Stephen King - End of Watch

‘Yes, once or twice a day. That’s actually harder than the game, because the pink ones are fast. You have to concentrate.’

Of course you do, Hodges thinks. He likes this less and less. ‘But no numbers, huh?’

‘Not so far.’

‘Can I take that?’ he asks, pointing to the Zappit. He thinks about telling her he’ll give it back later, but doesn’t. He doubts if he will. ‘And the letter?’

‘On one condition,’ she says.

Hodges, pain now subsiding, is able to smile. ‘Name it, kiddo.’

‘Keep checking the pink fish, and if one of my numbers comes up, I get the prize.’

‘It’s a deal,’ Hodges says, thinking, Someone wants to give you a prize, Dinah, but I doubt very much if it’s a moped or a cinema gift certificate. He takes the Zappit and the letter, and stands up. ‘I want to thank you all very much for your time.’

‘Welcome,’ Carl says. ‘And when you figure out just what the hell this is all about, will you tell us?’

‘You got it,’ Hodges says. ‘One more question, Dinah, and if I sound stupid, remember that I’m pushing seventy.’

She smiles. ‘At school, Mr Morton says the only stupid question—’

‘Is the one you don’t ask, yeah. I’ve always felt that way myself, so here it comes. Everybody at North Side High knows about this, right? The free consoles, the number-fish, and the prizes?’

‘Not just our school, all the other ones, too. Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, Yik Yak… that’s how they work .’

‘And if you were at the concert and you could prove it, you were eligible to get one of these.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘What about Betsy DeWitt? Did she get one?’

Dinah frowns. ‘No, and that’s kind of funny, because she still had her pictures from that night, and she sent one to the website. But she didn’t do it as soon as I did, she’s an awful procrastinator, so maybe they were all out. If you snooze, you lose type of thing.’

Hodges thanks the Scotts again for their time, wishes Dinah good luck with the play, and goes back down the walk to his car. When he slides behind the wheel, it’s cold enough inside to see his breath. The pain surfaces again: four hard pulses. He waits them out, teeth clamped, trying to tell himself these new, sharper pains are psychosomatic, because he now knows what’s wrong with him, but the idea won’t quite wash. Two more days suddenly seems like a long time to wait for treatment, but he will wait. Has to, because an awful idea is rising in his mind. Pete Huntley wouldn’t believe it, and Izzy Jaynes would probably think he needed a quick ambulance ride to the nearest funny farm. Hodges doesn’t quite believe it himself, but the pieces are coming together, and although the picture that’s being revealed is a crazy one, it also has a certain nasty logic.

He starts his Prius and points it toward home, where he will call Holly and ask her to try and find out if Sunrise Solutions ever sponsored a ’Round Here tour. After that he will watch TV. When he can no longer pretend that what’s on interests him, he’ll go to bed and lie awake and wait for morning.

Only he’s curious about the green Zappit.

Too curious, it turns out, to wait. Halfway between Allgood Place and Harper Road, he pulls into a strip mall, parks in front of a dry cleaning shop that’s closed for the night, and powers the gadget up. It flashes bright white, and then a red Zappears, growing closer and bigger until the slant of the Z colors the whole screen red. A moment later it flashes white again, and a message appears: WELCOME TO ZAPPIT!WE LOVE TO PLAY! HIT ANY KEY TO BEGIN, OR JUST SWIPE THE SCREEN!

Hodges swipes, and game icons appear in neat rows. Some are console versions of ones he watched Allie play at the mall when she was a little girl: Space Invaders, Donkey Kong, Pac-Man, and that little yellow devil’s main squeeze, Ms Pac-Man. There are also the various solitaire games Janice Ellerton had been hooked on, and plenty of other stuff Hodges has never heard of. He swipes again, and there it is, between SpellTower and Barbie’s Fashion Walk: Fishin’ Hole. He takes a deep breath and taps the icon.

THINKING ABOUT FISHIN’ HOLE, the screen advises. A little worry-circle goes around for ten seconds or so (it seems longer), and then the demo screen appears. Fish swim back and forth, or do loop-the-loops, or shoot up and down on diagonals. Bubbles rise from their mouths and flipping tails. The water is greenish at the top, shading to blue farther down. A little tune plays, not one Hodges recognizes. He watches and waits to feel something – sleepy seems the most likely.

The fish are red, green, blue, gold, yellow. They’re probably supposed to be tropical fish, but they have none of the hyper-reality Hodges has seen in Xbox and PlayStation commercials on TV. These fish are basically cartoons, and primitive ones, at that. No wonder the Zappit flopped, he thinks, but yeah, okay, there’s something mildly hypnotic about the way the fish move, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs, every now and then in a rainbow school of half a dozen.

And jackpot, here comes a pink one. He taps at it, but it’s moving just a mite too fast, and he misses. Hodges mutters ‘Shit!’ under his breath. He looks up at the darkened dry cleaning store’s window for a moment, because he really is feeling a trifle dozy. He lightly smacks first his left cheek and then his right with the hand not holding the game, and looks back down. There are more fish now, weaving back and forth in complicated patterns.

Here comes another pink one, and this time he succeeds in tapping it before it whisks off the left side of the screen. It blinks (almost as if to say Okay, Bill, you got me that time) but no number appears. He waits, watches, and when another pink one appears, he taps again. Still no number, just a pink fish that has no counterpart in the real world.

The tune seems louder now, and at the same time slower. Hodges thinks, It really is having some kind of effect. It’s mild, and probably completely accidental, but it’s there, all right.

He pushs the power button. The screen flashes THANKS FOR PLAYING SEE YOU SOON and goes dark. He looks at the dashboard clock and is astonished to see he has been sitting here looking at the Zappit for over ten minutes. It felt more like two or three. Five, at the very most. Dinah didn’t talk about losing time while looking at the Fishin’ Hole demo screen, but he hadn’t asked about that, had he? On the other hand, he’s on two fairly heavy-duty painkillers, and that probably played a part in what just happened. If anything actually did, that is.

No numbers, though.

The pink fish had just been pink fish.

Hodges slips the Zappit into his coat pocket along with his phone and drives home.

Freddi Linklatter – once a computer-repair colleague of Brady’s before the world discovered Brady Hartsfield was a monster – sits at her kitchen table, spinning a silver flask with one finger as she waits for the man with the fancy briefcase.

Dr Z is what he calls himself, but Freddi is no fool. She knows the name that goes with the briefcase initials: Felix Babineau, head of neurology at Kiner Memorial.

Does he know that she knows? She’s guessing he does, and doesn’t care. But it’s weird. Very . He’s in his sixties, an authentic golden oldie, but he reminds her of somebody much younger. Someone who is, in fact, this Dr Babineau’s most famous (infamous, really) patient.

Around and around goes the flask. Etched on the side is GH & FL, 4Ever . Well, 4Ever lasted just about two years, and Gloria Hollis has been gone for quite awhile now. Babineau – or Dr Z, as he styles himself, like the villain in a comic book – was part of the reason why.