Дэймон Найт: Orbit 10

“They used her,” Lee said dully. “They both used her to get even with each other for some childish thing. They didn’t care what happened to her at all.”

Eliot took a step toward them, stopped again. “Lee, Mary’s hurt. She needs you now. She’s hurt, Lee.”

Lee’s face changed; slowly the life returned, then suddenly he looked like a man waking up. He dropped his arms from Donna and stepped around her without seeing her at all. “Mary? What’s wrong with Mary?”

“She’s out there. Beatrice found her. She needs you right now. By the oleanders.”

Lee ran out of the house. Donna stared after him, her face tear-streaked and ugly. She turned to Eliot. “I was frightened. Ed had a knife, he began to talk crazy, saying if I would repent now and die before I sinned again, my soul would be saved. I was so frightened. He wants to kill me.”

Eliot saw her hopelessness and despair, the overwhelming fear that had driven her to Lee for help. She was so agonizingly young and inexperienced, so susceptible. Her large eyes awash with tears that made eddies and shadows and revealed depths that he hadn’t suspected before, her body hidden now by adolescent fat that would dissolve and reveal a woman with a firm slim figure, protected until she was ready to find union with ... He blinked and laughed raucously. “God, you’re good, doll!” He laughed again and now the tears were gone and her eyes were flat and hard, like a reflecting metal polished to a high sheen. Wordlessly she left the house.

He found Mary and Lee. Beatrice was nearby, her back to them. “All of you, come on in. I want to say something.” Inside again he didn’t know what he could say. Nothing that would make any sense.

“Mary, you have to forget this.” Mary looked at the wall, her face composed and set. “I mean it, Mary, or else she will have won. You’re giving her exactly what she came here for. She doesn’t want Lee any more than she wanted Marty or Ed. She wants to drive wedges. To come between people. We all watched it happen. This is the very same thing. You’re intelligent enough to see this, Mary. You too, Lee.”

Lee had been watching him stonily. Now he said, “Hasn’t it oc­curred to you that you’re butting in on something you don’t know a damn thing about? That girl was frightened. Mary acted like a bitch. Period.”

Eliot sighed. “Oh, Christ.”

“I’m leaving,” Mary said furiously. “I won’t stand by and see you make a fool of yourself. And when she throws you over, you’ll know where to look for me.”

“And you,” Eliot said. “Right on cue. That’s the scenario, all right. For God’s sake, you two idiots, open your eyes and see what you’re doing and why!” He jammed his hands into his pockets. They continued to avoid looking at one another. Finally Eliot shrugged. “Okay. If you really can’t see it, then leave, Mary. It’s the only thing to do.I’ll take you over tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Lee demanded coldly.

“I mean that if you two are so caught up in this that you believe it’s real, she has to go away, or one of you will kill the other one. Either snap out of it and convince me that you’re aware of what’s happened, or I’ll take Mary to Charleston. I won’t leave you to­gether.”

A new intentness came into Lee’s face. Ignoring Mary, he took a step toward Eliot. “All this crazy talk. You’re the one who started all this.” His eyes narrowed and his hands clenched. “That night, down on the beach, I saw her with you. I let her convince me that it was a dream, but I saw you. I know what I saw. And I’m going to kill you, Kalin. I’m going to choke your lies right back down in your throat.”

Suddenly the screen door was flung open and Ed Delizzio stepped into the room. Mary screamed. Ed had the same knife that he had threatened Marty with. This time he was holding it to throw. His quick look swept the room, stopped at Lee, and in the same instant that his arm rose, Mary moved toward Lee, her hands out. She pushed him hard; the knife flashed; she screamed again, this time in fear and pain. She staggered against Lee and fell. For a second Lee swayed, gray-faced; then he dropped to his knees at her side.

“It’s nothing,” she said shakily. “It touched my arm, that’s all. Lee . . . Darling, please, don’t. Please, Lee.” He was rocking back and forth, holding her, weeping. When she tried to get up, he gathered her into his arms and lifted her and carried her into the bedroom. Beatrice followed them.

Eliot picked up the knife, closed it, and put it in his pocket.

“I guess we should call the police,” Ed said emotionlessly.

“We’ll call nobody,” Eliot said. He studied Ed, who continued to stand in the doorway. Even his lips seemed bloodless. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Spent. Used up. Everything’s gone. I’m okay now. It’s over.” He looked like a shock victim: ashen-faced, blank, rigid.

They waited in silence until Beatrice returned. She was pale and avoided Ed’s glance. “They’re in there crying like babies. She’s all right. Hardly even scratched. Mostly scared.”

“Let’s go,” Eliot said. He motioned for Ed to leave with them. “We could use a drink.”

Beatrice hesitated. “Can we leave them? You said . . .”

“Everything changes from moment to moment, honey. Every­thing’s the same and everything keeps changing. They’ll be all right now. Ed’s going to keel over and I’m damned if I want to carry him across the island. Give us a drink, Beatrice. We all de­serve it.”

Beatrice kept close to him as they walked around the oleanders. “No lights,” she said on her porch, then added quickly, “It makes us so visible.” She left them. There was the sound of the refrigerator door, ice in glasses, liquor being poured. Then she was back and handed them both glasses, very strong bourbon and water. She pulled a chair closer to Eliot’s. “How can she do this to us?”

“She’s a witch,” Ed said.

“No. She’s not a witch. And she hasn’t done a damn thing to any of us. Whatever we’re doing, we’re doing to ourselves.” Eliot finished his drink and went inside to refill his glass. When he re­turned, Beatrice was alone.

“You upset him more than anything up to now. Eliot, is he likely to do anything like that again?”

“I don’t think so. He sinned. Now he’ll repent, in the good traditional way. Prayers, good deeds, confession. Whatever he does to atone.”

“Is it all over now? Who else is there to go berserk? Are you safe?”

“Nobody is safe from himself. Nobody that I know, anyway. Maybe Pitcock. I’m gambling on Pitcock, but I don’t know.” He drank deeply. The alcohol was numbing him now and he felt grate­ful.

The wind blew harder and the palm trees came to life. On the porch the silence deepened. Beatrice took Eliot’s glass from his hand and went inside with it, bringing it back in a few moments without speaking. He put it down this time. There had been a need before, but the urgency was gone.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Beatrice said quietly, “but whatever it is, it’s changed you.”

“Nobody understands, least of all me. I’m just groping for the right thing to do from one moment to the next, no plans, no over­all theory to account for anything.”

“It won’t go on like this, will it? We couldn’t stand this kind of turmoil day after day.”

“No. It’s building up to something. Can’t you feel that? Each step is farther, each thrust more nearly mortal.” Lassitude was creeping through his bones. Abruptly he stood up. “I have to go or I’ll fall asleep here.”

“Eliot... Do you have to go?”

“I think so. Are you afraid?”

“No. It isn’t that. Yes, go now. I’ll see you in the morning.”