Firestarter(62)

The man with Charlie turned toward him. The muzzle of his gun floated slightly away from her so that the young man could see it. "Government business," he said. "Stay right where you are; everything is fine."

The young man's wife grabbed his arm and pulled him down. Andy looked at the balding agent and said in a low, pleasant voice, "That gun is much too hot to hold."

Baldy looked at him, puzzled. Then, suddenly, he screamed and dropped his revolver. It struck the pavement and went off: One of the girls under the elms let out a puzzled, surprised shout. Baldy was holding his hand and dancing around. Fresh white blisters appeared on his palm, rising like bread dough.

The man with Charlie stared at his partner, and for a moment the gun was totally distracted from her small head. "You're blind," Andy told him, and pushed just as hard as he could. A sickening wrench of pain twisted through his head. The man screamed suddenly. He let go of Charlie and his hands went to his eyes.

"Charlie," Andy said in a low voice, and his daughter ran to him and clutched his legs in a trembling bear hug. The man inside the information booth ran out to see what was going on.

Baldy, still clutching his burned hand, ran toward Andy and Charlie. His face worked horribly.

"Go to sleep," Andy said curtly, and pushed again. Badly dropped sprawling as if poleaxed. His forehead bonked on the pavement. The young wife of the stern young man moaned.

Andy's head hurt badly now, and he was remotely glad that it was summer and that he hadn't used the push, even to prod a student who was letting his grades slip for no good reason, since perhaps May. He was charged up-but charged up or not, God knew he was going to pay for what he was doing this hot summer afternoon.

The blind man was staggering around on the grass, holding his hands up to his face and screaming. He walked into a green barrel with PUT LITTER IN ITS PLACE stenciled on its side and fell down in an overturned jumble of sandwich bags, beer cans, cigarette butts, and empty soda bottles.

"Oh Daddy, jeez I was so scared," Charlie said, and began to cry. "The wagon's right over there. See it?" Andy heard himself say. "Get in and I'll be with you in a minute." "Is Mommy here?" "No. Just get in, Charlie." He couldn't deal with that now. Now, somehow, he had to deal with these witnesses. "What the hell is this?" the man from the information booth asked, bewildered.

"My eyes," the man who had had his gun up to Charlie's head screamed. "My eyes, my eyes. What did you do to my eyes, you son of a bitch?" He got up. There was a sandwich bag sticking to one of his hands. He began to totter off toward the information booth, and the man in the bluejeans darted back inside.

"Go, Charlie."

"Will you come, Daddy?"

"Yes, in just a second. Now go."

Charlie went, blond pigtails bouncing. Her pack sack was still hanging askew.

Andy walked past the sleeping Shop agent, thought about his gun, and decided he didn't want it. He walked over to the young people at the picnic table. Keep it small, he told himself. Easy. Little taps. Don't go starting any echoes. The object is not to hurt these people.

The young woman grabbed her baby from its carrier seat rudely, waking it. It began to. cry. "Don't you come near me, you crazy person!" she said. Andy looked at the man and his wife. "None of this is very important," he said, and pushed. Fresh pain settled over the back of his head like a spider... and sank in.

The young man looked relieved. "Well, thank God."

His wife offered a tentative smile. The push hadn't taken so well with her; her maternity had been aroused.

"Lovely baby you have there," Andy said. "Little boy, isn't it?"

The blind man stepped off the curbing, pitched forward, and struck his head on the doorpost of the red Pinto that probably belonged to the two girls. He howled. Blood flowed from his temple. "I'm blind." he screamed again.

The young woman's tentative smile became radiant. "Yes, a boy," she said. "His name is Michael."

"Hi, Mike," Andy said. He ruffled the baby's mostly bald head.

"I can't think why he's crying," the young woman said. "He was sleeping so well until just now. He must be hungry."

"Sure, that's it," her husband said.

"Excuse me." Andy walked toward the information booth. There was no time to lose now. Someone else could turn into this roadside bedlam at any time. "What is it, man?" the fellow in the bluejeans asked. "Is it a bust?" "Nah, nothing happened," Andy said, and gave another light push. It was starting make him feel sick now. His head thudded and pounded. "Oh," the fellow said. "Well, I was just trying to figure out how to get to Chagrin Falls from here. Excuse me." And he sauntered back inside the information booth.

The two girls had retreated to the security fence that separated the turn-out from the private farmland beyond it. They stared at him with wide eyes. The blind man was now shuffling around on the pavement in a circle with his arms held stiffly out in front of him. He was cursing and weeping.

Andy advanced slowly toward the girls, holding his hands out to show them there was nothing in them. He spoke to them. One of them asked him a question and he spoke again. Shortly they both began to smile relieved smiles and to nod. Andy waved to them and they both waved in return. Then he walked rapidly across the grass toward the station wagon. His forehead was beaded with cold sweat and his stomach was rolling greasily. He could only pray that no one would drive in before he and Charlie got away, because there was nothing left. He was completely tipped over. He slid in behind the wheel and keyed the engine.