He rose and shouted, “Goring! Where are you’?” Something struck the back of his head. He fell on his face.
Stunned, he managed to get to his hands and knees, only to be knocked flat again by another heavy blow. Half-conscious, he nevertheless rolled over on his back and raised his legs and hands to defend himself. Lightning revealed Goring standing above him with a club in one hand. His face was a madman’s.
Darkness sliced off the lightning. Something white and blurred-leaped upon Goring out of the darkness. The two pale bodies went down onto the grass beside Burton and rolled over and over. They screeched like tomcats, and another flash of lightning showed them clawing at each other.
Burton staggered to his feet and lurched toward them but was knocked down by Collop’s body, hurled by Goring. Again Burton got up. Collop bounded to his feet and charged Goring. There was a loud crack, and Collop crumpled. Burton tried to run toward Goring. His legs refused to answer his demands; they took him off at an angle, away from his point of attack. Then another blast of light and noise showed Goring, as if caught in a photograph, suspended in the act of swinging the club at Burton.
Burton felt his arm go numb as it received the impact of the club. Now not only his legs but also his left arm disobeyed him. Nevertheless he balled his right hand and tried to swing at Goring. There was another crack; his ribs felt as if they had become unhinged and were driven inward into his lung. His breath was knocked out of him, and once again he was on the cold wet grass.
Something fell by his side. Despite his agony, he reached out for it. The club was in his hand; Goring must have dropped it. Shuddering with each painful breath, he got to one knee. Where was the madman? Two shadows danced and blurred, merged and half-separated. The hut! His eyes were crossed. He wondered if he had a concussion of the brain, then forgot it as he saw Goring dimly in the illumination of a distant streak of lightning. Two Gorings, rather. One seemed to accompany the other; the one on the left had his feet on the ground; the right one was treading on air.
Both had their hands held high up into the rain, as if they were trying to wash them. And when the taro turned and came toward him, he understood that that was what they were trying to do. They were shouting in German (with a single voice); Take the blood off my hands! Oh, God, wash it off!”
Burton stumbled toward Goring, his club held high.. Burton meant to knock him out, but Goring suddenly turned and ran away. Burton followed him as best he could, down the hill, up another one, and then out onto the flat plain. The rains stopped, the thunder and lightning died, and within five minutes the clouds, as always, had cleared away. The starlight gleamed on Goring’s white skin.
Like a phantom he flitted ahead of his pursuer, seemingly bent upon getting to The River. Burton kept after him, although he wondered why he was doing so. His legs had regained most of their strength, and his vision was no longer double. Presently, he found Goring. He was squatting by The River and staring intently at the star-fractured waves.
Burton said, “Are you all right now?” Goring was startled. He began to rise, then changed his mind. Groaning, he put his head down on his knees.
“I knew what I was doing, but I didn’t know why,” he said dully. “Karla was telling me she was moving out in the morning, said she couldn’t sleep with all the noise I made with my nightmares. And I was acting strangely. I begged her to stay; I told her I loved her very much. I’d die if she deserted me. She said she was fond of me, had been, rather, but she didn’t love me. Suddenly, it seemed that if I wanted to keep her, I’d have to hill her. She ran screaming out of the hut. You know the rest.”