the main road. Then she said, ‘You’re not nuts, you know, Trevor.’
Trevor looked at her and his face was very serious. ‘I know, Momma. That’s what I’m afraid of.’
Then he put his foot down and they headed north toward Canaan, on a highway so deserted that they felt as if they were the only people left in the world.
High Velocity
Feely was still in the bathroom when he heard the car horn tooting outside. He continued to sit there, frowning at the dog-eared copy of The Book of Lists that he had found on the windowsill, but then it tooted again, and he knew that it was Robert.
He fumbled to finish, and pulled up his pants. He made sure that he flushed the toilet. That was one of the things about Bruno that had always disgusted him: Bruno would always leave his turds for other people to discover.
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