Everybody Scream! (47 page)

Awkwardly Del slipped free of Sophi, and she sniffled, not looking at his eyes. They knew it would take time to look into each other’s faces without guilt and insecurity. Mitch came in now and they were grateful for having broken apart. Sophi made her breathing even, turning away to wipe the corners of her eyes with her palms.

Mitch still looked haunted, to Del, drained of his savage vitality…his buoyant swagger now a heavy plodding. Would it all come back as before, or would it be tempered from now on? Mitch addressed Del, since Sophi had turned from him.

“The forcers haven’t caught up with Ficklebottom yet. They’re going to take LaKarnafeaux with them tonight. It doesn’t necessarily look good, though. No drugs on him, nothing much in the camp. Of course, every illegal substance in the universe is in his body. He says he’ll submit to a truth scan to prove he didn’t know anything about Leng…raping Sophi. That he didn’t order it, anyway. We’ve got enough on him to put him away, but not for any significant period.
Except
…I took notice of Leng’s silenced gun and ran a quick test that indicates it was his gun that killed Heather Buffatoni, Wes Sundry, and Fernando Colon.”

“God…Leng did it. Why?”

“Who knows? So far no guns collected at the scene match up on Gross or Habash, though. Nothing in the camp. Anyway, if LaKarnafeaux can be convinced or bullied into a full truth scan session, maybe we can find out if he ordered those killings or at least was aware enough of them to hook him as accomplice. There’s a lot to work with–it’s not like he’ll go free tomorrow–but I’d like to see him buried alive. We just don’t have that yet. All we can do is hope the force goes all out for the case and doesn’t just file it.”

“Is Del going to have to go downtown?” Sophi asked, joining the men now, red-eyed but composed.

“No–your lawyer took care of that. Not until he’s called to a specific inquest. There’ll be no trouble, believe me. It was clean self-defense.”

“So Leng killed those kids. He must have drugged Horowitz, too.”

“When I got my results on the gun I looked at the scan on her and found semen traces of Colon and another that matches Leng. You can count her as one of his victims.”

“Monster,” Sophi breathed.

It hadn’t hit Del yet. He had killed Johnny Leng. He had never ended another person’s life before…

Sophi’s lawyer and several other people entered the security trailer. Mitch seized the opportunity to draw Del off to one side. “Noelle Buda’s parents are here for her. She asked to see you. I didn’t want to say it in front of Sophi.”

“Where is she?”

“Outside.”

“Alright. I’ll, ah…walk with her to their car. Thanks, Mitch.” Del went to Sophi. Two of the people with her were from the town; white male humans who had introduced themselves as municipal administrators. “Excuse me. Sophi–I need some air I’m going to walk Noelle Buda and her parents out.”

Sophi looked at him. She saw that this was his confession. Her red eyes were not entirely without hurt, and traces of anger remained like the redness. But after a moment or two of recovery she told him, “Alright–be careful. The Martians might come back in full force for revenge.”

“They won’t tonight with the place swarming with forcers and g-men.”

“That might actually attract them.”

“I doubt it. I’ll be alright.”

“What about next year?” one administrator fretted to the other.

“We’ll just have to deal with that next year,” said Sophi. “Next year is the Paxton Fair’s twentieth anniversary. I hope you guys won’t change your minds about that.”

“We won’t,” said the senior administrator. “We hope you won’t.”

“No chance.” Sophi looked to Del. He smiled tiredly and gave no objection…though right now the thought wasn’t one he embraced with leaping enthusiasm.

“That’s the spirit,” the administrator told her.

Del left the trailer.

It was cold. He slipped back into his jacket but crumpled his string tie into one pocket. Three people were waiting for him nearby.

Noelle’s father smoked a cigarette, flicked it away at Del’s approach. He was tall, grim, black. Her mother was white, harsh-looking…at least now. Their eyes on him made Del feel as if he were Noelle’s young boyfriend being introduced to her parents for the first time. As Noelle did introduce him he was struck once more by her beauty. So much beauty in the world. So little could one person have of it. But there was a reassuring sanity, sometimes, in accepting those limits.

Noelle’s father shook his hand. “Thank you for seeing to our daughter’s concerns, Mr. Kahn. I’m sorry to hear what’s happened here tonight.”

“We’ll be alright.”

“Still no word on her friend Bonnie?”

“Not yet, but it looks connected to a series of apparently drug-related executions that took place tonight.” Committed by the man I murdered, Del thought.

“I just wanted to say goodbye,” Noelle said meekly, drawing his attention.

“Come on, I’ll walk you all to your car.” Del lightly took Noelle’s elbow–only for a moment.

The carnival had been closed for nearly an hour now. Over the loud speakers people had been asked to leave a little early. There had been a flood of people out and a new flood in. Firemen, paramedics, police to guard tonight against Martian retaliation. Government people to investigate the strange incident with the three dead Bedbugs and the vanished giant leg, the battle recounted by Nick Bovino and others.

The rides stood still…dark, skeletal, like winter trees against the distant bleeding glow from Punktown, where its sharp outline stabbed the night’s black flesh. The rides and Punktown’s spires intermingled into one jagged horizon, both being structures built to lift people into the sky. No more colored lights. No more music by Sphitt and Flemm roaring from the Screamer. The carnival’s flesh had been taken away. Patrols of town enforcers flitted through the ruins like ghosts.

Del was both irritated and relieved that the Budas did not walk a little ahead to let him talk with Noelle privately. She simply looked impatient, tried hooking his eyes at every opportunity, hers bright and sad in the dark. Mr. Buda was asking Del questions about the events of the night. It became apparent that he knew Del had killed Johnny Leng but didn’t seem repulsed by that.

Some guards at the gate let them through without questions. They descended the long inclined path to the vast dirt parking lot, now empty in the dim moonlight and barely adequate flood-lights except for a few scattered vehicles, mostly close by and belonging to the recent arrivals…though one vehicle far off belonged to Moussa Habash, and its eerie remoteness in the lot made Del imagine that the slumped punctured corpses were still inside it.

Off near the lot entrance some police guards glanced over at them but kept on smoking cigarettes, automatic weapons slung over their shoulders.

The Budas’ vehicle was near at hand and they stopped outside it. Mr. Buda unlocked the door for his wife and she slipped in. Again he shook hands with Del. “Thank you, Mr. Kahn.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Buda. Take care.”

Now, whether intentionally or not, Del and Noelle were left standing together outside the car as her father ducked into it and shut his door.

“I’m sorry about your friend, Noelle. I’m sorry about everything.”

Noelle nodded. She glanced down at her mother’s window. At this angle, near the rear of the vehicle, her mother couldn’t see them well, and the windows were closed against the night. In returning to Del, her eyes were almost pleading. “I was wondering if, you know…we could get together again some time…you know, to have lunch or something.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, hon. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took advantage of you like that,” he whispered.

“You didn’t. We both did it. Anyway, we don’t have to, um…”

“I’m sorry, Noelle–I can’t. I’m married.”

“You were married before.”

“I was being selfish. I was hurting my wife. I can’t do that.”

Noelle let out a ragged sigh, hugged her arms, gazed off toward the dark trees that bordered some of the lot. Bonnie’s car, she noticed, had been removed by someone sent by her family. “Well, I knew you were married all along. I knew it was just some fun. It isn’t like you promised to make me your mistress or anything.”

Was that a hint? He side-stepped it. “You don’t have a boyfriend now?”

“No.”

“That’s hard to believe. You won’t go long without one, Noelle, believe me. You’re a lovely, sweet woman.” Del took one of her hands and her hugging arms unfolded from her chest. He squeezed it. “I enjoyed your company. I’ll remember you. Don’t be sad, huh? Who am I, anyway? I’m nobody extra-special.”

“You’re Del Kahn.”

“Yeah? And you’re Noelle Buda.” He didn’t know how much of her attraction to him was based on his being
Del Kahn
, but he didn’t want to insult or hurt her now by pointing out that that had to be much if not most of it. What did she
really
know of him? Well–maybe she knew a lot, actually. She could recite his lyrics. And to know his lyrics was to know him. So maybe she really could love the true Del Kahn. But even that couldn’t matter now. “I’ve got to go, hon. And your parents are waiting. “He gave her hand a firmer squeeze, and then she embraced him.

Her body felt good against him, the gun in his waistband again a cold erection. He almost stroked her thick mane of hair. He glanced down at her parents’ car, his face hot, cheeks throbbing. He patted her back with one hand instead of stroking it, and after one extra-tight squeeze began to slip away from her.

Noelle’s mother wondered what was keeping them, and scrunched down a little to peer into her door’s rearview mirror. She saw the end of the embrace, their coming apart. Behind them, approaching, she saw another person. They had not yet seen this person, apparently. Mrs. Buda knew this person, in fact, but in the dark hadn’t yet recognized him. She didn’t care for this person...

Now Del heard the crunch of dirt behind them and turned. A young man with tight thin lips and the short bristled haircut typical of a Choom. Del didn’t know him, but Noelle knew him as she also turned. Del lifted his hands and cried, “Hey!”

“Is that your new boyfriend, Noelle?” croaked Kid Belfast, pointing the pistol he carried at Del and firing it.

The gun wasn’t silenced. The lead bullet smashed Del. He went down.

Noelle screamed, scrambled around behind the front of the car. The driver’s side door opened and Mr. Buda twisted partially out, a small semiautomatic pistol in his hand. Kid crouched a little and blasted off three shots in rapid succession. One bullet struck Mr. Buda on the base of the thumb, tearing it half off. Mr. Buda screamed now, his gun dangling by the trigger guard.

Kid started around the car to fire into it some more, as he had fired into Moussa Habash’s car so many hours earlier. He had several times nearly given up hope that Noelle would reemerge from the med trailer tonight, and when the carnival had closed he had taken to hiding once more in the bordering trees, discouraged by the influx of forcers. But then this car had pulled in. Good old, wonderful, open-armed Mr. and Mrs. Buda. Kid was almost more intent on killing them now than Noelle. Almost.

Despite his wound, Mr. Buda had almost got his door closed. Kid pointed his gun into the crack. He heard forcers yelling, running. He fired into the car. A bullet shattered Noelle’s mother’s knee cap. Kid saw Mr. Buda switching his businessman’s neat little, official-looking, antiseptic semiautomatic from his torn hand to his other. And the forcers would be here any moment. He quickly turned to head around to the front of the car. Noelle…

He wasn’t crying. He had stopped crying hours ago.

Kid saw her legs as she scrambled around to the driver’s side again. He had played this game with a friend as a boy…chasing each other around a car with battery-operated toy guns, watching for each other through the windows. He had still been a Choom, then.

He moved faster. Time was running out. He came around to the passenger’s side of the car. She was on her back in the dirt, there, her eyes huge up at him. Del was on his back with her, also propped up, as if they had been caught in bed together, his shirt red and Dingo Rubydawn’s semiautomatic at the end of his outstretched arm.

All the skillful cosmetic and structural surgery was swept away…the narrowing of the heavy Choom jaw, the implanted single row of puny human teeth, the adjustment of muscles and tendons, those thin tight lips. The explosive bullet was a sledgehammer swung into a plaster bust. A wet red explosion across the night sky. Del and Noelle stared up at this last display of fireworks.

Kid Belfast’s headless body toppled away. The coroner would, upon a post-mortem scan, identify and record the body as being a Choom.

The forcers from the gate arrived. It wasn’t long before two med helicars lighted nearby. Noelle had crouched by Del to hold his hand, weeping, but had been gently pulled away by a forcer to make room for the paramedics. She went with her parents in one of the helicars to the med trailer inside the carnival. Both had been bandaged and given pain blockers, were calm and coherent. She held both their hands and sobbed. And sobbed. “It’s my fault,” she chanted. “It’s my fault…” Even though she was but one gear in the whole machine.