“And that rat,” I said. “Remember the rat? I thought you were going to kill it. Whack it with the broom. But you weren’t planning to, were you?”
I saw the reflections of the flashlight in both of Jackal’s big round eyes. Two yellow dots.
“You were never going to hurt it. The rat? No way. Right? But it was only Lary who was really afraid of Pompey. And you all knew that Blind was going to simply kill him . . .”
Tabaqui was still looking at me without saying a word.
“You all knew,” I said. “When you were joking about his bats. When you were telling stories. When you were singing songs. Sphinx was sure of it when he was talking to him today . . . Now I understand . . .”
“So?” Tabaqui said. “Let’s say we did know. So what?”
He wasn’t disgusted, and he wasn’t sorry. Not a single bit. It was obvious even here in the darkness. And if not for Sphinx . . . if not for his “That’s not a reason to kill him,” I’d have had to assume they were all like this. “That is too a reason,” Jackal had answered. Yes. They kill in this House. And there I was with my “no one can save Pompey now.” Sarcastic. Mocking. Even they were surprised. Of course they were. I’d outcynicked them all.
I laughed again. I laughed and laughed, and then I literally choked on the laughter as it turned into a spasm. I vomited. Right on my legs. I didn’t have time to lean over or turn to the side.
Tabaqui gasped but didn’t say anything.
Alexander, with another flashlight, caught up with us at the bottom of the steps. He looked me over, grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, and ran. Jackal was speeding alongside. I screwed up my eyes very tightly and tried not to think of anything. Least of all, of the Great Game. This silly, amusing game, born out of boredom.
Once we reached the bathroom, Alexander unloaded me on the floor and undressed me down to my briefs. I was sitting on the wet floor, trembling. He took away my clothes and returned to wash the wheelchair, and still I was sitting there, naked. Then he and Humpback shoved me into the shower stall, turned on the water, and closed the door. I stretched out in the little tiled alcove, under the jets of water cascading down my back, and listened to their voices, muted by the frosted glass, mingling with the sound of the shower. Listened to them talk while they were washing my wheelchair.
“Grabbed all the knives and razors and hauled them away,” Humpback said. “Even the nail files. Gone. He has his own hiding places.”
Alexander mumbled something indistinct.
“Used a pillowcase to wrap them. Mine, for some reason. I wonder why.”
Squeaking of the wheelchair. Silence.
“We can give Smoker my pants. At least they won’t be falling down. But I’m all out of clean shirts.”
I closed my eyes and put my face inside the water stream. This way I couldn’t hear anything else. Much better. If only they’d left me alone, I might have spent the night there, numbing myself in the shower, and then maybe feeling a little better in the morning. But they pulled me out. Pushed aside the door and dragged me onto the towel spread out on the floor.
As I was drying myself, in came Lary, took my place in the stall, and started splashing around like a manic seal without even bothering to close the door.
Sphinx entered and froze in the middle of the bathroom with a perplexed look on his face, as if he forgot what it was he needed here.
I emerged from under the towel. There was a stack of clothes on the stool next to me. I saw a gray-checkered shirt on top.
“I’m not wearing that,” I said. “Take it away.”
Humpback looked at me quizzically. As if there was something incongruous about me not wanting to put on that shirt. Blind’s shirt, I’d seen him wear it, not once and not twice. As if it wasn’t obvious that I had no desire to wear anything that was his after what had just happened.
Lary started singing, there in the shower, loudly and out of tune. Singing and slapping his protruding ribs.
“Damned exhibitionist,” Sphinx grumbled. And yelled, so suddenly that I startled, “Close the damn door!”
“All right,” Humpback said and took the clothes away from under my nose. “We’ll figure out something tomorrow. There’s nothing left to do today but sleep, anyway.”
He draped the towel over me, helped me into the wheelchair, and rolled it out. The wheelchair was still wet after the washing. I slid around on the seat and grabbed the handles tightly to prevent myself from falling out.
“You are a really fastidious person,” Sphinx said.
I looked back.
His stare was ice cold.
“I’m not fastidious,” I said. “I’m normal. And you?”
His eyes narrowed.
“And I’m not.”
No one had ever looked at me that way before. With such boundless loathing. Then he closed his eyes. Like he didn’t want to see me at all.
“God,” he said. “You’re not worth half of his fingernail. You . . .”
