It's Alive! (16 page)

The note slipped from Frank’s fingers and fell to the floor. Lenore picked it up and looked at it.

“I don’t understand, Frank, I don’t understand at all.”

He shook his head.

“But he must have said something. You talked to him. You told him you were going to take your vacation. You said everything was all right.” Tears were in her eyes.

“I wasn’t being quite honest with you, Lenore. It was Buck who insisted I get away for a while.
I
didn’t want to go. I wanted to keep working, keep my mind occupied. He made me go. But he never said anything about this.”

“But why? Why would he fire you? You had his top accounts.”

Frank went to the bar and poured himself some Chivas. He drank it straight and poured some more. “He fired me, Lenore, for public-relations reasons. I should have expected it.”

“But you were the best PR man he had—he says it himself.”

“He didn’t fire me for public-relations
work,
just public-relations
reasons.
With all that has happened, I guess I became a millstone for the company. I would make clients uncomfortable, nervous. And in this business, that’s the worst thing you can do, no matter how good your work is. So, along with everything else, our family now has,” he drained his drink, “no breadwinner.”

“Couldn’t you talk to him, Frank, reason with him? Maybe
I
should talk to him. I could explain—”

“No, no, no. I understand it completely. Buck did the right thing, business-wise. I just happen to be the unlucky one lately, falling into one trap after another.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Maybe the hospital PR job’s still open. Be a natural for me, even at half the salary I’ve been making. I’d be a real insider.”

“What do you mean by failing into traps?”

He slammed his glass on the bar. “You know goddam good and well what I mean, Lenore! I’ve worked hard all these years to be good at what I do for a living, and to be a good husband and father. What did I ever do to deserve getting kicked in the belly like this?”

“But, Frank, what did
I
ever do?”

“I don’t
know
what you did. Pills, garbage, God-knows-what . . . But whatever you did got you that damn mutated animal that’s running around out there killing people! It’s already cost me my job, and who knows what else it’ll cost me before it’s through!”

“But, Frank, you’re the
father!”

“I’m
not
the father! There
is
no father! That thing isn’t human! It isn’t mine! It’s
yours,
Lenore, and it’s tearing my life apart!”

“Mine?” She sat staring at him, dumbfounded. Her eyes were dry. She blinked hard a few times, then smiled. “I’ve got to finish up in the kitchen.” She got up and smoothed her hair. “Don’t go upstairs just yet, I’ve got a little more straightening up to do—our bed’s still a mess. And then, you know what? I’ll make us a nice dinner. How about a roast? Yes.” She headed for the kitchen with a bouncy step. “Roast and baked potatoes and lima beans. And maybe I’ll whip up a fresh cabbage slaw. We haven’t had that in a long time.”

“Lenore.”

“And before that, just to keep you from starving, I’ll mix up an onion dip with celery sticks.”

“Lenore!” His eyes were wet.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

“What was that, dear?”

In the kitchen, she began pulling out pots and utensils and clanking them onto the stove. “You mean about no breadwinner? Oh, I’m not worried. I have so much confidence in you. With a month to play with, you’ll come up with something super—better than what you had.” She trotted and twirled in the kitchen, her face flushed, reaching out this way and that to accumulate meat, potatoes, vegetables, and pile them on the counter. “I never thought that Buck Clayton had a big enough operation for you, anyway—no room to grow. He’s a lecher, Buck is. Did you know that?” She began chopping up cabbage, her hand a mechanical blur. “He even said something to me once, about getting me alone, showing me a real good time. I’m glad you’re out of that place.”

Frank came up behind her and closed her in his arms. “Please, Lenore, listen to me, slow down . . .” Her entire body was tense with kinetic energy. “I didn’t mean that, about being trapped. I love you so.”

She spun from his grasp, then leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “And I love you. Later I’ll show you. Right now just let me put this dinner together, okay? Dip’ll be ready in a minute. Have you talked to Chris today?”

“He’s up at the lake with Charley, you know that. Won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“Good. Just us. Like honeymooners. You’re in my way, lover. Wait in the den, okay? I’ll bring the dip to you.”

She stood smiling up at him. Then the smile faded, her knees buckled, she tottered backward, and slumped down into a chair. She tilted slowly over, until her head was resting on the table. She shivered.

“What’s wrong?” He knelt beside her and put his hand on her head. “Lenore, what is it?”

Her eyes were half closed. “I’m just so tired, Frank, and cold.”

He hugged her. “But all of a sudden like that?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been so up and down lately. My head is spinning. I’m not dizzy, exactly. Confused. Sometimes I feel like I’m floating outside myself, like my body’s not my own.”

“You’ve exhausted yourself. And I haven’t helped at all. Come on, let me get you into bed. I’m so sorry for the things I said, for thinking only of myself, for being such a weakling. I’ll carry you up.”

“No, I’m okay. I’ll go up myself. This usually passes in a few minutes.”

He took her arm and helped her up the stairs and tucked her into bed. He kissed her on the forehead and went back down to sit in the den. He poured a drink and sprawled out in the soft chair and fell asleep.

Sometime later in the night the phone rang. Frank answered it groggily.

“Mr. Davis? This is Lieutenant Perkins. Sorry to be bothering you so late, but it’s important. Could you meet me right away over at the Darwin School? There’s something here I’d like you to see, and ask you about. Just tell my men at the front door you’re here to see me.”

It stemmed, in a way, from one of those minor school-board matters. Having to cut back on their budget, they had sliced out funds for the night watchman, letting the old man go, after all those years, with a Good Citizen plaque and a small pension. But then, after a series of incidents of petty vandalism, they had installed in the lower windows—at slightly higher cost than to retain the watchman—a silent alarm system hooked up directly to police headquarters.

And so, when entry was made tonight through one of the first-floor windows, the police had been instantly alerted, and cars arrived on the scene within minutes.

Before the cars arrived, one of the many foot patrolmen assigned to each block of Westwood and vicinity during the several days’ search for the monster-baby responded to a message on his walkie-talkie and ran around the corner to the dark, square, two-story brick school. Following instructions, he didn’t go in, but scouted the windows from the outside. He quickly found one open and heard noises inside: the tinkling of a music box, the rattling of blocks, the rolling of plastic wheels across the floor.

Eight cars quickly converged on the scene, their sirens silent. Three were locals, and five State Troopers.

Most of the men fanned out to encircle the building. Detective Perkins took a small unit to the front door, followed closely by Captain Sanford and a handful of Troopers.

“Step aside, lieutenant,” the captain said, “my men’ll blow that door right off its hinges.”

“No need.” Perkins nodded to one of his men, who stooped at the door with a tiny tool, quickly slipped the lock, and shoved the door open.

“Okay,” Perkins said quietly, “stay together until I tell you to split up. Keep your mouths shut and easy on your trigger fingers.”

They entered the building, the local policemen holding their revolvers at their shoulders pointed up, the Troopers cradling their shotguns. They spread out along the main hallway.

“Where the hell’s the lights?” came a whisper. “Wall switches don’t work.”

“Must be turned off by some master switch, automatically timed. Use your flashlights.”

Beams from a dozen flashlights sprayed around the yellow walls, into open classrooms; heavy breathing from a dozen men filled the hall.

“Brunt. Where’s Patrolman Brunt?”

“Right here, lieutenant,” he whispered back.

“What room was it where you heard the noise?”

“I think it must be right down here, third door on the right.”

The door was closed. Detective Perkins slowly turned the knob and eased it open. Lights played around the room, covering every corner. Nothing moved.

Perkins and three of his men edged inside. Toys were strewn all over the room. A hand-painted poster that said, “Darwin Kindergarten,” with flowers and a sun on it, lay on the floor. Perkins stumbled over a tiny merry-go-round that responded with a few dying notes of its song.

“That’s it, lieutenant, that’s what I heard.”

With his foot, Perkins sent a fire engine rolling across the wooden floor.

“That too.”

Again with his foot, he pushed over a pile of blocks.

“Yeah, that’s it. Somebody was in here, all right.”

“Or thing.”

“Yeah.”

“Not here now.”

“If it was,” came the hoarse growl of Captain Sanford, “we’d have it plastered all over the wall before it could say A-B-C.”

“You stayed right outside the window, Brunt?” Perkins asked.

“Yes sir, just like you said, all the time until the men had the building surrounded.”

“So maybe it’s still in here.”

“I sure hope so,” muttered Sanford.

“You got all your men together, captain?”

“Sent ’em on ahead, spread ’em to reconnoiter the ground floor.”

“I thought I said to—”

“Every one of my men is like a guerrilla fighter, lieutenant, handle himself in any situation.”

Detective Perkins gritted his teeth. “Okay, let’s seal off this room. We’ll take the rooms one by one, check ’em, seal ’em off.”

“Lieutenant, look at this!”

Perkins aimed his light. The patrolman was on one knee beside the poster. Next to him several small bottles of paints were tipped over. And from these blobs of paint, which the patrolman now pointed at, were several tracks of drying color, tracks resembling the spoor of a very large bird.

“It musta walked in this stuff, lieutenant! It left a trail!”

Several flashlight beams converged on the tracks and moved slowly along them, toward the men themselves. The tracks—mixtures of faint blue, gold, and red—passed directly under them. The men stepped aside, their lights tracing the tracks out the door and down the hallway.

The men stood where they were, allowing their flashlight beams to move farther and farther along the hallway away from them, toward the broad stairway at the end.

“Any of your men upstairs, captain?”

Sanford flashed his light around behind him, at the men herded together. “Nope. All here again, as ordered.”

“Except Darcey, captain,” came a voice from the rear. “Trooper Darcey maybe went up.”

Perkins snapped his head around to the captain. “Jesus!”

“He’ll be all right. Top man. Anything’s up there, he’ll get it.”

The two leaders moved slowly down the hallway, the others bunched up behind them, all tilting their lights to see the poster paint, bird-like tracks reaching out ahead of them, but growing fainter, on the floor.

They reached the foot of the stairs and stopped to shine their lights up. The tracks had disappeared; the paint was gone. Halfway up was a landing, and the stairs doubled back over their heads.

“Darcey?” Perkins called softly. “Trooper Darcey?”

“If he’s on the job, lieutenant, stalking something up there, he won’t answer.”

“Maybe he didn’t go up there, captain,” somebody said. “Maybe he went outside. He said he needed to take a leak.”

Detective Perkins started upward, the others pressed behind him. They reached the landing and stopped. Perkins held up his hand. There wasn’t a sound. They then made the turn and went up the last section of stairs to the top. The men gathered and all shined their lights down the long hall.

Nothing.

Captain Sanford leaned back into the group. “Couple you Troopers go on back down. Go outside, see if Darcey’s out there. Ask our men out there if they saw anybody go out.”

“Yes sir.”

Two Troopers trotted down the stairs.

“Okay. Room by room,” Perkins commanded. “Captain, take your Troopers down the left side. We’ll take the right.”

The captain nodded and motioned his men forward to the first room on the left.

Detective Perkins panned his light down the hall, then flashed in at the first room on the right. The door was open. All the classroom doors were open. He started toward the first room. He stopped and flashed his light down the hall again.

Except one room. Fourth down on the right. The door was closed.

Perkins held up his hand, then just one finger, and slowly brought it down to point at that closed door. His men fell in beside him, walking softly, heel-and-toe.