The Complete Roderick (45 page)

‘Ouch! Look is this – ow, this for my own protec – ouch! My own protection? Because I, ouch, you take off these cuffs I could protect myself …’

‘What?’ The sheriff had not been looking at his victim, but through the open door at the TV in his office. Someone was trying to name nine brands of beer in thirty seconds. Sheriff Benson looked at the weapon in his hand. ‘Sorry, son. Just gets to be a habit. I guess.’ Slamming the cell door, he added, ‘Hope I can still count on your support come election day?’

Roderick was not surprised to find a black man in the next cell, even though the man was not wearing faded overalls nor playing a harmonica.

‘Hi man. My name’s Roderick Wood. What’s yours?’ Ignoring him, the man continued taking his own temperature. ‘I’m in protective custody. For my own good. What are you in for? Oh, I hope you don’t find this paint on my face offensive. No insult
intended, man. See what it is is mourning. See my Pa died – he’s not really my Pa, in fact he’s not really anybody’s Pa, he’s a woman. Only I didn’t know that, when he looked at this gas bill for a million dollars and just keeled over. Only now I find out he’s not dead and he’s not a he either. Now he lives I mean she lives in the factory. So when I thought Ma, who really isn’t a woman either she’s a man who used to write science fiction that all came true, I thought she was doing witchcraft but it was only scientific stuff to revive Pa. Boy was that ever a shock! I mean last time I had a shock like that was when these gipsies kidnapped me and sold me to this carnival where I was supposed to tell fortunes. Duking, they called it. You know that was about the only time I ever went out of town anyways, oh except when Ma and me went to the city to get me a new eye, this burned-out store only when she left me there I got pretty scared because here was this same carny guy with a pinball on his finger, wouldn’t you be scared? And I didn’t find Ma again until later when I was in one of these two limousines that crashed into a art gallery –’

‘Really?’ The man held the thermometer up to the light. ‘Been seeing a lot of movies have you, sport?’

‘I used to watch them on TV a lot, when I was living with these people in Nevada I think it was only the guy beat me up with a hammer –’

‘Subnormal. As usual. Still say I’m coming down with something, maybe that virus thing that’s going around … I don’t know … “Physician, heal thyself” – Ha! If I could heal myself I wouldn’t be a physician, I’d be a miracle-worker. The name is De’Ath, by the way. Dr Samuel De’Ath.’

‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Roderick Wo –’

‘Yeah I heard you. A robot trying to break into the movies. Do me a favour, will you, look at my throat? Can you manage the light and the tongue depressor with those cuffs … Good. Now I say Ah … see anything?’

‘It’s all pink! I thought it would be, well more –’

‘Pink hell, is it
red?
That is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question!’

The sheriff’s head appeared around the door. ‘Did I hear somebody mention the good old sixty-four-thousand-dollar question? Used to be my favourite, doggone it, with the old isolation
booth and the – No? Don’t neither of you boys like game shows? If you do, speak up – I can always bring the TV in here and let you watch with me. Just let me know.’ The head vanished.

‘It’s not red, Doc.’

‘Funny, it feels … and my pulse is slightly elevated too … I wonder …’

‘Doc, do you think that mob will break in here and drag us out and hang us?’

But by now the doctor was listening to his own heart. ‘I know I ought to get out more, jog a little, get plenty of exercise. But somehow … last time I went out was with this priest, Father O’Bride, kept calling me a natural until I started missing easy shots, you know? Guy’s kinda weird anyway, kept telling me about this idea of his for a fourteen-hole golf course with every hole a Station of the Cross – what do you mean,
hang us?’

‘Well you know, hang us.’

‘Not a chance. You’ve been seeing too many movies again, sport.
Old
movies. People just don’t hang people any more. A necktie party in modern dress? A lynching in the post-literate electronic age, the global village? Klan vengeance, in these days of low-lipid diets and consumer awareness? String us up, just when civilization is hitting its stride with, with male contraceptive pills and Mickey Mouse telephones? With giggling gingerbread and soul-searching politicians and reconstituted gratification? Not a chance, sport.’

After a moment, he added, ‘What an admission of failure! To turn their backs on, on the great American menu of therapies, and just go sneaking off in the night with a rope – impossible!’

After another moment, ‘Improbable, anyway.’

Roderick said, ‘I just hope when they come for us, Sheriff Benson will get out there with a shotgun on the front steps and tell them all about, uh, justice, uh, how the foundering fathers brought forth a nation where liberty and just –’

‘I’d rather not discuss it any more, okay? God, it isn’t as if I haven’t got enough to worry about! Heading for a major health crisis just when I need all my strength for a long court battle over this gingerbread business, not to mention this little smear campaign, trying to discredit me before I blow the whistle on their dirty little operation.’

‘Who?’

‘Kratt Enterprises, that’s who. Or I guess they now call it KUR Industries, might as well call it Mass Poisoners Incorporated, what with their – well I’d better not talk about it off the record, but their day is coming.’

‘You mean they made the gingerbread boys that made all those kids sick?’

‘Yeah, and just wait. This is just the chance I needed, to carve out a reputation in the public service, lay down a solid career foundation –’

‘Not to mention saving a lot more kids from –’

‘Sure that too, but from there I could springboard right into some prestigious drug firm, they’re always on the look-out for young crusaders, names that look good on the letter-head – and let’s face it, integrity is all I’ve got to sell.’

Roderick scratched his head. ‘But wouldn’t it be better if you kept finding out about mass poisoners and helped save other –?’

The door banged open and Sheriff Benson came in, dragging the TV set. ‘Hate to think of you boys sitting in here with nothing to do, so I thought I’d come in here and let you watch the shows with me. Anyways that mob out front is making too much racket, I can’t hardly hear the questions.’

They watched
The Big Score, Ripoff, Pick a Winner, Two for the Top, Lucky Break, Pile It Up, Family Spree, Play or Pay, Big Bingo, Make or Break, Guess It Rich, Spoil Yourself, Great Expectations, Gold or Fold, Grab Bag and Money Talks,
and during the commercial breaks the sheriff described other games.

‘Too bad you boys missed that new one,
Double Your Social Security Check.
Real good, see, they get these old folks to put their check in this glass box, then they gotta answer three questions. Well see they might be easy ones like name a pro football linebacker with two Z’s in his name, you know? Other times they get trickier, like name five countries in Europe – anyway see, every time the old codger gets a right answer, they put another check in the box, keep on doubling up see? But if they
miss
one –’ The sheriffs chair creaked with laughter, ‘The damn check burns up in the box, right before their eyes! Boy O boy, there was one old guy – oops, they’re back –’

The TV figure welcomed them back to the next round of
Money Talks.
‘Well, Mrs Pearson? Will YOU talk for money? Will YOU step into our special Acorn United Company bank vault, filled with
ONE MILLION
crisp new dollar bills, and talk for
five minutes?’

‘This ain’t no good,’ said the sheriff, touching a button. ‘We’ll try
Take the Plunge.’

‘… member, if you push the
right
button, you’ll be able to Take the Plunge right into our gold-plated swimming pool, filled to the brim with shiny new silver dollars. You could just dive in and keep every dollar you throw up, okay? How’s that sound, eh? Good? Great! Now, that’s if you push the
right
button. If you push the
wrong
button, Doris, the pool might be filled with something … we-e-ell …
not
so nice.
MOLASSES
, for instance? Ha ha ha, or maybe
JELLO
? Or how about
DIRTY SOCKS
? Okay then, here goes …’

Roderick watched the poor woman on the screen, her face slack but smiling. Almost like a dog waiting for a kick, hoping for a pat. She pushed the button and the great gold
lame
curtains swished open to show a swimming pool filled with –

‘
TYRES
!’ screamed the MC over audience laughter. ‘Oh my goodness,
TYRES
! That’s right, Doris, you have just won a plunge into this pool filled with old rubber tyres! Ah ha ha, and you – ha ha – yes you can keep every one you throw up –’

Suddenly the entire brilliant studio, with the purple walls, gold curtains, the MC in his scarlet coat and the contestant’s green face, shrank to a dot and vanished. The plug had been kicked out of its socket by one of the stumbling men, each wearing a pillowcase over his head, coming for the prisoners.

The tall building of rusty corrugated iron was Bangfield’s Grain Elevator, just one of the forgotten buildings at the forgotten end of town. A few cars and pickups had been parked to shine their headlights on the action: a rope being passed over a pulley and tied into a noose.

‘I guess they mean it,’ said Dr De’Ath. ‘I just hope they’ve got enough sense to do this right. They ought to drop us from enough height to fracture the fourth cervical vertebra, a quick snap and we’re finished.’

‘Sure.’ All Roderick could think of was getting out of it,
somehow, working some brilliant psychological trick that would make the pillow-heads give up.

‘Listen fellows,’ he said. ‘Our foundering fathers brought –’

‘Shut up, will you?’ said a head with a border of marigolds. Another, in a pillowcase dotted with fleur-de-lis grabbed Dr De’Ath and shoved him towards the noose.

‘Hold on, we’re not ready yet,’ said a pillowcase edged with the Campbell tartan. ‘Keep him back there.’

‘Snap,’ said Dr De’Ath bitterly. ‘Not a chance with these yahoos. They’ll probably give us slow asphyxiation by ligatation, fracturing the hyoid so we end up with our tongues sticking out and messing our pants. Talk about an admission of failure! And loose bowels are one thing I haven’t been troubled with lately, kind of ironic …’

‘I was just wondering if my whole life would flash before me,’ Roderick muttered. ‘I mean my
whole
life. Because if it did, there’d have to be a moment when I relived the present moment, wouldn’t there? When I started reliving my whole life again? And in that life I’d get to the same moment, and start reliving –’

‘Just shut up, will you?’ said the marigolds. ‘Why make this any tougher than it is? Just relax.’

‘Relax?’ Dr De’Ath chortled. ‘I’ve got a migraine now, on top of everything else, this yahoo wants me to
relax.’

‘All set,’ the tartan called out.

Dr De’Ath said, ‘Look Rod, how about you going first? See I’d like to try a little gargle first – oh I know it sounds silly, but I really hate to die without at least trying to clear up this sore throat of mine – okay?’

‘Okay.’ Roderick stepped forward and turned to face the lights. Someone slipped a noose over his head. He saw a pillowcase printed with sea-horses, read the tag on its hem:
hand-hot wash, drip-dry, do not spin.
Will this be my last memory? No, better to try thinking of something interesting, how about the paradox of the unexpected hanging?

A judge tells a man he’ll be hanged one day next week, but not on any day he’s expecting it. The man reasons that he cannot be hanged on the Saturday, since he’d certainly expect it if he survived the other six days. So the hanging had to happen between Sunday and Friday. But then it couldn’t be Friday,
either, by the same reasoning. That left Sunday till Thursday, only in that case Thursday too was out. And so on, until he eliminated every day but Sunday. So he expected to be hanged on Sunday. So he couldn’t be hanged on Sunday. So he couldn’t be hanged at all!

Roderick felt pain in his neck as he was hoisted aloft. Looking down, he could see the whole miserable little crowd of pillow-heads, the parked cars beyond them, and further. There was Ma, lurking in the background and biting his nails. There was the limousine that had been parked up at the factory, now it was stopping in a shadow while the chauffeur got out and – what was he doing – taking pictures.

The pain got sharper, and Roderick thought he heard a rivet shearing in his neck. Better finish:

… couldn’t be hanged at all! So the man thought, being perfectly logical. So he wasn’t expecting it the day they hanged him …

‘Jus’ one more picture, boss?’ said the chauffeur. ‘Cause I know the kids would love to see –’

‘Get back in the car. Now!’ Ben Franklin pushed the snoring weight of Mr Kratt off his shoulder and leaned forward. ‘If you don’t get back behind that wheel right now, I’ll have you
fired.’

The chauffeur shrugged, folded his camera and climbed in. ‘’Kay, take it easy. Maybe you seen a lot of lynchin’s, I ain’t.’

Ben looked at the sleeping figure. It had stopped snoring and was now muttering, ‘Pleassssure. Pleassssure.’

‘Just start the car and drive.’

‘You crazy? Through that buncha –’

‘Then turn around and drive the other way, let’s just get out of here.’

‘Yeah but like I said we can’t go nowhere this way, like I said when we come off at the wrong exit – didn’t I tell you it was the wrong exit? – all we can do now is stay on this here highway 811 until we hit the old Interstate and then cut back –’

‘All right, just – just a minute, let me think.’

‘Some thinker,’ said the chauffeur, lighting a hand-rolled cigarette. ‘Look buddy we’re stuck here, why doncha just sit back and watch the show?’

‘Show?
Is that all it is to you, a show? You don’t care do you, people committing murder – like
that?
It’s just something on TV, that it?’