Лоуренс Блок - Random Walk - A Novel for a New Age

“Mark? How do you feel?”

How did he feel? “Strange. Different. Wonderful.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“I breathed and I couldn’t breathe and then I could.”

“Yes.”

“It was very hot and I felt…trapped. I couldn’t get out. Oh!”

“You know what was happening?”

“It didn’t feel like a memory. It felt as though I was reliving it. I was there, I was going through it.”

“You were in the birth canal.”

“Nobody would help me. She wouldn’t help me. She just quit.” His eyes widened. “Is that when she died?”

“Yes.”

“I was so angry. I wanted to kill her. And she died.”

“Yes.”

“And then I couldn’t get out. And I couldn’t breathe! My neck, I was strangling, I couldn’t get any air.”

Her hand settled onto his. She said, “Mark, your mother died giving birth to you. I get that her heart gave out, but it’s not too important exactly what happened.”

“That’s what it was, she had a weak heart. Someone told me that. How did you know?”

“I picked it up, but it’s not too important exactly what happened to her. What happened to you is that she stopped helping you, and you had a tough time being born. And you came out with the cord wrapped twice around your neck. You couldn’t breathe. You came fairly close to dying.”

“But she was the one who died.”

“Yes, she was the one who died and you were the one who lived. And you had been angry at her, you wanted her to die, you were mad enough to kill her. So you grew up thinking you had killed her.”

“That’s crazy. I didn’t know her, I didn’t remember her. I didn’t remember any of this.”

“If you didn’t remember it, what was it doing in your memory just now? How could you relive it if you didn’t have the memory tucked away in there?”

“But I never knew I remembered it.”

“You knew enough to suppress the memory. If you didn’t know that much you couldn’t have forgotten what happened. Because you picked up some powerful false information about yourself on the way through the birth canal. You were a killer. Your aliveness killed the woman you cared most about. In order for you to be fully alive, a woman had to die.”

“God.”

“You kept all of this hidden from yourself, but it was always there. For years you killed women in your fantasies. They died and you were alive. Then, when you began to succeed in the business world, you expressed more of your aliveness in the real world. And, if you were going to be alive, women were going to have to die.”

“It’s so crazy.”

“But so logical. They died and you drew life from them. The light went out of their eyes and came into yours. Some of them you stabbed in the heart and they died as she did. But more often they died the way you almost died, gasping for air with the cord around your neck. A cord, a piece of clothing, a length of wire, they were all stand-ins for the umbilical cord. For nine months you drew life through it, and at the end it almost took your life back.”

“I didn’t strangle all of them.”

“No. But you just went through the list for us, Mark, and most of the deaths were of that type. Some died of broken necks, and that’s pretty close. And there were the ones you drowned and smothered, the one with her lips and nostrils glued shut. They all died for lack of air. And you liked to look at their eyes when they were dying. You wanted to see what had almost happened to you.”

“I killed in other ways.”

“Because you became addicted to it. Once an addiction is established it doesn’t matter what initiated the behavior. By the time a person has become an alcoholic, it’s immaterial what led him to drink. From that point on, the habit causes itself. It works the same way with killing.”

He thought about it, then nodded. She couldn’t see him nod, but it didn’t seem to matter what she could or couldn’t see.

He said, “What happens now?”

“Everybody goes to sleep. It’s pretty late, and we get up when the sun gets us up.”

“After that. What happens to me?”

“What do you want to happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You won’t let me get away with a thing, will you?”

“Only murder. What do you want to happen?”

“It’s crazy. I’m afraid to say it.”

“Say it anyway.”

“I want to stay here.”

“Here? Here in De Smet Forest? Here in South Dakota?”

“I want to stay with all of you.”

“We’re not staying here, you know. We’re walking across the country.”

“I know that. I want to walk with you.”

“Why were you afraid to say that?”

“I’m still afraid.”

“Of what?”

“That you won’t want me to come.”

She nodded slowly. “Well, that’s understandable,” she said. “And I can’t really answer for the group.” She extended a hand to them. “What do you all say? What should Mark do?”

And they answered her:

“Come with us, Mark.”

“You have to come.”

“He’s part of it now. He can’t quit.”

“Mark is our brother.”

“Mark, you couldn’t leave us even if you wanted to.”

“Mark, we love you.”

“You belong with us, Mark. You’re one of us.”

He was crying again. He couldn’t help it.

Through his tears he said, “How…how can you all want me?”

“Look at the show you put on for us,” Sara said. “We don’t have television out here, you know. We’re starved for entertainment.”

“But I’m a murderer.”

“A murderer kills people. You used to kill people. You used to be a murderer. But you don’t do that anymore.”

“But—”

“That was then and this is now.”

“Is it that easy?”

“Do you want it to be harder?”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “How can you forgive me after what I’ve done?”

“That’s the easy part. How can you forgive yourself?”

“I can’t.”

“You will, if you stay with us. It won’t be easy, but you’ll find out how. Can you forgive your mother?”

He stared at her. “Forgive her? There’s nothing to forgive!”

“There must be. You’ve been trying to kill her for the past eight years. And what do you mean there’s nothing to forgive? That bitch quit on you. She almost smothered you and then she almost strangled you. Can you forgive her?”

“Of course.”

“It’s not that easy. You have to find the part of you that hasn’t forgiven her and let go of it. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“What kind of work?”

“The kind you did tonight. Breathing. Sharing yourself. Opening the doors to all the sealed-off chambers. Seeing everything you don’t want to see. Facing everything you’re afraid of. But all you really have to do is walk. If you do that, everything else you have to do will reveal itself to you.”

He thought about what she’d said. “I don’t have much choice,” he said. “Do I?”

“Not a whole lot.”

“I can’t go back to Kansas, can I?”

“Not without a pair of silver shoes.”

“I mean—”

“To your family. No, I’m afraid you can’t, Mark. Maybe someday you’ll run into them on the road somewhere. But you can’t ever go back.”

“And the police—”

“Won’t bother you while you’re walking. You’re safe as long as you’re with us.”

“It makes the choice easy, doesn’t it?” He drew a breath. “The only thing is it seems as though I’m getting off too easy.”

“Too easy?”

“Yes. I killed over a hundred women, and all I have to do—”