[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
et cetera, et cetera and no one was paying the slightest attention to her. She
couldn't stand it. No one had paid much attention to her since Hector's
astonishing and unexpected birth. Was it ever to be so?
So while they ignored her, whereas previously everyone had stopped to remark
on her beauty and bearing, she smiled and silendy plotted. There were so many
things that could happen to a newborn, so many possibilities for turning all
that attention back to herself. One of the deadly little spiders with me red
hourglass on its abdomen slipped unnoticed into his cradle, or a black
scorpion from beneath a deserted rock introduced into his blanket. A
malfunctioning heater, bathwater too hot, rat poison accidentally mixed into
the formula& so many things.
Many noticed her smile, all misinterpreted its meaning. None of them
suspected what she was capable of, if it meant regaining the attention that
she had come to regard as her birthright.
A rumbling from underfoot, as of a subway train passing. Only, there was no
subway inEl Paso , none nearer thanLos Angeles . As a startled Father Aranjez
looked up from his undertaking, a few drops fell in one of the baby's eyes.
The insufferable little brat didn't even cry.
The rumbling intensified and the shaking began. Everyone grabbed a friend or
relative. Several people crossed themselves and one of the younger women began
to moan. Telita's mother gripped her daughter's shoulder hard enough to hurt.
Pictures of the saints were bouncing on the walls and dust fell from overhead.
Pews creaked as the nails and screws that held them together were unnaturally
stressed.
Then the chapel ceiling parted, wood and tile peeling back like cardboard.
Women screamed and men threw up their arms or, forgetting where they were,
cursed. A shaft of light intense enough to shame a laser pierced the opening.
It struck not the ground, not the baptismal font where Father Aranjez stood
bending protectively over the baby, but a little dark-haired girl held
immobile in the grip of her mother.
She could feel the heat, could smell the ends of her hair beginning to burn
like a thousand curly jet-black matches. Her dress shriveled against her as
the beads of sweat on her face and arms evaporated in tiny puffs of steam.
She knew what was happening, knew that not even her mother could help her
now. She screamed pleadingly at Father Aranjez, but even he was forced to turn
from the Eye of God as it penetrated directly to the heart of her evil,
jealous feelings. It was time for her to pay for what she'd been thinking,
time for her to burn, not even waiting for her to grow up and die, burning her
now where she stood&
She screamed.
There were so many people in the bar and so much ambient noise from the crowd
and blaring televisions that only those patrons in her immediate vicinity took
any notice of the outburst. Seeing that she was standing and in control of
Page 33
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
herself, they quickly stopped paying attention.
One who did notice her backing wide-eyed away from the doll shape was Ross
Ed. He's started forward as soon as he'd noticed her behind the bar. Having
touched Jed, she'd quickly drawn her hand back as if she'd been singed.
"Hey there, miss," he called out as he negotiated a path between bar and
counter, "what are you doing? You're not allowed back here."
She gripped her right wrist in her left hand, the nails digging into the fine
skin. "I& I think I burned myself." When she held up her hand Ross saw that it
was red but not swollen. Whatever had happened to her wasn't bad enough to
raise blisters.
Her eyes were very wide, as if she'd seen a ghost. Or something worse. His
gaze shifted to Jed, who sat propped in innocent immobility exactly as Ross Ed
had left him. The woman was beautiful, though Ross didn't approve of her
attire, a style well known to regular patrons of bars and honky-tonks as
Southwestern slut.
Bartenders were not paid to render moral judgments. "We'll put some ice on
it," he told her, "but you have to move. Employees only allowed behind the
bar."
She bumped up against the drop leaf. Turning, she needed three tries to lift
it, letting it slam roughly shut behind her. Before he could call out to her a
second time, she was gone, shoving her way through the crowd, a vanishing
flicker of silver-and-gray-encased flesh. Her black hair streamed out behind
her in sudden and inexplicable disarray.
What had happened? He queried the two men seated nearby.
"Hey, man, I didn't see nothin'," one replied. "Didn't pay no attention when
she went behind the bar. I thought she belonged back there. Thought she was
one of the waitresses."
"None of the waitresses here that pretty." His companion peered up at Ross
Ed. "Me, I was watching the game, man. Turned around when she screamed,
though. She looked okay, so I didn't think nothin' of it."
"You didn't see her touch anything?"
"No, man." The first speaker snubbed out his cigarette. "She just squealed
and grabbed her hand. You got an espresso machine or something back there? Hot
plate?"
"Not at this end of the bar," Ross Ed replied.
"Go figure." The two men returned their attention to the crowd and the game.
Ross considered for a moment before turning to confront his silent companion.
Deliberately, he reached out and ran his fingers down the front of the
faceplate, feeling of the slightly roughened but perfectly transparent
surface. His hand continued down the keellike chest ridge to grasp the middle
arm. Faceplate and fabric were pleasantly mild to the touch. Room temperature.
"Hey, big guy," one of the two men was saying, "you ever play any ball?"
"High school." Ross Ed looked back over a shoulder. "Couldn't get out of it.
The coaches nagged me unmercifully."
Page 34
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Yeah, I bet." The man sipped at his drink. "You any good?"
"Not really interested. Kind of slow; did okay, I guess."
"Right." The man gestured at his friend's glass. "Couple of fresh ones,
okay?"
"Coming up." Moving down the bar, he drew two clean glasses and set them
beneath the tap, filling each one carefully so as to minimize the head.
Placing them before the disinterested pair, he collected his tip and returned
his attention to his enigmatic companion.
"I don't know what you're doing or how you're doing it," he found himself
muttering tersely to the alien figure. "I know you're dead, but if it's just
the suit that's doing these things, how come it only affects people once?"
As expected, there was no reply. What did others see when they made contact
with Jed? First the maid, then this woman. Had there been more? He couldn't
keep an eye on Jed all the time. Nor would it be a good idea to question
everyone in the alien's vicinity. Draw too much attention to himself.
A blustery, red-faced businessman reached out to intercept him as he turned
away. With his other hand the man pointed, none too steadily, in Jed's
direction.
"Hey, bartender! What is that thing, anyway?"
"Ain't you heard?" volunteered a nearby regular, a machinist at one of the
many manufacturing plants that encircled the airport. "It's a dead alien.
Name's Jed." He winked at the big man behind the bar. "Ain't that right, Ross
Ed?"
"That's right." The bartender shook free and resumed his work.
"That a fact?" The traveler sat back on his stool. "Look's like a damn
ventriloquist's dummy to me." Hefting his beer, he shoved the half-full glass
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]