Cussick shook his head. "Sorry, honey. I'd fall over."
Nina was on her feet. "Max, will you dance with me?"
"Sure," Kaminski said. "I'll do anything. Enjoy ourselves in the time left." Holding her clumsily by the arm, he half-led, half-dragged her through the departing people, to the front of the room. There, a few sodden couples swayed back and forth. The two hermaphrodites, now both women, were dancing calmly with male patrons. Presently, tired of that, they switched sexes, became men, and wandered among the tables looking for female partners.
Sitting at his table, Cussick said: "Can they control it?"
Tyler sipped her drink. "Probably. It's quite an art."
"It's depraved."
One by one the lights dimmed out. When next Cussick looked he saw Kaminski slumped over at a table, no longer dancing. Where, then, was Nina? For a time he couldn't locate her; then he identified her familiar blonde hair. She was dancing with one of the hermaphrodites, face glazed with desperate excitement. Arm around her, the slender young man danced dispassionately, expertly.
Before Cussick know it, he was on his feet. "Wait here," he told Tyler.
Gathering up her purse and coat, Tyler started after him. "We better not get separated."
But Cussick could think only of Nina. His wife and the hermaphrodite were walking hand-in-hand through what instinct told him was the entrance to the still-functioning back rooms. Pushing a group of loitering couples aside, he followed. For an instant he waded through a dense darkness and then he was standing in a deserted corridor. Head down, he ran blindly forward. Around a turn, he stopped short.
Nina, leaning against the wall, a glass in her hand, was talking intently to the hermaphrodite. Her blonde hair was a disarranged cascade. Her body slumped with fatigue, but her eyes still flashed, bright and feverish.
Striding up to her, Cussick said: "Come on, honey. We have to go." He was dimly aware that Tyler and Kaminski had followed him.
"You go ahead," Nina said, in a strained, metallic voice. "Go on. Take off."
"What about you?" he demanded, shocked. "What about Jack?"
"The hell with Jack," she said, in sudden agony. "The hell with everything—with your whole world. I'm not going back—I'm staying here. If you want me, for God's sake stay with me."
The hermaphrodite turned slightly and said to Cussick. "Mind your own business, chum. In this world, everybody does what he wants."
Cussick reached out, grabbed hold of the creature's shirt, and lifted him from his feet. The hermaphrodite was amazingly light; he struggled and twisted, and in an instant had slid out of Cussick's hands. Stepping back, the hermaphrodite flowed into a female. Her eyes mocking, she danced lithely away from him.
"Go ahead," she gasped. "Hit me."
Nina had turned and started off down the corridor. The hermaphrodite, noticing, quickly hurried after her, an eager expression on her face. As the creature followed Nina down the hall to a side door, Tyler slipped up close and caught hold of her. With an expert motion, Tyler twisted the creature around and yanked her arm back in a paralyzing lock. The hermaphrodite instantly flowed into the figure of a man. Cussick stepped forward and socked him on the jaw. Without a sound, the hermaphrodite sank down, totally unconscious, and Tyler released him.
"She's gone," Kaminski said, balancing himself with an effort. Other people were hurrying up; the hermaphrodite's partner appeared, clapped his hands in horror, and dropped down fearfully to paw at his inert companion.
Glancing around, Tyler said rapidly to Cussick. "She's familiar with this place. If you expect her to leave with you, you'll have to talk her into it." Urgently, she gave him a shove. "Get going."
He found her almost at once. She had crept from the corridor into a side room, a blind alley with only one entrance. There, he cornered her, slammed the door and locked it after him. Nina crouched in the corner, frail and pitiful, eyes bright with fear, trembling and gazing mutely up at him.
The room was simple, hygienically clean in its ascetic purity. The curtains, the position of the furniture, told him the unbearable truth; only Nina could have arranged this room. This was her room. Her imprint, her image, was stamped on every inch of it.
There were noises outside. Kaminski's hoarse growl swelled up: "Doug, you in there?"
He stepped outside into the hall and confronted Kaminski and Tyler. "I found her. She's all right."
"What are you going to do?" Tyler asked.
"Stay here. You two better go. Can you find your way out?"
"Certainly," Tyler said, understanding. Taking hold of Kaminski she led him back a step. "Good luck. Come on, Max. There's nothing we can do here."
"Thanks," Cussick said, standing firmly-planted in front of the door. "I'll see you later, both of you."
Kaminski, protesting and bewildered, retreated at the insistence of the slim girl holding tightly to his arm. "Give me a call," he mumbled. "When you get back; when you're out of here. So I'll know you're okay."
"I'll do that," Cussick said. "Don't forget your package." He stood a moment, until the two of them had disappeared along the hall. Then he turned and re-entered the room.
On the bed, Nina was sitting up slightly, her head against the wall, legs drawn up, feet tucked under her. She smiled up weakly at him. "Hello," she said.
"Feel better?" He locked the door and came toward her. "They left; I sent them off."
Sitting down on the edge of the bed he asked. "This is your room, isn't it?"
"Yes." She didn't look directly at him.
"How long?"
"Oh, not long. A week, maybe. Ten days."
"I don't really understand. You want to be here with these people?"
"I wanted to get away. I couldn't stand that damn little apartment... I wanted to be on my own, do something. It's so hard to explain; some of it I don't understand, myself. It's like the stealing—I just felt I had to stand up."
"That's why you brought us all here, then. It meant nothing until you could show it to us."
"I suppose so. Yes, I guess you're right. I wanted you to see it, so you'd know. So you'd see I had somewhere to go... not dependent on you. Not helpless, tied to your world. Outside in the main bar I got scared... I took the heroin to get my nerve." She smiled a little. "It's such a mess."
He bent over her, holding onto her hands. Her skin was cold and faintly moist. "You're not scared now, are you?"
"No," she managed. "Not with you here."
"We'll stay here tonight," he told her. "That's what you want?"
She nodded forlornly.
"Then tomorrow morning we'll go back?"
Twisting, she answered painfully: "Don't ask me. Don't make me say. I'm afraid to say, now."
"All right." It hurt, but he didn't press for an answer. "We can decide tomorrow, after we have a good sleep and breakfast. After we get all this stuff out of our systems. This poison—this rot."
There was no answer. Nina had fallen into a partial doze; eyes shut, she lay resting against the wall, chin down, body relaxed.
For a long time Cussick sat immobile. The room grew cold. Outside, in the hall, there was only silence. His watch told him it was four-thirty. Presently he bent down and slid off Nina's shoes. He placed them on the floor by the bed, hesitated, and then unfastened the snaps of her dress. The dress was intricately held together; it took him some time. Twice, she woke slightly, stirred, and sank back into sleep. At last the dress came apart; he maneuvered one section over her head, laid it over the back of a chair, lifted her hips, and struggled the remaining part away from her.
It was surprising how really small she was. Without the ornate, expensive dress, she seemed unusually bare, defenseless, open to injury. It was impossible to feel rancor toward her. He pulled up the blankets around her shoulders and tucked them under her chin. Her heavy blonde hair spilled out over the wool fabric, thick honey streaks against the checkered pattern of red and black. Smoothing her hair back from her eyes, he seated himself beside her on the bed.