Part 9 (1/2)
”Yes, Niki, you do,” he says, and she wonders how he can hear anything at all over the racket the car's making. ”You do, and you will. We're not going to argue about this.”
She sighs and holds her aching hand up, rests it against the cool, streaky gla.s.s of the pa.s.senger's side window. And wonders again if maybe this whole thing isn't just a trick to get her to the hospital, a trick to keep her in San Francisco. Maybe Marvin didn't really call the airport at all. Maybe he called Dr. Dalby, instead.
Maybe they're already waiting for her at the hospital.
You just get her here, and we'll take it from there.
Thorazine and restraining straps, needles and pills and perhaps it wasn't even Marvin. Maybe Daria set the whole thing in motion before she left the house.
”We're going to do this,” Marvin says resolutely. ”But we're going to do it right. I'm not sure you understand how serious that cut could be if it gets infected. h.e.l.l, for all I know it's already infected.”
”It doesn't feel infected. It just hurts some, that's all.”
”Trust me,” Marvin says, squinting at the street through the Volkswagen's dirty winds.h.i.+eld. ”We'll be in and out and on our way in no time.”
He's lying, Danny Boudreaux whispers from the backseat, his ghost's voice like venom and sugar. You know he's lying, Niki. I can see it in your eyes.
She glances reluctantly at the side-view mirror, and there's nothing in the backseat but their luggage, half hidden in the darkness behind her.
”I never said that I didn't trust you, Marvin,” and so he smiles a nervous smile for her, then wrestles the stick into third.
”It was just a figure of speech, you know that. Don't start getting paranoid on me, Niki.”
”I've always trusted you. You and Daria both. The two
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of you, you're the only people I have left in the world now, aren't you?”
There's a red light up ahead, and Marvin s.h.i.+fts down again, grimacing at the noises coming from the transmis-sion. ”Easy, girl,” he says, and Niki isn't sure if he's talking to the car or to her.
Listen to me, Danny whispers urgently from the backseat. Listen to me while there's still time. You know d.a.m.n well what's going to happen when he gets you to the hospital. You know they'll lock you up again.
”You don't have to whisper,” she says, glancing back to the mirror and the pile of luggage. ”He can't hear you.”
You don't know what he can hear, Niki.
”Who are you talking to?” Marvin asks, flipping a lever for the right turn signal, and the car comes to a stop at the intersection of Fell and Divisadero. A teenage girl on inline skates and a homeless man in a baggy pink sweats.h.i.+rt and cowboy hat cross the street in front of them.
”Myself,” Niki tells Marvin. ”I'm talking to myself,” but she can see he doesn't believe her, the look in his eyes, his hesitant frown.
”If you're hearing voices again, you need to say so. You know keeping them a secret only makes things worse.”
Lying n.i.g.g.e.r f.a.g, Danny Boudreaux sneers, but she's pretty sure it's not Danny's voice anymore; some other voice back there, words ground against words like metal grinding metal, like the Volkswagen's worn-out transmis-sion. You know better, Niki. I f.u.c.king know you know better than to trust this f.a.ggot son of a b.i.t.c.h.
”I don't hear anything, ” she insists, biting at her lower lip and turning away from the mirror, staring up at the traffic light, instead. ”I don't hear anything at all.”
”You know you can tell me the truth,” Marvin says, and he steals a nervous peek at the rearview mirror, so maybe he can hear the voices.
This time they won't stop with the drugs, Niki. This time you'll get electroshock. This time-this time they'll plug you in and fill your head so full of lightning you'll never think 80 of anything else ever again. Just white fire and crackling sparks trapped inside your skull with no way out until it burns you to a cinder.
”Is that really what you think?” she replies, replying to the crankshaft, gear-rust voice in the backseat, not Marvin, but he nods his head, anyway.
I can smell the smoke already.
”Yeah, Niki. That's really what I think. I think you know that you can trust me.”
The stoplight like a crimson eye blazing in the chilly November night, a single dragon's eye peering into this world from someplace else, peering in and finding her trapped inside the ugly little car with Marvin and the ghosts in the backseat. She's cornered, rat in a cage, rabbit with no place left to run, and in another second or two, it'll tear its way through, shredding the s.p.a.ce between worlds in its steel and ivory claws.
He has more eyes than you could ever count. If you had three eternities, you'd never count them all.
”We're going to the airport,” Niki says quietly, shutting her eyes so she doesn't have to see the dragon seeing her.
”You're taking me to the doctor, and then we're going to the airport.”
”Yes. That's exactly what we're doing.”
”You wouldn't lie to me, Marvin? Not ever? Not even if you thought it was for my own good?”
”No, I wouldn't lie to you, Niki.”
They've prepared a special place for you, the voice from the backseat purls. You should know that. Here and there. A place where no one will ever find you, not even Spyder.
”I need to believe that, Marvin. I f.u.c.king want to believe that,” but she's reaching for the door, her hand around the handle before her eyes are even open, and he sees her and grabs her shoulder.
”What are you doing, Niki. I told you-”
”I can't take any chances. You don't know what's at stake. You don't know-”
”I can't know what you won't tell me.” And now he
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sounds frightened, more frightened than angry. The light changes, crimson eye blinking itself to emerald green, and he looks at it and then quickly back to Niki.
”Please, Niki. I need you to let go of the door handle.
The light's changed.”