Fear itself

2

Zap Strum, who was not a morning person-he wasn’t even a daylight person-surprised Simon by answering the phone on the first ring.

“Duude, saw you on the news again,” he said, even before Simon had identified himself. “You’re famous. And how are you enjoying your visit with Mr. Nelson Carpenter of 1211 Baja Way in scenic Concord?”

“How did you know that?” demanded Simon.

“Dude, please.” Strum sounded vaguely offended, as if somebody had asked Houdini how he’d worked the got-your-nose trick on a toddler. “You have nothing to worry about, though-if I was going to turn you in, I’d have done it last night.”

“Did you get the information I asked you for?”

“Sure thing. It’s going to cost you a little more than we discussed, though-you being a fugitive from justice and all.”

“No problem,” said Simon. You being a dead man and all.

Before leaving, Simon popped in on Nelson, who had spent the latter half of the night naked in the bathtub, not out of choice, but because Simon had superglued him to the porcelain after the game.

“I have to go out for a little while,” Simon told him pleasantly. “I’ll be borrowing your car-try to stay out of mischief while I’m gone.”

There was no response, which was not surprising, since Nelson’s lips had been superglued as well. The idea had come from a recurring childhood nightmare of Nelson’s that Simon had kept in mind all these years. Young Nellie used to have dreams in which he’d been captured by witches who erased his mouth as cleanly as if he’d been a cartoon figure, to keep him from crying out; in real life the effect, the panicked jerking and stretching of the seamed lips, would have been more satisfying to Simon had it not been for the unmistakable madness in Nelson’s eyes.

Fear stimulated Simon, but insanity only repelled him-when he returned, he decided, if he returned, he would seal those eyes as well.