John Saul - Comes the Blind Fury

She wandered out of the teachers’ lounge and onto the back stairs of the school. Billy Evans was sitting on a swing, kicking at the ground, trying to get the swing going. He was all alone, and when he saw Michelle, he waved to her, beckoning to her. She threw away the empty Coke cup and started down the stairs, leaning heavily on her cane.

“Hi,” Billy said. “Will you push me?”

“Okay.”

She began pushing him. He laughed happily and began begging her to push him harder.

“It’s too high,” Michelle said. “You shouldn’t even be on these swings. You should be on the little ones.” “I’m big enough,” Billy replied. “I can even walk the backstop.”

Michelle glanced out to the baseball diamond, where a makeshift backstop had been constructed from two-by-fours and some wire mesh. It stood about eight feet tall and was some twenty feet long. Michelle had seen some of the older boys, the boys her age, scrambling up it, then walking its length. But the younger boys, the boys Billy’s age, never dared.

“I never saw you,” Michelle said.

“You never looked. Let the swing die down, and I’ll show you.”

Michelle stopped pushing, and Billy let the swing go through its arc once. Then, as it reached its forward peak, he jumped off, landing on his feet and running out toward the baseball field.

“Come on!” he called over his shoulder. Michelle started after him, moving as fast as she could, but by the time she reached him, he was already scrambling up the wire.

“Be careful,” she warned him.

“It’s easy,” Billy scoffed. He reached the top and straddled the two-by-four, grinning down at her.

“Come on up,” he said.

“I can’t,” Michelle said. “You know that.”

Billy pulled one foot up, then the other. Slowly, balancing himself with his hands, he managed a crouching position. Then, wobbling all the way, he rose carefully until he was standing upright, his arms held straight out.

“See?”

Michelle could see him swaying. She was sure he was going to fall.

“Billy, you come down from there. You’ll fall and hurt yourself, and I won’t be able to help you.” “I won’t fall! Watch me!”

He took a tentative step, nearly lost his footing, then regained his balance and took another.

“Please, Billy?” Michelle pleaded.

Billy was moving steadily away from her, inching carefully along the two-by-four, his balance improving with each step.

“I won’t fall,” he insisted. Then, realizing that Michelle was about to insist that he come down, he decided to tease her. “You’re just mad, because you can’t do it. If you weren’t a cripple, you could. But you are, so you can’t!” And he began to laugh.

Michelle stared at him for a second, his laughter echoing in her ears.

He sounded like Susan Peterson, and all the rest of them.

The fog started closing around her, the cold mists that she knew would bring Amanda with them. Billy Evans, his face grinning at her, faded from her vision, but his voice, still laughing, cut through the fog like a knife.

And then Amanda was there, standing behind her, whispering to her.

“Don’t let him do that, Michelle,” Mandy said softly. “He’s laughing at you. Don’t let him laugh at you. Don’t ever let any of them laugh at you again.” Michelle hesitated. Once more, she heard Billy’s mocking laugh, and his taunt.

“You could do it! If you weren’t crippled!”

“Make him stop!” Mandy hissed in her ear.

“I don’t know how,” Michelle wailed. She looked around desperately, searching for Amanda.

“I’ll show you,” Mandy whispered. “Let me show you …”

The laughter, the mocking laughter, suddenly stopped, and was replaced by a scream of terror.

• • •

Billy tried to jump, but it was too late — beneath his feet, the backstop was moving.

He lost his balance, tried to regain it, failed. Then his arms were flailing in the air. He was falling.

A second later there was a silence in the schoolyard, a silence broken for Michelle only by the sound of Amanda’s voice.

“You see? See how easy it is? Now you can make them all stop laughing …” Her voice trailed off, and she was gone. The fog began to disperse. Michelle waited for a moment, waited for it all to be gone, then she looked.

Billy Evans, his head twisted around so that his empty eyes were staring at her, lay on the ground a few feet away.

Michelle knew he would never laugh at her again.

Michelle stared at Billy Evans’s tiny body, lying still on the ground, his face pale and lifeless. Tentatively, reluctantly, she took a step toward him.

“Billy?” Her voice was unsteady, questioning. “Billy? Are you all right?”

But even as she asked the question, she knew he was dead. She took one more step toward him, then changed her mind.

Help. She had to get help.

She braced herself against the backstop and leaned carefully over to pick up her cane. Then, after one more quick look at Billy, she started toward the school building. There was no one left in the yard — no one to come to her aid, no one to do something for Billy Evans.

No one to tell her what had happened.

For Michelle could not remember.

She could remember Billy climbing up the mesh, balancing himself on top.

She could remember him starting to walk, and she could remember telling him to be careful.

And he had laughed.

Then the fog had closed in on her, and Amanda had come.

But then what happened? Her mind was blank.

She started up the back steps of the school.

“Help!” she called. “Oh, please, can’t anyone hear me?”

She was very close to the top when she saw the door open, and her father appeared.

“Michelle? What’s happened? Are you all right?”

“It’s Billy!” Michelle cried. “Billy Evans! He fell, Daddy! He was trying to walk the backstop, and he fell!”

“Oh, my God.” The words were barely audible, strangling in his throat. The visions came back to him, children’s faces flashing in his mind, their eyes accusing him. He began to feel dizzy, but forced himself to look at the playground. Even from here he could see the little boy, motionless, lying in a crumpled heap next to the backstop.

By then, Michelle had reached the top of the steps, and was holding on to him, clinging to him, her eyes brimming with tears.

“He fell, Daddy. I think — I think he’s dead.”

He had to think. He had to act . But it was nearly impossible. “Come inside,” he mumbled. “Come inside, and your mother will take care of you.” He disentangled himself from Michelle and led her inside to the office, where June and Tim Hartwick were still talking. Both of them looked at him in surprise, then, by the expression on his face, knew that something was wrong.

“Call an ambulance,” he said. “There’s been an accident. A little boy fell off the backstop. I–I’ve got to take care of him.” His voice faded. “I’ve got to.…” He turned and shambled out of the office.

As Tim picked up the phone and began dialing, Michelle suddenly spoke.

“Mom?” Her voice sounded dazed, and June took her in her arms.

“It’s all right, honey,” June whispered to her. “Daddy’s taking care of it, and an ambulance will be here soon. What happened?”

Michelle buried her face against her mother and sobbed uncontrollably. As June listened to Tim talking on the phone, she tried to soothe her daughter. Slowly, Michelle regained herself.

Tim Hartwick hung up the phone as Michelle started to recite the tale. He listened intently, observing Michelle as she talked, trying to read the truth of her words in her face. When she was done, June took her once more in her arms.