Unknown (43 page)

After the second explosion in the building there was sudden quiet. The automobiles in the parking lot halted, as if hundreds of emergency brakes had been drawn on at once.

Under the smaller, random screams of the injured and the merely frightened, it was possible to hear the soft sounds of the fire, peeling along the wooden floor of the buildings. Someone pointed to the administration building; it too was on fire, though it appeared impossible that the flames would have spread from one building to the other across a barren strip of asphalt forty yards wide.

Those who remained to observe the destruction turned at the sound of sirens behind them. At last the fire department had been alerted, and was on its way, though the executives of the place whispered that it would do no good. These men began to speak of sabotage and the two hippies who had passed through town the week before. It was probably they who had planted a bomb in the factory, set to go off a week later, when they would be long gone.

What other explanation was there?

Sarah Howell was out of sight of the factory, tunning down the sidewalk on a shaded street a few blocks away from the Pine Cone Munitions Factory. She turned to glance behind her and saw a great cloud of black smoke churning up from behind a clump of oaks. Sirens wailed before and behind her.

A car coming down the street pulled up to the keib near Sarah. An old woman leaned out of the passenger window, and asked, 'What's happened, dear?'

Sarah shook her head and hurried on.

The old woman and her husband exchanged curious, concerned glances, then turned to watch Sarah running away.

The town's second fire engine wheeled around the corner just then, and Sarah leaned against a light pole for a moment, to allow the vehicle to pass and to catch her breath.

In ten minutes more she was heme. She struggled up the sidewalk, dishevelled and panting. There were oil stains on her forearms, and one of the straps of her shoe was broken. Jo rocked peaceably in a chair on the front porch, and with an idle hand she was pushing the glider back and forth. Dean was scrunched into the corner, unmoving. The sun shone hotly against his bandages.

Jo stared at the column of black smoke in the distance and smiled. Wearily, Sarah threw herself on to the bottom wooden step. Her breath for a time was hot and irregular. She sat very still until it was under control. The sun dried the sweat on her brow. She moved her head slowly about, and stared at the smoke in the distance. Jo stared as well, and the rocker creaked rhythmically.

'Well', said Sarah, in a voice that was calm and sure, 'it's gone, Jo.'

'The plant', said Jo with a small smile.

Sarah nodded slowly.

K)hhh', said Jo, with a tiny squeal. 'You're a sight, Sarah! You go in and change them clothes!'

Sarah turned and looked at her mother-in-law. 'You're pleased as punch, Jo! People were killed, Jo. People were killed at the plant this morning.' Sarah spoke evenly, unemotionally.

'Good thing it happened in the morning', Jo adjudged. 'That way you got home in time to fix me and Dean some dinner.'

'Becca Blair was one of them that's dead', said Sarah quietly. She leaned against a pillar of bricks and stretched her legs out along one of the porch steps.

Jo rocked a few seconds more, and looked closely at Sarah. She was very puzzled, and couldn't make out Sarah's attitude. It was not possible that Sarah wasn't cut up by her best friend's death - but Sarah sat perfectly still, turning her head in the shade of a large azalea.

'Anybody told Margaret yet?' Jo asked in a few moments. 'That phone's been ringing there the whole morning long. Nearly went and answered it myself.' She realised that something was amiss, and that she must discover it as soon as possible. Sarah wasn't herself. She was acting resigned, and appeared to possess that strength that always rises out of a despairing resignation.

'Margaret's gone on a picnic', said Sarah, 'and there'll be plenty of time when she gets back to teli her about her mother being dead and all.'

They were silent a few minutes more. The smoke was denser and blacker now, and the sun disappeared behind it.

Still Jo could not make out Sarah's attitude. The fat woman was vastly uncomfortable and tried to think, for her own comfort's sake, that the change signified nothing. Sarah was simply bowled over by the events of the morning, by the fire at the plant, by the death of Becca Blair. Jo decided that she must quickly regain the upper hand, and therefore said, in her accustomed tone, 'Sarah, after you change them clothes, I want you to fix Dean some dinner. And give him some
meat.
He's got to have his strength up, 'cause I am gone cut his bandages off this afternoon
¹
He'll heal faster now, I know he will

'Because of the plant, you mean', said Sarah, but did not look at Jo.

'I didn't say that', said Jo. 'I just got tired of seeing all that tape. You know where my sewing scissors are, Sarah?'

The two women exchanged glances. Sarah's was hard and tired, but Jo's was unsure and timorous. Sarah rose and went on into the house. She did not even look at her husband.

Less than an hour later, just at noontime, Dean Howell had been moved to the breakfast table in the centre of the kitchen. Sarah sat close beside him, methodically spooning soft food into his mouth. Jo sat across the table from them, nervously clacking a pair of scissors together, in the expectation of removing the bandages from her son's head and neck.

Sarah had gone about silently complying with Jo's commands. She had changed her clothes and washed and had prepared dinner for Dean. There was a casserole already in the oven for her and Jo.

Jo decided that she had been correct. Sarah was only momentarily disconcerted, but now she was her usual compliant self. In fact, she seemed even more docile than before. She performed all her duties without a breath of recalcitrance or protest. Perhaps, Jo imagined, Sarah had given in completely now. Perhaps all the resistance had been drained out of her.

Jo smiled her most unpleasant smile, and snapped the scissors together again.

'I sure do wish we could hear some more news about the plant', said Jo. 'How many's dead. Who's dead besides Becca. Maybe they're gone close the place down. Maybe they're gone take it somewhere else, down to Mobile or over to Jackson maybe.'

Sarah did not reply.

'How'd Becca die?' said Jo. 'She get shot with one of the rifles that you two was always putting together?'

Sarah replied shortly, 'She got caught in some machinery.'

'Did it hurt?' Jo demanded.

'Didn't take long', said Sarah.

'D'you see the body?'

Sarah nodded. 'Closed coffin on Becca too.'

Jo whistled and clacked the scissors again. But inwardly, she couldn't declare herself pleased that Sarah spoke so callously of her friend's death. It wasn't at all like Sarah. 'Bad things happen to you when you work in a place like that', said Jo. She stared at her daughter-in-law, expecting some reply to all of this. But Sarah only sat very quietly, and continued to feed her husband.

'I waited a long time for this day', said Jo.

'You talking about the plant or the scissors - cutting off the bandages, I mean?' said Sarah expressionlessly, and reached for another bowl of food for her husband.

'Couldn't take off Dean's bandages before today', said Jo, in an ambiguous reply.

'You never was a patient woman', said Sarah, with a small noncommittal sigh.

Jo nodded acquiescence to this opinion. Then she leaned forward across the table. 'How much of that you gone feed him, Sarah? I tell you, Dean must be anxious as I am to get them bandages off him.'

'He gets all of it', said Sarah, and stuck the spoon again into her husband's mouth. „

'It's not mashed-up okra is it?' said Jo doubtfully. 'Dean hates okra.'

Sarah shook her head.

'He's eating it', said Jo, with a little maternal pride.

At that moment, there was a slight jerk in Dean's body. His mother trembled to see it. 'Dean', she whispered with alarm.

Sarah removed the spoon from her husband's mouth. Silently, she held it out for her mother-in-law's inspection. The bowl of the spoon was filled with thick, discoloured blood.

More of the nauseous liquid spilled out of the corner of Dean's mouth, dribbling slowly down the bandages on his chin and neck.

Jo was speechless with astonishment. She leaned forward in her chair, and reached helplessly out to her son. Her short fat arms could not touch him. The folds of flesh in her neck trembled, and her tiny black eyes shone moistly.

Sarah wiped a little of the blood away with a paper napkin, and continued to spoon-feed her husband.

'Sarah!' cried Jo, 'what are you doing? What's wrong with Dean?'

Sarah made no reply. Dean's body moved again, more violently, shifting awkwardly in the chair. Hewould havefallen over on the floor, had not Sarah steadied him with her arm.

Jo began to drag her chair around the table to get hearer her son. She scraped across the floor crying, 'What you
giving
him, Sarah?' Jo reached out to protect her son. Sarah pushed her husband's head back and poured the remaining contents of the bowl down his throat.

'What is it!' Jo screamed.

'Applesauce and lye', Sarah answered quietly, and pointed to the opened can of lye on the kitchen counter, sitting next to an empty jar of applesauce.

Jo's expression was horrified, but then a terrible enlightenment entered into it. Her breathing became laboured and short.

'Give it to me', she hissed. The flesh closed in around her eyes.

'What?' said Sarah.

"Give it to me', Jo repeated. The amulet. It was in the plant, and you got it out of there.'

Dean's head wao thrown over the back of the chair. Black blood poured out of his mouth, spilled down his cheeks, and dripped on to the floor underneath the chair. Jo stared at her son, and then turned her head away. 'You got it and I want it back', said Jo. 'You got it on under your dress.'

Quietly, Sarah said to her mother-in-law, i found it on the belt. Becca had it on when she fell into the machinery, and somehow it got off her and on to the belt. That was what caused the factory to explode, just like you wanted, just like you planned. But I found it again and I took it off the belt and stuck it on the end of a rifle. Then I held the rifle over a fire until the tiring got melted down. I nearly got caught myself then, 'cause the fire was spreading. I nearly got burned up myself, but the amulet is gone.'

Jo stared at Sarah uncomprehendingly. She was not sure whether to believe her or not. It sounded like a story that Sarah was making up as she went along. 'Then how come—'

Sarah smiled then.

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