A Rage for Revenge watc-3

by David Gerrold

  He didn't answer, but he never took his eyes off me. Betty-John Tremaine came hustling up then, a collection of freckles with strawberry-blonde hair; it couldn't decide whether to be yellow or red, so settled instead on an unholy pale pink color that floated around her face like a glowing corona. Her attempts to tan had turned her into the source of all freckles; they sometimes called her complexion Mother-Of-Freckle, but never to her face. She had been pretty once; she still was, but now in a leathery sort of way. "Oh, hi, Jim; I'm glad you're here. The kids okay?"

  "Just fine."

  Ollie, the driver, was frowning. "You kids were supposed to stay on the bus."

  "It was too hot for them," I said. "I told them to get off."

  "Well . . ."

  B-Jay ignored him. She had sized him up as accurately as I had. "Come on, kids. We've got some cold lemonade and baloney sandwiches and cookies and peach ice cream all waiting to be eaten up. Oh, who has to go potty?" She began herding them toward the mess hall. "Then we'll get you some clean clothes and-oh my, look at how dirty some of you are. Well, we'll all go swimming and wash off all the dirt in the creek-hi, what's your name, peanut?-and then we'll give you your own rooms to stay in, and-who likes movies? Let me see your hands. Okay, we'll show a movie too."

  "I've got a couple too small too walk," Ollie said, obviously annoyed at something, her-or me, probably.

  "So, I'll carry one and Jim . . . ?"

  "Oh, sure," I said. "I don't mind. I was making friends anyway. "

  One of the older girls-maybe twelve or thirteen, but as gaunt as the rest-piped up. "I can carry one. I've been carrying him all week. I can carry him a little farther. I don't think he's feeling too good though. He's all hot and . . ."

  "Well, let me see . . . you're right, we'll get him to the infirmary right away. What's your name, honey? Susan? Okay, you carry him. I'll carry this little lady in pink here, and--oof, she's heavy! Okay, kids, see that yellow building up there, that's where we're going."

  I started to follow, bringing up the rear, watching for stragglers, or escapees, when I felt a tug at my arm. I looked down, and round-eyed Alec silently slipped his hand into mine.

  "Well," I said. "You want to walk with me? Okay, let's go." I guess I felt kind of proud. Maybe I could be trusted after all. Or maybe he just felt he ought to try to get along with someone who'd just proven he had the right to hit. Either way.

  Holly took my other hand, because she was my friend now, and the older boy, whose name was Tommy, tagged carefully along on the other side of Alec. He made a point of taking Alec's hand, possession being nine points of the law.

  I wondered if I could win him over. "Where are all of you from, Tommy?"

  "I don't know. We all came from the center. That's in Sacramento. Alec and I are from Klamath and Holly's from Orinda. "

  "I know Orinda," I said. "That's where the big Jell-O Foundry used to be."

  "I never saw it," said Holly, blankly. So much for jokes.

  Tommy added, "I don't know where all the rest are from."

  "It doesn't matter, you're all at Family now."

  "Family? What's that?"

  "This is Family. That's the name of this place."

  "That's a funny name." That was Holly.

  "So is Holly a funny name."

  She pouted. "It is not."

  "Well then, neither is Family."

  "I thought a family was a mommy and a daddy and all their children. "

  "That's right. Only here, we have a lot of mommies and daddies and children. It's all one big Family. So that's what we call it."

  She eyed me with curious suspicion. "Are you a daddy?"

  "Nope. "

  "Then what are you?"

  "I'm me. I help out."

  "Doing what?"

  "Oh, I get to spank all the bad kids and kiss all the good ones."

  "Oh." She edged a little bit away, even let go of my hand. A minute later, she grabbed hold of it again. Apparently, she figured I was safe after all. She said, "I guess that's okay. I'll even help tell you who all the bad ones are."

  "Oh, I think I can tell without any help."

  "I'll help anyway, okay?"

  "Okay."

  We got to the mess hall then and followed the rest of the crowd in. B-Jay was sitting the kids down at long tables, propping the smaller ones up on cushions, snapping orders at Daddy Potts and the other cooks and assistants, even as she kept up a running patter with all seventeen of the kids simultaneously. "Get Doc over here fast, and Nurse Ivy too; some of these kids have infections, but I want to get some food in them first. Daddy, let's get some big bowls of soup on the tables. And then we promised them all sandwiches and lemonade-no, you can't drink your lemonade until you finish your soup-and have we got any of that peach ice cream left? Well, so we won't have it for dinner tonight. The kids are more important-what's that? No, you won't have to get a shot. Unless you need it; Doctor Birdie-yes, that's her real name-is a very good doctor. She doesn't like to give shots. Jim, will you help out here please? Sit down at that end and help those three you brought up."

  "Come on, Alec and Holly and Tom--can I call you Tom instead of Tommy? We'll sit over here."

  I lifted Alec onto a chair. Too short. I looked around quickly, grabbed a cushion and slid it under him. He was holding onto his bear with both hands. "Hey," I said seriously. "It's going to be hard for you to eat unless you put Bear down. Nobody's going to take him." Something told me not to try taking the bear away from him myself. He had to surrender it on his own. In fact, I wouldn't even touch that bear without his permission. That possessiveness was a signal.

  I got up and went over to the steam table, snagged a tray, put some soup and crackers on it, some bread and butter, some celery, uarrots, what else would be attractive to a hungry, dirty child? Sandwiches? Definitely-and apples too. I went back to the table and started distributing the goodies.

  Holly had already made up her mind that I could be trusted. She started eating immediately. Tommy checked me out first, sniffed his soup, then began eating slowly, with manners even. Alec just stared.

  I looked around the room. The other kids were gobbling up the food as fast as it was being dealt out to them by Daddy Potts and his helpers and B-Jay and just about every other available man, woman, and teenager in the area. Just about every kid had someone fussing over him, it seemed, but it was really just an illusion of motion, there weren't that many adults available. These three apparently were mine for the moment. I sighed. Okay. Turned back to Alec.

  "You're going to have to put Bear down." He shook his head.

  I considered the situation. He trusted me. A little bit anyway. But he was shy and he was scared and he was in a terrifying new situation. I reached over and stroked his hair. It was very fine and soft, even though it was matted with dirt. There is something about stroking a young child's head that is intensely sensitive. Not just the trust it requires, but the actual sensation itself-something, I think, that harkens back to animal roots and instincts.

  Then I had an idea, something from my own childhood. I leaned over and kissed him gently on the forehead. And then I leaned down and kissed Bear too.

  His eyes went as wide as they could with surprise.

  I ignored the look, shifted the bowl of soup directly in front of him, picked up a spoon and offered it to him.

  He eyed the soup. And me. And the spoon. And Bear. Shapeless old Bear. And then he did it all again.

  "Well, if you don't want any, let's see if Bear does." I offered Bear the spoon. "Mmmm, there, you see-Bear likes it. Isn't that good? What's that, Bear? More? Well, wait a minute, let's see if Alec wants some. We have to take turns here." I dipped the spoon in the bowl and held it out to Alec. "Your turn."

  Alec's mouth opened almost before he could think about it. I popped the spoon in quickly. "That's the way." His eyes widened slightly in surprise. The soup was good. I gave him a second spoonful, then a third, before he realized he'd been had. He almost starte
d to pout, but there was a fourth spoonful of soup staring back at him. With a piece of meat in it.

  He made up his mind. He very carefully kissed Bear and held him out to me. "Will you hold him?"

  I started to reach, then stopped just short of touching. "You're sure now? You're sure he'll be okay?"

  He bit his lip. Maybe I shouldn't have asked that question. "He's very scared," said Alec. "You'll have to hold him and tell him he's a good bear."

  "Okay. " I took Bear carefully into my lap. A torso and one arm. No head. But there was still enough to love. How much of a bear did you have to lose anyway before you lost the soul? Probably a lot more than a head and three limbs.

  Alec took the spoon from me and insisted on feeding himself. He pulled the bowl as close to his face as he could and hunkered down over it and spooned the hot vegetable soup into his mouth quickly, looking around all the while as if afraid someone were going to take it away from him. He kept looking over at me and Bear. Bear especially. I made a big show out of stroking Bear and feeding him crackers-to his neck hole. That seemed the most appropriate aperture. Alec was working on his second bowl of soup before he remembered that it was Bear's turn again, but Bear wasn't hungry any more, he'd been filled up on crackers, so Alec had to finish the soup himself.

  "Good, huh?" I asked.

  Alec was too busy eating and Bear had his neck full of cracker. I took that as answer enough.

  Half a table away, someone spilled a glass of milk and started crying

  "Oohhhh, we had an accident!" That was B-Jay, already rushing up with a towel. Daddy Potts was right behind her with a fresh glass of milk. "It's all right, honey, don't cry. There's lots more milk where that came from. Jim?" She looked over at me. "We'll need a mop."

  I started to get up, but Alec's sudden start stopped me. "Uh I can't. "

  "Huh?"

  I held up Bear. "I'm Bear-sitting."

  She looked puzzled, almost ready to get mad; then she saw Alec and caught it. "Oh, okay."

  I was beginning to catch on. The kids were all-important. Whatever else, save the kids. We didn't know what they'd been through, and we didn't have the time to dig into their personal histories. We had to feed them, bathe them, play with them, hold them, kiss their hurts, physical and psychological, and do whatever else they needed right away-because these kids needed one thing more than anything else: assurance that they were safe. Their every need had to be met now, not next week, or an hour from now, or some indefinite later. These kids didn't know later, they only knew now. And these kids were scared. Whatever they'd been through, they were all of them terrified that it wasn't over, not yet; that this . . . this illusion we called Family was only a temporary and unreal Oz and that they would be sent back to Kansas and the desperate hunger of reality all too soon. They were

  248DAVID GERROLD

  grabbing hungrily for whatever we could give them because they were too damned scared that it wouldn't last and they would have to go hungry again for days at a time, or that they might get beaten, or might have no warm place to sleep or even to hide. Most of all, they were scared that there would be no one to hug them and tell them that they were good and that everything would be all right, even when they knew it really wouldn't. These kids were smart, all kids are. They knew when things weren't all right, but they still needed a parent to tell them that things werebecause it's the existence of that parent that makes everything all right, someone strong they can depend on. What they needed most was someone else who cared and would be responsible for them. For a little while, anyway. A kid isn't ready to be responsible for himself; it makes him old before his time, makes him forget what laughing is for-so if that meant sitting and holding a stuffed piece of bear that was falling apart even as I held it while milk, which was selling at KC 3.23 a gallon, dripped onto the floor, well, that's what it meant. Milk could be wiped up any time. But Alec insisted that Bear had to be held. And that meant now. And I had a hunch about that, too--he wasn't talking about Bear. He was talking about Alee.

  What was the word? Projection? Never mind. That was textbook, this was people. Alec couldn't allow himself to show weakness. Not ever. So it was Bear who needed the hug. I sat there and hugged Bear.

  Holly and Tommy were working on sandwiches. Alec was having trouble with his, but he refused Holly's help. I put it back together for him-he was willing to accept my help-and placed it firmly in both hands. Tuna salad. Very messy. But good. I licked off my fingers. It was only recently that tuna had come back from being a delicacy to a staple. I'd missed it. Some of the side effects of the Recede weren't all bad. Alec was staring at me. "You weren't supposed to eat it, only fix it."

  I put the sandwich together for him again, and this time wiped my hand surreptitiously on my shorts. I'd have to sneak down to the kitchen later and feed my own bear.

  B-Jay was standing and counting quietly. "Seventeen," she muttered. "Three down in the infirmary, fourteen beds . . . damn. All right, Betty-John, let's figure this one out by eight tonight. Baths. Right--down to the creek. We'll take 'em swimming and sneak some soap up behind them; probably leave a ring around the whole reservoir. We'll need underpants, sandals, shirts, shorts, definitely Band-Aids. . . .

  A RAGE FOR REVENGE249

  Someone screamed, one of the little girls. She was standing on her chair and pointing at the door.

  "Oh, that's only old Wag," said Betty-John. "She won't hurt you."

  Wag was a mangy-skinny, scrawny, count-the-ribs-fromtwenty-meters, old yellow dog with a tongue that lolled halfway to the ground. She was a collection of haphazard pieces of dog: a cockeyed grin; knobby legs; splayed feet; large brown eyes that rolled this way and that, looking for a handout or even a friendly pat; and a gangling, ungainly way of walking that made you wonder why she didn't keep stepping on her ears-her head dipped and bobbed. Dr. Frankenstein must have started out by experimenting with boneless animals.

  The little girl was almost hysterical now. Most of the other children were upset and disturbed too, probably thinking, Is this the proper response? Should I be screaming too?

  Wag lolled her tongue, rolled her eyes, did her clown act, left out the juggling though, and gangled into the room. The child screamed.

  B-Jay was already swooping her into her arms. "Wag's okay, she's just a dog."

  "A dog!" cried the girl. "A dog!"

  Uh-huh. Right. The kid didn't think of dogs as friendly animals. Dogs were large, vicious things that bit you and stole your food. I'd bet money on what this kid had been through. "She won't hurt you."

  "Let me shoo her out, B-Jay." Little Ivy.

  "No! Wag is a member of this family too. We're all friends here. Patty and I will go eat in the back room, so Wag can meet her new friends." Still talking, she started walking. "Come on, Patty. "

  "No-! I don't want to go!" "Then we'll stay here!" "No!"

  "Well, then what do you want?"

  "Make it go away!" She pointed at Wag.

  "Uh-uh. " Betty-John was firm. "No, honey. Wag is part of our family. She won't hurt you, not any more than I would or ugly old Jim would or anyone would. You can't ask us to push anyone out of the family. We wouldn't do it any more than we would let someone push you out."

  The girl looked at her, a funny expression on her face. "Do you want to finish lunch?" B-Jay was firm.

  "Uh-huh." The girl nodded.

  "In here?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "if I promise you Wag won't hurt you, will you sit and eat quietly?"

  "Oh . . kay. . . "

  Wag lolled around the room, sniffing and licking and gladly accepting handouts from tentatively lowered hands. She inspected the floor as she went, licking stray scraps into her mouth. Rule number K-9: Anything that falls on the floor is legally mine. She almost managed to chew with her mouth closed, too; for a dog, she had exceptional table manners. She even came up and sniffed Bear a friendly hello.

  Alec stiffened, and when Wag slurped Bear-actually a tiny gobbet of tuna sa
lad-he looked very suspicious.

  "Did he bite Bear?" To Alec, all dogs were he, and all pussycats were undoubtedly she.

  "Nope," I said. "She only tasted him. I think she likes Bear."

  "Is he going to bite him now?"

  "No. Wag doesn't bite. He-she only slurps. Like this." I leaned over and slurped his cheek. "Mmm, good. Soup." Alec giggled and wiped with the back of his hand.

  Holly looked surprised. "Hey, he laughed!"

  I turned to her. "What's so surprising about that?"

  "He doesn't talk much. And he never laughs."

  "Not even if he's tickled?" I said it seriously.

  She tilted her head back and eyed me. "You can't tickle us."

  "Betcha I can."

  "You're not allowed to."

  "Who says?"

  "Uh . . I says."

  "Well, we'll just have to see about that . . . "

  She could too be tickled. And so could Alec. And even Tommy, a little. Not only that, they could even laugh-a little. Even Bear looked a little happier-at least for someone without any head, he looked happier. It was hard to tell.

  There was a young man from St. Helens

  afflicted with shrinkin's and swellin's.

  His dick was so small

  it was not there at all,

  but his balls looked like honeydew melons.

  31

  Bargaining

  "Nobody ever died badly. They got the job done, didn't they?"

  -SOLOMON SHORT

  The bargaining part of the process seemed to stretch forever. But it wasn't I who did the bargaining; it was the rest of the trainees in the room. I'd already made up my mind that I wasn't going to bargain.

  I was too proud.

  It was like all those scenes in all those movies where the killer is going to shoot someone and the victim begs for mercy-and then gets shot anyway. All that the victim ever accomplishes is the loss of his or her dignity.

  I didn't want to be like that.