I lingered in the house. If you knew how spartanly I live, in a house that my grandfather had thought scarcely fit for his tenant farmers, you would understand why. Jack had liquor, and plenty of good food. (Trust him for that.) My sister’s books still lined her shelves, and there was an excellent stereo. It was with something of a shock that I glanced up from À Rebours and realized that night had fallen. Far away, at the very end of the long, winding driveway, the new friendship light glared fitfully. It was then that I conceived my little plan.
In the morning I found the handle of the cut-off valve that the supervisor had shown me and took it off, employing one of Jack’s screwdrivers. Though I am not really mechanically inclined, I had observed that the screws holding the plate over the control valve had shallow heads and poorly formed slots; they had given the supervisor some difficulty when he replaced them. I told a clerk at our hardware store in the village that I frequently had to retighten a screw in my stove which (although there was never any need to take it out) repeatedly worked loose. The product he recommended is called an anaerobic adhesive, I believe. It was available in four grades: Wicking, Medium (General Purposes), High Strength, and Permanent Installation. I selected the last, though the clerk warned me that I would have to heat the screw thoroughly with a propane torch if I ever wished to remove it.
Back at my sister’s, I turned the flame higher, treated the screws with adhesive, and tightened them as much as I could. At that time, I did not know that Jack kept a journal of his own on cassette tapes. He had locked them away from my prying ears before he left, you may be sure; but I found the current number when the end-of-tape alarm sounded following his demise, and it may be time now to give old Jack the floor—time for a bit of fun.
“Well, here we are. Nicolette’s in the bedroom switching into something a lot more comfortable as they always say, so I’m going to take a minute to wrap things up.
“The judge said okay to selling the beach property, but all the money’s got to go into the fund. I’ll knock down the price a little and take a finder’s fee. Nicolette and I had a couple of good days, and I thought—”
“Jack! Jack!”
“Okay, here’s what happened. Nicolette says she was trying out some of Tess’s lipsticks, and looking in the mirror, when she saw somebody down at the end of the driveway watching her. I told her she ought to have shut the drapes, but she said she thought way out in the country like this she wouldn’t have to. Anyway, she saw this guy, standing there and not moving. Then the gas died down, and when it came back up he was still there, only a little nearer the house. Then it died down again, and when it came back up he was gone. She was looking out of the window by that time, she says in her slip. I went down to the end of the drive with a flashlight and looked around, but there’s so many footprints from the guys that put up the friendship light you can’t tell anything. If you ask me it was Ty. He stopped to look when he saw lights in the windows. It would be just like that sneaky son of a bitch not to come by or say anything, but I’ve got to admit I’m glad he didn’t.
“Well, when I got back to the house, Nicolette told me she heard the back door open and close again while I was gone. I went back there, and it was shut and locked. I remembered how it was while Tess was here, and I thought, that bastard has let those cats in, so I went, ‘Kitty-kitty-kitty,’ and sure as hell the big tom came out of the pantry to see if there was anything to eat. I got him by the neck and chucked him out.”
“Got some good pix of Nicolette and me by using the bulb with the motor drive. What I did was put the bulb under the mattress. Every once in a while it would get shoved down hard enough to trip the shutter, then the motor would advance the film. Shot up a whole roll of twenty-four that way last night. She laughed and said, ‘Put in a big roll tomorrow,’ but I don’t think so. I’m going to try to get her to go back Thursday—got to think about that. Can’t take this roll to Berry’s in town, that’s for sure. I’ll wait till I go sign the transfer of title, then turn it in to one of the big camera stores. Maybe they’ll mail the prints to me, too.
“She wanted me to call Ty and ask if anything funny went on while we were away. I said okay, thinking he wouldn’t answer, but he did. He said there was nothing funny while I was gone, but last night he was driving past, and he saw what looked like lightning at an upstairs window. I said I’d been fooling around with my camera equipment and set off the flash a couple of times to test it out. I said I was calling to thank him and see when I could drop by and get my key back. He said he’d already put it in the mail.
“If you ask me he knows Nicolette’s here. That was him out there last night as sure as hell. He’s been watching the house, and a few minutes ago on the phone he was playing a little game. Okay by me. I’ve loaded the Savage and stuck it under the bed. Next time he comes snooping around, he’s going to have bullets buzzing around his ears. If he gets hit—Hell, no jury around here’s going to blame a man for shooting at trespassers on his property at night.
“Either there’s more cats now, or the coons are eating the cat food again.”
“Nicolette got real scared tonight as soon as it got dark. I kept saying what’s the matter? And she kept saying she didn’t know, but there was something out there, moving around. I got the Savage, thinking it would make her feel better. Every so often the phone would ring and keep on ringing, but there’d be nobody on the line when I picked it up. I mixed us a couple of stiff drinks, but it was like she’d never touched hers—when she finished, she was just as scared as ever.
“Finally I got smart and told her, ‘Listen, honey, if this old place bothers you so much, why don’t I just drive you to the airport tonight and put you on a plane home?’ She jumped on it. ‘Would you? Oh, Lord, Jack, I love you! Just a minute and I’ll run up and get packed.’
“Until then there hadn’t really been anything to be scared of that I could see, but then something really spooky happened. The phone rang again. I picked it up out of habit, and instead of nobody being there like before, I heard a car start up—over the goddamned phone! I was mad as hell and banged it down, and right then Nicolette screamed.
“I grabbed the rifle and ran upstairs, only she was crying too much to say what it was. The damn drapes were still open, and I figured she’d seen Ty out by the friendship light again, so I closed them. Later she said it wasn’t the guy she’d seen before, but something big with wings. It could have been a big owl, or maybe just her imagination and too much liquor. Anyway we wasted a lot of time before she got straightened out enough to pack.
“Then I heard something moving around downstairs. While I was going down the stairs, I heard it run—I guess to hide, and the sack of garbage falling over. After I saw the mess in the kitchen, I thought sure it was one of those damned cats, and I still do, but it seemed like it made too much noise running to be a cat—more like a dog, maybe.
“Nicolette didn’t want to go out to the garage with me, so I said I’d bring the car around and pick her up out front. The car and jeep looked okay when I raised the door and switched on the light, but as soon as I opened the car door I knew something was wrong, because the dome light didn’t come on. I tossed the rifle in back, meaning to take a look under the hood, and there was the God-damnedest noise you ever heard in your life. It’s a hell of a good thing I wasn’t still holding the gun.
“It was a cat, and not one of ours. I guess he was asleep on the back seat and I hit him with the Savage when I tossed it inside.
“He came out of there like a buzz saw and it feels like he peeled off half my face. I yelled—that scared the shit out of Nicolette in the house—and grabbed the hammer off my bench. I was going to kill that son of a bitch if I could find him. The moon was up, and I saw him scooting past the pond. I chucked the hammer at him but missed him a mile. He’d been yowling like crazy, but all of a sudden he shut up, and I went back into the house to get a bandage for my face.
“I was a mess, too. That bastard took a lot of skin off my c
heek, and a lot of blood had run onto my shirt and jacket.
“Nicolette was helping me when we heard something fall on the roof. She yelled, ‘Where’s your gun?’ and I told her it was still out in the goddamned car, which it was. She wanted me to go out and get it, and I wanted to find out what had hit on the roof, but I went out first and got the Savage. Everything was O.K., too—the garage light was still on, and the gun was lying on the seat of the car. But when I tried to start the car, it wouldn’t turn over. Finally I checked the headlights, and sure enough the switch was pulled out. I must have left the lights on last night. The battery’s as dead as a doornail.
“I was pulling out the folding steps to the attic when the phone rang. Nicolette got it, and she said all she could hear was a car starting up, the same as I’d heard.
“I went up into the attic with a flashlight, and opened the window and went out onto the roof. It took a lot of looking to find what had hit. I should have just chucked it out into the yard, but like a jerk I picked it up by the ear and carried it downstairs and scared Nicolette half to death. It’s the head of a big tomcat, if you ask me, or maybe a wildcat. Not one of ours, a black one.
“O.K., when I was outside and that cat got quiet all of a sudden, I felt a breeze—only cold like somebody had opened the door of a big freezer. There wasn’t a noise, but then owls can fly without making a sound. So it’s pretty clear what happened.
“We’ve got a big owl around here. That was probably what Nicolette saw out the window, and it was sure as hell what got the cat. The cat must have come around to eat our cat food, and got into the garage sometime when I opened the door. None of this has got anything to do with the phone. That’s just kids.
“Nicolette wanted me to take her to the airport in the jeep right away, but after all that had happened I didn’t feel like doing it, so I told her it would be too late to catch a flight and the jeep wasn’t running anyhow. I told her tomorrow we’ll call the garage and get somebody to come out and give us a jump.
“We yelled about that for a while until I gave her some of Tess’s sleeping pills. She took two or three. Now she’s out like a light. I’ve pulled the jack on every goddamned phone in the house. I took a couple of aspirins, but my cheek still hurt so bad I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and fixed a drink and tried to talk all this out. Now I’m going back to bed.
This is bad—I’ve called the sheriff, and the ambulance is supposed to come out. It will be all over the damned paper, and the judge will see it as sure as hell, but what else could I do? Just now I mopped up the blood with a couple of dirty shirts. I threw them out back, and as soon as I shut the door I could hear them out there. I should’ve opened the door and shot. I don’t know why I didn’t, except Nicolette was making that noise that drives me crazy. I damn near hit her with the rifle. I’ve done everything I can. She needs an ambulance—a hospital.
“Now, honey, I want you to say—right into here—that it wasn’t me, understand?
“Water. . . .”
“I’ll get you plenty of water. You say it, and I’ll get it right away. Tell them what happened.”
“The tape ran out. Had to turn it over.
“O.K., then I’ll say it. It wasn’t me—wasn’t Jack. Maybe I ought to start right at the beginning.
“Nicolette shot at a coon. I was sound asleep, but I must have jumped damned near through the ceiling. I came up yelling and fighting, and it was dark as hell. I hit the light switch, but the lights wouldn’t come on. The only light in the whole place was the little crack between the drapes. I pulled them open. It was just the damned friendship light way down at the end of the drive, but that was better than nothing.
“I saw she had the gun, so I grabbed it. She’d been trying to work it, but she hadn’t pulled the lever down far enough to chamber a fresh round. If she had, she’d probably have killed us both.
“I said, ‘Listen, the power’s just gone off—that happens a lot out here.’ She said she got up to go to the bathroom, and she saw eyes, green eyes shining. She turned on the hall light, but it was gone. She tried to wake me up but I just grabbed her, so she got the gun. Pretty soon all the lights went out. She thought she heard it coming and fired.
“I got my flashlight and looked around. The bullet went right through the wall of Tess’s room and hit the bed—I think it stopped in the mattress somewhere.
“Nicolette kept saying, ‘Give me the keys—I’ll go to the airport by myself.’ I smacked her good and hard a few times to make her shut up, once with the flashlight.
“Then I saw the green eyes, too, but as soon as I got the light on it, I knew what it was—just a coon, not even a real big one.
“I didn’t want to shoot again, because even if I’d hit it would have made a hell of a mess, so I told Nicolette to open the door. She did, and that’s when I saw them, two or three of them, flying around down by the friendship light. Jesus!”
“They’re outside now. I know they are. I took a shot at one through the big window, but I don’t think I hit it.
“Where the hell’s the sheriff’s guy? He should’ve been here an hour ago—the ambulance, too. It’s starting to get light outside.”
“The coon got in through the goddamned cat door. I ought to have guessed. When Ty was here he had the cats in the house with him, so he unbolted it— that was how Marmaduke got in last night.
“I tried to switch this thing off, but I’m shaking too bad. I damn near dropped it. I might as well get on with it anyway. This isn’t getting us anywhere. I gave her the keys and I told her, ‘O.K., you want to go to the goddamn airport so bad, here. Leave the keys and the ticket in the dash compartment and I’ll go out and pick it up when I can.’
“I didn’t think she’d do it, but she took the keys and ran outside. I went to the window. I heard the jeep start up, and it sounded like she was tearing out the whole damn transmission. Pretty soon she came roaring down the driveway. I guess she had it in second and the pedal all the way to the floor. I didn’t think any were close to her, and all of a sudden there was one right above her, dropping down. The wings made it look like the jeep was blinking on and off, too.
“The jeep went across the road and into the ditch. I never thought I’d see her again, but it dropped her on the front lawn. I shouldn’t have gone out to get her. I could’ve been killed.
“It was looking for something in her, that’s what I think. I didn’t know there was so much blood when you cut a person open like that. What the hell do the doctors do?
“I think she’s dead now.”
“The sheriff’s men just left. They say the power’s off all over. It looks like a plane hit the wires, they said, without crashing. Jesus.
“Here’s what I told them. Nicolette and I had a fight. I keep the gun loaded in case of prowlers, and she took a couple of shots at me. They said, ‘How do we know you didn’t shoot at her?’ I said, ‘You think I’d miss a woman twice, with my deer rifle, inside the house?’ I could see they bought it.
“I said I gave her the keys to the jeep and said to leave it at the airport—the truth in other words. They said, ‘Didn’t you give her any money?’ I told them, ‘Not then, but I’d given her some before, back when we were still in the hotel.’ I told them she floorboarded it down the drive and couldn’t make the turn. I saw her hit and went out and got her, and brought her back into the house.
“They said, ‘You ripped her up the belly with a knife.’ I said, ‘No way. Sure, I slapped her a couple times for shooting at me, but I never knifed her.’ I showed them my hunting knife, and they checked out all the kitchen knives. They said, ‘How’d she get ripped up the middle like that?’ and I said, ‘How the hell should I know? She got thrown out of the jeep.’
“I’m not supposed to leave the country, not supposed to stay anyplace but here. They took the Savage, but I’ve still got my shotgun and the twenty-two.”
“Power’s back on. The tow truck came out for the jeep and gave me a jump for the Cadillac.
“The way I see it, they’ve never even tried to get into the house, so if I stay in here I ought to be all right. I’m going to wait until after dark, then see if I can get Ty to come over. If he gets in okay, fine—I’ll string him along for a while. If he doesn’t, I’ll leave tomorrow and the sheriff can go to hell. I’ll let his office know where I am, and tell them I’ll come in for questioning any time they want to see me.”
“I just phoned Ty. I said I’d like to give him something for looking after the place while I was gone. And that I was going away again, this time for quite a while, and I wanted him to take care of things like he did before. I told him I’ve been using the spare key, but the one he mailed was probably in the box, down by the friendship light, because I haven’t picked up my mail yet. I said for him to check the box before he came to the house. He said O.K., he’d be right over. It seems to be taking him. . . .”
Ty again. At this point in the tape, my knock can be heard quite distinctly, followed by Jack’s footfalls as he went to the door; it would seem that he was too rattled to turn off his tape recorder. (Liquor, as I have observed several times, does not in fact prevent nervousness, merely allowing it to accumulate.) I would be very happy to transcribe his scream here, if only I knew how to express it by means of the twenty-six letters of the Roman alphabet.
You took him, as you promised, whole and entire. I have no grounds for complaint upon that score, or indeed upon any. And I feel certain he met his well-deserved death firmly convinced that he was in the grip of demons, or some such thing, which I find enormously satisfying.
Why, then, do I write? Permit me to be frank now: I am in need of your assistance. I will not pretend that I deserve it (you would quite correctly care nothing for that), or that it is owed me; I carried out my part of the agreement we made at the friendship light, and you carried out yours. But I find myself in difficulties.
Poor Tessie will probably never be discharged. Even the most progressive of our hospitals are now loath to grant release in cases of her type—there were so many unfortunate incidents earlier, and although society really has very little invested in children aged two to four, it overvalues them absurdly.
The Very Best of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Volume 2 Page 30