by Stephen King
'Like the auras,' Ralph said.
'Yes, like . . .' Her voice wavered. Ralph looked over and saw tears trickling down her plump cheeks. '. . . like the auras.'
'Don't cry, Lois.'
She found a Kleenex in her purse and wiped her eyes. 'I can't help it. That Japanese word on the card means kamikaze, doesn't it, Ralph? Divine Wind.' She paused, lips trembling. 'Suicide pilot.'
Ralph nodded. He was gripping the wheel very tightly. 'Yes,' he said. 'That's what it means. Suicide pilot.'
2
Route 33 - known as Newport Avenue in town - passed within four blocks of Harris Avenue, but Ralph had absolutely no intention of breaking their long fast over on the west side. The reason was as simple as it was compelling: he and Lois couldn't afford to be seen by any of their old friends, not looking fifteen or twenty years younger than they had on Monday.
Had any of those old friends reported them missing to the police yet? Ralph knew it was possible, but felt he could reasonably hope that so far they had escaped much notice and concern, at least from his circle; Faye and the rest of the folks who hung out in the picnic area near the Extension would be in too much of a dither over the passing of not just one Old Crock colleague but a pair of them to spend much time wondering about where Ralph Roberts had gotten his skinny old ass off to.
Both Bill and Jimmy could have been waked, funeralled, and buried by now, he thought.
'If we've got time for breakfast, Ralph, find a place as quick as you can - I'm so hungry I could eat a horse with the hide still on!'
They were almost a mile west of the hospital now - far enough away to allow Ralph to feel reasonably safe - and he saw the Derry Diner up ahead. As he signalled and turned into the parking lot, he realized he hadn't been here since Carol had gotten sick . . . a year at least, maybe more.
'Here we are,' he told Lois. 'And we're not just going to eat, we're going to eat all we can. We may not get another chance today.'
She grinned like a schoolkid. 'You've just put your finger on one of my great talents, Ralph.' She wriggled a little on the seat. 'Also, I have to spend a penny.'
Ralph nodded. No food since Tuesday, and no bathroom stops, either. Lois could spend her penny; he intended to pop into the men's room and let go of a couple of dollars.
'Come on,' he said, turning off the motor and silencing that troublesome clacking under the hood. 'First the bathroom, then the foodquake.'
On the way to the door she told him (speaking in a voice Ralph found just a trifle too casual) that she didn't think either Mina or Simone would have reported her missing, at least not yet. When Ralph turned his head to ask her why, he was amazed and amused to see she was blushing rosy-red.
'They both know I've had a crush on you for years.'
'Are you kidding?'
'Of course not,' she said, sounding a bit put out. 'Carolyn knew, too. Some women would have minded, but she understood how harmless it was. How harmless I was. She was such a dear, Ralph.'
'Yes. She was.'
'Anyway, they'll probably assume that we've . . . you know . . .'
'Gone off on a little French leave?'
Lois laughed. 'Something like that.'
'Would you like to go off on a little French leave, Lois?'
She stood on tiptoe and nibbled briefly at his earlobe. 'If we get out of this alive, you just ask me.'
He kissed the corner of her mouth before pushing open the door. 'You can count on it, lady.'
They made for the bathrooms, and when Ralph rejoined her, Lois looked both thoughtful and a little shaken. 'I can't believe it's me,' she said in a low voice. 'I mean, I must have spent at least two minutes staring at myself in the mirror, and I still can't believe it. The crow's-feet around my eyes are all gone, and Ralph . . . my hair . . .' Those dark Spanish eyes of hers looked up at him, filled with brilliance and wonder. 'And you! My God, I doubt if you looked this good when you were forty.'
'I didn't, but you should have seen me when I was thirty. I was an animal.'
She giggled. 'Come on, fool, let's sit down and murder some calories.'
3
'Lois?'
She glanced up from the menu she'd plucked from a little collection of them filed between the salt and pepper shakers.
'When I was in the bathroom, I tried to make the auras come back. This time I couldn't do it.'
'Why would you want to, Ralph?'
He shrugged, not wanting to tell her about the feeling of paranoia that had dropped over him as he stood at the basin in the little bathroom, washing his hands and looking into his own strangely young face in the water-spotted mirror. It had suddenly occurred to him that he might not be alone in there. Worse, Lois might not be alone next door in the women's room. Atropos might be creeping up behind her, completely unseen, diamond-cluster earrings glittering from his tiny lobes . . . scalpel outstretched . . .
Then, instead of Lois's earrings or McGovern's Panama, his mind's eye had conjured the jump-rope Atropos had been using when Ralph had spotted him
(three-six-nine, hon, the goose drank wine)
in the vacant lot between the bakery and the tanning salon, the jump-rope which had once been the prized possession of a little girl who had stumbled during a game of apartment-tag, fallen out of a second-storey window, and died of a broken neck (what a dreadful accident, she had her whole life ahead of her, if there's a God why does He let things like that happen, and so on and so on, not to mention blah-blah-blah).
He had told himself to stop it, that things were bad enough without his indulging in gruesome fantasies of Atropos slashing Lois's balloon-string, but it didn't help much . . . mostly because he knew Atropos might really be here with them in the restaurant, and Atropos could do anything to them he liked. Anything at all.
Lois reached across the table and touched the back of his hand. 'Don't worry. The colors will come back. They always do.'
'I suppose.' He took a menu of his own, opened it, and cast an eye down the breakfast bill of fare. His initial impression was that he wanted one of everything.
'The first time you saw Ed acting crazy, he was coming out of the Derry Airport,' Lois said. 'Now we know why. He was taking flying lessons, wasn't he?'
'Of course. While Trig was giving me a lift back to Harris Avenue, he even mentioned that you need a pass to come out that way, through the service gate. He asked me if I knew how Ed had gotten one, and I said I didn't. Now I do. They must give them to all the General Aviation flying students.'
'Do you think Helen knew about his hobby?' Lois asked. 'She probably didn't, did she?'
'I'm sure she didn't. I'll bet he switched over to Coastal Air right after he ran into the guy from West Side Gardeners, too. That little episode could have convinced him he was losing control, and he might do well to move his lessons a little farther away from home.'
'Or maybe it was Atropos who convinced him,' Lois said bleakly. 'Atropos or someone from even higher up.'
Ralph didn't care for the idea, but it felt right, just the same. Entities, he thought, and shivered. The Crimson King.
'They're dancing him around like a puppet on a string, aren't they?' Lois asked.
'Atropos, you mean?'
'No. Atropos is a nasty little bugger, but otherwise I think he's not much different from Mr C and Mr L - low-level help, maybe only a step above unskilled labor in the grand scheme of things.'
'Janitors.'
'Well, yes, maybe,' Lois agreed. 'Janitors and gofers. Atropos is probably the one who's done most of the actual work on Ed, and I'd bet a cookie it's work he loves, but I'd bet my house that his orders come from higher up. Does that sound more or less on the beam to you?'
'Yes. We'll probably never know exactly how nuts he was before this started, or exactly when Atropos cut his balloon-string, but the thing I'm most curious about at this moment is pretty mundane. I'd like to know how in the hell he went Charlie Pickering's bail and how he paid for his damned flying lessons.'
&n
bsp; Before Lois could reply, a waitress approached them, digging an order-pad and a ballpoint pen out of the pocket of her apron. 'Help you guys?'
'I'd like a cheese and mushroom omelet,' Ralph said.
'Uh-huh.' She switched her cud from one side of her jaw to the other. 'Two-egg or three-egg, hon?'
'Four, if that's okay.'
She raised her eyebrows slightly and jotted on the pad. 'Okay by me if it's okay by you. Anything with that?'
'Yes, please. A glass of OJ, large, an order of bacon, an order of sausage, and an order of home fries. Better make that a double order of home fries.' He paused, thinking, then grinned. 'Oh, and do you have any Danish left?'
'I think I might have one cheese and one apple.' She glanced up at him. 'You a little hungry, hon?'
'Feel like I haven't eaten for a week,' Ralph said. 'I'll have the cheese Danish. And coffee to start. Lots of black coffee. Did you get all that?'
'Oh, I got it, hon. I just want to see what you look like when you leave.' She looked at Lois. 'How 'bout you, ma'am?'
Lois smiled sweetly. 'I'll have what he's having. Hon.'
4
Ralph looked past the retreating waitress to the clock on the wall. It was only ten past seven, and that was good. They could be out at Barrett's Orchards in less than half an hour, and with their mental lasers trained on Gretchen Tillbury, it was possible that the Susan Day speech could be called off - aborted, if you liked - as early as 9:00 a.m. Yet instead of relief he felt relentless, gnawing anxiety. It was like having an itch in a place your fingers cannot quite reach.
'All right,' he said. 'Let's put it together. I think we can assume that Ed's been concerned about abortion for a long time, that he's probably been a pro-life supporter for years. Then he starts to lose sleep . . . hear voices . . .'
'. . . see little bald men . . .'
'Well, one in particular,' Ralph agreed. 'Atropos becomes his guru, filling him in on the Crimson King, the Centurions, the whole nine yards. When Ed talked to me about King Herod--'
'--he was thinking about Susan Day,' Lois finished. 'Atropos has been . . . what do they say on TV? . . . psyching him up. Turning him into a guided missile. Where did Ed get that scarf, do you think?'
'Atropos,' Ralph said. 'Atropos has got a lot of stuff like that, I'll bet.'
'And what do you suppose he's got in the plane he'll be flying tonight?' Lois's voice was trembling. 'Explosives or poison gas?'
'Explosives would seem the more likely bet if he really is planning to get everyone; a strong wind could create problems for him if it's gas.' Ralph took a sip of his water and was interested to see that his hand was not quite steady. 'On the other hand, we don't know what goodies he might have been cooking up in his laboratory, do we?'
'No,' Lois said in a small voice.
Ralph put his water-glass down. 'What he's planning to use doesn't interest me very much.'
'What does?'
The waitress came back with fresh coffee, and the smell alone seemed to light up Ralph's nerves like neon. He and Lois grabbed their cups and began to sip as soon as she had started away. The coffee was strong and hot enough to burn Ralph's lips, but it was heaven. When he set his cup back in its saucer again, it was half empty and there was a very warm place in his midsection, as if he had swallowed a live ember. Lois was looking at him somberly over the rim of her own cup.
'What interests me,' Ralph told her, 'is us. You said Atropos has turned Ed into a guided missile. That's right; that's exactly what the World War II kamikaze pilots were. Hitler had his V-2s; Hirohito had his Divine Wind. The disturbing thing is that Clotho and Lachesis have done the same thing to us. We've been loaded up with a lot of special powers and programmed to fly out to High Ridge in my Oldsmobile and stop Susan Day. I'd just like to know why.'
'But we do know,' she protested. 'If we don't step in, Ed Deepneau is going to commit suicide tonight during that woman's speech and take two thousand people with him.'
'Yeah,' Ralph said, 'and we're going to do whatever we can to stop him, Lois, don't worry about that.' He finished his coffee and set the cup down again. His stomach was fully awake now, and raving for food. 'I could no more stand aside and let Ed kill all those people than I could stand in one place and not duck if someone threw a baseball at my head. It's just that we never got a chance to read the fine print at the bottom of the contract, and that scares me.' He hesitated a moment. 'It also pisses me off.'
'What are you talking about?'
'About being played for a couple of patsies. We know why we're going to try and stop Susan Day's speech; we can't stand the thought of a lunatic killing a couple of thousand innocent people. But we don't know why they want us to do it. That's the part that scares me.'
'We have a chance to save two thousand lives,' she said. 'Are you telling me that's enough for us but not for them?'
'That's what I'm telling you. I don't think numbers impress these fellows very much; they clean us up not just by the tens or hundreds of thousands but by the millions. And they're used to seeing the Random or the Purpose swat us in job lots.'
'Disasters like the fire at the Cocoanut Grove,' Lois said. 'Or the flood here in Derry eight years ago.'
'Yes, but even things like that are pretty small beans compared to what can and does go on in the world every year. The Flood of '85 here in Derry killed two hundred and twenty people, something like that, but last spring there was a flood in Pakistan that killed thirty-five hundred, and the last big earthquake in Turkey killed over four thousand. And how about that nuclear reactor accident in Russia? I read someplace that you can put the floor on that one at seventy thousand dead. That's a lot of Panama hats and jump-ropes and pairs of . . . of eyeglasses, Lois.' He was horrified at how close he had come to saying pairs of earrings.
'Don't,' she said, and shuddered.
'I don't like thinking about it any more than you do,' he said, 'but we have to, if only because those two guys were so goddam anxious to keep us from doing just that. Do you see what I'm getting at yet? You must. Big tragedies have always been a part of the Random; why is this so different?'
'I don't know,' Lois said,'but it was important enough for them to draft us, and I have an idea that was a pretty big step.'
Ralph nodded. He could feel the caffeine hitting him now, jiving up his head, jittering his fingers the tiniest bit. 'I'm sure it was. Now think back to the hospital roof. Did you ever in your entire life hear two guys explain so much without explaining anything?'
'I don't get what you mean,' Lois said, but her face suggested something else: that she didn't want to get what he meant.
'What I mean goes back to one central idea: maybe they can't lie. Suppose they can't. If you have certain information you don't want to give out but you can't tell a lie, what do you do?'
'Keep dancing away from the danger zone,' Lois said. 'Or zones.'
'Bingo. And isn't that what they did?'
'Well,' she said, 'I guess it was a dance, all right, but I thought you did a fair amount of leading, Ralph. In fact, I was impressed by all the questions you asked. I think I spent most of the time we were on that roof just trying to convince myself it was all really happening.'
'Sure, I asked questions, lots of them, but . . .' He stopped, not sure how to express the concept in his head, a concept which seemed simultaneously complex and baby-simple to him. He made another effort to go up a little, searching inside his head for that sensation of blink, knowing that if he could reach her mind, he could show her a picture that would be crystal clear. Nothing happened, and he drummed his fingers on the tablecloth in frustration.
'I was just as amazed as you were,' he said finally. 'If my amazement came out as questions, it's because men - those from my generation, anyway - are taught that it's very bad form to ooh and aah. That's for women who are picking out the drapes.'
'Sexist.' She smiled as she said it, but it was a smile Ralph couldn't return. He was remembering Barbie Richards. If Ralph had move
d toward her, she would almost certainly have pushed the alarm button beneath her desk, but she had allowed Lois to approach because she had swallowed a little too much of the old sister-sister-sister crap.
'Yes,' he said quietly, 'I'm sexist, I'm old-fashioned, and sometimes it gets me in trouble.'
'Ralph, I didn't mean--'
'I know what you meant, and it's okay. What I'm trying to get across to you is that I was as amazed . . . as knocked out . . . as you were. So I asked questions, so what? Were they good questions? Useful questions?'
'I guess not, huh?'
'Well, maybe I didn't start out so badly. As I remember, the first thing I asked when we finally made it to the roof was who they were and what they wanted. They slipped those questions with a lot of philosophical blather, but I imagine they got a little sweaty on the backs of their necks for awhile, just the same. Next we got all that background on the Purpose and the Random - fascinating, but nothing we exactly needed in order to drive out to High Ridge and persuade Gretchen Tillbury to cancel Susan Day's speech. Hell, we would have done better - saved time - getting the road directions from them that we ended up getting from Simone's niece.'
Lois looked startled. 'That's true, isn't it?'
'Yeah. And all the time we were talking, time was flying by the way it does when you go up a couple of levels. They were watching it fly, too, you can believe that. They were timing the whole scene so that when they finished telling us the things we did need to know, there would be no time left to ask the questions they didn't want to answer. I think they wanted to leave us with the idea that this whole thing was a public service, that saving all those lives is what it's all about, but they couldn't come right out and say so, because--'
'Because that would be a lie, and maybe they can't lie.'
'Right. Maybe they can't lie.'
'So what do they want, Ralph?'
He shook his head. 'I don't have a clue, Lois. Not even a hint.'
