arrested or something, that
got away from him.”
“He didn’t say who it was?”
“He’s in a coma, Harry. They said he had a
fractured skull and it caused some kind of swelling or something in
his head. They said he might be brain damaged.”
“Where’s he at? They say what hospital he was
at?”
“They wouldn’t, they--”
“I gotta find him.” I got up off the bed,
still wearin’ the same clothes as yesterday.
“When is this gonna be over?” she asked in a
sad voice, not looking me in the eye.
“When I get whoever done that to Alice. You
know that.”
“It’s just...”
“What?” I asked.
“I can’t stand to see you out there like
this. Like you’re possessed. I can’t stand sewing you up every day,
or picking you up off the ground because you got beat
unconscious.”
“It’s close, don’t worry. I’m real close. A
week tops, I think, and all this should be over.”
“Yeah?” She finally raised her eyes and the
hope in them was like a warm soft hand around my heart.
“Yeah. Then me an’ you could get to know each
other. You could start by tellin’ me your real name, you know.”
She smiled. “Hey, slow down, mister. We’ve
only known each other what, a couple years now?”
I nodded, serious now, because I thought
about Fifties Chick a lot, Alice, an’ I always wondered about her
and worried about her, and wanted to know more about her, all about her. I wanted to know why she knows how to sew me
up and check to see if I got a concussion, how she learned to flip
them bottles around behind the bar when she’s in the right mood,
just like in a movie. I wanna know who gave her that scar across
her throat, and what the symbols tattooed on her arm mean. No way,
there is no way what Angie said about her can be true.
Right, Alice?
“You runnin’ from somethin’?” I asked. “That
why you won’t tell nobody your name?”
“We’re all running from something, Harry.
Come on, I’ll make you some coffee.”
We went down to the bar and she brewed a pot
and I made us some breakfast. I ate quick and got on the phone to
the station. It took a few minutes before I was transferred to
someone I knew, and also knew what was happenin’ with Bobby, and
they told me he was at the hospital up on 23rd, so that’s where I
had to go.
Now, I know I beat on Bobby pretty good, but
I pulled them punches, all of ‘em, and I just don’t see as how the
beatin’ I gave him was enough to put him in a coma. Maybe, though,
I was pretty mad at what he was sayin’, even if it wasn’t really
him that was sayin’ it.
Fifties Chick loaned me her car, and as I
drove I tried to imagine what her name was. Shannon? Betty? Megan?
Jane? Hannah? Who knew? And besides, when I thought about it,
nothin’ would really suit her as well as what she went by.
I parked the car and talked to the nurse,
went upstairs and talked to the uniformed rookie sittin’ guard
outside. He didn’t know me but he knew of me, and checked to make
sure I didn’t have no gun or anything, and let me in.
Bobby was layin’ there, all fixed up with
tubes and wires, he looked like he weighed fifty pounds less. His
hair was normally brown, and while there were a few strands a grey
in it, had been for years, now it was lousy with the stuff, almost
all white. He looked twenty years older, and no way did I do
that to him. I popped a guy once, this was back in New York, before
the war even, and after that his eyes was always crossed, but I
never heard a no one bein’ beat till they was gray in the head. No
way did I do this.
“No, you didn’t.” said a voice behind me.
I turned around and there, still a little
transparent, was Mr. Dulouz, in a chair in the corner, hands folded
in his lap, lookin’ as if he had every right in the world be
sittin’ where he was. He finished turning solid and gave me a
little smile.
“The demon was inside him. You saw it. And
it’ll be after you now, Harry, you beat it when it was inside
got away from him.”
“He didn’t say who it was?”
“He’s in a coma, Harry. They said he had a
fractured skull and it caused some kind of swelling or something in
his head. They said he might be brain damaged.”
“Where’s he at? They say what hospital he was
at?”
“They wouldn’t, they--”
“I gotta find him.” I got up off the bed,
still wearin’ the same clothes as yesterday.
“When is this gonna be over?” she asked in a
sad voice, not looking me in the eye.
“When I get whoever done that to Alice. You
know that.”
“It’s just...”
“What?” I asked.
“I can’t stand to see you out there like
this. Like you’re possessed. I can’t stand sewing you up every day,
or picking you up off the ground because you got beat
unconscious.”
“It’s close, don’t worry. I’m real close. A
week tops, I think, and all this should be over.”
“Yeah?” She finally raised her eyes and the
hope in them was like a warm soft hand around my heart.
“Yeah. Then me an’ you could get to know each
other. You could start by tellin’ me your real name, you know.”
She smiled. “Hey, slow down, mister. We’ve
only known each other what, a couple years now?”
I nodded, serious now, because I thought
about Fifties Chick a lot, Alice, an’ I always wondered about her
and worried about her, and wanted to know more about her, all about her. I wanted to know why she knows how to sew me
up and check to see if I got a concussion, how she learned to flip
them bottles around behind the bar when she’s in the right mood,
just like in a movie. I wanna know who gave her that scar across
her throat, and what the symbols tattooed on her arm mean. No way,
there is no way what Angie said about her can be true.
Right, Alice?
“You runnin’ from somethin’?” I asked. “That
why you won’t tell nobody your name?”
“We’re all running from something, Harry.
Come on, I’ll make you some coffee.”
We went down to the bar and she brewed a pot
and I made us some breakfast. I ate quick and got on the phone to
the station. It took a few minutes before I was transferred to
someone I knew, and also knew what was happenin’ with Bobby, and
they told me he was at the hospital up on 23rd, so that’s where I
had to go.
Now, I know I beat on Bobby pretty good, but
I pulled them punches, all of ‘em, and I just don’t see as how the
beatin’ I gave him was enough to put him in a coma. Maybe, though,
I was pretty mad at what he was sayin’, even if it wasn’t really
him that was sayin’ it.
Fifties Chick loaned me her car, and as I
drove I tried to imagine what her name was. Shannon? Betty? Megan?
Jane? Hannah? Who knew? And besides, when I thought about it,
nothin’ would really suit her as well as what she went by.
I parked the car and talked to the nurse,
went upstairs and talked to the uniformed rookie sittin’ guard
outside. He didn’t know me but he knew of me, and checked to make
sure I didn’t have no gun or anything, and let me in.
Bobby was layin’ there, all fixed up with
tubes and wires, he looked like he weighed fifty pounds less. His
hair was normally brown, and while there were a few strands a grey
in it, had been for years, now it was lousy with the stuff, almost
all white. He looked twenty years older, and no way did I do
that to him. I popped a guy once, this was back in New York, before
the war even, and after that his eyes was always crossed, but I
never heard a no one bein’ beat till they was gray in the head. No
way did I do this.
“No, you didn’t.” said a voice behind me.
I turned around and there, still a little
transparent, was Mr. Dulouz, in a chair in the corner, hands folded
in his lap, lookin’ as if he had every right in the world be
sittin’ where he was. He finished turning solid and gave me a
little smile.
“The demon was inside him. You saw it. And
it’ll be after you now, Harry, you beat it when it was inside
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