Jerry shrugged.
‘He must have some terrible contagious disease,’ Mary said.
‘I guess. But nets? Not a very dignified way to treat a man, even a madman...’
Very quietly, I said, ‘He bit Sam Jasper.’
‘Oh, Christ!’ Jerry said, we looked at each other, sharing an icy thrill of horror and, at that moment, Larsen burst in...
* * * *
Larsen came through the door and his hard, cold face was vibrant with emotion now, his whole lean body taut and quivering.
Ignoring Mary and I, he confronted Jerry.
‘Why in hell didn’t you tell me someone was attacked!’ he shouted.
‘Take it easy,’ Jerry said, thrusting his big jaw out.
‘Who was attacked? You said he didn’t get into the room with Jasper...’
‘Well, now, is that what I said? Well, I guess I said it because it’s true.’ Jerry spoke with controlled fury; he didn’t like Larsen and he didn’t like the man’s approach. Larsen was slightly taken aback.
Calmer, now, he said, ‘I heard that the lighthouse keeper had been attacked.’
‘Yeah. Well. That was before he bolted himself into the lamproom, right? He got hurt a bit before that.’
‘Jesus! You should have told me, Muldoon!’
‘That a fact? Well now, how was I supposed to know that? You never told me a thing. A guy gets attacked, he ain’t hurt bad, I get him to the clinic...what’s the problem?’
‘The clinic? He there now?’
‘Last I saw him.’
‘How long ago was that?’ Larsen snapped. Then he said, ‘Think really carefully, Muldoon. Please.’
Jerry looked at his watch, then at me.
I said, ‘About three hours.’
Larsen turned to me; said, ‘Who the hell are you?’
Jerry said, ‘Yeah, it was just on three hours.’
‘Oh, Christ.’ Larsen said. He was white-faced and his eyes, magnified by the spectacles, seemed huge. He turned, stiffly, as if his spine were fixed in the floor and he was rotating his body around it.
Then he rushed out.
Jerry leaned back against his desk, as if his energy had suddenly been spent. Then he grabbed his hat, slammed it on and started in pursuit of Larsen. Mary and I exchanged a glance and we started after Jerry. Mary called for him to wait and he stopped, waiting for us and watching Larsen. Larsen was running and he ran like a sprinter. I doubted that Jerry could have overtaken him. But Jerry didn’t try, he was content to follow at a fast walk, with Mary and I at his heels. It was only a short distance and when we got there Larsen was standing in the doorway. He hadn’t gone in. And he had a revolver in his hand...
* * * *
‘Now, that’s a strange way to call on a sick man,’ Jerry grunted. He wasn’t being funny. We stepped up behind Larsen and looked past him - looked where he was looking. The matronly nurse was sitting on a bunk. Her uniform was open and there was a bandage on her neck. She was staring at the gun in Larsen’s hand, looking bewildered. Then she saw Jerry move up behind him and figured everything was in hand. She remembered herself and modestly drew her uniform closed.
‘No need for that, young man,’ she said, nodding at Larsen’s gun. She switched her gaze to Jerry. ‘Didn’t you see the doctor?’
‘What happened?’ Larsen asked.
‘I have no idea who you are,’ she said. ‘Didn’t the doctor tell you, Jerry?’
‘I...haven’t seen him.’
‘Oh ... I thought...well, it’s certainly not a matter for firearms...’
Larsen put his gun away. He wore it in a holster on his hip. He left his coat unbuttoned. Jerry started to move past him, but he blocked the doorway, not going in. He said, ‘What happened?’ again and when the nurse looked at Jerry, the sheriff nodded.
She said, ‘Well, it was an awful thing. Sam Jasper ... he seems to have lost his mind. He was sleeping and I looked in on him just as he started having convulsions. Seemed to be in terrible pain. I called the doctor and went over to comfort Sam and all of a sudden he ... he bit me. He sat right up in bed and bit me. Didn’t know what he was doing, of course. He must have been allergic to one of the shots I gave him.’ She fingered the bandage on her neck. ‘It isn’t serious, he just sort of snapped at me. Then he ran out.’
‘Where’s the doctor?’
‘Why, he went looking for Sam. He looked at my neck and saw it wasn’t bad, saw I could take care of it myself, so he set out to bring Sam back before he hurts himself.’
‘How long ago was this...when he bit you?’ Larsen said, speaking each word distinctly.
‘Why...not more than ten, fifteen minutes. I figured you’d run into the doctor, is that why you came along, Jerry?’
Larsen relaxed visibly. I could see his shoulders roll as they untensed. He stepped on into the room then. ‘Was the doctor hurt...wounded...too?’ he asked.
‘Why, no. He was in his lab. I’m not really hurt, either...it’s just a scratch. Sam meant no harm.’
‘He broke the skin, though?’
‘Well, yes. Who is this man, Jerry?’
‘I ain’t sure, Ma’am,’ Jerry said, looking at Larsen. Larsen had moved to the desk. He lifted the phone. The nurse said, ‘Phone isn’t working, young man; could have told you that had you asked permission to use it.’ Larsen ignored her. He snapped something into the phone, a number or code. The phone squawked. A moment later Larsen was speaking.
* * * *
They came for the nurse in an ambulance, three attendants and two of Larsen’s men. She protested. ‘Nothing wrong with me,’ she said, ‘and if there were the doctor could take care of it. I’m a trained nurse, I know when...’
‘Please don’t be difficult,’ Larsen said. ‘This is for your own good. You , . . you may have contracted a rare disease...Well, it’s best that we examine you, that’s all.’
‘Jerry?’ she asked.
Jerry looked embarrassed. He said, ‘Well, maybe you had ought to let them have a look, Julia.’
‘Well ... if you say so. Lot of nonsense, you ask me. But I don’t need the stretcher, I’m not in shock.’
‘Please get on the stretcher,’ Larsen said. He nodded and one of the attendants took her by the arm. She bristled. Jerry said, ‘Now, see here, Larsen...this woman is a civilian, you have no authority to order her around. She said she’d come and—’
Larsen wheeled on Jerry. I thought he was going to shout. But when he spoke, his voice was soft, almost pleading. He said, ‘Muldoon, don’t interfere in this. Please. There are things you don’t understand.’ Jerry’s big jaw was sliding out like an avalanche, but something in Larsen’s soft tone stopped his anger. He said, ‘I guess you’d better do what he says, Julia. I’m sorry. I don’t know what the hell’s going on.’
The nurse made a huffing sound. She shook off the attendant’s hand and climbed onto the stretcher as if mounting an inflated horse in the water, trying to be dignified about it. She lay back and the attendants pulled the straps around her, with her arms against her flanks. ‘Ow! Not so tight,’ she said. ‘This is absurd. You don’t need those .. .’
‘Use ‘em,’ Larsen said. The nurse looked at Jerry and Jerry looked at Larsen. Jerry didn’t like anything about this, but he was past protesting. His shoulders drooped. They carried the nurse out and loaded her into the back of the ambulance, still strapped tightly to the stretcher.
Larsen watched them drive off. Then he looked at his watch, lowered his arm and immediately raised it again, as if the time hadn’t registered on the first look. His lips moved slightly, counting to himself...counting the minutes since or the minutes until...what?
* * * *
Larsen went out of the door, buttoning his jacket. On the doorstep he turned back and said, ‘Muldoon, you want to help, see if you can find the doctor. Keep him away from Sam Jasper. We’ll find Jasper ourselves. I hope.’ Without awaiting a reply, he moved off. Little eddies of dust swirled at his heels. As soo
n as he was out of sight I lifted the telephone, wanting desperately to get through to Elston. The switchboard that had just made contact for Larsen grated the same, ‘I’m sorry, sir, the lines are out of order.’
Winking at Jerry, I said, ‘This is Larsen.’
There was a pause.
Then the voice, sounding human for the first time, said, ‘You’re not Larsen. Who is this?’
I slammed the phone down.
‘Well, it was worth a try,’ I said, feeling silly. Jerry grinned, but not much. He was lost in thought...thinking about things that, as Larsen had said, he did not understand. It was a hell of a position for a sheriff to be in. It wasn’t so good for a newspaperman, either.
‘Mary,’ I said, ‘I think maybe you’d better run me over to the Keys...’
* * * *
X
Mary and I walked down the cobbled street and turned into the docks. Mary looked at me, frowning, her step faltering. The gates were closed and locked and there was an armed guard on the other side of the wire. She raised her eyebrows and I shrugged. We walked on to the gate and the navy guard came to polite attention. ‘Sorry, ma’am...sir...no one is permitted through until further notice.’ I was going to speak, but Mary had her bag open; showed him her Coast Guard ID card. His eyes skimmed it. ‘I have to use the launch,’ she said. He was a young fellow and not too sure of himself. He said, ‘Just a moment, please,’ and went back to the guard house. Through the window we could see him talking on the telephone. He came back out, slightly flushed, as if he’d just been given a rocket. ‘Sorry, no one is...’ He broke off the rote statement and grinned sheepishly. ‘They said you couldn’t go through,’ he told us. ‘Sorry.’
‘You mean no one is allowed off the island?’ I said.
‘Well, I wouldn’t know about that, sir. No one is allowed through this gate, is all I know.’
‘What the hell is it all about?’ I tried to sound formidable and authoritative. ‘Some sort of quarantine?’
‘Dunno, sir. Heard it was smallpox, or something.’
‘Well, so much for that,’ I said. Mary was still holding her ID card out in front of her. She tightened her fist, crumpling it. I nodded to the guard and he saluted and Mary and I walked back from the harbour.
I said, ‘Well, whatever they’re afraid of, they sure as hell can’t keep it a secret now. Closing the island off...that will have to be explained...’
‘Which means that they’re more afraid than secretive,’ she said. ‘That it’s more important to keep...something...contained on Pelican, than it is to keep it secret. . .’
‘I wonder how long?’
‘I guess you’ll get your story,’ she said, smiling a little. ‘I didn’t get you down here for nothing, Jack. You’ll have an exclusive ... if they ever let you write it.’
That disturbed me. We came out onto the waterfront. Quite a few men were standing about, shrimpers and fishermen and local shopkeepers, discussing the situation. No one seemed to know what it was all about, but they all thought it an unwarranted liberty. They were angry and surly and they glared at the shore patrolmen, who looked as confused as everyone else. Someone, loudly, said, ‘I don’t give a damn what they say, I’m taking my boat out in the morning and ain’t nobody about to stop me.’ Several other voices joined in, agreeing. ‘...burn the damn place down...’ ‘Didn’t want ‘em here, the first place...’ They weren’t a mob yet, they stood in individual clusters, but they were plenty angry. I said, ‘Someone had better give them an explanation pretty damn soon or things could get ugly.’
‘I’m going back to Jerry’s; if they have decided to bring things out in the open they ought to let him know first. Coming?’
I hesitated. ‘No, I think I’ll go back to the Red Walls. I’d like to get my notes written up as much as I can...have them ready as soon as the phones are working or I can get a boat.’
Mary walked off. I turned in the opposite direction. I had to pass several groups of men, but no one glared at me, they hadn’t mistaken me for the enemy. Maybe they knew just who I was, as far as that went ... I hadn’t been very subtle. Things had just moved too fast to even think about building a cover story. Well, I wasn’t worried about that, now. Worried, yes. But not about that. . .
* * * *
XI
What were they playing at, those government bastards: what was Jerry Muldoon thinking of, letting them take Nurse Jeffries away? It was different with a crazy guy that ate dead dogs ... he was one of them and, anyhow, what harm could you do to a guy that already ate dead dogs? But Nurse Jeffries was a local; they were fiercely possessive. That was the thread that ran, embellished by rare obscenities, through the pattern of the talk in the bar of the Red Walls. The crowd was feasting on their resentment, a smorgasbord of rancour; indignation gurgled like a percolator and invective was chewed and savoured in lumps, like a fat sausage. ‘Ain’t the point. Maybe they has got proper doctors up to there, ain’t the point; they didn’t take her ‘cause it was best for her, they took her ‘cause Jerry let em!’
* * * *
They were in an ugly mood, although it probably wasn’t particularly ugly for such a gathering. I had intended to go straight to my room, avoiding the bar, but I heard the loud conversation from the doorway and it intrigued me. I figured I would be able to get some good background material from the outraged locals. I went past the stairs, but in the doorway of the bar, I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go in there, or that I should. The bar seemed to have become an informal sort of townhall for shrimpers and fishermen, a place where mobs are born and lynchings launched. This was as rough a group of men as I’d ever encountered. I’d heard talk of the old days, when things were rougher, but they were plenty rough for me, with their Buck knives and bill hooks in their belts and their leather skin all seamed with veins. Not sure of my welcome, I looked in from the doorway. A dozen men were strung out along the bar and one woman, with net stockings and a black eye, had hiked herself up on the counter.
A beefy, bearded man was saying, ‘Like telling us we can’t go to our boats. What the hell! They’re our boats!’
‘Like saying we can’t fetch a little rum, a little Havana, up from the islands.’
‘That’s different. That’s agin the law. It ain’t right, but it ain’t lawful.’
‘Politicians!’ said a thin man with long black hair drawn back in a ponytail and a scar down his cheek. ‘Politicians, see, they got to be crooked by their nature. See it? They weren’t crooked, they would never of riz in politics. Figures, don’t it? But you or I do something what they ain’t told us to do, they pass a law what makes us crooked.’
‘These guys ain’t politicians, though.’
‘They’re bastards, though...’
* * * *
The bartender nodded in agreement with the piratical philosopher and, nodding, spotted me in the doorway. He sensed my uncertainty and waved me in. Everyone else, seeing his gesture, turned to look at me. They stopped talking and stared at me, grim and hard-eyed. I knew how the misguided stick-up man must have felt when they turned on him, aborting his crime. They didn’t look hostile, exactly, but they looked infinitely capable of hostility.
Dark Terrors 5 - The Gollancz Book of Horror - [Anthology] Page 70
