Gene Wolfe - Free Live Free

“Reeder, you must be four inches taller than I am.”

“It ain’t that much. I—”

The creaking of a supply cart in the hall silenced Reeder for a moment. Instinctively, Barnes held his breath too and tried to step away from the door, bumping into a bed piled with rolled mattresses.

“Shut up!” Reeder hissed.

Barnes nodded, aware even as he did that the nod probably could not be seen. The furnace vent to the storeroom had been shut off, and he was beginning to feel cold.

“It’d work,” Reeder said. “I swear it would. We could do it. That suit’s a little big on you anyhow—”

“I’ve lost some weight.”

“I’d hang the pants low, get it? Like jeans. And I’d kind of scrunch down when I walked. Listen, Matey, let’s try it. Let’s switch. If it looks too bad, I won’t go. I’ll leave you all your money and stuff.”

“Reeder, I need the suit. I’ve got a date tonight.”

“So wear somethin’ else. Nobody wears a suit on a date anyhow. Wear a sportcoat and slacks. I’ll leave you your topcoat.”

“Jesus, that’s decent of you.”

“Listen, Matey, you’re the one that’s bein’ decent, lettin’ me do it. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it. You’re givin’ me back my life, whole years of my life.”

Barnes felt sweat in his palms despite the cold. “Reeder, won’t you sit down so we can talk about this sensibly?”

“No, I won’t sit down, Matey. Take off your jacket and those pants. I guess I’ll need the shirt too, and I might as well have the tie. Let me try your shoes too. I don’t think they’ll fit, but I ought to try ’em.”

Barnes’s eyes had adjusted well enough for him to see Reeder untie the cord of his hopital pajamas and step out of the trousers. “This is crazy,” he said. “Reeder, the Navy’s going to examine you and send you back to your ship. That’s all.”

There was no reply. Reeder pulled his pajama shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor.

“Reeder, that’s all there’ll be to it. I swear to you.”

“I can’t do it, Matey. I’ve seen them—just sittin’ around, starin’ at the floor. That’s not goin’ to be me. Strip!”

Barnes reached for the doorknob, but Reeder put his back to the door. “You’re not goin’ out for a while, Matey. Not till I’ve had time to get away from here.”

Barnes sighed and backed away. “Reeder, damn it, all I have to do is yell.”

“And you’re not yellin’. I appreciate that, Matey. You’re all right. I knew it when I saw you in the depot.”

“All you have to do is yell too. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You’re a Navy man, and you were in uniform when they picked you up. By this time they will already have notified the Navy. In a day or so someone will come to get you. Yell. Tell them you’re sane, it’s all a mistake. They’ll examine you, lock you for a week or so for being AWOL, and that’ll be the end of it.”

“I like you, Matey. I like you as much as I’ve liked anybody I’ve met in a long time. Now take off those pants.”

“Reeder—”

“Take ’em off!”

“Reeder, what were you doing in that bar?”

“You heard me, Matey!”

“You said you were acting silly. I guess deductions are really my friend Stubb’s department. But even Dr. Watson catches on in the end—you know what I mean?”

Reeder said nothing. He was breathing quickly and deeply, each breath sounding like the labored working of a bellows.

“What was it, Phil? I’m your buddy, your shipmate. Remember?”

“Just this,” Reeder said.

“Just what?”

“This,” Reeder said. “I took my clothes off like this.”

Barnes stared at him, and as he stared, Reeder hit him, his right fist coming up from beneath Barnes’s chin to snap his head back. Barnes’s shoulders hit the mattresses as he fell, and his glass eye rolled across the dark floor like a lopsided marble.

“Wait a minute,” Stubb said. “Did you hear that?”

Sandy asked, “Hear what?”

Davidson said, “I didn’t hear anything, but I sure as hell saw something. I saw a little kid run across the hall down there.”

The attendant looked at him and shook his head.

“Don’t argue with a cop, son. I saw a little boy, maybe six or seven years old. What’s your name?”

“Ron.”

“Ron what?”

“Ron Brown, sir.”

“Well, Ron, you’ve got a kid running around your ward.” Davidson turned to Stubb and Sandy. “You two march yourselves downstairs and out of this place. You’re lucky I’m not running you in.

“Then you, Ronny, you’re going to go find that kid I saw and bring him to me. And if you don’t, I’m coming back with a search warrant and a few good men. Understand?”

“I want to see the guy that called my name,” Stubb told him.

“The damned in hell want snow-cones. You get out of here, and get out fast. Take her with you.”

Sandy looked at Stubb. “I don’t think we’ve got much choice.”

He shrugged and followed her back to the elevator. A few of the quiet men on the benches lifted their eyes to look at them, but none stood or spoke.

Sandy whispered, “I always thought crazy people laughed and jumped around a lot.”

Stubb shrugged again. The elevator doors parted, and they stepped inside.

“Who was it who called you?”

“I’m not sure,” Stubb said. “I’m not even sure I heard my name.”

The doors shuddered closed.

“Are we really going to leave?”

“Of course not,” Stubb told her.

She smiled at him. “You’re kind of neat, Jim—you know that?”

“I’m just doing the job. You remember the doctor’s name? The one treating Proudy?”

“Did somebody tell us? No, I don’t think so.”

“The woman down at the desk told Davidson. Dr. Roberts. So while Davidson’s talking to Proudy, maybe we can find Dr. Roberts and get him to let us see him later. Davidson won’t spring Proudy out of here after he’s heard him.”

“I’m Bud Bensen,” the tall, thin doctor told them. “I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Duck, Mr. Stubb. What can I do for you?”

“Dr. Roberts isn’t here?” Stubb asked.

“I’m afraid not. He should be, but he seems to have wandered off somewhere. Bob’s a brilliant young man,” Bensen’s boney face broke into the briefest of smiles, “but somewhat emotional. Nervous, you know. We had some unauthorized people going though the wards this afternoon, and I’m afraid Bob was upset.”

“The Gypsies,” Sandy put in.

“Yes, that, as I understand it, was what they called themselves. I didn’t talk to them personally, but I’ve been told their king—that was the word they used, king—had ordered them to search the city for somebody, and indicated this might be a likely place to find him.”

Stubb asked, “I don’t suppose you recall the name of the guy they were looking for?”

Dr. Bensen shook his head. “I don’t believe it was ever mentioned. Is it important?”

“It might be. Anyway, it seems to me like this Gypsy king might have something on the ball. You wouldn’t have a Ben Free in here, would you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. Check with Admissions.”

“The Gypsies will have done that already. They didn’t believe Admissions, I guess.”

“Cross-cultural distrust.” Dr. Bensen nodded. “But it wasn’t the Gypsies you wanted to talk to me about, was it?”

“No. We’re here about a policeman called Sergeant Proudy.” Stubb paused. “Maybe I should explain that I’m a detective. Sandy here’s a reporter.”

Dr. Bensen nodded again. “Sergeant Proudy’s not one of my patients, I’m afraid.”