The cat stepped from behind the garbage barrel and looked at Tim curiously. It was yellow and mangy and had lost half its tail in some forgotten fight. Tim’s frayed nerves snapped. His brain no longer controlled his body. He screamed and ran.
The cat trotted after him and pinned him to the ground with its paw. It sat over him and nudged at him playfully. But Tim was not aware. He was lost in a red fog of mindless hysteria. The cat hopped about, rolling the small shrieking thing from side to side, its paw soft as velvet.
Another cat loped toward them, looking at Tim with interest. It was gray and dusty and blind in one eye. It reached out a paw and gave Tim a couple of quick swipes. The yellow cat snarled. The gray cat hissed and slapped at the other one. They tore into each other with claws and teeth and squalls of fury.
Tim staggered to his feet, his body still operating unconsciously. He ran a few steps and sprawled on his face. The gray disengaged and pounced on him. It picked him up in its mouth and faced the yellow, growling deep in its throat.
The yellow jumped the gray. They rolled in a tangle, their rear legs pumping like pistons, trying to disembowel each other. Tim was thrown sprawling, his clothes ripped and blood dripping from a dozen cuts and scratches. He got to his knees and began crawling, too weak to stand.
He bumped into something. It moved and made a faint rattling sound. He looked at it, trying to see through the fog. It was a tin can, a large one, probably from the café. It had been opened with a can opener and the jagged-edged top bent back. The surge of relief almost made him faint. He looked over his shoulder at the squalling cats. They were still tearing at each other. He crawled to the can and worked himself inside it. It was sticky and smelled terrible, but he didn’t care. He grabbed the jagged edge of the lid with both hands and pulled. It half closed and then sprang back. He felt new blood on his hands. He braced himself more securely and grabbed the lid again. The metal popped and bent so quickly he hit the bottom of the can, the breath knocked out of him. He shifted around and grabbed the lid again, pulling it in far enough that the cats couldn’t hook it with their claws. Then he braced his feet against it so they couldn’t push it in. Suddenly he started to laugh, and couldn’t stop.
“Naturally, after that, I found it prudent to leave town rather hurriedly,” Haverstock continued. “But I didn’t want to destroy my children and my creatures. Then I chanced upon Mr. Carl Haverstock and his ratty little collection of dwarfs, Mongoloids, pinheads, and other mistakes of nature.” He smiled. “My name, of course, isn’t really Haverstock. I showed him my children and we became partners. Not only could I keep my creatures, but they would make money for me. I could continue my studies and would never be in one town long enough to arouse undue interest. It was an ideal situation.
“Mr. Haverstock, of course, quickly became a nuisance and I… ah… bought him out.” He smiled.
“This is the part you’ve been waiting to hear, Miss Bradley. We were playing some hick town in Ohio or Indiana or somewhere. I don’t even remember now, and it doesn’t matter. In those days, my part of the show was a rather conventional magician act. Of course, with my ability, as limited as it was, I could do quite a few things to astound the audiences, things they had never seen done before.
“Then, one night while I was doing my act, some peculiar things began to happen. Things I wasn’t causing to happen. I’m sure you will recognize my bewilderment. Then I saw him, sitting in the front row. He was smiling at me with his dirty, grubby, angelic little face, watching me with his little red eyes. Couldn’t have been more than five years old.
“I knew right away he was doing it. After the show I asked about him. Everyone in town seemed to know him. He was quite a local character and the only albino most of them had ever seen. He was from the county orphan’s asylum. He had run away to see the show.
“In a little while, an austere-looking woman in black came to take him back. I talked to her. She was only too glad to discuss him. It seems he had been nothing but a vexation to them, a thorn in her side, as she put it, since he was left on the asylum doorstep when he was about two. By parents who probably thought they had hatched a changeling. Small wonder if he was making use of the gift at that age.
“The people at the asylum couldn’t keep track of him. Locking him up did no good. He always got out. Beating him did no good. He hardly seemed to feel it. He was mute, of course, and they couldn’t communicate with him, couldn’t make him say his catechisms. He was always running away if there was something interesting to see. But he always came back.”
He shrugged. “If they’d left him alone there would have been no problem, but like all bureaucratic types, they saw their authority being frustrated. Angel and I were kindred spirits from the very beginning. As a result, I fear I have spoiled him beyond redemption.
“When I offered to take him, they were only too glad to be rid of him. I discovered later that Angel’s ability was almost fully developed. He didn’t know how to use it, and didn’t really know he had it. Imagine, Miss Bradley, that you are the only person with power of speech. Everyone else is like Angel, mute. You wouldn’t be able to use your ability because there would be no way to learn. You could make inarticulate noises that would astound and confuse and frighten those silent ones around you, but you could never actually speak.
“That’s what Angel was doing, making inarticulate noises. So I began to teach him how to use his ability and, at the same time, develop my own. You realize, for my own security, I had to keep his ability a secret from him. That’s why I always worked with him under hypnosis. It was slower—but safer. And of course, I had to teach him to read and write in order to communicate with him at all. He’s very clever. Too clever by half, I fear.
“Now, Miss Bradley, thanks to your interference, that phase is over. I’m sure there is still more I could learn from Angel, but it’s no longer worth the risk. He refused to go under the other day, and I don’t know what mischief you’ve caused.”
He sat on the edge of the chair and rubbed his hands together. “Well, I think I’ve told you everything you wanted to know, haven’t I?”
“No,” she answered him. “What are you planning to do now?”
He looked at her with a slightly startled expression on his face, as if he had not considered that question. “Why, anything I want to do. Anything at all, Miss Bradley, anything at all. Perhaps I shall rule the world—if I should wake up one morning and feel like ruling the world. I have all of time ahead of me; there’s no hurry, no hurry at all. I shall simply enjoy myself.”
“Will you?”
“Most assuredly I will. Ah, you look at me with such bourgeois disapproval, Miss Bradley. What would you do, if you had the gift? Become a great healer of the sick, mender of the lame? Fill the world with more small-minded people who do nothing but take up space? They would hate you for it, Miss Bradley, hate, despise, and fear you. They would not rest until they had destroyed you.”
He stood up. “Now I’ve entertained you long enough. There’s no point in delaying this unpleasantness any longer; no point in your stalling. Help will not come. I’m really rather sorry this must happen. I’ve grown very fond of Angel, very fond. We spent many pleasant afternoons. However,” he sighed, “I knew it must be done someday. It’s only that the time has come sooner than expected. I just want you to understand, Miss Bailey. I’m doing this with no malice. It’s strictly a matter of survival.