Freaky Deaky

She said, "Never mind." She walked away from the desk with the Clock auto and the scissors. Donnell turned the set on. Woody asked him again, "What's the movie?" Donnell said, "Whatever comes on," his voice flat.

"This's surprise night." Chris waited. Donnell looked across Greta at him.

"You have to go to the bathroom you tell me and I tell him."

Chris said, "The Skipper?"

Donnell stared at him deadpan. He walked away, following Robin and Skip out of the library. The door closed.

Chris turned to the TV screen. He didn't recognize the movie or any of the actors; they were all teenagers. He looked at his watch. It was

12:10.

A t 2:20 the library door opened. Donnell entered.

He took time to close the door quietly. Chris, seated at the desk, watched him come through the lamplight showing in dull green shades, a dark figure now. Donnell had changed his clothes. Chris followed his gaze as Donnell glanced at the TV screen, at a young woman in an empty house at night, backing away from a door, scared to death.

Chris said, "When they do that, not look where they're going, you know some disfigured asshole is waiting for them."

"They come here," Donnell said, planting his hands on the desk, getting right to it, "they have a box of dynamite I make him put in the garage.

I go out there, it's gone and the car's locked and there's no way to open the garage up. The 'lectric thing you push don't work. And the light's out."

"You ask Skip about it?"

"What? Ask him how he's gonna blow me up? I know he's set it someplace."

"Stay out of the garage, you'll probably be all right."

"How would he work it?"

"You look around the house?"

"Enough. Box of dynamite ain't that easy to hide."

"Where's Robin and Skip?"

"In the kitchen mostly."

"Let's say he put the dynamite in the car," Chris said.

"A gray Mercedes, right? I remember it from when the limo blew up, with his brother."

"How would he do it?"

"When you drive in and out you use a garage door opener?"

"Little thing with a button on it you push, yeah."

"It sounds like he put the charge in the Mercedes and wired it to the door opener, the motor. They put us in the garage and go out the other way. Drive off in the VW, Robin presses the button-bang. No witnesses. By the time the investigation gets to a canceled check with her name on it… I don't know, I guess she's got that worked out. But why're they staying all night? Now's the time to do it."

"The man has to transfer the money, call up the bank at nine A.M. They want to see him, make sure the check don't bounce."

Chris said, "Yeah, that's right, from his trust account.

Has he paid them yet? Given 'em the check?"

"After he phones. Then I fill out the name and the amount. Shit, and get put in the garage, huh?" Donnell looked at the TV screen and back to Chris.

"I'm the one has to make the move. I ain't gonna let Mr. Woody get killed."

"I'm glad to hear you say that."

"Not this soon. I had a gun… Man, they fucked my head good."

"What was your cut?"

"I'm not in this deal."

"You mean now you're not." Chris said, "We don't have a gun… but you know what we do have-if you haven't thrown it out."

"What do we have?"

"Five sticks of Austin Powder, in a black bag. In this room, the last time I saw it."

Donnell stared at him. He took a moment to say, "It still is." Another moment to say, "But what good is it to us?"

"There's wire in the bag," Chris said, "and a battery.

The battery's probably shot, but I notice there's a flashlight on the bar. Another one by the TV."

"Has 'em all over the house," Donnell said, "the man's afraid of the dark."

Getting up from the desk Chris said, "Bless his heart." ww oody saw naked mole rats coming at him, no hair or eyes, a sack of bones with teeth so big they couldn't close their mouth. Creatures that never saw light, never supposed to come out of the ground, but they were on his bed, on him, naked mole rats crawling up his body and he couldn't move. All he could do was raise his head and scream,

"Yaaaah!"

And the naked mole rats disappeared.

Woody didn't want to open his eyes. He thought now he was in the hospital and had wet the bed during the night. It must be where he was, the bed was cranked up against his back and under his legs, holding him wedged in. Now he believed he could feel tubes in his nose, his arms and his peter and if he opened his robe would see the incision across his tummy and pink stuff seeping out from the infection. It was where they had cut him open looking for an ulcer and found he had acute gastritis, the lining of his tummy raw. He told the doctor he'd cut down on the rich food. The doctor told him he should go easier on the cocktails, too, saying one before dinner wouldn't hurt him. As if there was such a thing as one drink. He began to realize that was six years ago, it wasn't now and there wasn't a tube down his throat-he coughed-it felt like that from not swallowing all night.