her.
“It’s hot.” Her voice was edgy now.
He must have got the dose wrong. She was running down too soon. Or maybe not. The dose had been right, but all the time she was running down sooner and sooner.
“Outside, Pat. It’s cooler outside.”
She followed him then and he didn’t bother to wonder why she suddenly obeyed.
Past eleven now. They stood under the marquee outside and waited for the car. It wasn’t a warm night and the crickets in the dark sounded slow.
“It’s cold,” she said, but when he tried to lift the wrap over her shoulders she stepped away from him.
The Mercury came up with a quiet hum. The got in and Benny locked the doors.
“I want the windows open,” she said, but he didn’t have to argue with her. She went right on. “What’s that humming noise?”
“The radio. It’s stuck or something.”
“Well, turn it off, Tapkow. Are you trying to drive me insane?”
“It’s stuck, Pat Here, take a cigarette.”
“You know, Tapkow, I don’t like the way you’re changing the subject” She had turned to him, looking pinched and mean. “Drive faster,” she said.
“Half mile.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, Pat. Just reading the mileage.” He drove carefully. There was nothing in the rear-view mirror.
When a raccoon scurried through the headlight beams, Benny almost ran off the road. Pat bounced against her door but she didn’t say a word. She sat up slowly and then she began to scream. “God, my God!”
“Pat, it’s nothing.” He tried to see the road, and the mileage, and the screaming girl. “Pat, enough now.”
“God, God.”
He called the mileage again, controlling his voice, then reached over to the girl.
She stopped as suddenly as she had started and her voice was a hard, low sound. “Don’t touch me, Tapkow.”
“We’ll be home soon. Try to relax now.”
“We’ll be home soon; try to relax now,” she mimicked.
“Just stay calm. I’ll take care.”
“Of me, Tapkow?” Her laugh was like a rattle. She had started to pluck at the fur of her wrap. “I can do without you, Tapkow.”
He watched the road. “Sure,” he said.
“I’m through, Tapkow. You can start looking for another-”
He wished she were right He wished she would stop talking, digging.
“I want an answer, do you hear me?”
“Pat, you’re just wrought up. In a short while-”
“In a short while you’ll regret ever having laid eyes on me, Tapkow.”
She was building up to something.
“You don’t mean that. Really, Pat, you’ll be all right.”
“With you around?” That irritating ring had come into her voice. “With you around much longer I think I’ll die, Tapkow.”
It gave him a start and he almost missed calling the mileage. “You don’t want to talk like that, Pat.”
She laughed.
“You’ll make things worse, Pat.”
“Impossible!”
“You’ll be fine soon. I promise you, Pat” He had meant it.
“The sight of you makes me sick,” she said in a low voice, and then her hand shot out, knocking his hat off. “Sick, Tapkow, sick!”
“Sit in your corner.” He sounded hoarse.
“Sick, Tapkow, sick!”
It was the drug she didn’t have. It was hard to remember sometimes, but it was the drug.
“You’ll see, Pat. I’ll help you.”
“Sick, Tapkow, sick!”
“Stop that, damnit.” He took a deep breath and tried again. “We’ll go away together. And after a little while, Pat-”
“Why try?” It sounded casual at first, but then her tone became strong and sober. “Don’t you know how I hate you, Tapkow?”
It must be the drug.
“I mean this. Such hate, Tapkow!”
For once it was almost more than he could take.
“I hate you, Tapkow. Like this!” and with her scream her fist flung out, jarring his head.
He struck out like a hurt animal. “Sit there and shut up! Shut up!”
Mileage. An empty road.
“That’s all you can do, isn’t it? Hit and run.”
“I never have!” It was almost a scream. “I mean it, Pat, I’ll try all I can to make good what-I’ll help you, I mean it!” He had never felt quite so deeply before, so when she leaned forward and grinned, it hit hard.
“Saint Benny,” she said.
It hit. His eyes seemed to slant with the grimace that tore his face and he came back with a harsh yell. “You crazy fool, can’t you tell when it’s real? Can’t you tell when you need me, you crazy hopped-up fool? You’re hooked and don’t know it, a hophead, a poor crazy junkhead who never knew what it was, when it caught, when it ends. And I’m trying to tell you, for real, Pat, I’m trying to tell you there is a way out.”
She was still grinning; only her eyes had changed. “Hophead,” she said.
He hadn’t been watching then, but when it suddenly happened it was almost a relief. The black shape roared up from the side, veered hard, and for a moment the two cars were edging each other. Benny pushed the accelerator and shot ahead. But that wasn’t on the program, and besides, it wouldn’t have done any good. The other car came out ahead, making a spray of the bushes by the road, and Benny called his mileage. “Five even, it’s now!” and he slowed the car. He wasn’t sure if Pat had noticed. She was sitting still and even the grin was there yet Then he jammed on the brakes just in time not to hit the car in front It was angled across the road, looking shiny and new in the headlights. Just in case, Benny thought, and flipped into reverse. Then he crashed behind. They were all around now, coming through the beams and moving like shadows once they had passed. They tapped on the windows with their guns and motioned to him to come out. One had jumped on the hood. The gun he was holding was big and black and pointed straight at Benny. He raised his hands. The taps on the windows got sharper. Nothing rough yet, just sharper. And no Alverato.
Pat made it easy for them. Her window was down suddenly and she leaned out of the way. “Kill him!” She pointed a finger at him as if she were shooting him. “Kill him!” She called loud and clear without hysteria, just “Kill him!”
Benny lunged over and grabbed her waist. She was safe. He felt her strong movement and saw the door go. They were pulling her to get her into the open. And Pendleton had probably not insisted on bringing him back alive. Benny held on, listening to her voice. “Kill him, kill him!” There was nothing else to do. Alverato had planned it that way, his show, his dumb and useless show of brawn.
Except nothing happened. They were out now, in the headlights, and they didn’t even bother to frisk him because there was nothing but guns standing around, pointing at nothing but Benny.
“Kill him,” she said again, but they pushed her ahead of them.
“Get in the car, Miss Pendleton. You’ll be all right now. Here, we’ll help you.” When somebody said that, she started to break.
It was a thin laugh at first. “That’s what he said,” she laughed, and louder: “That’s what he said,” again, until the laughter got shrill and unhinged so that they didn’t know what to do.
He caught them at the right moment, the old slob with the big bravado in his voice: “Stand where you
