Part 9 (1/2)

And that was when Peter and Lola made their pitiful little trip down to the landing.

Chapter 19.

”We'll be coming soon, very soon ...,” Blossom called after the two thin, stumbling figures, and then, with growing excitement, turned back to Abigail and Oliver. ”How could we have forgotten about them?” she asked in amazement. ”How could could we?” we?”

”I guess we were just too involved in what we were doing to think about anything else,” Oliver said thoughtfully. ”Gee, weren't they skinny, though? Peter looked almost like a different person. He kind of acted different too.”

”But don't you realize what this means?” Blossom went on, her eyes s.h.i.+ning voraciously. ”It's been getting kind of hard to think of things to do; but now, when I start thinking about what we could do to them, a million ideas come to my mind all at once. It's fantastic!”

”But,” said Abigail, with what was perhaps the last vestige of compa.s.sion left in her, ”but maybe it isn't fair.” She thought of their gaunt faces and of how unsteadily they had stood, swaying slightly, on the steps. ”They seemed so weak, and they ... they don't understand, they don't know how to protect themselves, they're not in in it the way we-” it the way we-”

Oliver stood up and slapped her hard across the face, leaving the red imprint of five fingers on her cheek. ”Oh, you make me sick sick!” he said. ”You and your goody-goody namby-pamby phony slus.h.!.+ What the h.e.l.l else are we going to do? Now that we've thought of it, do you think there's any way we cannot start working on them? I'll bet you anything you won't be able to resist.” start working on them? I'll bet you anything you won't be able to resist.”

And it was true. Once they began making plans, Abigail was just as much a part of it as the others. Giggling together as they tried to think of the crudest ways to go about it was so deeply satisfying in some basic, almost physical, way, that Abigail was drawn into it whether she liked it or not. And, as it happened, she did like it. That final trace of human feeling had escaped from her like the last puff of gas from a sinking balloon.

They began simply, saving for last what they knew would be the most effective trick of all. As soon as their plans were made, they hurried up the stairs to hide on a landing just above Lola and Peter's.

The two of them sat silently across from one another, absolutely motionless. They might have been two pieces of sculpture. Their noses and cheekbones had grown sharp and prominent as the flesh had melted away; their faces were triangular and skull-like, with deep, hollow sockets for the eyes.

Strangely enough, though he was just sitting there, it was obvious that Peter wasn't in a trance-his eyes were alert and he was holding himself erect. They wondered at this change in him, especially Oliver, who somehow didn't like it. And then Peter's thin mouth moved, and he reached out slowly to touch Lola on the shoulder with a long, skeletal hand. ”What are you thinking about?” he asked her, in the choked whisper of an aged person.

She did not answer for quite a long time, while the three hiding above exchanged excited glances, their hands pressed against their mouths to stifle the giggles that were threatening to give them away.

Slowly Lola's mouth opened, just a crack. ”It didn't take Blossom very long to get fat again,” she whispered hoa.r.s.ely. ”I think she might be even fatter than before.”

”Mmmm,” said Peter, nodding so slightly that it was barely noticeable. And they lapsed into silence again.

Even in her weakened state, Lola still had the power to infuriate Blossom. And it was Blossom who made the first move, taking off her one remaining shoe, a hard little white plastic number that had long since lost its s.h.i.+ne, and flinging it down at Lola's head.

It is bad enough when something falls near you unexpectedly from above; it is even more shocking and unpleasant when it hits you on the head, digging sharply and painfully into your scalp. Nevertheless, to Blossom's disappointment, Lola's reaction was surprisingly mild. For a long moment she didn't even seem to feel it (although Peter started slightly). Then she put her hand to the spot where it had hit her, and with a little cry bent her head down (they could see every bone in her neck). One hand still on her head, she picked up the shoe, examined it, tossed it over the edge, and said, ”They've started. Be ready for anything, Pete.”

Unfortunately, Blossom's shoe had been the only thing they had left to throw, for they had used every other loose object on each other. And, though Oliver had planned to urinate down on them, he was too embarra.s.sed to do so in front of the two girls. So, quite dissatisfied, they went on to the second part of their plan.

Though the three of them were covered with superficial scratches and bruises, they had avoided any really serious physical violence; to cripple or maim, though it would have been extremely satisfying, would have rendered the victim incapable of dancing, and the dance was still necessary. But Peter and Lola were not. This part of the plan had filled them with special glee, for they felt keenly the restriction of protecting one another's bodies; and, though Blossom was beginning to be nervous about being so far away from the machine, they made their way down to the landing with more excitement than they had felt in days.

Oliver arrived first, Blossom and Abigail close behind. Peter and Lola were bent over, and pressed their faces into their knees. ”Hey, Pete,” Oliver said. ”Don't you even want to say h.e.l.lo? How're you doing, friend?”

Instinctively Peter looked up to greet him. ”Watch it!” Lola hissed, and just in time Peter bent over again, so that Oliver's kick merely glanced off the top of his head instead of hitting him full in the face. In fact, since Oliver was barefoot, it hurt him more than it did Peter, which only served to enrage him.

”Stay out of my way, you b.i.t.c.h!” he shouted at Lola, and socked her in the ribs. It made a hollow thump, and knocked Lola to the side a bit, but she did not respond in any other way.

Blossom grabbed hold of Lola's hair and tried to pull her head back, while Oliver, grunting, continued to pummel her on the back and sides. Abigail was left to deal with Peter by herself. She was not accustomed to hitting people, but she knew that it was necessary, and so she began, timidly at first but with increasing force, to pound his head and shoulders with her fists.

But it was so frustrating the way they insisted on staying bent over like that, keeping hidden all the soft and vulnerable spots like their stomachs and their faces. If only they could get at those places, then they would really be able to hurt them. Blossom pulled harder at Lola's hair, puffing, her tongue pressed between her lips, hard enough so that some of it came out in her hand; Abigail began prying Peter's head away from his knees, scratching violently at his forehead with her long nails. Oliver darted from one to the other, shaking and pinching them, trying to roll them over on their backs. And Peter and Lola crouched and gritted their teeth; but they were weak, and began to give way.

But suddenly the colored light was flas.h.i.+ng at them, and the whispers were in the air. Almost before the signals had started, it seemed, Blossom, Abigail, and Oliver were speeding down the stairs, too quickly gone to be able to witness Peter and Lola's real agony-though it was an agony that was rapidly losing its sting.

The machine fed them well this time, almost as if it was rewarding them, or else helping them to prepare for the third, and what they knew would be the most effective, part of their plan. For the agreement that they should stop the purely physical attacks and go on to something else was unanimous and unspoken; not only was it no fun to beat Peter and Lola when they didn't seem to mind it much, but it was hard work, and actually painful to them, their only weapons being their own hands and feet. The third part did not have this drawback, and furthermore was absolutely foolproof: There was no way that Peter and Lola would be able to protect themselves.

The difficulty, of course, was saving some of the food, and Blossom found it particularly trying. But since they had been well fed this time there was more food than usual, and the plan was so enticing that when she concentrated on it even Blossom was able to keep a good number of pellets in her hand instead of stuffing them into her mouth. But they started quickly, not trusting their willpower to last very long, and also hoping-for it could just as easily be in two minutes or five hours-to get finished before the machine should start again.

”Oh, why did they have to go so far away?” Blossom whined as they mounted the steps for the second time that day. ”If they were closer we wouldn't have to worry about missing the machine.”

”Yes,” Oliver agreed, ”we'll have to bring them down sometime. But after we've been up there a few more times, they'll learn they can't get away from us no matter where they are, and it'll be easier to get them to come down. They may even do it on their own.”

”Do you think they'll starve to death?” Abigail asked with a nervous giggle. She was always nervous now, and, oddly enough, unlike the other two, she was still as thin as ever.

”But if they died we wouldn't be able to do things to them anymore,” said Blossom. ”And they might start to stink.”

”Don't be ridiculous,” Oliver said in the bossy, pompous voice he was beginning to use more and more. ”They'll never go that far. They'll come crawling back to us first, and we can spit at them and watch them grovel.”

”But they're getting pret-ty skinny,” said Abigail, trying to sound irritatingly whimsical. She knew Oliver hated being contradicted. ”Pret-ty skinny.”

Oliver stopped in midflight, turned and grabbed the back of her neck, pressing his fingers hard into the soft spots. ”Shut up!” he said between his teeth, shaking her. ”Shut up, shut up, shut up!” But Abigail kept her mouth in a mocking half-smile, until his hand grew tired and he was forced to let go. ”Who gives a s.h.i.+t what you think, anyway?” he said, and started up again. ”Come on, we're in a hurry.”

Peter and Lola must have heard them approach, for they were back in their crouching positions when they reached the landing. ”You don't have to do that, you know. We're not going to hit you,” Oliver said.

”And we're not going to throw anything at you, either,” Blossom added.

Peter and Lola did not speak or change their positions.

The others had expected this, and knew what to do. Blossom began at once, kneeling beside Lola and bringing forth one pellet from the pile in her left hand. She held it as close as she could to Lola's buried nose. ”Smell something?” she asked her. ”Smell something familiar, Lola? Something good?” She rolled the pellet along Lola's fingers. ”Feel something? Has kind of a nice feel, doesn't it? If you licked your finger now you might even get a little taste taste of-” of-”

Lola's movement was sudden, but Blossom was prepared, and the machine had taught her to be quick. In an instant she was on her feet, out of Lola's reach, barely feeling Lola's hand brush against her skirt in its wild grab. For a moment Lola's arm remained outstretched, trembling slightly. Staring into Lola's haggard face with its sunken eyes, Blossom brought the pellet to her own mouth, slipped it in, and very, very slowly and thoroughly she chewed and swallowed it. ”Mmmm,” she sighed, still watching Lola's eyes. ”That was delicious.”

Now Peter was looking up at them too. ”Want one, Pete?” said Oliver, stepping toward him and reaching out his hand. Holding the pellet between his forefinger and his thumb he waved it slowly back and forth just in front of Peter's eyes. And helplessly, Peter grabbed too.

”Uh, uh, uh, Petey boy,” Oliver said as he jumped back, clucking his tongue against his teeth and shaking his head. ”Naughty boy, naugh-ty, naugh-ty.” He began to chew the pellet, slowly, as Blossom had, and then opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, with its glob of reddish-brown goo and strands of glistening saliva.

Blossom was still playing with Lola. Desolately, Lola had watched her eat, and then retreated back into her crouch, too weak, it seemed, to be able both to protect herself and be aware of what was happening to Peter too. And Blossom approached her again, and brought a tantalizing pellet once more to her nose, and giggled as Lola, her reflexes slowed, uncontrollably and futilely reached for it another time. More even than denying her the food, it was the beautiful humiliation, the sight of Lola as her absolutely helpless, pitiful victim, that was so deliciously satisfying; of everything in the world, Blossom could think of nothing that Lola would hate more.

They left soon after the pellets were gone, pulled by their ever-present awareness of the waiting machine. Oliver's parting gesture was to sail his last pellet past them both. Laughing as they turned away from the sight of Peter and Lola reaching so slowly and feebly and inevitably for the disappearing bit of food, they made their way down the stairs, taking every opportunity to pinch and insult one another as they went.

Chapter 20.

And at last the moment came when Lola opened her eyes from sleep and knew unquestionably that if she did not eat soon she would die.

It was quite different from just being hungry. Oddly enough the hunger, after the first h.e.l.lish days, had for the most part disappeared. Water alone seemed to satisfy them. It was only when Oliver, Abigail, and Blossom came up to play their little games that food was once again unbearably tempting; but since they had not allowed Peter or Lola to get any, the feel and taste of it were almost forgotten sensations to them now.

And not only had the hunger seemed to go away, but the call of the machine had begun to wane as well. Once they had managed to resist it for a certain number of times, the inevitability of its control was broken; and, since they had determined that food did not exist for them now anyway, its one reward grew gradually less enticing. And finally, after the others started their painful visits, the significance of the light and the voices changed altogether: For now, while they lasted, Peter and Lola knew they were safe from the others, and at last came to welcome the signals as much as they had dreaded them before.