Part 27 (2/2)

The captain nodded his head.

Rocco stood on the street in front of the building. The sign over the doorway read: ”Magnum Pictures Company, Inc.” He hesitated a moment and then entered the building. He was in a small reception room.

A girl's face peeked through a small window at him. ”No hiring done here, soldier,” she said.

”I'm not looking for a job, miss,” he said. ”I came to see someone.”

”Oh, I'm sorry, sir,” she said. ”Whom did you wish to see?”

Rocco took the slip of paper from his pocket and looked at it. ”Mr. Peter Kessler.”

”Your name, sir?” she inquired.

”Sergeant Savold, Rocco Savold,” he answered.

”Won't you sit down, please?” she said. ”I'll see if Mr. Kessler can see you.”

Rocco sat down. He sat there for almost fifteen minutes. He wondered if the girl had forgotten about him. The window flew up suddenly and the girl's face looked out at him.

”I have Mr. Kessler's secretary on the phone. What do you wish to see Mr. Kessler about? He's very busy at the moment. If you tell her your business, she will put you down for an appointment.”

Rocco hesitated for a second. He didn't want to talk with the secretary, but she would have to do if he couldn't talk directly with Mr. Kessler. He nodded.

The girl handed a phone through the open window to him. ”h.e.l.lo,” he said into it.

The secretary's voice was briskly efficient and impersonal. ”I'm Miss Andersen, Mr. Kessler's secretary. Can I help you?”

”I-uh, I don't know, miss,” he said, ”I wanted to speak to Mr. Kessler on a personal matter.”

”You can speak with me,” the pleasant impersonal voice replied, ”I'm also his personal secretary.”

He thought for a second. She would have to do. ”I wanted to speak to him about Johnny Edge,” he said. There was a sudden silence on the other end of the phone. ”Did you hear me, miss?” he asked anxiously.

The voice that spoke now was a different one from that he had heard before. ”I heard you,” it said. It was very faint, he could hardly hear her. ”You wanted to speak about Johnny Edge?”

”That's right, miss,” he said, suddenly excited. ”Do you know him?”

”Yes,” she answered. ”Is he all right?”

”Sure,” he said, smiling into the phone, ”sure.”

”Thank G.o.d,” came the fervent whisper back into his ear.

10.

Rocco pushed the wheelchair into a small walk on the far end of the grounds. They were almost a quarter of a mile away from the hospital. It was quiet here. Tall hedges growing on either side of the walk, small beds of flowers s.p.a.ced carefully between them. The wheelchair stopped. Johnny looked up.

Rocco's hands were going through his pockets.

”What are you lookin' for, Rock?” he asked.

”My cigarettes,” Rocco answered. ”I'm fresh out.”

”Take mine,” Johnny said, reaching into his pocket. There weren't any there. Puzzled, he looked in the other pocket of his blouse. It was empty too. Funny, he thought; he had put some there just before they left. ”I'm out too,” he said.

Rocco looked at him strangely. ”Yuh mind if I run back to the canteen an' get some?” he asked. ”I'll be back in a few minutes.”

”Go ahead,” Johnny said. ”I'll be all right.”

Rocco turned and started back. Johnny turned the wheelchair into the sun and leaned his head back. He could feel the warm rays of it on his face. It felt good. His hand hung over the sides of the chair and toyed with the long blades of gra.s.s. Idly he pulled at a few and stuck them in his mouth. They tasted a bitter green. He smiled to himself. ”You can't taste a color,” he thought. He sat there basking pleasantly in the sun.

He felt drowsy and lazy. It would be good to get out of the chair and lie down in the cool gra.s.s and rest. He turned his head to one side and looked at the ground. It would be good, but it was not for him. He would not walk on the gra.s.s and throw himself on the ground as he used to. It was for others to do, not him. He shut his eyes again and faced the sun.

He heard footsteps behind him. ”Rocco?” he asked without turning his head or opening his eyes. ”Give me a cigarette.”

He felt a hand place a cigarette between his lips. He heard a match striking. He drew on the cigarette and felt the smoke going deep into his lungs. ”It's nice out here,” he said.

”You like it, Johnny?” It was a familiar voice, but not Rocco's.

He opened his eyes suddenly and spun the chair around. A cry burst from his lips. ”Peter!”

Peter stood there, his face pale and drawn, his eyes wet with tears. He shook his head. ”Yes, Peter,” he said slowly. ”Didn't you want to see me, Johnny?”

Johnny sat there completely still, his cigarette frozen to his lips. He couldn't speak.

Peter moved closer to him and took his hand.

He could feel the warmth of Peter's hand on his and suddenly his feelings rose in his throat and began to choke him. He leaned forward over Peter's hand and began to cry.

Peter's other hand rested on Johnny's hair. ”Johnny,” he said, his voice shaking, ”Johnny, did you think you could always hide from those who love you?”

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