I shut her eyes and searched around some and I found the razor. The Widow has all her clothes on so I figure it were only robbery that the killer meant.
Well, Pa, please come out quick with the sheriff and the coroner Wilks. I will stay here and watch to see that Jim don't go running out of the house and maybe get lost in the woods. But come as fast as you can because I don't like sitting here with her up there like that and Jim sneaking around in the dark house.
LUKE
DEAR GEORGE:
We just got back from your sister's house. We haven't told the papers yet so I'll have to be the one to let you know.
I sent Luke out there with a property tax note and he found your sister murdered. I don't like to be the one to tell you but somebody has to. The sheriff and his boys are scouring the countryside for the killer. They figure it was a tramp or something. She wasn't raped though and, far as we can tell, nothing was stolen.
What I mean more to tell you about is little Jim.
That boy is fixing to die soon from starvation and just plain scaredness. He won't eat nothing. Sometimes, he gulps down a piece of bread or a piece of candy but as soon as he starts to chewing, his face gets all twisted and he gets violent sick and throws up. I don't understand it at all.
Luke found your sister in her room with her throat cut ear to ear. Coroner Wilks says it was a strong, steady hand that done it because the cut is deep and sure. I am terribly sorry to be the one to tell you all this but I think it is better you know. The funeral will be in a week.
Luke and I had a long time rounding up the boy. He was like lightning. He ran around in the dark and squealed like a rat. He showed his teeth at us when we'd corner him with a lantern. His skin is all white and the way he rolls his eyes back and foams at his mouth is something awful to see.
We finally caught him. He bit us and squirmed around like an eel. Then he got all stiff and it was like carrying a two-by-four, Luke said.
We took him into the kitchen and tried to give him something to eat. He wouldn't take a bite. He gulped down some milk like he felt guilty about it. Then, in a second, his face twists and he draws back his lips and the milk comes out.
He kept trying to run away from us. Never a single word out of him. He just squeaks and mutters like a monkey talking to itself.
We finally carried him upstairs to put him to bed. He froze soon as we touched him and I thought his eyes would fall out he opened them so wide. His jaw fell slack and he stared at us like we was boogie men or trying to slice open his throat like his ma's.
He wouldn't go into his room. He screamed and twisted in our hands like a fish. He braced his feet against the wall and tugged and pulled and scratched. We had to slap his face and then his eyes got big and he got like a board again and we carried him in his room.
When I took off his clothes, I got a shock like I haven't had in years, George. That boy is all scars and bruises on his back and chest like someone has strung him up and tortured him with pliers or hot iron or God knows what all. I got a downright chill seeing that. I know they said the widow wasn't the same in her head after her husband died, but I can't believe she done this. It is the work of a crazy person.
Jim was sleepy but he wouldn't shut his eyes. He kept looking around the ceiling and the window and his lips kept moving like he was trying to talk. He was moaning kind of low and shaky when Luke and I went out in the hall.
No sooner did we leave him than he's screaming at the top of his voice and thrashing in his bed like someone was strangling him. We rushed in and I held the lantern high but we couldn't see anything. I thought the boy was sick with fear and seeing things.
Then, as if it was meant to happen, the lantern ran out of oil and all of a sudden we saw white faces staring at us from the walls and ceiling and the window.
It was a shaky minute there, George, with the kid screaming out his lungs and twisting on his bed but never getting up. And Luke trying to find the door and me feeling for a match but trying to look at those horrible faces at the same time.
Finally, I found a match and I got it lit and we couldn't see the faces any more, just part of one on the window.
I sent Luke down to the car for some oil and when he come back we lit the lantern again and looked at the window and saw that the face was painted on it so's to light up in the dark. Same thing for the faces on the walls and the ceiling. It was enough to scare a man half out of his wits to think of anybody doing that inside a little boy's room.
We took him to another room and put him down to bed. When we left him he was squirming in his sleep and muttering words we couldn't understand. I left Luke in the hall outside the room to watch. I went and looked around the house some more.
In the Widow's room I found a whole shelf of psychology books. They was all marked in different places. I looked in one place and it told about a thing how they can make rats go crazy by making them think there is food in a place when there isn't. And another one about how they can make a dog lose its appetite and starve to death by hitting big pieces of pipe together at the same time when the dog is trying to eat.
I guess you know what I think. But it is so terrible I can hardly believe it. I mean that Jim might have got so crazy that he cut her. He is so small I don't see how he could.
You are her only living kin, George, and I think you should do something about the boy. We don't want to put him in an orphan home. He is in no shape for it. That is why I am telling you all about him so you can judge.
There was another thing. I played a record on a phonograph in the boy's room. It sounded like wild animals all making terrible noises and even louder than them was a terrible high laughing.
That is about all, George. We will let you know if the sheriff finds the one who killed your sister because no one really believes that Jim could have done it. I wish you would take the boy and try to fix him up.
Until I hear,
SAM DAVIS
DEAR SAM:
I got your letter and am more upset than I can say.
I knew for a long time that my sister was mentally unbalanced after her husband's death, but I had no idea in the world she was gone so far.
You see, when she was a girl she fell in love with Phil. There was never anyone else in her life. The sun rose and descended on her love for him. She was so jealous that, once, because he had taken another girl to a party, she crashed her hands through a window and nearly bled to death.
Finally, Phil married her. There was never a happier couple, it seemed. She did anything and everything for him. He was her whole life.
When Jim was born I went to see her at the hospital. She told me she wished it had been born dead because she knew that the boy meant so much to Phil and she hated to have Phil want anything but her.
She never was good to Jim. She always resented him. And, that day, three years ago, when Phil drowned saving Jim's life, she went out of her mind. I was with her when she heard about it. She ran into the kitchen and got a carving knife and took it running through the streets, trying to find Jim so she could kill him. She finally fainted in the road and we took her home.
She wouldn't even look at Jim for a month. Then she packed up and took him to that house in the woods. Since then I never saw her.
You saw yourself, the boy is terrified of everyone and everything. Except one person. My sister planned that. Step by step she planned it - God help me for never realizing it before. In a whole, monstrous world of horrors she built around that boy she left him trust and need for only one person - her. She was Jim's only shield against those horrors. She knew that, when she died, Jim would go completely mad because there wouldn't be anyone in the world he could turn to for comfort.
I think you see now why I say there isn't any murderer.
Just bury her quick and send the boy to me. I'm not coming to the funeral.
GEORGE BARNES
7 - THE LIKENESS OF JULIE
OCTOBER.
Eddy Foster had never noticed the girl in
his English class until that day.
It wasn't because she sat behind him. Any number of times, he'd glanced around while Professor Euston was writing on the blackboard or reading to them from College Literature. Any number of times, he'd seen her as he left or entered the classroom. Occasionally, he'd passed her in the hallways or on the campus. Once, she'd even touched him on the shoulder during class and handed him a pencil which had fallen from his pocket.
Still, he'd never noticed her the way he noticed other girls. First of all, she had no figure-or if she did she kept it hidden under loose-fitting clothes. Second, she wasn't pretty and she looked too young. Third, her voice was faint and high-pitched.
Which made it curious that he should notice her that day. All through class, he'd been thinking about the redhead in the first row. In the theatre of his mind he'd staged her-and himself-through an endless carnal play. He was just raising the curtain on another act when he heard the voice behind him.
"Professor?" it asked.
"Yes, Miss Eldridge."
Eddy glanced across his shoulder as Miss Eldridge asked a question about Beowulf. He saw the plainness of her little girl's face, heard her faltering voice, noticed the loose yellow sweater she was wearing. And, as he watched, the thought came suddenly to him.
Take her.
Eddy turned back quickly, his heartbeat jolting as if he'd spoken the words aloud. He repressed a grin. What a screwy idea that was. Take her? With no figure? With that kid's face of hers?
That was when he realized it was her face which had given him the idea. The very childishness of it seemed to needle him perversely.
There was a noise behind him. Eddy glanced back. The girl had dropped her pen and was bending down to get it. Eddy felt a crawling tingle in his flesh as he saw the strain of her bust against the tautening sweater. Maybe she had a figure after all. That was more exciting yet. A child afraid to show her ripening body. The notion struck dark fire in Eddy's mind.
EIdridge, Julie, read the year book. St. Louis, Arts & Sciences. As he'd expected, she belonged to no sorority or organizations. He looked at her photograph and she seemed to spring alive in his imaginations-shy, withdrawn, existing in a shell of warped repressions. He had to have her.
Why? He asked himself the question endlessly but no logical answer ever came. Still, visions of her were never long out of his mind-the two of them locked in a cabin at the Hiway Motel, the wall heater crowding their lungs with oven air while they rioted in each other's flesh; he and this degraded innocent.
The bell had rung and, as the students left the classroom, Julie dropped her books.
"Here, let me pick them up," said Eddy.
"Oh." She stood motionless while he collected them. From the corners of his eyes, he saw the ivory smoothness of her legs. He shuddered and stood with the books.
"Here," he said.
"Thank you." Her eyes lowered and the faintest of colour touched her cheeks. She wasn't so bad-looking, Eddy thought. And she did have a figure. Not much of one but a figure.
"What is it we're supposed to read for tomorrow?" he heard himself asking.
"The-'Wife of Bath's Tale,' isn't it?" she asked.
"Oh, is that it?" Ask her for a date, he thought.
"Yes. I think so."
He nodded. Ask her now, he thought.
"Well," said Julie. She began to turn away.
Eddy smiled remotely at her and felt his stomach muscles trembling.
"Be seeing you," he said.
We stood in the darkness staring at her window. Inside the room, the light went on as Julie came back from the bathroom. She wore a terry cloth robe and was carrying a towel, a washcloth, and a plastic soap box. Eddy watched her put the washcloth and soap box on her bureau and sit down on the bed.
He stood there rigidly, watching her with eyes that did not blink. What was he doing here? he thought. If anybody caught him, he'd be arrested. He had to leave.
Julie stood. She undid the sash at her waist and the bathrobe slipped to the floor. Eddy froze. He parted his lips, sucking at the damp air. She had the body of a woman-full-hipped with breasts that both jutted and hung. And with that pretty child's face-Eddy felt hot breath forcing out between his lips. He muttered, "Julie, Julie, Julie-" Julie turned away to dress.
The idea was insane. He knew it but he couldn't get away from it. No matter how he tried to think of something else, it kept returning.
He'd invite her to a drive-in movie, drug her Coke there, take her to the Hiway Motel. To guarantee his safety afterward, he'd take photographs of her and threaten to send them to her parents if she said anything.
The idea was insane. He knew it but he couldn't fight it. He had to do it now-now when she was still a stranger to him; an unknown female with a child's face and a woman's body. That was what he wanted; not an individual.
No! It was insane! He cut his English class twice in succession. He drove home for the weekend. He saw a lot of movies. He read magazines and took long walks. He could beat this thing.
Miss Eldridge?"
Julie stopped. As she turned to face him, the sun made ripples on her hair. She looked very pretty, Eddy thought.
"Can I walk with you?" he asked.
"All right," she said.
They walked along the campus path.
"I was wondering," said Eddy, "if you'd like to go to the drive-in movie Friday night." He was startled at the calmness of his voice.
"Oh," said Julie. She glanced at him shyly. "What's playing?" she asked.
He told her.
"That sounds very nice," she said.
Eddy swallowed. "Good," he answered. "What time shall I pick you up?"
He wondered, later, if it made her curious that he didn't ask her where she lived.
There was a light burning on the porch of the house she roomed in. Eddy pushed the bell and waited, watching two moths flutter around the light. After several moments, Julie opened the door. She looked almost beautiful, he thought. He'd never seen her dressed so well.
"Hello," she said.
"Hi," he answered. "Ready to go?"
"I'll get my coat." She went down the hall and into her room. In there, she'd stood naked that night, her body glowing in the light. Eddy pressed his teeth together. He'd be all right. She'd never tell anyone when she saw the photographs he was going to take.
Julie came back down the hallway and they went out to the car. Eddy opened the door for her.
"Thank you," she murmured. As she sat down, Eddy caught a glimpse of stockinged knees before she pulled her skirt down. He slammed the door and walked around the car. His throat felt parched.
Ten minutes later, he nosed the car onto an empty ramp in the last row of the drive-in theatre and cut the engine. He reached outside and lifted the speaker off its pole and hooked it over the window. There was a cartoon playing.
"You want some popcorn and Coke?" he asked, feeling a sudden bolt of dread that she might say no.
"Yes. Thank you," Julie said.
"I'll be right back." Eddy pushed out of the car and started for the snack bar. His legs were shaking.
He waited in the milling crowd of students, seeing only his thoughts. Again and again, he shut the cabin door and locked it, pulled the shades down, turned on all the lights, switched on the wall heater. Again and again, he walked over to where Julie lay stupefied and helpless on the bed.
"Yours?" said the attendant.
Eddy started. "Uh-two popcorns and a large and a small Coke," he said.
He felt himself begin to shiver convulsively. He couldn't do it. He might go to jail the rest of his life. He paid the man mechanically and moved off with the cardboard tray. The photographs, you idiot, he thought. They're your protection. He felt angry desire shudder through his body. Nothing was going to stop him. On the way back to the car, he emptied the contents of the packet into the small Coke.
Julie was sitting quietly when he opened the door and slid back in. The feature had begun.
"Thank you," said Julie.
Eddy sat watching the picture. He felt his heart thud slowly like a beaten drum. He felt bugs of perspiration running down his back and sides. The popcorn was dry and tasteless. He kept drinking Coke to wet his throat. Soon now, he thought. He pressed his lips together and stared at the screen. He heard Julie eating popcorn, he heard her drinking Coke.
The thoughts were coming faster now: the door locked, the shades drawn, the room a bright-lit oven as they twisted on the bed together. Now they were doing things that Eddy almost never thought of-wild, demented things. It was her face, he thought; that damned angel's face of hers. It made the mind seek out every black avenue it could find.
Eddy glanced over at Julie. He felt his hands retract so suddenly that he spilled Coke on his trousers. Her empty cup had fallen on the floor, the box of popcorn turned over on her lap. Her head was lying on the seat back and, for one hideous moment, Eddy thought she was dead.
Then she inhaled raspingly and turned her head towards him. He saw her tongue move, dark and sluggish, on her lips.
Suddenly, he was deadly calm again. He picked the speaker off the window and hung it up outside. He threw out the cups and boxes. He started the engine and backed out into the aisle. He turned on his parking lights and drove out of the theatre.
Hiway Motel. The sign blinked off and on a quarter of a mile away. For a second, Eddy thought he read No Vacancy and he made a frightened sound. Then he saw that he was wrong. He was still trembling as he circled the car around the drive and parked to one side of the office.
Bracing himself, he went inside and rang the bell. He was very calm and the man didn't say a word to him. He had Eddy fill out the registration card and gave him the key.
Eddy pulled his car into the breezeway beside the cabin. He put his camera in the room, then went out and looked around. There was no one in sight. He ran to the car and opened the door. He carried Julie to the cabin door, his shoes crunching quickly on the gravel. He carried her into the dark room and dropped her on the bed.
Shock II Page 5
