"Fine," Ragle said. The liquor had made him sleepy. "Thanks," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"There're plenty of books and magazines in the rumpus room itself," Garret said. "If you can't sleep and want to read. And there's a chess set and other games. None for one person, though."
He departed. Ragle heard his footsteps as he climbed the stairs to the first floor. The door at the top of the flight of stairs closed.
Sitting down on the bed, Ragle tugged his shoes off and let them drop to the floor. Then he caught hold of them with a finger in each, hoisted them high, and searched for a place to put them. He noticed a shelf running along the wall; on the shelf was a lamp, a wind-up clock, and a small white plastic radio.
As soon as he saw the radio he put his shoes back on, buttoned up his shirt, and dashed out of the room to the stairs.
They almost fooled me. But they gave themselves away. He ascended two steps at a time and pushed open the door at the top. Only a minute or so had passed since Garret Kesselman had preceded him. Ragle stood in the hallway, listening. From a distance came the sounds of Mrs. Kesselman's voice.
She's getting in touch with them. Calling them on the phone or broadcasting to them. One way or another. With as little noise as possible he moved along the hall, in the direction of her voice. The hall, dark, ended at a half-open door. Light streamed out into the hall, and as he got near he saw into a dining room.
Wearing a robe and slippers, her hair up in a turban, Mrs. Kesselman was feeding a small black dog from a dish on the floor. Both she and the dog started with surprise as Ragle pushed the door open. The dog backed away and began to bark in a rapid staccato.
"Oh," Mrs. Kesselman said. "You scared me." In her hands she held a box of dog biscuits. "Did you need something?"
Ragle said, "There's a radio downstairs in my room."
"Yes," she said.
"That's how they communicate," Ragle said.
"Who?"
"They," he said. "I don't know who they are, but they're all around me. They're the ones who are after me." And, he thought, you and your son are two of them. You almost had me. Too bad you forgot to hide the radio. But probably you didn't have time.
From the hallway Garret appeared. "Everything okay?" he asked, in a worried voice.
To him his mother said, "Dear, close the door so I can talk to Mr. Gumm alone. Will you?"
"I want him in here," Ragle said. He moved toward Garret, who blinked and backed away, his arms flapping helplessly. Closing the door Ragle said, "There's no way I can tell if you've called to say I'm here. I'll have to take the chance that you haven't had time."
I don't know where else to go, he thought. Certainly not tonight.
"Now what's this about?" Mrs. Kesselman said. Stooping down, she resumed the feeding of the dog. The dog, after a few more barks at Ragle, returned to its food. "You're being pursued by a group of people and you say we're part of that group. Then that business about your 'committing suicide' is something you made up."
"I made it up," he agreed.
"Why are they pursuing you?" Garret said.
Ragle said, "Because I'm the center of the universe. At least, that's what I've inferred from their actions. They act as if I am. I only have that to go on. They've gone to a great deal of trouble to construct a sham world around me to keep me pacified. Buildings, cars, an entire town. Natural looking, but completely unreal. The part I don't understand is the contest."
"Oh," Mrs. Kesselinan said. "Your contest."
"Evidently it plays a vital role with them," Ragle said. "But I'm baffled. Do you know?"
"I don't know any more than you do," Mrs. Kesselman said. "Of course, we always hear that these big contests are rigged... but except for the usual rumors--"
"I mean," Ragle said, "do you know what the contest really is?"
Neither of them spoke. Mrs. Kesselman, her back to him, continued feeding the dog. Garret sat down on a chair and crossed his legs, leaning back with his hands wrapped behind his head, trying to appear calm.
"Do you know what I'm really doing every day?" Ragle said. "When I'm supposedly plotting where the little green man will show up next? I must be doing something else. They know, but I don't."
Both the Kesselmans were silent.
"Had you called?" Ragle asked them.
Garret quivered with embarrassment. Mrs. Kesselman seemed shaken, but she continued to feed the dog.
"Can I look through the house?" Ragle said.
"Surely," Mrs. Kesselman said, straightening up. "Look, Mr. Gumm. We're doing the best we can to accommodate you. But--" With a wild gesture she burst out, "Honestly, you've got us both so upset we hardly know what we're doing. We never saw you before in our lives. Are you crazy -- is that it? Maybe you are; you certainly are acting as if you are. I wish now you hadn't come here; I wish--" She hesitated. "Well, I started to say I wished you'd gone off the road with your car. It isn't fair to us to cause us all this trouble."
"That's right," Garret murmured.
Am I making a mistake? Ragle asked himself.
"Explain the radio," he said aloud.
"There's nothing to explain," Mrs. Kesselman said. "It's an ordinary five-tube radio that we got right after World War Two. It's been down there for years. I don't even know if it works." Now she seemed angry. Her hands trembled and her face had become strained, pinched with fatigue. "Everybody owns a radio. Two or three of them."
Ragle opened each of the doors that led off the dining room. One of them opened onto a storage closet, with shelves and bins. He said, "I want to look around the house. Get in here, so I won't have to worry about what you're doing while I look." In the lock there was a key.
"Please," Mrs. Kesselman began, glaring at him and almost inarticulate.
"Just for a few minutes," he said.
They glanced at each other. Mrs. Kesselman made a sign of resignation, and then they walked wordlessly into the closet. Ragle closed it and threw the bolt. He put the key in his pocket.
Now he felt better.
At its dish, the black dog watched him intently. Why is it watching me? he wondered. And then he noticed that the dog had finished its food and was hoping that he would give it more. The package remained on the long dinner table where Mrs. Kesselman had left it; he sprinkled a few more dog biscuits into the dish and the dog fell to eating again.
From within the closet Garret's voice was distinctly audible.
"...face it -- he's a nut."
Ragle said, "I'm not a nut. I've watched this thing grow step by step. At least, I've become aware of it step by step."
Mrs. Kesselman said to him through the closet door, "Look, Mr. Gumm. It's clear to us that you believe what you say. But don't you see what you're doing? Because you believe everyone's against you, you force everyone to be against you."
"Like ourselves," Garret said.
There was a lot in what they said. Ragle, uncertainly, said, "I can't take any chances."
"You have to take a chance with someone," Mrs. Kesselman said. "Or you can't live."
Ragle said, "I'll look through the house and then I'll make up my mind."
The woman's voice, controlled and civilized, went on, "At least call your family and tell them you're all right. So they won't worry about you. They're probably quite upset."
"You should let us call them," Garret said. "So they wouldn't phone the police or something."