A few tremulous heartbeats passed, and then it emerged from the far door. The light in the living room was good, and Karney’s eyesight sharp, but the beast’s anatomy defied his comprehension. There was something simian in its flayed, palpitating form, but sketchy, as if it had been born prematurely. Its mouth opened to speak another sound. Its eyes, buried beneath the bleeding slab of a brow, were unreadable. It began to shamble out of its hiding place across the room toward him, each drooping step it took tempting his cowardice. When it reached Red’s corpse it stopped, raised one of its ragged limbs, and indicated a place in the crook of its neck. Karney saw the knife-Red’s, he guessed. Was it attempting to justify the killing, he wondered?
“What are you?” he asked it. The same question.
It shook its heavy head back and forth. A long, low moan issued from its mouth. Then, suddenly, it raised its arm and pointed directly at Karney. In so doing it let light fall fully on its face, and Karney could make out the eyes beneath the louring brow: twin gems trapped in the wounded ball of its skull. Their brilliance, and their lucidity, turned Karney’s stomach over. And still it pointed at him.
“What do you want?” he asked it. “Tell me what you want.
It dropped its peeled limb and made to step across the body toward Karney, but it had no chance to make its intentions clear. A shout from the front door froze it in its lolling tracks.
“Anybody in?” the inquirer wanted to know
Its face registered panic-the too-human eyes rolled in their raw sockets-and it turned away, retreating toward the kitchen. The visitor, whoever he was, called again; his voice was closer. Kamey stared down at the corpse, and at his bloody hand, juggling his options, then started across the room and through the door into the kitchen. The beast had already gone. The back door stood wide open. Behind him, Karney heard the visitor utter some half-formed prayer at seeing Red’s remains. He hesitated in the shadows. Was this covert escape wise? Did it not do more to incriminate him than staying and trying to find a way to the truth? The knot, still moving in his hand, finally decided him. Its destruction had to be his priority. In the living room the visitor was dialing the emergency services. Using his panicked monologue as cover, Karney crept the remaining yards to the back door and fled.
“SOMEBODY’S been on the phone for you,” his mother called
down from the top of the stairs, “he’s woken me twice already.
I told him I didn’t-”
“I’m sorry, Mom. Who was it?”
“Wouldn’t say. I told him not to call back. You tell him, if he calls again, I don’t want people ringing up at this time of night. Some people have to get up for work in the morning.”
“Yes, mom.
His mother disappeared from the landing, and returned to her solitary bed; the door closed. Karney stood trembling in the hallway below, his hand clenched around the knot in his pocket. It was still moving, turning itself over and over against the confines of his palm, seeking more space, however small, in which to loosen itself. But he was giving it no latitude. He rummaged for the vodka he’d bought earlier in the evening, manipulated the top off the bottle single-handed, and drank. As he took a second, galling mouthful, the telephone rang. He put down the bottle and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
The caller was in a phone booth. The tone sounded, money was deposited, and a voice said: “Karney?”
“Yes?”
“For Christ’s sake, he’s going to kill me.
“Who is this?”
“Brendan.” The voice was not like Brendan’s at all; too shrill, too fearful. “He’ll kill me if you don’t come.
“Pope? Is it Pope?”
“He’s out of his mind. You’ve got to come to the wrecking yard, at the top of the hill. Give him-”
The line went dead. Karney put the receiver down. In his hand the cord was performing acrobatics. He opened his hand. In the dim light from the landing the remaining knot shimmered. At its heart, as at the heart of the other two knots, glints of color promised themselves. He closed his fist again, picked up the vodka bottle, and went back out.