Was there belligerence in the director's voice? Was there a threat implied in his space-invading stance?
'You're looking for printer ribbon, right?'
How could he know that? Bill felt chilled, but he kept his face unreadable, met the young man's eyes. 'No,' he lied.
The director seemed surprised, caught off guard. 'Then what are you looking for?'
'Oh, nothing.' Bill smiled at him. 'I'm just browsing.'
Before the director could respond, Bill moved away. He did not know whether the young man was following him, but he would not give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing him check. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead, and when he reached the extra-wide middle aisle that dissected The Store and ran from the Automotive to the Lingerie departments, he hung a right and began walking purposefully toward the opposite end of the building.
In the center of The Store, where the two transverse aisles met, a booth had been set up, a flimsy, temporary counter with an overhead sign that reminded him of Lucy's psychiatrist stand in the old _Peanuts_ cartoon strip.
JOIN STORE CLUB, the sign announced.
Two people he recognized, Luke McCann and Chuck Quint, were standing before the booth, and Bill slowed down as he approached them.
'Store Club?' Chuck asked the salesman manning the booth.
The salesman nodded. 'If you become a member, you will be able to purchase goods at cost, without paying any sales tax. There are also numerous other benefits.' His voice lowered. 'Improved health, greater life expectancy, increased sex drive . . .'
Bill moved away, not wanting to hear any more.
He took the opportunity to glance surreptitiously behind him. The director was nowhere to be seen, and he relaxed, looking around, trying to figure out where they'd moved the printer supplies. A freestanding sign on the edge of the aisle touted EXCELLENT DEALS! NEW AUTOS AT FLEET PRICES! Beneath a picture of a red Saturn taking a mountain curve, the text said that The Store would be selling cars-to-order through a new catalogue, agreements with all of the major automakers allowing the vehicles to be sold at outrageously low prices and delivered directly to the buyers' houses.
There goes Chas Finney's Ford dealership, Bill thought.
He looked on the back of the sign, saw an offer for The Store's Discount Travel Bureau.
There went Elizabeth Richard's travel agency.
There was still no sign of printer supplies, but from a row halfway down the center aisle emerged a boy holding what looked like a mouse pad, and Bill immediately headed in that direction.
The row did indeed contain shelves and stacks of computer and typewriter accessories. He walked to the end of the section and scanned the packages of printer ribbons hanging from pegs on a recessed display. All were the generic Store brand, but there was an accompanying book attached by wire to the center of the display, and he cross-referenced his printer to find the ribbon that would be compatible.
'Do you have any naked-children videos?'
Bill looked up, shocked.
'Videos of children playing outdoors and having fun in the sun?'
The voice was coming from the next row over, and he quickly moved to the end of the row and peeked around the corner to see who the speaker was.
Reverend Smithee, the Baptist minister, was standing next to a Store clerk.
Smiling, the clerk shook his head and clucked disapprovingly. 'Reverend.
I'm surprised at you.'
Smithee reddened but refused to back off. 'I was told you did.'
'Is that what you like?'
'No. I just --'
'Those videos are illegal, you know.'
The reverend's face grew redder. 'They shouldn't be. Everybody's naked under their clothes. It's natural. I've never understood why you can show people being killed, but you can't show a body without clothes. Killing's much worse.'
'We have snuff videos, too,' the clerk said.
Smithee licked his lips. 'Snuff videos? Where?'
The clerk's smile broadened. 'Right this way, Reverend.'
'You're not . . . going to report me?'
'Our aim is to meet our customers' needs and keep them happy.' The clerk walked forward, the reverend following. He smiled knowingly at Bill as they passed by, and Bill could not help thinking that The Store had _wanted_ him to hear the exchange, that it had _wanted_ him to see Reverend Smithee in this light, that it had arranged it all.
Feeling chilled, he found the right size of printer ribbon, picked up five of them, and hurried to the checkout stand at the front of the store.
TWENTY-FIVE
1
He usually enjoyed the free period between assignments, but this time Bill felt restless, stir-crazy, almost claustrophobic. Juniper seemed confining to him, and no matter where he went or what he did, it seemed that The Store was always there, looming in the background, monitoring his movements, watching him.
Even hiking, alone, in the forest, in the canyons, on the hills, he felt the presence of The Store.
He needed to get away from Juniper.
The idea that his documentation was now winding its way through the channels from Automated Interface to The Store's corporate headquarters, and was about to be filtered down to individual Stores all over the United States, made him feel supremely uneasy. There was nothing he could have done, no way he could have avoided it, but the mere fact that he had been indirectly working for The Store, that he had even in a minuscule way contributed to the efficiency of its operation, galled him.
They were lying next to each other after they'd quietly finished making love long after the girls had fallen asleep one night, and the only noise in the house was the low murmuring of the bedroom television. He rolled onto his left side, looked at Ginny. 'I think we should go on a vacation.'
'A vacation? What brought this on?'
'I just think we need to get out of here, get away for a while. . . .'
'Get away from The Store?'
He nodded.
'Where do you want to go?'
'How about Carlsbad Caverns?'
'Sounds fine to me. But what about the girls?'
'They're going with us.'
'Sam won't go. And at this point, I'm not sure we can make her.'
'Shannon's going. I guarantee you we can make her.'
Ginny was quiet.
'What is it?' he said.
'What if The Store won't let her go?'
Bill shook his head, sat up. 'We've been too soft on all this. That's our problem. We should've put more pressure on her. Or, hell, maybe we should've just talked to her like an adult, told her what's really going on. I think we're still treating her -- treating _both_ of them -- like they're little girls.
We're still trying to protect them from things --'
'That's what parents do.'
'I know. But what I'm saying is that we should've tried to convince them to quit on their own. The Store'll sue us and come after us if we try to force them to quit, but if they quit themselves it'll let them go.'
She looked up at him. 'You really believe that? After everything that's happened?'
'I don't know,' he said. 'But it's worth a try.'
