Firestarter(6)

"What's the countersign?" Andy whispered hoarsely.

The grad assistant laughed politely.

Andy left the lecture hall, started across the lobby toward the big double doors (outside, the quad was green with approaching summer, students passing desultorily back and forth), and then remembered his pen. He almost let it go; it was only a nineteen cent Bic, and he still had his final round of prelims to study for. But the girl had been pretty, maybe worth chatting up, as the British said. He had no illusions about his looks or his line, which were both pretty nondescript, or about the girl's probable status (pinned or engaged), but it was a nice day and he was feeling good. He decided to wait. At the very least, he would get another look at those legs.

She came out three or four minutes later, a few notebooks and a text under her arm. She was very pretty indeed, and Andy decided her legs had been worth waiting for. They were more than good; they were spectacular.

"Oh, there you are," she said, smiling.

"Here I am," said Andy McGee. "What did you think of that?"

"I don't know," she said. "My friend said these experiments go on all the time-she was in one last semester with those J. B. Rhine ESP cards and got fifty dollars for it even though she missed almost all of them. So I just thought-"She finished the thought with a shrug and flipped her coppery hair neatly back over her shoulders.

"Yeah, me too," he said, taking his pen back. "Your friend in the Psych Department?" "Yes," she said, "and my boyfriend, too. He's in one of Dr. Wanless's classes, so he couldn't get in. Conflict of interest or something." Boyfriend. It stood to reason that a tall, auburn haired beauty like this had one. That was the way the world turned.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Same story. Friend in the Psych Department. I'm Andy, by the way. Andy McGee."

"I'm Vicky Tomlinson. And a little nervous about this, Andy McGee. What if I go on a bad trip or something?"

"This sounds like pretty mild stuff to me. And even if it is acid, well... lab acid is different from the stuff you can pick up on the street, or so I've heard. Very smooth, very mellow, and administered under very calm circumstances. They'll probably pipe in Cream or Jefferson Airplane." Andy grinned.

"Do you know much about LSD?" she asked with a little cornerwise grin that he liked very much.

"Very little," he admitted. "I tried it twice-once two years ago, once last year. In some ways it made me feel better. It cleaned out my head... at least, that's what it felt like. Afterward, a lot of the old crud just seemed to be gone. But I wouldn't want to make a steady habit of it. I don't like feeling so out of control of myself. Can I buy you a Coke?"

"All right," she agreed, and they walked over to the Union building together.

He ended up buying her two Cokes, and they spent the afternoon together. That evening they had a few beers at the local hangout. It turned out that she and the boyfriend had come to a parting of the ways, and she wasn't sure exactly how to handle it. He was beginning to think they were married, she told Andy; had absolutely forbidden her to take part in the Wanless experiment. For that precise reason she had gone ahead and signed the release form and was now determined to go through with it even though she was a little scared.

"That Wanless really does look like a mad doctor," she said, making rings on the table with her beer glass.

"How did you like that trick with the cigarettes?"

Vicky giggled. "Weird way to quit smoking, huh?"

He asked her if he could pick her up on the morning of the experiment, and she had agreed gratefully.

"It would be good to go into this with a friend," she said, and looked at him with her direct blue eyes. "I really am a little scared, you know. George was so-I don't know, adamant."

"Why? What did he say?"

"That's just it," Vicky said. "He wouldn't tell me anything, except that he didn't trust Wanless. He said hardly anyone in the department does, but a lot of them sign up for his tests because he's in charge of the graduate program. Besides, they know it's safe, because he just weeds them out again."

He reached across the table and touched her hand. "We'll both probably get the distilled water, anyway," he said. "Take it easy, kiddo. Everything's fine."

But as it turned out, nothing was fine. Nothing.

3

Albany albany airport mister hey mister, this is it we're here.

Hand, shaking him. Making his head roll on his neck. Terrible headache-Jesus! Thudding, shooting pains.

"Hey mister, this is the airport."

Andy opened his eyes, then shut them against the white light of an overhead sodium lamp. There was a terrible, shrieking whine, building up and up and up, and he winced against it. It felt as if steel darning needles were being jammed into his ears. Plane. Taking off: It began to come to him through the red fog of pain. Ah yes, Doc, it all comes back to me now.

"Mister?" The cabby sounded worried. "Mister, you okay?" "Headache." His voice seemed to come from far away, buried in the jet-engine sound that was, mercifully, beginning to fade off. "What time is it?" "Nearly midnight. Slow haul getting up here. Don't tell me, I'll tell you. Buses won't be running, if that was your plan. Sure I can't take you home?"