Pity Him Afterwards

No more Doctor Chax!
No more hurt and pain!
They’ll never get me back,
They’ll never catch me again.
No more Doctor Chax!
No more locks and walls!
They’ll never find me now,
I’ve got too smart for them now.
They’ll never hunt me down,
They’ll never lock me away,
They’ll never catch me again,
I’m slippery like an eel!
Good-bye, Doctor Chax!
You can’t hurt me any more!
You can’t make me cry
Or make me crawl and hide!
You can’t tell your lies
And try to make me be bad;
You can’t find me now,
Way back in your brown little office.
I’m free, I’m free, I’m free,
I can shout and dance and sing;
I can open doors and run around,
And nobody tries to stop me.

But all at once he did stop. Two overlapping images had come into his mind, drawing together a parallel he had not noticed before now. Two overlapping images. The office of Doctor Chax. The kitchen where Captain Sondgard had questioned them all. The images overlapped, like a double-exposed photograph, joining and blending into one image only at the particular spot where in both instances there was movement. In the office of Doctor Chax — whether he called himself Doctor Reed or Doctor Peterby or Doctor Samuelson, in all the offices so much alike — and in the kitchen while Captain Sondgard was asking his questions, in both places there had been a stillness, a heavy unmoving, all except in one place. The turning of the reels, the one reel turning faster than the other, the tape feeding through the maw of the little machine that gobbled one’s words. He had recognized the tape recorder when first he’d gone in to see Captain Sondgard — it had given him a bad moment, in fact — but then he’d forgotten it, in the relief of knowing that Captain Sondgard could not see through his disguise.

But now it came back. Doctor Chax existed in stillness, all save the erratic motion of the tape recorder, the two reels never spinning at the same speed. And now Captain Sondgard too existed in stillness, with but the same single exception.

A sign? An omen? A warning?

Must he understand from this that Captain Sondgard was a danger? Could it be that Captain Sondgard had a direct connection with Doctor Chax? Could he be Doctor Chax himself, in disguise, playing out another of his vicious games, trying to trick and to trap him, knowing all along that he was really Robert Ellington?

He stood in the middle of the road, all his joy and confidence draining away from him. He shook his head back and forth, and moaned in distress, as he had done in front of the house where he had been forced to kill the two old people. Now that it was all over, now that he had been sure he would never have to kill again — he remembered killing Cissie Walker, but only vaguely, in an unreal and academic manner, and without clear recollection of the details and the reasons, though he instinctively remembered that the reasons had been valid ones — now, now, now that he had thought himself free, was it to start all over again?

He could afford to take no chances. He was not going back there, back to the asylum, he was not going to fall into their clutches again. He could afford to take no chances, he would have to act wherever danger threatened.

This time, this time he must finish Doctor Chax forever. This time, he must kill Doctor Chax and have an end to it.

He stared down the road. Where was he now, Doctor Chax, calling himself Sondgard? In what brown cranny was he hiding, rubbing his hands together in the warm dim glow of the desk lamp, planning his perversities of the morrow?

If only he knew. If only he knew where to find this Captain Sondgard tonight, he could end it right now, be safe once and for all.

Tomorrow. Sometime tomorrow it would have to be. He would have to be sly, careful, cautious. No one must suspect. Somehow, without arousing suspicions anywhere, he would have to find out the location of Captain Sondgard’s lair. And then, tomorrow night, he could finish him.

Tomorrow night.

The thought soothed him, but didn’t restore his high spirits. Nevertheless, he didn’t turn back toward the house, but started walking again along the road in the direction of town. He walked more calmly now, his face somber, his gaze downward at the road directly in front of him.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gate.