The Totem 1979 (34 page)

Marge leaned against the wall.

“Hey, why not go home?” Slaughter suggested. “There isn’t anything that you can do here. You’ll be told whatever happens.”

“What about yourself?”

“Oh, don’t you know? I’m trying for a record. How long I can go without sleep.”

He hoped that would make her smile, but she only stared.

“Marge, I know that what you did was hard.”

She studied him.

“I know that if there’d been another way you would have chosen it. I think that you did fine. I wish you wouldn’t feel so bad.”

‘You’d feel the same.”

“Of course, I would. But then I’d need a friend like you to say what I just said to you. I mean it. You did fine. I don’t want you to worry.”

“Thanks.” Marge bit her lip. “But it doesn’t help.”

“All the same, go home. I’ll get word to you.”

She nodded. Even so, she lingered.

“Come on. Let me walk you down.”

He touched her arm, and she responded, walking with him along the hallway. Neither looked at Cody. At the corner, she glanced back at the windows in the wall down there, and then she went downstairs with him, and he was watching by the back door as she walked across the parking lot.

That poor, sad, lonely, tortured woman, he was thinking. When she raised that baseball bat, she must have been in agony. He waved in farewell as she drove away, then thought a moment before heading toward the phone inside the nurses’ station.

He’d avoided making this call much too long, reluctantly dialing Parsons’ number, and the man answered, sleepy, angry.

“Slaughter? Eight o’clock? On Sunday? Can’t this wait until a decent hour?”

“No, we really have to talk.”

“Well, Jesus, Slaughter-“

“This is serious. We don’t have too much time.”

Parsons exhaled. “All right, then. I’ll see you in my office in an hour. But this better be important.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Slaughter told him. “You’ll wish that you didn’t know.”

Slaughter frowned and hung up. He was thinking that in all the years he’d lived here he had never been to Parsons’ house, and he wondered why just now he’d thought of that, with everything he had to keep his mind on. Then he guessed it was because of all the power games that Parsons liked to play. The man kept his subordinates away from where he lived because he wanted to dissociate them, keep them from assuming friendship. That way he intimidated them. But Slaughter didn’t care much. He had never been afraid of Parsons, although in truth he didn’t want to go through this with him, and needing to keep occupied, he went out, driving to the station where already, even early in the morning, there were calls about more prowlers, about mangled cats and dogs and cattle, several missing persons. Well, it’s just beginning, he decided. Then he did his best to shut his mind off as he cleaned up, washing in the men’s room, changing from his sweaty shirt to one he kept inside his office drawer. No, Parsons wasn’t going to like this, and a half hour later, as the two men (Slaughter unshaven) sat facing one another, it was worse than Slaughter had expected. Parsons had been fifteen minutes late, and Slaughter had been forced to wait outside the locked doors of the Potter’s Field Gazette. Then Parsons had shown up, freshly showered, wearing a suit and tie. “No, not yet. Wait until we’re in my office,” the man had told him, and upstairs the man had listened, then quite calmly answered, ‘You expect me to believe this?”

“I don’t know. I wish I didn’t.”

“Really, Slaughter, think about it. All you’re sure of is that a boy came down with some disease, or maybe he just had a breakdown. Then his mother got hysterical and fought her husband. Cody is in shock. He’s got a raging fever. There’s your explanation.”

“You’ve forgotten Clifford’s body.”

“No, I haven’t. Clifford was attacked all right and likely by a wild dog as you say. But were there any tests performed?”

‘Just to find out what attacked him. At the time, we had no reason to suspect a virus.”

“So the only tests were on that sick dog, and the evidence was very close to rabies.”

“But the medical examiner-“

“Look, Slaughter, I don’t want to disillusion you, but everybody knows that he came back here because no one else would have him. He broke down in Philadelphia, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he made a crisis of this just so he’d seem important. As I interpret what you told me, there’s been no time to test the dead boy for this so-called virus. Granted that his brain had been infected, if what the medical examiner says is true. But that could be because of many things. To do a proper slide for the electron microscope takes at least a couple of days. I gather that some steps can be eliminated if a person’s in a hurry, which explains how Owens had his samples ready, but I know this much-the slides from that dog’s brain were made so quickly that we shouldn’t put much faith in them. I’ll need a lot more to convince me. Think about it as I told you. Which makes more sense? Rabies or a brand-new virus?”

“You weren’t there to see the boy.”

“But I heard all about it.”

Slaughter straightened.

“Sure, what’s the matter, Slaughter? Did you think I didn’t know? I run the goddamned paper. I’m the mayor. I have all kinds of people watching for me. If those parents choose to prosecute, the medical examiner is in shit to his eyebrows. He administered a sedative without the proper cautions. Now of course he’s going to say a virus killed the boy. He surely won’t incriminate himself. His word on this is hardly what you’d call objective. And that’s something else I want to talk to you about. We’ll leave aside for now the issue of this woman you employ who hit the mother with a baseball bat, although I wonder why you haven’t charged her and I’m positive there’ll be a lawsuit. Let’s just think about the medical examiner. He was the last man I’d have chosen to do tests on that boy. He-“

“It’s not important. If you’d seen the boy, you’d know he wasn’t acting normally.”

“That’s exactly what we pay you for. To deal with things like that. To stop trouble, not cause more of it. You’ve had it fairly easy, Slaughter. Not too much goes on here. Now the first time something unusual happens, you come waking me on Sunday morning with your crazy notions about sealing off the valley and exterminating all the livestock.”

Slaughter scowled. He kept his fists gripped tightly by his legs where he was sitting, and he felt his face go warm. He tried to control his breathing. “I said if it came to that. I don’t know if it’s necessary. I’m just asking your opinion.”

“Well, it isn’t necessary. Let’s relax a minute, Slaughter. Let me talk about my job a little. I was mayor for many years before you came here. I was mayor when all those hippies came to town, to name an instance, and I knew that there’d be trouble, plus I knew that all I had to do was flex my muscles and arrange to move them out of town. I didn’t, though, because there would have been complaints about that, people saying that, sure, no one liked those hippies but maybe we should have let them have a chance. And so I waited for the opportunity. Their foul mouths and their dope and garbage got extreme, and still I waited because I knew people shortly would come begging me to move them, which precisely is what happened. Now I got what I intended, but I did it diplomatically. Does all that make some sense to you?”

Slaughter’s gaze intensified.

“The truth is that the people always know what’s best for them. A proper leader only goes along with what they tell him,” Parsons said. “That’s why they’ve kept me as their mayor all these years. Because I understand that. All I want is what they tell me. So you say there’s going to be an epidemic. Well, that’s fine. Let’s wait and see. The evidence is inconclusive, but I’ll keep an open mind about it. Even so, the steps that you suggest are inadvisable. Exterminate the livestock, all the animals in town? Now really, Slaughter, what if there’s no epidemic, what if this is just a case of poor tests and a biased medical examiner? The people would come for our heads. They’d want someone to pay for all the cattle that were killed, and you sure as hell don’t earn enough for that. Even sealing off the valley. Christ, this valley’s livelihood is cattle. If a rumor starts that all our cattle are diseased, we might as well destroy them anyhow. There won’t be any way to sell them. No, we’ll wait and see. If there is an epidemic, we’ll hear from the people what to do. They’ll tell us, and their choice will be the right one, and we’ll all survive this with a conscience, just the way we did with all those hippies.”

“But the difference,” Slaughter said, “is that nobody died because you waited. On my desk right now, the messages are piling up, and there’ll be more until the valley’s in a panic. Not just mangled cattle. Not just Clifford and that boy. We’re going to wade through corpses before long, and nothing’s going to help those people.”

“But you haven’t listened to me, Slaughter. There’s no other choice. Okay, you want to argue. Here’s the end of it. You’ll go on as if everything is normal. You will quarantine whoever’s been exposed, if indeed there is a virus, which I doubt. You’ll pick up any dogs or cats or even chipmunks if they start behaving strangely. But you’ll stay calm and tell the people that the situation’s in control. And listen to me, Slaughter. If you even hint about an epidemic, your ass won’t be worth the nail that stakes it to the courthouse door. Is that clear enough? Is that an order you can understand?”

Slaughter stared. “Can I at least get on the radio and tell the town we’ve found a case of rabies?”

Parsons thought about it. “Yes, I see no problem. After all, we do have evidence of rabies, and the town should be informed for its protection. But don’t dare mention cattle. That’s a different issue. Now I have to get back home. I’m late for church, and I have relatives coming home afterward for brunch.”

He stood, and clearly Slaughter was expected to go with him. “Oh, yes, what about that magazine reporter from New York? That man named Dunlap?”

“I cooperated as you told me,” Slaughter said.

“Well, don’t let him find out what you’re dealing with. That’s all we need is for the rumors to get printed. Have him leave this afternoon.”

“But he’s not finished with his story yet.”

“He’s finished, all right. He just doesn’t know it. Make sure he leaves town, and while you’re at it, get yourself cleaned up before too many people see you. Really, you don’t look so good. The job is maybe too much for you.”

Slaughter almost laughed. You bastard, he was thinking. You don’t miss a chance to stay on top of people, do you? They walked toward the door, and Slaughter waited until Parsons went out before him, thinking this would be the way to handle things: he’d better keep his back protected.

Chapter Two.

Slaughter was in a phone booth, but the line was fuzzy, and the noises from the other end distracted him. “Look, Altick, I can’t tell you why I need them, but I-“

‘Just hold on.” To someone in the background, “Put them over there. I’m going with you. I don’t want that chopper taking off without me. Good. I’m sorry, Slaughter. Everything is frantic here. I’m listening.”

“I need some men,” he responded louder. “I can’t give you reasons, but I’ll maybe have to borrow help.”

“There isn’t any way.” The voice was much too final.

“But- “

“No, listen to me. I need everybody I can muster,” Altick said. “I sent five men with dogs to look for Bodine, and there isn’t any word from them. They’ve disappeared.”

“But Bodine-“

“It’s my men. I mean my men have disappeared. The chopper flew up where they’d camped, but they were gone, and they’re not answering the radio. I don’t like what I’m feeling. If you’d called five minutes later, I’d have been up in the chopper.”

“Maybe they’re behind a ridge that’s muting signals to the radio.”

‘The chopper flew up anywhere they could have gone to. No, they’re missing, and I can’t waste time. I’ve got to look for them.” More noises in the background. “I said wait until I’m ready. Yeah, we’ll need that medical kit as well. Just take them to the chopper. Slaughter, there’s no way for me to help you. I’ll call you back when I have a chance.”

“But-“

There were other noises in the background. Then the line was disconnected.

Slaughter put the phone down, staring at it. Sure, another escalation. By now, he’d grown accustomed to the burning in his stomach, but he hadn’t yet adjusted to the way his mind was nagging at him. Everything was moving too fast. There was hardly any time to think. His talk with Parsons. Five policemen missing. Things weren’t bad enough, he had to worry about Parsons.

He hurried from the phone booth, moving toward the hotel desk. He knew that he had planned this since he’d said good-bye to Parsons, although he wouldn’t have admitted it. But why else would he have come directly here? He could have used the phone back at the station.

“Gordon Dunlap,” he told the desk clerk.

“What about him?”

“Damn it, tell me where to find him.”

The clerk was fumbling through cards to find the number.

Slaughter started up the stairs as he heard the number. He ran to the balcony and scanned the arrows showing which rooms were on which side, darting to the left and down a hallway, studying the arrows once again. The halls were twisting, turning. He came around a corner, and he saw the door along a dead-end corridor and raced past the pictures on the wall. He knocked, but no one answered.

“Dunlap. Wake up. This is Slaughter.”

No answer.

“Dunlap.” Slaughter knocked again. He tried the doorknob. It wouldn’t move. But as he leaned against the door, the catch gave way. The door swung open.

Dunlap hadn’t even shut the door completely. He was sprawled across the bed, his clothes wrinkled, soaked with something. On the floor there was an empty whisky bottle, papers, cigarette butts, a broken ashtray, a toppled chair.

What the hell had happened here? He smelled the sickness, stepping back, then going forward. Dunlap didn’t seem to breathe. He wasn’t moving. Slaughter grabbed him. “Dunlap, wake up. It’s important.”

Dunlap didn’t move, though. Slaughter shook him. “Come on, you bastard. Wake up.” Slaughter felt to find a heartbeat. Then he had it, and at least he didn’t have to worry about that. “For Christ sake, Dunlap.” He shook him again. Dunlap groaned and tried to turn, but Slaughter wouldn’t let him. ‘This is Slaughter! Wake up! We’ve got problems!”