Control (49 page)

Theo held the knife balanced well in front of him as he advanced on the freak.

The half-man scuttled backward, staying clear.

Theo continued his advance. The pond was coming up behind the enemy now, so the/etreat could not last forever. Now the freak noticed the water, glanced to one side, then the other, looking for a place to scurry to. Theo continued his gradual advance—

—and the half-man leapt on him—

—yes
’
“
leapt
”
was what4ie did, somehow he thrust his arms hard into the earth and bent them and straightened them and then that horrid body was in the air and then it landed crablike across Theo
’
s chest and clung to the knife arm, trying to force the weapon free—

—but Theo hung on.

Now the half-man pounded a fist into Theo
’
s face and blood spurted from his nose.

Theo cried out and lifted the freak off him—lifted him with his own blood still pouring down, and threw the enemy like he had thrown the pigs—-

—the freak rolled over, pushed down with his mighty arms, and was ready for more.

Theo ran at him then, slashed with the knife but it was a fake and when the freak went for it, Theo kicked out with his shoe and caught the enemy on the side of the head, knocking him off balance, stunning him, and then Theo went with the knife again, meaning it this time, and he was thrilled at the scream of pain as his weapon entered the left forearm of the enemy.

But with his right arm, the freak grabbed a rock and threw it, missed, grabbed another, and Theo
’
s mind was gone for a moment as the rock glanced off his forehead and in that moment the freak was behind him and again he had the scarf, pulling it tighter and tighter around Theo
’
s throat, and Theo could not reach the monster, could not make physical contact, and now he was gasping for any air at all, but there wasn
’
t much, and the scarf was tighter than ever and if Theo had not slashed the scarf with his knife and cut it free he would have never survived that.

But he did. Survive. Gasping terribly. Retreating. With the half-man advancing now. It was incredible. He, Theo, had the weapon, but the enemy was doing the attacking.

Theo waited.

Now they began circling each other. Like animals circling some prehistoric fire. Only now, the fire was within them. The half-man
’
s eyes glowed. The park was silent.

Circling
…
Circling …

“
Tibya.
”

Circling.

“
Tibya.
”

Circling
’

Theo began to growl
…

Trude
threw the door to his office open, stormed to his desk, started to dial Washington, momentarily forgot the area code, told himself to get a grip, dialed 202 and then Kilgore
’
s number. As he waited he thought he saw a shadow outside in the corridor, decided it had to be the policeman shadowing him, but he didn
’
t care. There were no secrets anymore.

“
What is it?
”
Kilgore said.

Trude
tried very hard to make his voice seem calm.
“
The Russians are controlling someone as we are controlling Duncan. They are in violent confrontation now.
”

“
How, for Jesus
’
sake?
”

“
I don
’
t know how—I don
’
t care how—we know what they
’
re doing, why shouldn
’
t they know what we
’
re doing,
it doesn
’
t matter htm—
what matters is what we do about it. I need your approval to alter plans so completely. Do we continue on? Do we call a halt? Do we forget about Bell and concentrate on Trotsky? That would be my suggestion—Duncan may be dead by now—
”

“
—I
’
ll have to ask Beulah—you need my approval, I need his —stay right where you are—I
’
ll have him call you directly …
”

“
—there is no time!
”

“
Are you falling apart on me now?—you sound it—
fm telling you to wait
—
”

Trude took a breath.
“
I
’
m perfectly fine. And of course I
’
ll wait. When I said there was no time I meant I left Winslow as he was —I did not want to risk bringing him out, the control was too strong—but that does not mean he can
’
t come out of it by himself —if I leave him too long, that may happen.
”

(It had already happened, but Trude did not know it yet—Billy Boy was on the loose in the Infinity Room, but that would not become common knowledge for at least another minute, when the nurse with the light brown hair would begin to scream
…
)

At first, staring at the strings of lights above his head, Billy Boy could blink and wonder. He was alone, he realized then. Trude had left him.

He blinked again, made as little movement as possible, got a sense of the room. The control room was the obvious place to go, but he did not want to start until he was ready. He tensed his legs; they felt strong. So did his arms. He took a breath, another. He was fine. There was some pain in his head but nothing like the other times. He was fine, and then he was off the couch and running so fast and the control room door, it was like paper it gave so fast and he was through it and the blue suits were stunned he was on them so quick, and the near one got his gun only into his hand while the far one got his raised, but shit, that was nothing, they weren
’
t about to use their guns on him, he was too valuable for them to do a goddam thing and before any firing he was on them and creaming them and then he had their pistols and the nurse with the light brown hair began to scream and Billy Boy
thought what the hell, kill her and shut her up, kill her and kill the blue suits too, except that was dumb, that wasted bullets, and bullets were what he needed now as he broke toward the stairs and freedom …

***

When
Trude
left Billy Boy alone in the Infinity Room and stormed through the control area, Eric had never seen a look of such blind anger. It drew him, that look, there was nothing doing in the room now but that look must have meant a lot, so when
Trude
got to his office Eric was outside and he didn
’
t get the whole call, just
Trude
’
s part of it, and he didn
’
t really learn that much, and he was set to return to the Infinity Room anyway when the screams of the nurse made him ran. He passed The Fruits on the way and they looked some the worse for wear and when he reached the control room the brown-haired nurse made enough sense to point to the stairwell and Eric raced toward it, getting his own gun ready as he moved. He assumed Billy Boy was armed too, he didn
’
t know but it was always best to figure on the worst and the worst would have been Billy Boy had one of The Fruits
’
guns. What Eric did not know was that he had them both, a piece of information that, before too much longer, would cost him, alas, dearly …

By the time they reached
Trude
’
s office, Apple and Berry were rearmed and ready. So was
Trude
—he handed one of them the pistol that stunned Billy Boy unconscious, along with a dozen pellets; he handed the other a walkie-talkie so they could maintain contact. When the phone rang and he heard the southern voice of R.E.L. Beulah, they were already out the door on the fly
…

—where?—where the fuck was he?— Billy Boy glanced up through the storm and he saw a street sign but it meant shit to him —he was in the 50
’
s, he was near First—who gave a shit?—

—where was he?
—

—he glanced back at the building he
’
d just left and even though he was only maybe half a block away it was hard getting a decent look at it. The sidewalks were pretty much empty on account of the snow and it was dark and cold and who the hell knew what time or cared—

—what was he gonna do?—

—maybe the Duchess, maybe not a bad idea, he was lucky again, you didn
’
t make escapes on days when you weren
’
t lucky, so maybe she could tell him what to do—

—
but where was she?
—

—near the bus place, she was near that, but what was the name of the bus place, in a town like this there were probably a bunch of them and maybe he
’
d get the wrong one and freeze to death-walking around—

—ahead of him now a bunch of asshole kids sledding—
-sledding
for Chrissakes—running along and crying out loud and here came a kid right at him on his sled and Billy Boy lashed out, gave the kid a good kick, caught him on the heck, sent him shrieking into the side of a parked car and that felt like the old days, a good solid shot, you aimed and you hit and that was what it was like when you were lucky and—-

—and he glanced back again toward the hospital and here he came running down the stairs,
the nightmare.
Billy Boy stopped, and fired a shot and was about to fire another when he thought,
“
Asshole, you can
’
t hit shit from here,
run
…
”

Eric felt terrific when he heard the gunshot. One bullet gone,
five
more to go. And it was a fool shot, you couldn
’
t hit a thing from that distance in this snow, and you only fired if you were panicked.

Eric felt terrific about that, too.

At last it was back to where it belonged, just the two of them, one gun against the other and it crossed Eric
’
s quirky mind that what a cosmic joke it would all turn out to be if it was just him against Billy Boy and Billy Boy won—

—the face of the boy with the sled made him stop. Blood came from his ear and his neck was tilted all wrong, like the very first moment he knew of the invasion of the monster up ahead, when he
’
d seen the neck of the dead woman at the terrible angle. Eric dropped beside the kid, shouted to the others around not to move him, gave them the number to phone for an emergency ambulance, threw off his own topcoat, placed it so it guarded the wounded boy from the storm. He did all this quickly and was back on his feet in no time. But no time was too much time.

When he reached the corner, Billy Boy was gone
…

As his beautiful Mercedes crawled inch by fucking inch down Second Avenue, Hubert J. Hutner could never remember having been as angry at his wife.

She sat beside him now, a silent fireplug. Silent except for cracking her gum.
“
Almost there; well be at the Waldorf any sec,
”
Mrs. Hubert J. Hutner said.

“
Is that spearmint or what?
”
he asked her.
“
I want taknow what flavor
’
s killing me.
”
He took one hand off the wheel, gestured a sign:
“
Here lies Hubert J. Hutner, dead of Dubble Bubble.
”

She stared silently out into the storm.

Traffic was murder.
Murder,
Not that many cars but those that were out were crawling. Let me count the reasons I hate her, Hubert J. Hutner decided, to calm himself. I hate her because of the traffic. I hate her because when she married me she was five two, one hundred and five, and curvy in the right places whereas now even her wrists are curvy—she would never tell him her weight anymore but he knew it was over one seventy-five. I hate her because she insisted we go to this goddam heart fund benefit at the Waldorf because her hairdresser insisted he
knew
that Frank Sinatra was going to make an unscheduled appearance.

He tripped, on and on, coming up with any number of good and valid reasons, but the chief one was this: He hated her because she insisted he drive from Great Neck to Manhattan in his Mercedes.

He
’
d told her it was going to snow, so they should take the train but she was having none of it—she would not go from the station to the Waldorf and
ruin
her formal.

So they took the Mercedes. Hubert
’
s Mercedes. His new,
chocolate
Mercedes. He loved it. There was not a Rolls in the world he would trade it for.

But already on this trip he had been bumped twice from the rear by cars unable to stop. Each bump took, he figured, maybe a year off his life.

“
And you wanted to take the train,
”
Candy Hutner said.

Candy. What a name. Another reason to hate her.

“
I could have wrung this dress a year and it never would have gotten dry if I
’
d walked from the station to the Waldorf.
”

“
When you crack your gum, that way you don
’
t talk so much; please crack your gum.
”
He peered out into the evening, trying to decide whether he should force his way into the next lane over to the right.

Now a big guy was standing by his window, pounding on the glass.

“
Quit that!
”
Hubert Hutner snapped.

From outside:
“
Give me your car—
”

“
Wham?
”

And now the big guy was yanking at the locked door, trying unsuccessfully to open it.

“
Quit that!
”

“
I want your car now get out—
”

“
—buy your own Mercedes,
asshole?
’

The big guy started away, then turned back and when he turned there was a gun and theiUhere were two shots and shattering glass and the blood actually leapt from where it had been sequestered, in Hubert Hutner
’
s heart…