"That's where that bluejay got it from," Mayo muttered. "But what the hell is it?"
He drifted eastward to investigate, but forgot the mystery when he came to the diamond center. He was dazzled by the blue-white stones glittering in the showcases. The door of one jewel mart had sagged open, and Mayo tipped in. When he emerged, it was with a strand of genuine matched pearls which had cost him an I.O.U. worth a year's rent on the Body Slam.
His tour took him to Madison Avenue, where he found himself before Abercrombie & Fitch. He went in to explore and came at last to the gun racks. There he lost all sense of time, and when he recovered his senses, he was walking up Fifth Avenue toward the boat pond. An Italian Cosmi automatic rifle was cradled in his arms, guilt was in his heart, and a sales slip in the store read: I.O.U. 1 Cosmi Rifle, $750.00. 6 Boxes Ammo. $18.00. James Mayo.
It was past three o'clock when he got back to the boathouse. He eased in, trying to appear casual, hoping the extra gun he was carrying would go unnoticed. Linda was sitting on the piano bench with her back to him.
"Hi," Mayo said nervously. "Sorry I'm late. I … I brought you a present. They're real." He pulled the pearls from his pocket and held them out. Then he saw she was crying.
"Hey, what's the matter?"
She didn't answer.
"You wasn't scared I'd run out on you? I mean, well, all my gear is here. The car, too. You only had to look."
She turned. "I hate you!" she cried.
He dropped the pearls and recoiled, startled by her vehemence. "What's the matter?'
"You're a lousy, rotten liar!"
"Who? Me?"
"I drove up to New Haven this morning." Her voice trembled with passion. "There's no house standing on Grant Street. It's all wiped out. There's no Station WNHA. The whole building's gone."
"No."
"Yes. And I went to your restaurant. There's no pile of TV sets out in the street. There's only one set, over the bar. It's rusted to pieces. The rest of the restaurant is a pigsty. You were living there all the time. Alone. There was only one bed in back. It was lies! All lies!"
"Why would I lie about a thing like that?"
"You never shot any Gil Watkins."
"I sure did. Both barrels. He had it coming."
"And you haven't got any TV set to repair."
"Yes, I do.
"And even if it is repaired, there's no station to broadcast."
"Talk sense," he said angrily. "Why would I shoot Gil if there wasn't any broadcast?"
"If he's dead, how can he broadcast?"
"See? And you just now said I didn't shoot him."
"Oh, you're mad! You're insane!" she sobbed. "You just described that barometer because you happened to be looking at my clock. And I believed your crazy lies. I had my heart set on a barometer to match my clock. I've been looking for years." She ran to the wall arrangement and hammered her fist alongside the clock. "It belongs right here. Here. But you lied, you lunatic. There never was a barometer."
"If there's a lunatic around here, it's you," he shouted. "You're so crazy to get this house decorated that nothing's real for you anymore."
She ran across the room, snatched up his old shotgun, and pointed it at him. "You get out of here. Right this minute. Get out or I'll kill you. I never want to see you again."
The shotgun kicked off in her hands, knocking her backward and spraying shot over Mayo's head into a corner bracket. China shattered and clattered down. Linda's face went white.
"Jim! My God, are you all right? I didn't mean to … it just went off …"
He stepped forward, too furious to speak. Then, as he raised his hand to cuff her, the sound of distant reports come, BLAM-BLAM-BLAM. Mayo froze.
"Did you hear that?" he whispered.
Linda nodded.
"That wasn't any accident. It was a signal."
Mayo grabbed the shotgun, ran outside, and fired the second barrel into the air. There was a pause. Then again came the distant explosions in a stately triplet, BLAM-BLAM-BLAM. They had an odd, sucking sound, as though they were implosions rather than explosions. Far up the park, a canopy of frightened birds mounted into the sky.
"There's somebody," Mayo exulted. "By God, I told you I'd find somebody. Come on."
They ran north, Mayo digging into his pockets for more shells to reload and signal again.
"I got to thank you for taking that shot at me, Linda."
"I didn't shoot at you," she protested. "It was an accident."
"The luckiest accident in the world. They could be passing through and never know about us. But what the hell kind of guns are they using? I never heard no shots like that before, and I heard 'em all. Wait a minute."
On the little piazza before the Wonderland monument, Mayo halted and raised the shotgun to fire. Then he slowly lowered it. He took a deep breath. In a harsh voice he said, "Turn around. We're going back to the house." He pulled her around and faced her south.
Linda stared at him. In an instant he had become transformed from a gentle teddy bear into a panther.
"Jim, what's wrong?"
"I'm scared," he growled. "I'm goddamn scared, and I don't want you to be, too." The triple salvo sounded again. "Don't pay any attention," he ordered. "We're going back to the house. Come on!"
She refused to move. "But why? Why?"
"We don't want any part of them. Take my word for it."
"How do you know? You've got to tell me."
"Christ! You won't let it alone until you find out, huh? All right. You want the explanation for that bee smell, and them buildings falling down, and all the rest?" He turned Linda around with a hand on her neck and directed her gaze at the Wonderland monument. "Go ahead. Look."
A consummate craftsman had removed the heads of Alice, the Mad Hatter, and the March Hare, and replaced them with towering mantis heads, all saber mandibles, antennae, and faceted eyes. They were of a burnished steel and gleamed with unspeakable ferocity. Linda let out a sick whimper and sagged against Mayo. The triple report signaled once more.
Mayo caught Linda, heaved her over his shoulder, and loped back toward the pond. She recovered consciousness in a moment and began to moan. "Shut up," he growled. "Whining won't help." He set her on her feet before the boathouse. She was shaking but trying to control herself. "Did this place have shutters when you moved in? Where are they?"
"Stacked." She had to squeeze the words out. "Behind the trellis."
"I'll put 'em up. You fill buckets with water and stash 'em in the kitchen. Go!"
"Is it going to be a siege?"
"We'll talk later. Go!"
She filled buckets and then helped Mayo jam the last of the shutters into the window embrasures. "All right, inside," he ordered. They went into the house and shut and barred the door. Faint shafts of the late afternoon sun filtered through the louvers of the shutters. Mayo began unpacking the cartridges for the Cosmi rifle. "You got any kind of gun?"
"A .22 revolver somewhere."
"Ammo?"
"I think so."
"Get it ready."
"Is it going to be a siege?" she repeated.
"I don't know. I don't know who they are, or what they are, or where they come from. All I know is, we got to be prepared for the worst."
The distant implosions sounded. Mayo looked up alertly, listening. Linda could make him out in the dimness now. His face looked carved. His chest gleamed with sweat. He exuded the musky odor of caged lions. Linda had an overpowering impulse to touch him. Mayo loaded the rifle, stood it alongside the shotgun, and began padding from shutter to shutter, peering out vigilantly, waiting with massive patience.
"Will they find us?" Linda asked.