Fragments

by James F. David

  “Yes, Ralph. You can answer these. Do you like living here?”

  “Sure, there’s a Seven-Eleven real close.”

  “Gil’s nice, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. Except sometimes he buys yucky Slurpees.”

  “Does Gil ever do anything unusual?—you know, different?”

  “I told you about those Slurpees.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, thanks, Ralph.”

  “Want me to tell you some things about Wes?”

  “Yes, but later,” Elizabeth said.

  “Well okeydokey then.” Ralph turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. Gil’s a ventilkist. That’s unusual, isn’t it?”

  “You mean a ventriloquist?” Elizabeth offered.

  “I think so. Gil can talk without moving his mouth, isn’t that one of those people?”

  The others looked at each other and then at Elizabeth.

  “Gil speaks without moving his mouth?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Sometimes. Mostly when someone’s upset. Like when Yu was upset when the police were touching his book.”

  “What does he say to them?”

  “He says to calm down—everything’s going to be OK—stuff like that.”

  “Does he ever talk that way to us?”

  “He used to, but not much anymore.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I don’t remember. It was something about the speriment. I think he wanted to be sperimented on.”

  Wes lost his skeptical face and looked at Elizabeth incredulously. Elizabeth gave him an “I-told-you-so” look, then turned back to Ralph. “Thanks, Ralph. You should go to bed now.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  Ralph left, leaving the others in a solemn mood. It wasn’t much evidence but it was another piece of the puzzle. Worse, each of them had to deal with the fact Gil might have been controlling their thoughts. Wes was about to speak when Ralph reappeared.

  “Is it OK for Yu to use the phone?”

  Surprised, Elizabeth led the way to the hall, where Yu was standing in his pajamas, the receiver held to his ear. Karon started forward, but Elizabeth stopped her with a touch on the arm. They all waited for Yu to complete his call.

  “Father! If milk cost two dollars and seventy-nine cents then there would be twenty-one cents left from three dollars. I would file Mrs. Carter before Mrs. White.”

  Then, without a goodbye, Yu hung up and walked up the stairs.

  When he was gone, they gathered back in the kitchen.

  “What was that all about?” Shamita asked.

  “I have no idea,” Elizabeth said. “I understand Yu’s father has essentially disowned him, so this might be his way of reaching out to him. Figuring the change for purchasing a gallon of milk is kind of interesting. I wouldn’t have thought Yu could solve such a problem.” Elizabeth’s face darkened. “Actually, I’m sure it’s not the kind of thing he could solve. I guess that shows improvement . . . still, very odd. Ralph, go to bed, please.”

  “Well okeydokey then,” he said. “I just thought you should know about Yu. He might have been calling Mars or someplace spensive.”

  When Ralph was off to bed, they gathered again in the kitchen.

  “What was your idea, Elizabeth?” Shamita asked. “You said something about a way to connect the killings with the experiment.”

  “Yes, I think I know a couple of ways. First, do you have the dates for all the experiments? Good, then let’s dig the newspapers out of the basement and match the dates of the murders with the days we ran the experiments.”

  “I’ll get the papers,” Len volunteered.

  Thirty minutes later they confirmed that the killings started the day the animated Frankie first emerged, and subsequent murders of the fraternity brothers occurred on the same days as an integration, but so did the killings of Tom Floyd and Pastor Young.

  “It doesn’t fit your theory,” Wes argued. “If Frankie is Nancy, then why did she kill the pastor?”

  “I believe Gil did that to protect himself from discovery.”

  “So why wait until after a session?”

  “Coincidence. But if you don’t believe me there is another way.”

  The others looked expectantly at Elizabeth.

  “We could bring Frankie back and confront her. Ask her if she is Nancy.”

  No one spoke; instead they sat in silence, thinking of the ramifications. If anyone had an opinion only Wes risked the responsibility of sharing it.

  “I don’t think we should. I’m not saying I believe what you’ve been saying, but there is that correlation between the integrations and the killings. If we don’t integrate Frankie again, and the killings continue, that vindicates the experiment. If the killings end—well that’s for the good too.”

  “But what about Gil?” Shamita asked.

  “I’ve shared this with Officer Winston and he’s checking up on Gil. If he turns something up he’ll let us know. Meanwhile he’s going to have someone watch the house.” Shamita still looked concerned. “I know what you’re thinking, Shamita, but it will only be a day—two at most. Until then we won’t leave you alone, or Ralph either. None of us should be alone with him.”

  Everyone agreed, and then they fell silent, each thinking their own thoughts. As usual, Len’s thoughts were a little different.

  “This reminds me of the couple who were having trouble delivering a normal baby. The first baby was just a foot. The second baby was just a hand. Finally, they decided to try again. When the nurse brought the baby to the father she said, ‘Congratulations, you’re the proud father of a seven-pound eyeball.’ Devastated, the father said, ‘Nothing could be worse than this!’ Then the nurse said, ‘It’s blind.’ ”

  “That’s sick, Len,” Karon scolded.

  “Yeah, but don’t anybody say ‘it can’t get any worse than this.’ ”

  Gil listened from the stairs, trying to pick out what they were saying. It wasn’t unusual for them to meet without him but they were talking low, and that was different. He couldn’t pick out a single word, but their behavior told him he had to get out of there.

  When the kitchen meeting broke up, he scuttled up the stairs to his room, sacking out on the bed. His relaxation routine called to him, but he resisted. He wasn’t going to lose himself to that thing again, so he avoided meditating, and he avoided sleep. It would be tough, staying awake until the first savant stirred—maybe he could nap for a couple of hours in the afternoon, but only if at least one of the savants was active.

  He listened to the others going to bed around him, using the bathroom, opening and closing doors. It was still for a time; then, on the other side of the wall, he heard Karon’s door open. With the house quiet, he could hear whispering through the wall, then giggling. Silence followed, and then the now familiar rocking of the bed.

  Gil cursed Karon and Len for teasing him with what he couldn’t enjoy. He also cursed the thing that was keeping him trapped in the house. As his anger built he began to move objects around the room with his mind, noticing new strength. When he first learned to control his ability he could move only one object at a time, but now he found he could move two as long as they stayed in his peripheral vision.

  The rhythm in the next room reached its climax and then was followed by silence. They would sleep now, he knew, wrapped in each other’s arms. That thought tortured him too, and he nursed his anger to keep his power up to full strength. After a while his head began to ache, and he let the objects sink slowly to the ground. When his mind cleared he found himself thinking about Len and Karon, naked on the other side of the wall. He wanted Karon—or some woman; Ms. Foxworth would be better. He could take one of them if he wanted, it would be easy with his power, but he couldn’t until he knew he could escape. Wanting a woman, and knowing Frankie was keeping him from satisfying his lust, helped keep him awake, and he spent the time working on a plan to kill a sava
nt.

  29

  TRAGEDY

  Mr. Tran was on the phone first thing in the morning with Elizabeth, complaining about the midnight call from his son.

  “If you can’t control him, then I will return him to Riverview. They knew how to keep him from bothering people in the middle of the night!”

  “But that call was a significant step in sociability for your son,” Elizabeth said.

  “Poor manners are no improvement. Teach him respect if you must teach him something.”

  “Did the milk problem and the filing problem mean anything to you, Mr. Tran?”

  “Yes, it meant loss of a night’s sleep. See to it I don’t lose any more!”

  Elizabeth was left with a dead line and another mystery. Yu was no help about the call, once again his mind in a place no one could reach. But Elizabeth felt he would emerge again, and this time she hoped she could keep him in their world.

  Elizabeth helped the savants through their morning routine but vetoed the walk Gil suggested. Suspicious, she interpreted even trivial things Gil did, or said, as sinister.

  After lunch Gil excused himself, saying he wasn’t feeling well, and went up to his room. Elizabeth took the opportunity for an outing and quickly got the coats on the savants. Only Daphne refused the opportunity, choosing to stay and play the piano. Fearing that Gil might join the walk if he knew they were going, Elizabeth quickly pushed them out the door. The police car was there as promised, a young policewoman at the wheel.

  Immediately Ralph took the lead, Archie and Yu dogging his heels and Luis following just ahead of Elizabeth. When they reached the Kappa house, two fraternity brothers greeted Ralph halfheartedly and then retreated inside, peeking out the blinds as they passed. For once Elizabeth didn’t mind the shunning of the savants.

  Curious about the accident, she had Ralph lead them to where Luis had fallen. He protested at first, until she assured him they wouldn’t go up to the skybridge. Elizabeth hadn’t spent much time on the campus since she had been in Eugene and she enjoyed the atmosphere. Old brick buildings mingling with newer additions created an appealing mix of classic and modern architecture. Like all of Wes’s team she had spent many years on university campuses preparing herself for her profession.

  As they passed the student union building Luis deviated toward it, Ralph and the others plodding on, oblivious of Luis’s sudden independence. She called after him, but he continued toward the crowd of students coming and going from the building. Elizabeth hurried to catch up, curious rather than concerned. Just before he reached the doors he turned, stopping in front of a mailbox. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out an envelope and dropped it into the mail slot. Turning back toward his retreating comrades, he nearly ran into Elizabeth.

  “What was that, Luis?”

  “A letter.”

  Letting him pass, Elizabeth fell in next to him, wondering first what possessed him to write a letter—something he had never done—and who he would mail a letter to.

  “Luis, who is the letter for?”

  “My mother.”

  Elizabeth walked next to him, recalling his file. She knew he was abandoned at birth, but was it possible his mother’s name and address was buried somewhere in his mind, captured even as a toddler by his photographic memory? Luis didn’t volunteer more information—it would have been too much to hope he would—but Elizabeth knew she would explore it further when they got home.

  Gil watched the savants turn in to the university, his travel bag in his hand. Ever since he spotted the police watching the house he had been waiting for this. There was no use hiding his ability anymore; they were on to him. But to get away he needed to make sure Frankie was gone, and there was only one way to do that.

  Following at a distance, he trailed them into the campus, knowing Elizabeth was heading for the skybridge. When they broke out into the quad he skirted to the left, mingling with the students. He could see the savants being led by Ralph toward the scene of the accident. Suddenly he realized that Luis had turned toward the student union building. Briefly he wondered if Luis was afraid of returning to the skybridge. Had Luis’s retarded brain managed to understand that he was pushed off? Luckily for Gil he had managed to suggest to Luis he hadn’t been pushed—even if that damn Ralph had heard his thought-push again. Gil remembered Luis inverted on that bridge, ready to dive headfirst to the ground, and he chuckled—it was a delicious memory and he hungered to finish the job.

  The skybridge towered three stories above Elizabeth, and directly below it was a brick plaza. Benches were spaced around the perimeter, many with students talking or reading. Now Elizabeth was faced with another mystery—how could anyone fall three stories onto brick and have nothing but scratches?

  Ralph was working the benches, introducing himself and talking about the “speriment.” Archie, Yu, and Luis stood together waiting for the walk to resume. All three of them were more communicative than when they first arrived and Elizabeth decided to see how much Luis remembered.

  “Luis, is this where you fell?”

  Without looking up he said, “Yes.”

  “You fell onto this brick?”

  “No.”

  “Where did you land?”

  “I landed in the bushes.” Then, looking around and pointing to a laurel hedge along the side of one building, he added, “There.”

  “So you didn’t fall from the middle of the bridge, you fell off one end?”

  “No. I fell from there.”

  This time he pointed up at the middle of the bridge, confusing Elizabeth even more. Finally she called Ralph over.

  “Ralph, where on the bridge was Luis standing when he fell?”

  “He was in the middle. I was next to him, except I wasn’t right next to him. I tried to grab him.”

  “Do you know where he landed?”

  “In that bush. It’s still smashed. Want I should fluff it up?”

  “No. Thanks, Ralph. Let’s get going again.”

  “Well okeydokey then.”

  Ralph was soon up to full speed and Elizabeth once again trailed the parade, this time wondering how anyone could fall at such an angle that they could land thirty feet away.

  Gil trailed them to the 7-Eleven and waited until they came out eating ice-cream bars. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but at least they were distracted by eating. Ralph was peeling the paper away from an ice-cream sandwich as they came to the corner, waiting for the light. The traffic started up on the cross street and Gil watched, looking for a gap just the right size. The cars were too close together at first. Gil watched for a two-length space, building his anger in anticipation. He focused his thoughts on Luis, finding it easy to blame him for his failure at the skybridge.

  It was taking too long, and the light would turn soon—he feared he would lose his chance. Then there it was, just before a white pickup truck, the right spacing in the traffic. Gil waited, timing it right, then stared hard at Luis, wrapping his thoughts around him. Then he pushed.

  Elizabeth knew what was happening when Luis suddenly straightened, his eyes going wide. Then, as if pushed by an invisible hand, he staggered backward toward the traffic, his arms flung out as if he were trying to embrace whatever was pushing him, his face contorted in fear.

  Elizabeth could see the truck coming from her left—there was no time. She bolted forward, lunging toward his embrace. When she was nearly to his arms he suddenly flew backward, his heels dragging across the sidewalk and off the curb. The truck’s tires screamed as the driver locked the wheels. Smoke billowed from the burning rubber, but it was too late. Luis slid backward into the path of the truck.

  Luis’s thick lips parted in a scream just as the truck plowed into him. His body folded with the blow and he tumbled forward, head over heels. The truck continued over him, the wheels rolling over his legs and chest. The sound of his bones breaking was audible above the squeal of the tires.

  Once the truck stopped Elizabeth rushed forward. Only Luis’s h
ead and arm were visible; the truck had come to rest on his chest. Helpless, Elizabeth stared as a red wetness spread down Luis’s side. Suddenly Ralph was there.

  “We got to get him out, Elizabeth!” he said.

  Before she could reply Ralph grabbed one side of the truck and lifted, his powerful shoulders knotting under the load—at first nothing, then the truck moved. Elizabeth grabbed Luis, her hand feeling the warm blood, and pulled, but he was still pinned.

  “Ralph, lift it higher.”

  She knew it was an impossible command but then the truck moved another inch and then another, suddenly she realized there were others helping Ralph. As she watched, the wheel cleared Luis’s chest, and she pulled with her arms. He didn’t budge, so she tightened her grip, planted her feet, and pushed with her legs. He moved, but only a few inches. Suddenly more hands appeared and Luis was dragged from under the wheel.

  Luis’s chest was soaked in blood and his now crimson shirt pulsed in one spot as if an artery was spilling across his chest. Elizabeth put her palm on the pulsing spot and pushed, her hand sinking—there was a hole in his chest. The futility struck her and she leaned back and watched the pulsing spot until it slowed and then finally stopped. Only then did she feel the extent of her despair, and she leaned back and screamed.

  Elizabeth’s scream meant he was free, and Gil quickly turned away. People ran toward the intersection, a crowd gathering. They always did, Gil knew, but this time he didn’t try to blend in; instead, like a salmon heading upstream, he pushed his way through the gathering gawkers.

  “Goodbye Luis, and goodbye Frankie,” he said aloud. Then, whistling, he headed toward the highway to thumb a ride to Portland. He had his freedom back now, and his new power, and most important he was in control again.

  30

  EXPLOSION

  Roy Winston questioned Elizabeth, Wes hovering to one side trying to comfort her. The police were now combing the city for Gil and had notified the state police and surrounding communities. Still skeptical, the police were at least willing to hunt Gil down.