Once she was all the way up it seemed a little better. They made their way out of the grove with the slow side-by-side solemnity of a couple about to be married. Beyond the shade of the trees the day seemed even hotter than before and blindingly bright. Bobby looked around and saw no one. Somewhere, deeper in the park, a bunch of little kids (probably Sparrows or Robins from Sterling House) were singing a song, but the area around the baseball fields was utterly deserted: no kids, no mothers wheeling baby carriages, no sign of Officer Raymer, the local cop who would sometimes buy you an ice cream or a bag of peanuts if he was in a good mood. Everyone was inside, hiding from the heat.
Still moving slowly, Bobby with his arm around Carol’s waist, they walked along the path which came out on the corner of Commonwealth and Broad. Broad Street Hill was as deserted as the park; the paving shimmered like the air over an incinerator. There wasn’t a
single pedestrian or moving car in sight.
They stepped onto the sidewalk and Bobby was about to ask if she could make it across the street when Carol said in a high, whispery voice: ‘Oh Bobby I’m fainting.’
He looked at her in alarm and saw her eyes roll up to glistening whites. She swayed back and forth like a tree which has been cut almost all the way through. Bobby bent, moving without thinking, catching her around the thighs and the back as her knees unlocked. He had been standing to her right and was able to do this without hurting her left arm any more than it already had been hurt; also, even in her faint Carol kept her right hand cupped over her left elbow, holding the arm mostly steady.
Carol Gerber was Bobby’s height, perhaps even a little taller, and close to his weight. He should have been incapable of even staggering up Broad Street with her in his arms, but people in shock are capable of amazing bursts of strength. Bobby carried her, and not at a stagger; under that burning June sun he ran. No one stopped him, no one asked him what was wrong with the little girl, no one offered to help. He could hear cars on Asher Avenue, but this part of the world seemed eerily like Midwich, where everyone had gone to sleep at once.
Taking Carol to her mother never crossed his mind. The Gerber apartment was farther up the hill, but that wasn’t the reason. Ted was all Bobby could think of. He had to take her to Ted. Ted would know what to do.
His preternatural strength began to give out as he climbed the steps to the front porch of his building. He staggered, and Carol’s grotesque double shoulder bumped against the railing.
She stiffened in his arms and cried out, her half-lidded eyes opening wide.
‘Almost there,’ he told her in a panting whisper that didn’t sound much like his own voice.
‘Almost there, I’m sorry I bumped you but we’re almost — ‘
The door opened and Ted came out. He was wearing gray suit pants and a strap-style undershirt. Suspenders hung down to his knees in swinging loops. He looked surprised and concerned but not frightened.
Bobby managed the last porch step and then swayed backward. For one terrible moment he thought he was going to go crashing down, maybe splitting his skull on the cement walk.
Then Ted grabbed him and steadied him.
‘Give her to me,’ he said.
‘Get over on her other side first,’ Bobby panted. His arms were twanging like guitar strings and his shoulders seemed to be on fire. ‘That’s the bad side.’
Ted came around and stood next to Bobby. Carol was looking up at them, her sandy-blond hair hanging down over Bobby’s wrist. ‘They hurt me,’ she whispered to Ted. ‘Willie . . . I asked him to make them stop but he wouldn’t.’
‘Don’t talk,’ Ted said. ‘You’re going to be all right.’
He took her from Bobby as gently as he could, but they couldn’t help joggling her left arm a little. The double shoulder moved under the white smock. Carol moaned, then began to cry.
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