swollen moment that followed, numerous images from the past flew across my sight: the Grand Inquisitor passing sentence on myself and Julianne; the burgermeister listening so attentively to brigands who had tried to rob me, then accused me of consorting with the devil; and all those Nazis, those who I killed and those who I imagined as they murdered my dear Anya.
All the faces of those true believers - different faces, yet always the expression never changed and was just the same as the countenance which charged at me with no weapon save his bare hands.
No more battering. No more pain. I let him charge at me, at the last moment opening my arms for him to fall within my embrace.
"No!" I heard Nicole scream.
Our flesh collided, and though the force was great, Frank moved me not a whit as I reached for his chin, twisted sharply until a loud crack filled the room, and Frank crumpled to the floor.
I turned toward Nicole. She stood against the wall, palms pressed against the paneling as if to brace herself from falling. Her face was flushed, eyes darting back and forth, from one corpse to another.
"Nicole?"
No response for a moment, then her gaze met mine. "You killed him," she said dryly, almost matter-of-fact.
Yes, a mortal was dead at my hand, and a boy was dead because of me as well. My fault, my responsibility. Her tone was so dry, and it seemed I wanted to hear anger, wanted to hear accusation, blame. See her point a sharp finger at me like a stiletto of truth stabbing at the lies and deception that punctuates every day spent among mortals. Yes, I had killed Frank, and maybe it could be called self-defense, or in the language of their judicial system, justifiable homicide, but since when had their laws applied to me? Usually their wrath superseded their own laws, affording me none of their protection.
Regardless, two mortals lay dead in my apartment because of my vanity.
"Yes, I killed him." That was all I could say, not even allowing myself the luxury of verbalizing the fact that there was little else that could be done, not when a maniac lunges at your throat with nothing short of murderous fury. Or rationalizing that this was not so much a killing as an act of mercy, for it seemed doubtful that Frank truly desired to be the monster he had become.
Nicole pushed away from the wall. She ran her fingers vigorously through her hair, almost as if she wanted to tear the fine strands out by their fragile roots.
"I'm leaving," she said, her voice bland, but steady. I made no move to stop her as she shuffled slowly toward the door. She gripped the doorknob, turned and faced me, eyes glistening brightly. "This is too much, Al. I thought you were cute, nice. I just thought it'd be cool having you as a boyfriend."
Without another word, she was gone.
I stared at the closed door, listening to her footsteps as they retreated into nothingness, the grainy wood spiraling before my eyes until the present asserted itself from someplace far away.
There were two corpses in my apartment, and they had to be disposed of before a dawn, which would come all too soon.
I buried Frank in a wooded area just south ofMadison , in a place where he certainly would not be found.
However, other considerations prevented me from disposing of the boy in the same manner. One of the peculiarities I had noticed since returning toAmerica was the preponderance of missing children, their faces ubiquitously posted on milk cartons that pleaded for any information and even offered rewards. The parents of a missing child fromMinnesota offered a million dollars for the return of their son.
Surely, these children were dead, but these people somehow maintained their faith. To me, these parents seemed tragically deluded, and it seemed cruel to subject this poor boy's mother to the same ordeal. Thus, I left his body where it could easily be found. At least his mother would know her boy was dead, if she cared. Also, I resolved to set up a trust fund for the boy's siblings and their descendents from one percent of my future earnings, from now to perpetuity.
I readied for flight in case the neighbors had heard sounds of struggle from within my apartment or if anyone had spotted a shadowy figure hauling an oddly shaped canvas sack over his shoulder or if anyone had filed a missing person's report