The Voice of the Night

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t that kind of sick?”

Roy looked up at last. His eyes were flat and cold. “Did you say ‘sick’?”

“Well,” Colin said uneasily, “I mean … finding enjoyment in other people’s pain …”

“You think that’s unusual?”

Colin shrugged. He didn’t want to argue.

“In other parts of the world,” Roy said, “people go to bullfights, and deep down inside most of them hope they’ll see a matador get gored. They always get to see the bull in pain. They love it. And a hell of a lot of people go to the auto races just to see the bad crackups.”

“That’s different,” Colin said.

Roy grinned. “Oh, is it? How?”

Colin thought hard about it, trying to find words to express what he knew intuitively to be true. “Well … for one thing, the matador knows when he goes into the arena that he might get hurt. But people riding home on a train … not expecting anything … not asking for trouble … and then it happens…. That’s a tragedy.”

Roy laughed. “You know what ‘hypocrite’ means?”

“Sure.”

“Well, Colin, I hate to say this ‘cause you’re my good friend, my real good friend. I like you a lot. But as far as this thing goes, you’re a hypocrite. You think I’m sick because the idea of a train wreck interests me, but then you spend most of your spare time going to horror movies or watching them on television or reading books about zombies and werewolves and vampires and other monsters.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Those stories are filled with murders!” Roy said. “Death. Killing. That’s practically all they’re about. People get bitten and clawed and torn apart and chopped up with axes in those stories. And you love ‘em!”

Colin winced at the mention of axes.

Roy leaned close. His breath carried the scent of Juicy Fruit chewing gum.

“That’s why I like you, Colin. We’re two of a kind. We got things in common. That’s why I wanted to get you the job of team manager. So we could knock around together during football season. We’re both smarter than other people. We both get straightA averages in school without half trying. Each of us has been given IQ tests, and each of us has been told he’s a genius or the next thing to it. We see deeper into things than most kids do and even deeper than a hell of a lot of grown-ups. We’re special. Very special people.”

Roy put a hand on Colin’s shoulder and locked eyes with him, seemed to be looking not just at him but also deep into him and ultimately through him. Colin could not look away.

“We’re both interested in the things that count,” Roy said. “Pain and death. That’s what intrigues you and me. Most people think death is the end of life, but we know different, don’t we? Death isn’t the end. It’s the center. It’s the center of life. Everything else revolves around it. Death is the most important thing in life, the most interesting, the most mysterious, the most exciting thing in life.”

Colin cleared his throat nervously. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“If you aren’t afraid of death,” Roy said, “then you can’t be afraid of anything. When you learn to conquer the biggest fear, you conquer all the smaller fears at the same time, isn’t that right?”

“I … I guess so.”

Roy spoke in a stage whisper for emphasis, spoke with amazing intensity, fervently. “If I’m not afraid of death, then no one can do anything to hurt me. Nobody. Not my old man or the old woman. No one. Not ever again as long as I live.”

Colin didn’t know what to say.

“Are you afraid of death?” Roy asked.

“Yes.”

“You’ve got to learn not to be.”

Colin nodded. His mouth went dry. His heart was racing and he felt slightly dizzy.

“You know the first thing you’ve got to do to get over your fear of dying?” Roy asked.

“No.”

“Become familiar with death.”

“How?”

“By killing things,” Roy said.

“I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can.”

“I’m a peaceable kid.”

“Deep down everyone’s a killer.”

“Not me.”

“Shit.”

“Same to you.”

“I know myself,” Roy said. “And I know you.”

“You know me better than I know me?”

“Yeah.” Roy grinned.

They stared at each other.

The garage was as quiet as an undisturbed Egyptian tomb.

At last Colin said, “You mean … like we’d kill a cat?”

“For starters,” Roy said.

“For starters? Then what?”

Roy’s hand tightened on Colin’s shoulder. “Then we’d move on to something bigger.”

Suddenly Colin realized what was happening and he relaxed. “You almost had me going again.”

“Almost?”

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Do you?”

“You’re testing me again.”

“Am I?”

“You’re setting me up,” Colin said. “You want to see if I’ll make a fool of myself.”

“Wrong.”

“If I’d agreed to kill a cat to prove something to you, you’d have busted out laughing.”

“Try me.”

“No way. I know your game.”

Roy let go of his shoulder. “It’s not a game.”

“You don’t have to test me. You can trust me.”

“To some extent,” Roy said.

“You can trust me completely,” Colin said earnestly. “Jeez, you’re the best friend I ever had. I wouldn’t disappoint you. I’ll do a good job as team manager. You won’t be sorry you recommended me to the coach. You can trust me with that. You can trust me with anything. So what’s the big secret?”

“Not yet,” Roy said.

“When?”

“When you’re ready.”

“When will that be?”

“When I say you are.”

“jeez.”

5

Colin’s mother came home from work at five-thirty.