If I Die Before I Wake

by Sherwood King

  I lay back and looked at them, too. The sky seemed filled with star-shells and sky-rockets, all bursting and throwing out sparks.

  ‘It’s late,’ she said. ‘It’s very late. We must hurry back.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we must. There will be other nights.’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘Of course there will be.’

  ‘No. I’m quitting.’

  ‘But you can’t quit now.’ She looked at me like no one else had ever looked before. ‘It is amazing, but—’

  ‘What?’

  She lowered her eyes. She bit the corner of her lip.

  ‘I have been unhappy,’ she said. She raised her eyes. ‘I am not unhappy now. That is the amazing thing.’

  Her eyes were veiled over. Her cheeks were wet.

  She came into my arms as though she had been there always. I kissed her throat, the shadow made by the curve of her breasts. She trembled. I drew back and looked at her. Her eyes were closed. Her hands came up and drew my head down to hers. My mouth touched hers.

  I struck the roof of the sky. It was only a kiss, but like none I’d ever had before.

  I came down with a crash like the crashing of waves in my ear, and my whole body shaking and my breath coming in gasps that burned my throat. Sand, sky, Sound, all whirled around me.

  ‘Laurence!’

  She sprang up, pulling the negligee around her, and ran stumbling and falling up the hill.

  I got up on one knee. I was weak, shaking.

  Then I saw her… on the hill… A moment, a second before I had held her in my arms, had run hot hands across her body. Now she was up on the hill. I started climbing hand and knee.

  ‘Wait… you’re forgetting the robe.’

  That brought me out of it a little. I stood up and looked dumbly back at the robe for a minute. Then I went back and got it. Her handkerchief was there, with the kind of perfume she wore on it. I put it in my pocket.

  At the house she kissed me again, trembling, happy, younger than ever.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ she whispered.

  IX

  I was still dazed when I got up to the room, after putting the car away.

  I threw myself down on the bed. Even now I could feel her arms tight around me, her fingers pulling my hair, her perfume choking me. I could still hear her saying, in a whisper, ‘Tomorrow!’

  Suddenly I sat up, and there, on the desk, was the letter I’d written to warn Bannister – staring at me.

  I couldn’t stay, I knew that. I jumped to my feet and looked at the time. Three-thirty. I could be far away by morning.

  ‘Tomorrow!’

  No, I’d go in the morning. Early. Before anyone else was up. Then there would be cars on the road. I could get a ride into the city. I’d go right down to the Battery and sign up on a ship. Anywhere.

  I couldn’t sleep. I lay and tossed. I saw her a thousand times, a thousand ways. She was right in the room with me. Every minute. Smiling. Crying. Pushing me back. Pulling me down to her…

  I couldn’t stand it. I got up and dressed. I hauled the duffle bag out again… put in some things I’d forgotten. Then I went back and tossed on the bed some more. Still I couldn’t sleep. I lay and tossed.

  A light broke across the sky. Day was coming… at last, at last.

  I sat up with a jerk. This was the day. In the writhing early light I could see Grisby, standing with the gun smoking in his hand. I could see Bannister… a hole in his head… the blood streaming down his face…

  MURDER!

  I grabbed the bag. I went out of there like a shot.

  At the bottom of the steps, I stopped. I thought of her standing out there, in the moonlight outside the door… floating… saying, surprised, ‘Why, Laurence – you’re not – you’re not going away—’ The way she had when I’d come down before.

  I put my hand on the knob and leaned against the wall. My heart beating wildly, just like then. The sweat pouring out of me…

  Suddenly I smelled her perfume again. Strong. As though she were standing out there – as though she were in my arms again, her body pressing, her breath coming fast, her lips trembling, her perfume choking me.

  ‘But you can’t quit now…’

  It was the handkerchief. I took it out. It was lace, like her negligee. I put it to my mouth, my hand shaking, my temples throbbing.

  ‘Tomorrow!’

  But I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t see Bannister killed like that, in cold blood.

  I couldn’t go, either. I thought of how it would be – Bannister gone, Elsa alone, five thousand dollars in my pocket. And I thought of Elsa – Elsa saying, quietly, ‘Has it honestly never occurred to you’ – speaking to Bannister – ‘that you might be better off dead?’

  I shoved the handkerchief into my pocket.

  It wouldn’t be my doing. I wasn’t going to kill anyone. If Bannister couldn’t watch out for himself, it was his own fault. It was that kind of a world. You had to be looking out for yourself all the time, every minute.

  Anyway, Grisby had threatened to kill me if I didn’t do what he said, hadn’t he? And it wasn’t a bluff, it was the real thing, I knew it. I could still hear him:

  ‘It won’t do you a damn bit of good to talk. No one would believe you in the first place. And in the second place, if you did, they’d still have nothing on me. You haven’t any proof. And in the third place, you wouldn’t, because if you didn’t go through with this now, you know damned well I’d fog you – and as easily as I will him!’

  I couldn’t imagine myself going through with it, but it didn’t seem that all this was happening to me, either, but to somebody else. And I couldn’t do anything about it. It was like walking in your sleep – and having a nightmare of being on a precipice, with someone ready to push you off into the bargain.

  I went back up the steps to the room. I took the note I’d written to warn Bannister and tore it into pieces. I put the pieces in the fireplace. I struck a match to them.

  They blazed up with a roar – a bright, hot flame.

  I shivered.

  I threw myself down on the bed and this time I went to sleep. And the last thing I thought of was Elsa – Elsa whispering hotly:

  ‘Tomorrow!’

  PART TWO

  I

  Now it was starting!…

  We were on the road that ran beside the swamp. We were going to the station to miss the train, and then to the beach for the ‘murder.’

  It was hot.

  My hands felt slack on the wheel of the car. I was all empty inside. My eyes were blurred from the heat. I felt as though I really were going to kill someone.

  It was dark.

  Clouds hung low in the sky.

  Now and then there was lightning. It came in sheets, moving half across the sky. It lighted the clouds. Then the clouds were like sheep going to the slaughter.

  But there was no rain. There was not even the usual cool prelude to rain. It was more sticky, more sultry than ever.

  Grisby leaned over and looked at his watch in the light from the dash.

  ‘Ten-thirty,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to hurry. The train must be gone by this time anyway.’

  The train was late. We heard its whistle wailing over the swamp, and then we saw the lights of it through the haze, coming toward the station. If we kept going the way we were, we’d get there just as the train did. That would be bad, if anybody saw us. The idea was to just miss it.

  My hands were shaky. My eyes were heavy. I watched the blur of the train’s lights. For a moment I forgot to watch the road.

  Suddenly I saw a red light. It seemed to be coming of itself, directly toward my face.

  Grisby yelled. His voice sounded far away, more angered than afraid.

  ‘Stop the car! Stop the—’

  He lurched forward in the seat and jerked back
the emergency.

  I swung the wheel around. I jammed on the foot brakes.

  Too late.

  There was a stunning crash. Glass showered me. I was thrown forward against the wheel. I gasped.

  The car stopped.

  I tasted blood on my lips, hot and salty. I opened the car door and slid out.

  Now I saw that what I had hit was a truck. It was covered with black tarpaulin. A little man in a cap leaped out of the truck and came up running.

  ‘Anybody hurt?’ he asked.

  ‘Why – I don’t know—’

  We looked in the car. Grisby was getting out on the other side. He came around the back. When he stood beside the little man he looked like a giant. Blood was on his white linen suit. He was smiling, but one hand was holding his right wrist.

  ‘Well, that was a narrow one, wasn’t it?’ he said. ‘Not hurt, are you, Laurence?’

  ‘I don’t know. The glass—’

  ‘Flying glass can take your head off,’ said the little man.

  We moved into the light from the twisted headlights and examined our cuts. The whole front of the car was jammed against the back of the truck. What I had seen had been the truck’s red tail-light. Now the light was out. Except for that, the truck didn’t seem to be damaged.

  Grisby had a cut on his right wrist. It was deep. Blood ran out of it in a stream.

  I felt faint. I wasn’t hurt, only scratched. But the sight of the blood nauseated me, knowing what we were going to do.

  The little man was looking at Grisby’s wrist.

  ‘Maybe you cut the jugular vein,’ he said. ‘Or is that in the neck?’

  Grisby laughed. He wrapped a handkerchief around the wrist and knotted it with his teeth. Then he smiled, to show that he was all right.

  ‘Is the car O.K.?’ asked the little man.

  We pushed it clear of the truck. I got in and started the motor. It ran fine.

  The radiator was crushed in, but there didn’t seem to be a leak anywhere. The radiator ornament was missing. I found it in the dust of the road. It was Atlas holding the world. Now it was only Atlas, flattened out of shape. The world wasn’t anywhere around. I threw the rest away.

  Grisby wheeled on the little man.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he demanded. It sounded like a prosecutor questioning a defendant.

  The truck driver gaped.

  ‘You’re not going to say that I did this!’

  ‘Oh, no. It was entirely our fault. We want to make sure that you’re compensated for any damage we may have caused your truck. That’s all.’

  ‘Well, that’s different. My name’s Steve Crunch. It’d be my job if I had to take the rap for this.’

  ‘Don’t I know it,’ I said. ‘I used to drive one of these crates myself.’

  ‘Then you know how it is. You can be as careful as a preacher on his wedding night, but let something happen that wasn’t your fault at all, and you’re done for.’

  Grisby laughed. He gave the little man one of his cards.

  ‘Let me know the damage,’ he said.

  The little man took the card. On the plain side he wrote down the license number of Bannister’s car.

  II

  Now we were on the road leading to Bannister’s beach.

  Grisby chuckled.

  ‘Everything is working out perfectly,’ he said. ‘That truck driver will make a Grade-A witness. But now we’ll have to work faster than ever. Bannister is waiting for me down at the office. I got him to stay down for the night; the case we’re working on comes up tomorrow.’

  ‘Does he know you’re out here?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I accidentally on purpose left the most important papers on the case out here last night. His leg is bothering him and he’s irritable as hell, so he was glad to have me go after them and leave him to suffer alone. Well, his leg won’t bother him any more after tonight.’

  We stopped at the top of the little hill that sloped down to the beach.

  There were fires all up and down. When the lightning spread across the sky we could see people moving. There was a stir and excitement in the air.

  Someone was singing. I thought of Elsa in my arms on the beach. I felt the blood rush to my head. Again I smelled her perfume. The handkerchief was still in my pocket. I reached in and felt the lace, cool on my fingers.

  A couple came along, walking slowly.

  ‘Wait till they pass,’ said Grisby.

  It was dark on the beach in front of the car. They stopped and kissed. Then they went on.

  Grisby got out and untied the handkerchief from his wrist. He let the blood run onto the seat and the floor.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I almost screamed. My voice sounded strange, choked.

  ‘Use your head. You can’t shoot someone and not expect some blood. Get out the gun.’

  I reached my hand into the side-pocket of the car. The gun handle was cold. I took the gun out.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you this was the perfect crime?’ said Grisby. ‘There isn’t a detail I’ve overlooked. Even this blood here. They’ll check it against a blood test I had made a week ago, in preparation.’

  He began to give last minute instructions.

  ‘Now, make sure someone sees you go back, when you leave here. Make sure of your witnesses, and that they know you’re alone. When you get back to the garage, start washing out the bloodstains. You’re trying to hide the evidence, see? But be careful not to do such a good job that they can’t analyze the stains. To save your own neck, you’ve got to make sure they believe I’m dead.’

  He reached over inside the car and smeared some blood on my trousers.

  ‘Just try to wash that off,’ he said.

  He laughed as I drew back.

  The singing made the whole thing seem even worse than it was.

  My breathing was uneven. I tried to get hold of myself. I didn’t look at Grisby. I kept my eyes on the beach. I could see the exact spot where the blanket had been last night. I could feel Elsa’s hands running through my hair. My scalp tingled.

  Grisby retied the handkerchief and tossed a packet of bills into my lap.

  ‘Now, for God’s sake, earn your salt,’ he said. ‘Play the game right. Act scared as hell. When they accuse you of killing Bannister, pretend to be surprised. Finally, break down and prove you couldn’t have killed him by telling them about me. Stick to your story that you killed me. They can’t do anything. Don’t let them make you think they can.’

  I leafed through the bills. I didn’t count them… mostly fifties and hundreds, but some five-hundreds, I saw. More money than I’d ever held before in my life!

  I didn’t feel happy, however.

  Some of the blood was on the bills, from my trousers. I quickly dropped the package onto the seat.

  The gun handle began to feel hot. I could hardly hold it. My hands were wet and slippery with sweat.

  Grisby reached over and grabbed my free hand.

  ‘This is good-bye,’ he said. ‘Think of me down in the South Seas, happy for the first time in my life.’

  I was so shaken up my hand was limp. Suddenly he dropped it in disgust. His jaw jutted out. He became a different Grisby, the killer. He leaned toward me.

  ‘You go through with this like I told you,’ he almost shouted, ‘or I’ll come back and get you, too. Now let that sink in, and sink in good. You can’t be a kid all your life. Wake up and get some sense. You’ve got to be hard to get by in this world. Are you going to be hard, or should I finish you off right here?’

  ‘I just don’t feel well,’ I said.

  ‘All right, but no phony stuff, or I pop you.’

  He went to the edge of the hill and looked up and down the beach.

  ‘Now for it,’ he said. ‘As soon as you hear the speedboat die away, fire the gun.’

  I saw his white linen suit going out on
the pier. It made a good target. I could have taken the gun right then and killed him really. That would have saved Bannister, but then where would I have been? I might have thrown the body in the Sound, too, but how could I have been sure they wouldn’t find it?

  I sat up suddenly. The white suit was coming back!

  I got out of the car in a hurry, the gun pointed forward. Maybe he knew I was thinking of killing him really!

  He came up fuming.

  ‘A little thing like this and I forget it,’ he said. ‘Quick, give me your cap!’

  I gave it to him. Then he was gone again.

  The speedboat made a terrific racket, but nobody seemed to pay any attention. They were used to such sounds.

  Pretty soon the putt-putt died away. The singing came back clear.

  I pointed the gun at the sand.

  I pulled the trigger. The sound of the gun going off was so loud in my ears that I could hear it days after.

  The singing stopped. For a second there was silence, while the smoke from the gun curled around my head. Then lightning swept the sky again and voices started shouting.

  I didn’t know whether to stand or run. My impulse was to hurl the gun into the sand.

  I felt as though I had really killed someone with the shot. A feeling of guilt chilled me.

  Then I snapped out of it. I hurried down to the pier, quickly started back again. People must see me coming up from the pier so they would think afterwards I threw the body in the Sound.

  My heart was pounding.

  The first man to come up was a fat man in a bathrobe. He grabbed the gun out of my hand. He was excited.

  ‘Here, what are you doing?’ he shouted.

  Others came running, men and women.

  ‘What happened?’ they asked. ‘What was the shooting for?’

  I was suddenly very cool. I laughed and motioned to the gun.

  ‘Why, I just felt like hearing it go off,’ I said. ‘Is there anything wrong in that?’