THE BEAST ─ five hargreeves

[ 062 ] zara rescues a goldfish from a crazy axe-murderer

LXII.

z a r a r e s c u e s a
g o l d f i s h f r o m a c r a z y
a x e - m u r d e r e r

—FIVE HAD A HABIT of waking at daybreak. He did so on this particular morning. He raised himself on an elbow and listened. The rain from last night had not returned. Dallas remained hot and miserable . . .

At eight o'clock a breeze had picked up but Five did not hear it. He was asleep again.

At nine-thirty he was sitting on the edge of his bed looking at his watch. His fingers touched the metal and he felt a little jolt of static electricity. His eyes shut for a moment, as if remembering something excruciatingly painful.

He said very quietly: "Nothing to do but get it over with."

At twenty-five minutes to ten he was tapping the closed door of Zara's room.

The latter opened it cautiously. Her hair was tousled and her eyes were still dim with sleep.

"Sleeping in, are we?" said Five affably. "I would've thought you'd know the importance of stopping the apocalypse by now."

Zara said shortly: "What's the matter?"

"The Commission's board of directors. I'm going to kill them."

He said I'm going to kill them as casually as a boy says I'm going fishing.

Suddenly conscious of himself, he stood up a little straighter and said: "You can come if you want."

"Come—to watch you kill a bunch of people?"

"Yes. Do you want to?"

Zara stared at him some more, then disappeared into the bedroom. The door shut in his face. He waited. His palms were sweating so he rubbed his hands on his shorts.

Then she came back with horse liniment from her first aid kit, and handed him the bottle silently. She informed him abruptly that it would help the bruise on his chest and that he must return it immediately to her in case she might come across a horse who needed it more than he did.

"Do you need the bruise stuff?" said Five. A little mark had formed on the hollow of her neck, dark like blotchy rouge. For a moment he wondered if she had been bitten by a wild animal after last night's fiasco. Then he realized. A lump formed in his throat. "Do you need it for—for . . ."

She tilted her head, and the mark become more visible. "For what?"

"For the—"

"Yes?"

"The—er, mark . . ."

"Oh, I see." She smiled. "You mean to ask whether I need the liniment for the bruise you left on my neck with your mouth immediately before you told me you feel nothing for me last night. Am I correct?"

He was uncomfortably aware that in some way Zara thought he had failed her, but he didn't know why she should think so, or on what basis she had judged him. She knew what he was; why was she upset?

As if she had read his mind, she sighed and said: "I'm not angry with you, Five."

Angry? He bristled inwardly at the statement. What did she have to be angry about? Five knew he would never hurt Zara. But Zara . . . he refused to delude himself into believing Zara would think twice about hurting him if she thought it necessary. She had nothing to be angry about!