The House of Numbers

by Jack Finney

  "Say!" He slapped his knee again as though at a sudden hilarious idea. "If you was to've clouted a guy's car tonight — 'stead of your brother, I mean — wouldn't that've been funny! They'd figure it was your brother, figure he was out — and all the time he'd still be in! Be a good one, all right," he said shaking his head in amusement. "They figure he's out, and all the time he'd be — " He paused. "Well, now," he said thoughtfully, "Where would he be?" He shrugged.

  "Only one place I'd want to be. Green light goes on, they come down off the walls in the industrial area — that's where I'd want to be. Wait'll the place quiets down good, 'bout an hour from now maybe, and over the wall you go, nothin' to stop you. Almost enough to make a man wish it did happen that way. Go out there and grab him when he comes over — chance for a promotion, maybe.

  "Promotion," he repeated in amused disgust. "What's that amount to? Few extra dollars every month. Still" — he shrugged one heavy shoulder — "man gets to be my age and ain't saved much, what else you got to hope for? Ain't like somebody was gonna give me a big chunk of money all at once, little nest egg before I retire on half pay. Be nice, though; lot better than any promotion. 'Stead of sittin' here thinkin' up crazy ideas, and maybe gettin' all excited, and rushin' off somewhere to sit in the brush with a gun in his lap, man could just go home and go to bed if he had a little nest egg stashed away."

  "Like a couple thousand dollars, Mr. Nova?" I said quietly.

  "Yeah." He nodded. "That's what I mean: four, five thousand dollars. Little bundle like that, man could just go home and relax; the man's out; he escaped; that's official; let other people worry about him."

  "I own a car," I said quietly. "I paid twelve-fifty for it; it ought to bring me a thousand. And I've got just over three thousand dollars in government bonds. That adds up to four thousand, nearly every cent I've got in the world."

  He seemed to have lost interest. "Lucky," he murmured, staring absently out the window. "Nicely fixed for a young fellow. Course it takes time, money tied up like that, to turn it into cash. Three, four days, maybe longer. But" — he shrugged — "money ain't everything. Well" — he put his hands on his thighs and heaved himself up from the chair — "time I was gettin' home. I ain't tired, but expect you folks are. So I'll get home; figure out what to do with myself the next few hours." He stepped to the front door, a big meaty hand on the knob as though about to open it. Then he nodded a few times, and added casually, "Like I say, money ain't everything; old sayin' but true." He nodded thoughtfully. "No, sir, money ain't everything."

  "No?" I said. "What is?"

  "Friendship." He nodded at me wisely. "You know" — he smiled — "I had the idea maybe you folks was superior, sort of settin' yourself above people. Had to force myself in here" — he smiled as though he'd made a joke — "before I even got to sit down in your livin'-room. Guess I was wrong about you, though; hope so, because I'm a neighborly man. Nothin' better I like than people droppin' in on me, any time, any hour. Even now, for example, the old lady's asleep, and a house fallin' wouldn't wake her. I had company drop in on me tonight, I wouldn't even think of goin' out."

  I was staring at him, trying to fathom what he could be talking about; he opened the door.

  "Nothin'll happen out at Quentin for an hour," Nova said. "Least I'm willin' to gamble on that. So I'm goin' home now, for thirty minutes. Company drops in on me, I'll stay home. Her, I'm talkin' about. You." His finger pointed at Ruth. "Just a half hour's company" — his eyes were shiny, and his tongue touched his lips — "while we get better acquainted. And I stay home tonight, and glad to."

  I was at him, right arm swinging as hard as I could throw it — and it stopped in midair, my fist smacking on his meaty palm like a .22 pistol shot. And then he held me gripped; his immense arms were wrapped around me, holding mine tight to my sides; and without effort he lifted me, squeezing me harder and harder, eyes grinning into mine; while Ruth flailed at him. The pressure tightened, the pain flashed, till I knew another fractional increase of pressure would crack my ribs. Then he arched his great chest and belly, stepping forward, as he let go of me. I'm not a small man, and I'm strong, but I landed hard on the floor and rolled twice from the force of the shove of that incredibly powerful beer barrel of a body. Nova looked at me contemptuously, then turned and walked out into the night.

  Some several minutes later I was still shaking my head stubbornly at Ruth. Now, seated beside me on the davenport, her hands on my forearms, she said it again, and this time I listened. "Ben, you can't. He won't let you get near him with a poker, an iron bar, or anything else; you think he doesn't know you'd want to try? Even if you did you might kill him. And one thing you're not going to do for Arnie is murder."

  "All right. Then I've got to warn Arnie. Go over that wall again, and — "

  "Ben, Ben, you're not thinking! You're just wild!" She made me look at her. "Right now Nova's sitting at his window; you know he is. You couldn't even open the garage door before he'd know it, and he'd be out there as fast as you would. Or just phone San Quentin instead."

  I was on my feet, glaring down at her. "Are you trying to tell me there's nothing to do! That we just sit here and let him go take Arnie!" I brought both hands down on my head. "Lord, it's incredible! There's Arnie, out there now, getting ready. And we can't get to him, can't even tell him! And can't think of anything else to do! Ruth, we can't just sit here and let Arnie go over that wall right into Nova's — "

  "Ben, shut up," she said. "And listen. I'll phone Nova. With my voice lowered, my face close to the phone, sounding all upset and tearful. I'll tell him Arnie's my husband, and that I'm coming over. That you were against it, we had a fight about it, but that I've finally brought you around. You've had to say yes because I've got to do it for Arnie. I'll tell him — well, anything; anything like that. I'll just talk, for sixty seconds at least, by my watch." Her eyes were flashing. "I'll make it real, Ben! By believing it myself! I'll sound scared to death!"

  I was nodding, feeling the excitement pounding in me; then I grabbed Ruth by both arms. "When you hang up," I said, "lock all the doors, you hear me? In fact, I'll do it now. And when you hang up just sit here and wait, you hear?"

  She smiled. "I hear," she said. "Sit here and wait; I've done a lot of it, and I'll do it again, but this is the last."

  "It's the last," I said and grinned at her.

  In the garage, I stood at the left front fender of the car, hands on the garage door, staring over my shoulder at the open kitchen door. The car motor was running. I saw Ruth in the kitchen at the telephone, dialing; saw her finish dialing and extend one arm to the side.

  Then her arm dropped in a swift motion, and I soundlessly raised the garage doors as Ruth said, "Hello, Mr. Nova?"

  I got into the car, drove it out in first gear, stopped, and leaped out to close the garage door. Then I was in the car again, coasting down the driveway, foot on the clutch, and as the front wheels touched the street, I shifted directly into high and, the car lights out, I drove past Nova's big darkened front window toward the highway ahead.

  19

  Once again I climbed that dark hill, and once again entered the prison as I had before, this time directly beside the furniture factory, leaving my rope suspended from the wall beside me; I had no seconds to waste. The area looked the same; silent, empty, the four buildings dimly lighted, the wall lights on, the light showing green high over the prison; and the bare brown dirt under my feet seemed undisturbed. I actually had to kneel, my eyes only inches from the ground as I hunted for the tiny circlet of screening I had made, so long ago it seemed now. I couldn't find it. Minutes passed as I stumbled on my knees, my nose actually brushing the dirt, over that patch of earth between the high concrete wall, and the furniture factory.

  Then something caught my eye, and I turned. There behind me, far to the west by the cotton mill, but approaching rapidly along the narrow aisle between the big wall and the buildings, was the bobbing beam of a flashlight. Jerking along the uneven grou
nd with the steps of the patrolling guard who held it, the light was swelling in size — and now all I could do was call, "Arnie!" in as harsh and loud a whisper as I dared.

  "Arnie!" I said it louder. "It's Ben! It's Ben, Arnie; open up!" I said, my face almost touching the ground, moving over it frantically. "Arnie!" My voice strained and broke with the volume of my whisper; then the ground under me moved, I rolled to one side, and I saw Arnie on his back, holding the weight of the board-supported earth on his straining arms. I scrambled in beside him, and he dropped the lid. Then I remembered: hanging down the wall just beside us, and perfectly visible in the light to anyone passing it, was my rope.

  There was nothing we could do. We didn't move; we didn't breathe. We lay waiting, motionless; then suddenly I had to suck in a lungful of air, and I was aware that time had passed. Arnie slowly raised the lid. There was no one; the guard — he must have done this — had turned off ahead between two of the other buildings to the west. Whispering, I told Arnie, then — stripping it to the very minimum he needed to understand — why we had to leave now, not waiting till prison activity reached its early morning ebb, and hoping that Nova had not yet arrived.

  I went first, scrambling up my rope, as Arnie tossed his, underhanded, to strike and catch the guard rail overhead. I reached the top, was on my feet yanking my rope up after me to loop it around a support and toss it down on the other side, when the voice in the dimness below me spoke. "All right," it said quietly, "come down easy; I've got a gun on you." And then I saw Nova on the other side of the wall, his bulky silhouette barely darker than the ground on which he stood; and I knew it had been foolish to hope Ruth could stall him to sit stupidly waiting in his house, giving us the time we had needed. I came down — there was nothing else to do; I knew he would shoot if I didn't — sliding down my rope, face to the wall. As my feet touched the ground, the gun muzzle pressed into my back, and Nova said, "Hands on your head and climb up to the road, slow."

  I raised my arms, clasping my hands on my head, still facing the wall; and then I moaned. "My ankle," I mumbled. "I can't walk. I think it's twis — "

  "Come on, you bastard, move!" Nova stepped beside me, pulling at my shoulder, prying me from the wall. And then Arnie, legs doubled up, hugging his knees, dropped from that twenty-foot wall onto Nova's back, smashing him to the ground with such a terrible force that I knew if he'd landed squarely on Nova's head, I'd have heard his neck crack. Arnie rolled, hugging his legs, then scrambled to his feet, running back. He snatched up Nova's gun which had spun from his hand; and I stood unable to move yet, and saw him, feet astride Nova's body, lean down and aim the gun barrel directly at Nova's head. From the jerk of Arnie's hand, I understood suddenly that he was tugging at the trigger, and I reached out and pulled the gun from his hand.

  "Oh," Arnie said, in a little sound of surprise and understanding, "the safety's on; gimme that gun."

  I said, "No," astonished that I should still remember to whisper. "I'll keep it. Let's get out of here." Arnie blinked and then nodded, turned to pull down my rope and then pick up his from where he'd thrown it as he leaped.

  We couldn't leave Nova here, and we each got him under one arm and dragged him to his feet, staggering with him toward the underbrush and the hill just ahead, his legs dragging limply. And then astoundingly, this massive man began to walk, stumbling, shaking his head, and beginning to mutter. And within half a dozen steps, he was wrenching his arms from ours. I shoved his gun into his back, and the three of us climbed the hill, then down the other side.

  We came out on the road not a dozen yards from Nova's car, pulled off on the shoulder. Mine was parked two hundred yards further on around a bend of the road; I'd driven it well past any point at which Nova was likely to see it. Arnie took Nova's ignition key, then we all walked to my car. With Nova at the wheel and me in the back seat, the gun in my lap, Arnie stood at the driver's window telling Nova where he could find his car parked in San Francisco later tonight or tomorrow, whenever he cared to go get it. I'd intended originally to pick up Arnie just before dawn at a point along this road we'd agreed on; but now another car, Nova's, was at hand for Arnie.

  We drove to Mill Valley, Nova at the wheel of my car, Arnie following closely behind in the other. I had Nova drive directly into my garage, and Arnie parked Nova's car in front of his own house, then came across the lawn to my garage. He pulled the big metal door down, then nodded at Nova who was standing, his face absolutely expressionless, looking at neither of us. "What about fat boy here?" Arnie said. "He's got himself quite a story to tell."

  "Don't worry about it, Arnie," I said. "You just get going; I'll take care of him."

  After a moment Arnie nodded. "All right," he said. "I guess you will at that; you've done pretty good so far." Then the door from the kitchen to the garage opened, and Ruth stood there, staring at the three of us.

  Too much had happened; I'd actually forgotten for the moment, it had just dropped from my mind, what Ruth still was to Arnie. And I was blankly astonished for an instant to see Arnie hurry across the garage then, step into the kitchen, and grab Ruth to him. There he stood, his back to me, holding her, squeezing her tight, his cheek against hers, and murmuring something I couldn't hear — while Ruth stared at me over his shoulder, her eyes stricken and pleading for help. Herding Nova before me, I moved toward them, my mind fumbling for words.

  It's easy to imagine in anticipation a scene in which you speak clearly and intelligently and at length, the words coming just right, while the person you're talking to nods, listens, and makes all the proper responses. I'd somehow pictured myself alone with Arnie, explaining in detail, and from the very beginning, just what had happened between Ruth and me, telling him how it had happened in spite of ourselves; and then Arnie nodding slowly, not happy about it, but telling me, finally, that he understood.

  But now, a man at gun point before me, Ruth in Arnie's arms as I walked toward them, all I could think of to say was, "Arnie!" He didn't even seem to hear, and I called again, "Arnie!" and he lifted his head to turn and look at me questioningly. Standing before them now, Nova's impassive face staring past them, all I could do was nod stupidly at Ruth and say, "Arnie, Ruth and I are — " Then I nodded again several times hoping he'd understand without my saying it. But he just stared at me, and I had to say, "Arnie, we're going to be married."

  Still he just stood there looking at me, his face not even changing expression. Then he began slowly shaking his head no. I had to get out of the garage, and I motioned Nova forward; as we approached the door, Arnie turned suddenly into the living-room, the rest of us following after him. I motioned Nova to a chair, and Ruth and Arnie stood looking at me. Standing where I could see Nova, I faced Arnie and said. "There hasn't been a chance to tell you, Arnie, no chance at all. We've only found out ourselves. But, Arnie, what happened — you'll have to try to understand — " I stopped because he was no longer listening.

  His head had swung to Ruth, eyes intent, demanding an answer, and Ruth looked at him and nodded. "Yes, Arnie," she said softly. "If there'd been any way to tell you before now, but — it's true."

  After a moment he actually smiled, glancing pleasantly from Ruth to me. "Well, I can understand it," he said. He walked between us, taking a step or two toward the big window at the front of the room, its drapes pulled closed; then he turned to face us, still smiling. "You've been here — together — and — Well, I can understand it. Sure I can! And I won't hold it against you! Either of you!" His head was nodding rapidly, eagerly, and I suddenly understood what he was doing; he was talking this away, brushing it aside with words, trying to talk it out of existence, as he'd always tried to do with all the unpleasant facts of his life. "But now I'm out," he was saying rapidly, "and I'll stay out, and — " The smile was suddenly gone, his voice desperate. "Ruth, we'll forget it! Forget it happened! And I'll never mention it, and neither will you! You'll come along with me — "

  "Arnie!" she said, staring at him. "You're not letting your
self understand, you're not facing it! Arnie, I love — "

  "Don't say it!" He spat it out like a single word. "I don't want to hear it." His hands had actually risen toward his ears as though to cover them. "It's not true," he said. "You've been living together, and you only think — "

  Desperately, pleading with him, I said, "You've got to listen, Arnie. It is true; we couldn't help it, we never meant to, but — "

  He was holding his hand up, shaking his head, cutting me off, staring at Ruth and walking toward her, stooping a little to look into her eyes. "All right, you say it," he said softly. "Go ahead; I want to hear it from you. You tell me you've ditched me. You tell me I'm not good enough for you and never was! You tell me I'm a con, and that you didn't have the simple guts and loyalty to stick with me. Go ahead!" he shouted, the cords of his neck thrusting out. "Tell me!"

  Her eyes suffering, she said, "I can only tell you, Arnie, that I'm in love with Ben. And if it'll help you, and I hope it will, I can tell you I always liked you and still do, but I was never in love with you, and I know it now, and Ben had nothing to do with that. I'd have known it anyway, and we could never have been married. Even if I'd never met Ben, you and I could never — "

  He swung away from her. "Well, I'm glad," he said to no one in particular. "I'm damn glad we'd never have been married. Because you're a tramp," he said quietly, turning to look at her again. "A high-class tramp who's not good enough for me. And I'm lucky to find it out. Whoever happens to be handy suits you, as it turns out. I'm away, out of circulation, so whoever comes along next is good enough for you." I could have said something, could have moved across the room to shut him up, and I wanted to; I was sick of him, I wanted to smash him in the mouth — and at the same time I didn't have the heart to do it to him, and I knew Ruth would understand. "I wish you luck with her, brother," he said to me, and then repeated the last word as though it were bitterly funny. "Brother! That's a hot one! Well, brother, I wish you luck with this — " Suddenly he began to cry. "Ruth, for God's sake come with me," he murmured, his eyes squeezed tight shut, the tears running down. "Ruth, I've counted on it. Ruth, you've got to. Oh, God" — he swung away toward the window, hiding his face — "I'm alone."