by Jerry Sohl
“Why not?”
Dr. Merrill leaned toward him on the table. “Last night I was drunk. I don’t remember what I said exactly, except that I mentioned something about Forrest Killian. Something I have never said to anyone else. Something I wouldn’t dare say. Even when they had the investigation I never volunteered the information. You see, I was the last man, outside of Dr. Penn, to see Forrest Killian.”
“From what you said last night,” Martin said drily, “Forrest Killian walked into Dr. Penn’s laboratory and never walked out again. Is that right?”
The doctor looked around, studied the nearest faces before answering.
“I saw it happen,” he said guardedly. “But that still isn’t what I mean. Look, what are you doing right after dinner?”
“Virginia and I are going to a movie,” he said truthfully. She had playfully insisted he see a reservation movie and he agreed to go, though he felt he ought to talk to Dr. Penn instead.
“Isn’t there some way you can get out of it?”
“I don’t want to get out of it.”
“It’s like that, eh?”
“Can’t you just tell me?”
“I don’t want to do that. I want to show you.”
“How long would it take?”
“I don’t know. That depends upon someone else.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you that. When do you think you can get away? It has to be some night just after dinner.”
Martin considered. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” he parried. “Suppose you drop in here each night about this time. The night I can make it, I’ll let you know. It may be tomorrow or the next day. I’ll try to lay the groundwork for it.”
“I’ll come in here every night at this time.”
“It ought to be worth while,” Martin warned. “I don’t want to cross the doctor again.”
Dr. Merrill smiled mysteriously. “It will be worth while, don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll wish you had come sooner.” His face sobered. “You won’t take me seriously until you see for yourself. It’s very important that you do. You see, I find in you something I found in Forrest Killian. I liked him and he was my friend. That’s why I’m talking to you like this. Anything I can do for him I want to do. You’ll see.”
Chapter 8
It was only because Virginia asked him to that Martin consented to go to the area movies. He found it increasingly difficult to say no to her. It was an interesting movie, but not from the point of view of the film; he was conscious of this girl at his side all during the picture, this blonde girl with the hazy, blue eyes, this girl whose beauty was like an aura around her. Her presence fired his mind and he found himself looking at her more than the picture. When she answered the squeeze of his hand and looked at him, he could see her smile in the reflection of light from the screen and his heart hammered wildly.
The mood persisted even after he kissed her good night and he went to his room, the remembrance of it a tingling area on his lips. He could not bring himself to think of his work when there was this to remember. Her image formed before his eyes when they had closed for sleep.
He enjoyed that because in his sleep he could do what he wished with her. He suggested that she wear a negligee and there she was in it, floating just off the bed.
“Do you prefer me like this?” she asked sweetly.
“I like you any way,” he said. “You’re wonderful.”
“You’ve been thinking that all evening,” she said, blushing. “You’re apt to turn my head.”
He sat up and she waved him down.
“You’re supposed to be getting your rest,” she said. “Now why don’t you just lie there and tell me your troubles?”
“I don’t have any troubles when you’re around.”
“You might have troubles tomorrow,” she said, smiling coquettishly.
“What kind of troubles will they be?”
“Oh, you’ll start thinking you’re spending too much time with me.” She pouted. “Would you really think that?”
“No!” he almost shouted.
“Not so loud,” she laughed. “Now, do you promise you won’t think that?”
“Yes. I swear it.”
“If you do think about it, you must remember the way to learn about a man is to live with his family, much as you are doing with us. You mustn’t think of anything else, understand?”
He nodded. “I understand.”
“Ethel may be a bit curious about us,” she said. “But you won’t let that bother you, will you? Ethel just doesn’t understand how we feel about each other, does she?”
“No. Ethel doesn’t.”
The smile was beautiful. “I like you more and more.” The gentle breeze rippled the negligee and revealed the girl’s charms in the shadowless light of the room.
“I love you,” he said ardently.
“I know, darling. And another thing. You’ve been seeing too much of that Dr. Merrill, don’t you think? Dad is going to get angry if you don’t confine your attention to him. After all, this story you’re doing is supposed to be about Dad, remember?”
“Of course. I’m sorry, Virginia.”
“Dr. Merrill is against Dad. Dr. Merrill wants to hurt Dad. I don’t like Dr. Merrill, do you?”
“No. I don’t like Dr. Merrill.”
“Something ought to happen to him, don’t you think?”
“Yes, something ought to happen to Dr. Merrill.”
Virginia smoothed the negligee and Martin followed the hands with an avid gaze.
“We can talk about that later. Perhaps in a day or two, Martin.”
“Anything you say, Virginia.”
“I think you’re swell, Martin. Dad does, too. You’ll find his attitude changed. He’ll probably think we’re in love. Maybe he’s right...”
When Martin awakened it was not the rude awakening from total sleep but the exchanging of a mellow, friendly dream state for the more exciting reality of his imminent nearness to Virginia, for he remembered he had a dream in which she figured prominently.
During the next three days the glow he felt in her presence ripened to a fierce fire and he was with her constantly. After all, he reasoned when he felt he might be spending too much time with her, the way to learn about a man is to live with his family. He didn’t care because Ethel seemed to disapprove, looking at him searchingly and sometimes disdainfully. Ethel probably had never felt the way he did. He didn’t mind that Dr. Penn smiled when he walked in on them talking softly and earnestly in the living room, her lips an inch from his; the smile amounted to paternal consent, didn’t it? And he was supposed to get on the good side of the man, wasn’t he? How else could he ever learn anything? He could always talk to Dr. Penn later.
It was on the third day at the laboratory that he came face to face with Dr. Merrill in the washroom.
“Hi,” Martin said, nodding in recognition on his way out.
The doctor, who was entering, grabbed his arm and pulled him around. The door hissed shut behind him.
“For God’s sake, what’s happened to you? You’re following that girl around like a puppy.”
Anger flared deep in Martin’s mind, Here was a man who was standing in Dr. Penn’s way—good Dr. Penn. He suddenly hated Dr. Merrill and his arm flashed upward to strike him. The doctor’s forearm caught the blow and the momentary pain was like a hot wire running to his brain.
Martin’s well-being evaporated. Cold sweat began to ooze through his pores with the realization that he had almost hit the doctor and he stood there, chilled and chagrined at what he had done. The pain cleared his head.
“I’m—I’m sorry, Dr. Merrill,” he said, confused.
The doctor, who had been standing there in wonder, dropped his arm slowly. “I had no idea it was like that,” he said quietly.
“Believe me, I can’t understand what possessed me to do a thing like that, Doctor.”
“You are not to blame,” the doctor said.
“Now I know why you didn’t come each night.”
Martin’s face flushed. He had not given a thought to the rendezvous with Dr. Merrill and this knowledge washed over him with new wonderment. How could he have forgotten that he was to meet the doctor at the civilian club when he could get away? It didn’t make sense.
“I guess I’ve been too busy,” Martin said miserably.
The doctor shook his head but kept his eyes on Martin. “No, that isn’t the reason. The same thing happened to Forrest Killian, Martin. He was the most inquisitive man, the most friendly guy the first few weeks I knew him. Then something happened to him and he did not spend his nights in the barracks any longer and when I saw him during the day he was unfriendly and cold. Suddenly he seemed to snap out of it and he confessed to me he had been as one possessed and then... I can’t tell you about that now.”
“Was it—was it the girl?”
“It was the girl. He never told me where he was when he wasn’t in his room at night, but I have a good idea. He told me he had dreams.”
The shock of it stiffened Martin and something cold settled around his heart. Had she been as friendly as that with Forrest Killian? Had she entered Forrest’s dreams as she had entered his? Was he treading the same path as the unfortunate laboratory technician, the path that ended—where?
With effort now he recalled that General Deems had said Forrest called him after two weeks to tell him he didn’t suspect anyone. Virginia must have been controlling him then much as she had evidently controlled Martin for the past three days. Then, as the general had told, the agent called one night to say he had found what he was looking for and that he suspected Dr. Penn and would call the general after he had confronted the doctor with the evidence.
What manner of girl was this? He ruled out hypnosis in favor of something much more forceful. He could understand now Forrest’s sudden awakening and his setting himself against what he knew of them and arming himself with the evidence and confronting the doctor with it. That was the end of Forrest Killian, presumably.
“The same thing happened to me one night,” Dr. Merrill was saying. “Only I would always wake up. I got drunk the first time I spouted off against the doctor. So he and Virginia took me to their home. I passed out and the next thing I knew I was having a dream and both of them were there asking me questions. But I would wake up each time, only to pass out again and there they’d be shooting those questions at me. I finally sobered enough to walk out of the house. A patrolling military police squad took me home. Nearly lost my job because of it. If it weren’t for the fact I’ve got influence in Washington, I think I would have been kicked out, for I understand Dr. Penn tried his best to get rid of me.”
For a moment Dr. Merrill was lost in amused reminiscence, then he sighed, returned to the present and, with a look at Martin, said, “I wouldn’t take it so hard, Martin. I never did see any overt action on her part toward Forrest, if that’s what’s worrying you; she was always cool toward him around the laboratory. At least with, you she seems to be putting her heart in it.”
Martin snorted. “Maybe I’m just a little harder to convince than Forrest. I want you to know I’m familiar with this dream technique and because you mentioned it a lot of things are beginning to clear up for me. Will you be at the civilian club after dinner?”
“If you’re still interested.”
“I’m very interested. What time should I be there?”
“You must be there by six thirty. Any later than that and you needn’t come at all.”
“I’ll be there. I don’t know how I’m going to make it, but I will. Dinner at the Penns’ isn’t over until around seven, you know.”
“I know. That’s why I want you there at six thirty.”
Martin fixed him with a questioning stare. The doctor merely answered with a quizzical smile.
“I’ll see you at six thirty, then,” Martin said, turning determinedly on his heel and leaving the room.
“I hope you make it.”
For the rest of the afternoon Martin tried to put the zest he knew he should have felt in his work with Virginia in the office of Dr. Penn, comparing charts and reading figures and occasionally lapsing into an episode in each other’s lives. But he knew it was not convincing. His mind went back to what Dr. Merrill had to say and back to the point in the washroom when he had suddenly realized he had been as one hypnotized.
The girl did not seem capable of it. Virginia was laughing and gay and she bubbled with good humor and amusing anecdotes. Only once in a while did she give any evidence of being anything else when he caught her looking at him furtively. Even then, when he caught her at it, she turned into something pretty, flashing him that contagious smile and asking him what he was looking at. He found it impossible not to humor her.
But she knew. She knew because when he told her at five o’clock, the usual time they started for home, that he did not feel well and was going to go to his room and would not come down later for dinner, she gave him a long and searching look.
“You’ve changed suddenly,” she said. “Something’s happened.”
They were walking along a hedge-lined street and she kept slightly ahead of him, looking back at him.
“You’ve not been yourself this afternoon, darling. What’s the matter?” she asked questioningly, solicitously.
“It’s just as I said. I don’t feel well. That’s all.” He wished she wouldn’t question him.
“But one just doesn’t feel well. There’s something he doesn’t feel well about. What is it? Your stomach? Do you have a headache? Or isn’t it physical?” There was an accent on the latter.
“Do I have to give a list of symptoms? I just don’t feel well all over. Call it what you will. Besides, I have no appetite and I want to think. Is there anything wrong in wanting to think?”
Virginia let him catch up and walked by his side, silent for a few steps. Then, “Is it something I’ve done?”
“No.”
“Then at least you know that it isn’t anything I’ve done. At least that much is definite. Now, is it something Dad’s done?”
He stopped and she stopped. They faced each other.
“Look,” he said patiently. “This will get us no place. You’re being just like a woman. Can’t you tell when a man wants to be alone, to think things out? It only makes me feel worse to have you bombarding me with questions.”
In the end she walked by his side silently, meekly, and said nothing when they entered the house. He went up to his room and lay on the bed.
It was 5:15. He had more than an hour.
The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows and the curtains, fluttering in the breeze, were a symphony of movement, their shadows on the wallpaper. This time of the afternoon was always unreal, he reflected, the sun being so low in the heavens, there being such long shadows and that something in the atmosphere that let only the red rays come through, bathing everything in a ruddy glow. That curtain, for example, and that color and the moving, changing pattern. Why, it changed a million times and it could be anything—even a face...
The face of Virginia, for example.
“Martin,” Virginia said sweetly from the curtain.
He struggled hard against the pleasant, soothing sensation emanating from the face and he looked away and suddenly an abyss opened beneath him and he plummeted down, his last glimpse of the face showing Virginia’s puzzlement and concern.
He awoke, startled.
The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows and the curtains, fluttering in the breeze, were a symphony of movement, their shadows on the wallpaper. That curtain, the color and movement, it could be a face...
He forced himself to sit up before the face said anything and it was gone. He put the knuckle of his forefinger in his mouth and bit down on it hard. He felt his breath on his hand as he did so. He was sleepy, sleepier than he had ever been before and he wanted so much to lie down.
It was 5:25. He had more than an ho
ur.
The late afternoon sun...
He got to his feet and moved around the room. He took out a cigarette and found that his hand shook as he lit it. He went to the window and stood there. All was quiet in the street. Everybody was in his house waiting for dinner. There was only the well-kept grass, the long shadows of the sun the gentle movement of the curtains past his cheeks.
And the girl out there moving along the street. Martin wondered vaguely where she lived. She had a walk that he knew, a graceful, feminine walk, and it did not seem unusual that she should suddenly walk to the second-floor window from out in the street. It was Virginia. What an odd way to come to see him!
He grinned. Virginia was full of tricks.
Virginia’s face was just on the other side of the window now.
“Martin “ she said sweetly. “Let me help you, won’t you?”
A dull ache ran from his fingers to his shoulders and to his brain. The ache became a pain and the pain became unbearable.
Martin’s cigarette was burning his hand. He saw its smoldering head just a moment before he dashed it to the floor and saw the ashes splatter over the rug. He ran about stamping on the glowing ashes.
His shirt was sticking to his back. Sweat that had collected on his forehead trickled down beside his eyes. He wet his lips with a dry tongue, tasted sweat.
There was a gentle movement of the curtains at the window.
With a cry he went to the door, flung it open and started down the stairs. At the bottom he came upon Dr. Penn who stared at him. For a moment Martin hesitated, then he rushed past out the front door.
He saw Virginia sitting on the steps. He hesitated again, then ran down the steps past her.
“Martin!”
He turned.
“Wait!”
Virginia ran up to him.
“Get away from me!” he yelled, backing away toward the street.
“No, Martin!” She came up to him, reached for him, but he eluded her hands.
“Haven’t you done enough? What are you?”
Martin was shocked to see tears rimming her eyes, to find her shoulders slumped as she brought her hands up to her face to cover it.
