Dark Benediction

She clenched her eyes tightly shut. “God! God! I hope I never hear that word again. After last night… that old woman in the rocking chair… I stayed there all alone and the wind’d start the chair rocking. Ooh!” She looked at him with abnormally bright eyes. “I’d rather die than touch anybody now… after seeing that. Somebody touched her, didn’t they, Paul? That’s why she did it, wasn’t it?”

He squirmed and backed toward the door. “Willie… I’m sorry for what I said. I mean—”

“Don’t worry, Paul! I wouldn’t touch you now.” She clenched her hands and brought them up before her face, to stare at them with glittering hate. “I loathe myself!” she hissed.

What was it Mendelhaus had said, about the dermie going insane because of being an outcast rather than be-cause of the plague? But she wouldn’t be an outcast here. Only among nonhypers, like himself…

“Get well quick, Willie,” he muttered, then hurriedly slipped out into the corridor. She called his name twice, then fell silent.

“That was quick,” murmured Mendelhaus, glancing at his pale face.

“Where can I get a car?”

The priest rubbed his chin. “I was just speaking to Brother Matthew about that. Uh… how would you like to have a small yacht instead?”

Paul caught his breath. A yacht would mean access to the seas, and to an island. A yacht was the perfect solution. He stammered gratefully.

“Good,” said Mendelhaus. “There’s a small craft in dry dock down at the basin. It was apparently left there because there weren’t any dock crews around to get her afloat again. I took the liberty of asking Brother Matthew to find some men and get her in the water.”

“Dermies?”

“Of course. The boat will be fumigated, but it isn’t really necessary. The infection dies out in a few hours. It’ll take a while, of course, to get the boat ready. Tomorrow… next day, maybe. Bottom’s cracked; it’ll need some patching.”

Paul’s smile weakened. More delay. Two more days of living in the gray shadow. Was the priest really to be trusted? Why should he even provide the boat? The jaws of an invisible trap, slowly closing.

Mendelhaus saw his doubt. “If you’d rather leave now, you’re free to do so. We’re really not going to as much trouble as it might seem. There are several yachts at the dock; Brother Matthew’s been preparing to clean one or two up for our own use. And we might as well let you have one. They’ve been deserted by their owners. And… well… you helped the girl when nobody else would have done so. Consider the boat as our way of returning the favor, eh?”

A yacht. The open sea. A semitropical island, uninhabited, on the brink of the Caribbean. And a woman, of course—chosen from among the many who would be willing to share such an escape. Peculiarly, he glanced at Willie’s door. It was too bad about her. But she’d get along okay. The yacht… if he were only certain of Mendelhaus’ intentions…

The priest began frowning at Paul’s hesitation. “Well?”

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble….”

“Nonsense! You’re still afraid of us! Very well, come with me. There’s someone I want you to see.” Mendelhaus turned and started down the corridor.

Paul lingered. “Who… what—”

“Come on!” the priest snapped impatiently.

Reluctantly, Paul followed him to the stairway. They descended to a gloomy basement and entered a smelly laboratory through a double-door. Electric illumination startled him; then he heard the sound of a gasoline engine and knew that the power was generated locally.

“Germicidal lamps,” murmured the priest, following his ceilingward gaze. “Some of them are. Don’t worry about touching things. It’s sterile in here.”

“But it’s not sterile for your convenience,” growled an invisible voice. “And it won’t be sterile at all if you don’t stay out! Beat it, preacher!”

Paul looked for the source of the voice, and saw a small, short-necked man bending his shaggy gray head over a microscope at the other end of the lab. He had spoken without glancing up at his visitors.

“This is Doctor Seevers, of Princeton, son,” said the priest, unruffled by the scientist’s ire. “Claims he’s an atheist, but personally I think he’s a puritan. Doctor, this is the young man I was telling you about. Will you tell him what you know about neuroderm?”

Seevers jotted something on a pad, but kept his eye to the instrument. “Why don’t we just give it to him, and let him find out for himself?” the scientist grumbled sadistically.

“Don’t frighten him, you heretic! I brought him here to be illuminated.”

“Illuminate him yourself. I’m busy. And stop calling me names. I’m not an atheist; I’m a biochemist.”

“Yesterday you were a biophysicist. Now, entertain my young man.” Mendelhaus blocked the doorway with his body. Paul, with his jaw clenched angrily, had turned to leave.