A tone sounded in his ear. The telephone said, “All circuits are busy. Please try your call again later.” Exasperated, Brad dialed again and got the same response.
The gas station attendant stepped out and looked down the street toward the golf course. She was a short, slight woman with a squinty look in her eyes. “What’s goin’ on down there?” she said.
“Some maniac shooting the golf course up,” Brad said. His third try on the phone failed and he gave up.
“Who is it?” the attendant asked.
“Don’t know his name, but he’s from around here.” Brad looked at her, and she looked good. His mouth began to water, but he caught himself and turned away. “I can’t get a hold of the police.”
She didn’t answer she went trotting off toward the golf course. He watched her go, eyeing her thighs in her tight jeans.
His mouth wouldn’t stop watering. He abandoned the phone booth, taking several steps after her, but he heard another gunshot and stopped. Turning around, he saw two cats racing across the parking lot, and one caught the other one and it erupted in a fight.
Beyond the fighting cats was the grocery store.
He walked toward it, feeling desperate, hoping to God that if he would just eat something something other than human that these insane impulses would go away. He had to walk around the cat fight. It was vicious; one had the other by the throat, and they were rending each other with their hind claws. There were little droplets of blood all over the pavement. He hardly even glanced at them, as his main purpose in life at that point was to get though those doors and find some food.
Inside the store it was quiet. There were several customers in the store, along with the employees and the management. He caught eye contact with one of the cashiers, a tall buxom brunette with big hair, and she didn’t look away. She didn’t say anything, either, just stared at him with glassy eyes and no expression. She didn’t look good to him, but he had the impression that he looked good to her. As he took a cart and walked down an aisle she silently abandoned her register and stalked him. Brad passed a man with an empty grocery cart whom stood motionless, moving only his eyes. His hands had a death’s grip on the cart handle, his whole body tense. Brad watched him warily as he passed, feeling the man was ready to pounce. The man’s gaze shifted from Brad to the checkout woman and back, keeping perfectly still, acting like he was camouflaged and that no one could see him as long as he didn’t move.
Brad made it around a corner only to be faced by the butcher, who stood on the outside of his counter and sharpened a huge knife. He looked up at Brad and locked eyes with him, never pausing in his knife sharpening. Brad edged past him, and passing the meat section. The butcher followed. Forgetting about food, Brad decided he’d better get out of there. It was an eat-or-be-eaten situation and he was outnumbered.
Ahead was a big guy he was huge! who had a demented expression and appeared to be drooling. He turned his cart so that he blocked Brad’s way, and just stood and stared at him with bugged-out eyes. His mouth was open and he was biting his tongue.
He grinned at Brad.
Brad made a quick left down the junk food aisle only to find two women had their carts side by side at the far end, blocking him in. He continued down the aisle until it was apparent that the ladies were not going to move. Turning around, Tom found the big guy and the butcher had him blocked at the other end, and behind them was the checkout woman.
Brad continued toward the two women at the far end, gaining speed until he was trotting. Either they were going to move their carts or he was going to ram them. Their expressions became alarmed, and they moved to one side but left their carts where they were. Brad rammed their carts with his, making a loud crash and sending the carts and the groceries tumbling. The women hissed and snarled at him as he scrambled past. He leaped over a chain and past a register, but slipped and landed hard on the worn linoleum. As he got to his feet, he saw people running toward him.
The manager, the other checkers, the women with the carts. The big guy. They were coming for him, all with grim faces and a dead-eyed look, and Brad turned and sprinted for the door, banging into it and shoving it open. He was out before they could reach him, and his feet pounded the pavement across the parking lot. The cats, he saw, were no longer fighting. One was dead and being fed upon by the other.
Just before he rounded the corner he looked back, seeing a few of them standing in the parking lot staring back at him, but none were pursuing. As he passed the gas station and headed down the street where he lived, his running slowed to a jog and then he abruptly stopped. He bent forward, hands on trembling knees, and fought to catch his breath.
As he stood there panting, his thoughts became clear. The whole town seemed to be going nuts, but how could that be? How could the town be going crazy? He thought about it, trying to reason it through. First the dream, and then the insane thoughts.
Then everyone seemed crazy to him predatory as if they were sharing his sudden cravings for human flesh. Brad decided that at some point his mind had snapped. The emotional strain of losing his wife to that bastard, that self-important, smug, swaggering jerk
his brain couldn’t deal with it, his subconscious rebelling against his conscious mind, because his conscious refused to allow himself to commit murder no matter how justified he felt.
Brad straightened and resumed walking up the street, feeling the insanity, seeing through it like a filter. No one had actually chased him at the store. They may have been staring at him, but it was probably because he was acting so crazy. It’s me, he thought.
It’s all me. It’s in my head. I probably scared the shit out of that poor guy and his wife. He was firing at me in self-defense.
Even now, looking around the sunny neighborhood around him, things looked strange. He felt like he was viewing the world through glasses that were the wrong prescription angles were distorted, and people’s faces their expressions he perceived them wrong. A mother and her children washing their car peered at him through beady, hostile eyes. The little girl, staring at him, licked her lips. An old man with his small white dog on a leash smiled as Brad passed, and the smile was full of menace. This isn’t real, Brad told himself. It can’t be. But his knowing this didn’t change what he saw. Knowing he was sick didn’t cure him.
Brad picked up his pace. He had to get to a phone and call the police, have himself put away. He wanted them to put him in a place where he could get well again. I can get better, he told himself. I can start over again.
A few yards away from his house he came across three large brown birds, cactus wrens with long sharp beaks, and they were in a little group on the grass picking at another of their kind. The other bird lay on its back, wings spread, legs still twitching.
They were eating it alive.
He stared at it a few moments. This can’t be happening, he thought. I’m hallucinating. Birds don’t eat each other, do they?
He watched them pulling out organs and ripping off shreds of feather-covered flesh. The birds glanced at him warily, but stood their ground. Brad felt the hollowness in his own stomach, felt his need to eat. The birds were acting so wrong, he decided it had to be a hallucination.
If I’m so crazy I’m seeing things that aren’t really there, he thought, then I’m crazy enough to do anything. He looked over at Dale’s house, and felt the full weight of his stockpile of hatred and anger. There are dozens of witnesses who’ll testify how crazy I’ve been acting. Even Janice would agree to that in front of a jury.
Brad passed his house, continuing down to Dale’s. He approached the front door, stepping over a pair of lizards that were biting each other, rolling around in a quick frenzy of battle. Turning the knob, he found it unlocked. They were already home from the clubhouse. Brad entered and softly closed the door behind him. He heard sounds, but no voices. It came from somewhere in the house, probably down the hall. Brad crossed quickly to the kitchen, his heart thudding in his ears, and found a wooden knife holder. He chose the long, thin, serrated bread knife. He always thought they looked dangerous, and now he was counting on it.