He Won't Need it Now

     Duffy said, “Don't get scared.” He felt a lot stronger. “I don't think it's bad. It just hurts a lot.”

     She ran into the bathroom and came back with dressing, water and towels. She had to cut away his shirt. He had six pellet-holes down his right side. They had ceased to bleed. She stood looking at them, her eyes big and scared.

     He said, “Listen, baby. You gotta get them out.”

     “I can't,” she said. “I don't know how.”

     “Got some tweezers? You fix your eyebrows, don't you?” His mouth twisted into a little grin. “Try with those.”

     She looked at him, and shook her head.

     He said, “It's important, baby.”

     When he said that, she drew a sharp breath and went over to the dressing-table. He reached for the bottle and gave himself a long pull.

     She came back, holding the tweezers.

     He said, “Burn a match round 'em.”

     While she was doing that, he drank some more whisky. By the time she started on him, he was pretty high.

     Wires of pain clutched him, and sweat ran down his face. But he lay quite still, with his eyes shut, giving no sign that she hurt him.

     He heard her say at last, “I've got them all.” She sounded so far away that he turned his head slowly and looked at her. She was white, her large eyes sunk far in her head. Holding on to the edge of the small table, she seemed to sway before his eyes.

     He said, “Get a grip on yourself.” He tried to speak sharply, but just couldn't make it. “Have a quick drink, you're going to faint or something.”

     She sat down on the floor. “I'll... be... all right,” she said, forcing her head down. “Don't worry. Just... give me a minute.”

     With a shaking hand he slopped some whisky into the glass and thrust it at her. “Go on, drink it,” he said. The effort made his head swim.

     He heard the glass rattle against her teeth as she drank. Then she got up unsteadily and put the glass on the table. “I'm all right now,” she said.

     Duffy said, “Put some dressing on this, and let me lie easy.”

     She sat down on the bed. “Would it be safe to get a doctor?”

     He shook his head. “No, I'm on the run now, baby.”

     She began cutting a pad, biting her lips to stop her tears. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, slightly dazed by the alcohol.

     She said, “I'll fix it with tape.”

     Duffy said, “You're swell.”

     With inexperienced hands, she strapped him, making a fair job of it. He lay watching her, and when she was done, he said, “Get me one of Sam's suits.”

     Her eyes opened. “What do you mean?”

     “I'm getting out of here.”

     “Oh no, you're not,” she said; “you're staying.”

     He shook his head impatiently. “I ain't getting you mixed up in this. There's a rap for you, if they find me here.”

     She said, with determination, “Don't get tough. You're staying.”

     He shut his eyes. “Okay,” he said weakly. “Just for a little while.”

     She bent over and kissed his hot forehead. “I'm so sorry,” she said.

     He lifted his lids with an effort. “I started this... I guess it had to finish like this.” Then, remembering, he said urgently, “Look in my coat. There ought to be some dough there.”

     She went over and gingerly examined the coat'. “Nothing here,” she said.

     His mouth twisted. “Schultz got it,” he said. The effort to worry was too much for him, and he closed his eyes.

     She said, “Try and sleep.”

     “My right shoe. There's three grand hidden in it. It's for you.”

     She said, “Never mind that.”

     He raised his head, his eyes feverishly on her face.

     “Take my shoe off and get the dough,” he said urgently. “It's all I got out of this mess... it's for you.”

     She undid his shoes and took them off. She found the crumpled notes wedged in one of them. Holding the little ball of money in her hand, she stood there, tears running down her face.

     He dropped his head back on the pillow again. “You're right, baby,” he said slowly. “Money don't mean a thing.”

     She said, keeping her voice steady, “I'll leave you now. You must sleep. If you want me, call. I'll be right outside.”

     He said drowsily, “Sure, don't get Sam. I'm going to be okay. I'm feeling fine, only tired.”

     She pulled a light blanket over him, and he reached out and took her cool hand. “I've been a mug,” he said.

     Alice clenched her teeth hard to stop the sob that rose in her throat. She looked down at his white, drawn face, and forced her trembling lips into a smile. “You... you're okay now,” she said. “Forget about it. You see, it's going to be all right.”

     She left him lying there on the bed. The heat of the street filtering through the window made him feel heavy and lifeless. The throb in his side was not bad. He just wanted to sleep.

     How long he slept, he never knew. It might have been a few minutes, or a few hours, but he woke suddenly, his brain clear and full of strange urgent alarms. He raised his head and looked round the room, then over to the window. When his eyes reached the square of glass, he knew why he had awakened.