First Blood

Still Trautman did not speak. He looked so long at it before he pointed to the gore of the stomach wound.

'This? You mean this, you're pointing at? I told you. Your school trained him well. My Christ, what reflexes.'

Off in the night, beyond the roar of the fires, there was a full roaring ca-whump that illuminated all that part of the sky. The echo from it rumbled in return over the town.

'Too soon. It went too soon,' the one deputy said in disgust.

'Too soon for what?'

Kern was coming from behind the house, scrambling down the slope of lawn to the sidewalk. 'He isn't back there.'

'I know. I tried to tell you.'

'He shot some guy in the shoulder. That's what the woman was yelling about. My men are looking for a trace of him. There's blood they're following.' He was distracted, glancing at the waves of light in the sky at the side of town.

'What is it? What was that explosion?' Teasle said.

'God, I doubt they had enough time.'

'Time for what?'

'The gas stations. He set two of them burning. We heard on the radio about the fire department over there. The pumps and main buildings are so deep in the flames that they couldn't get in to shut off the gasoline. They were going to disco

A shout from the side of the house: 'He went across a playground over here!'

'Well, don't yell so loud that he knows we're onto him!'

'Don't worry,' Teasle said. 'He's not in the playground.'

'You can't be sure of that. You've been lying here too long. He might have gone anywhere.'

'No, you have to be in his place. You have to pretend that you're him. He crawled through the playground and pushed himself over the fence there and he's in the wild raspberries, the brambles. I got away from him through brush like that, and now he's trying it, but he's wounded too bad. You can't believe the pain in his chest. There's a shed there some children built and he's crawling toward it.'

Kern frowned in question at Trautman and the two policemen. 'What's been going on with him while I was back there? What's happened?'

The one policeman shook his head queerly. 'He thinks he's the kid.'

'What?'

'He's gone crazy,' the other said.

'You two watch him. I want him quiet,' Kern said. He knelt beside him. 'Hang on for the doctor. He won't be long. I promise you.'

'It doesn't matter.'

'Try. Please.'

There were bells clanging and more sirens as two big fire engines lumbered up the square, slowing heavily to a stop beside the police cars. Firemen were jumping off, rubber-coated, ru

Another shout from the side of the house: 'He went clean through the playground! There's blood all through it! There's some kind of field and bushes!'

'Don't shout, I told you!' Then, down to him on the sidewalk. 'O. K., let's find out for you. Let's see if you're right about where he is.'

'Wait.'

'He'll get away. I have to go.'

'No. Wait. You have to promise me.'

'I did. The doctor is coming. I promise it.'

'No. Something else. You have to promise me. When you find him, you have to let me be there for the end. I have a right. I've been through too much not to see the end.'

'You hate him that much?'

'I don't hate him. You don't understand. He wants it. He wants me to be there.'

'Jesus.' Kern looked astounded at Trautman and the others. 'Jesus.'

'I shot him and all at once I didn't hate him anymore. I just was sorry.'

'Well of course.'

'No, not because he shot me, too. It wouldn't have made a difference if he shot me or not. I still would have been sorry. You have to promise to let me be there at the end. I owe it to him. I have to be with him at the end.'

'Jesus.'

'Promise me.'

'All right.'

'Don't lie. I know you're thinking I'm so badly hurt that I can't be moved up to that field.'

'I'm not lying,' Kern said. 'I have to go.' He stood, motioned to his men at the side of the house, and they joined him, spread out, starting nervously up the street toward the playground and the field beyond.

Except for Trautman.

'No, not you, Trautman,' Teasle said. 'You want to stay out of it yet, don't you? But don't you think you ought to see? Don't you think you ought to be there and see how he finally maneuvers himself?'

When Trautman now spoke at last, his voice was as dry as the wood in the courthouse must have been when it caught, tinder for the fire. 'How bad are you?'

'I don't feel a thing. No. I'm wrong again. The concrete is very soft.'

'Oh.' Another full billowing ca-whump lit up the sky over there. Trautman watched it blankly. The second gas station.

'Score another point for your boy,' Teasle said. 'My yes, your school really trained him well. There's no question.'

Trautman looked at the firemen hosing the flames of the courthouse and the police station, at the jagged hole in Teasle's stomach, and his eyes flickered. He pumped his shotgun, injecting a shell into the firing chamber before he started up the lawn toward the back of the house.

'What did you do that for?' Teasle said. But he already knew. 'Wait.'

No answer. Trautman's back was receding through the reflection of the flames toward the few shadows that were left at the side of the house.

'Wait,' Teasle said, panic in his voice. 'You can't do that!' he shouted. 'That's not yours to do!'

Like Kern before him, Trautman was gone.

'Dammit wait!' Teasle shouted. He rolled on his stomach, pawing the sidewalk. 'I have to be there! It has to be me!'

He groped to his hands and knees, coughing, blood dripping from his stomach onto the sidewalk. The two policemen grabbed him, pushing him down.

'You've got to rest,' the one said. 'Take it easy.'

'Leave me alone! I mean it!'

They were struggling to control him. He was thrashing.

'I have a right! I started this!'

'Better let him go. If he tries fighting us anymore he'll rip himself wide open.'

'Look at his blood on me. How much more can he have inside him?'

Enough, Teasle was thinking. Enough. He groped again to his hands and knees, drew up one leg, then the other, concentrating to stand. He had the salt taste of blood in his mouth. I started this, Trautman, he was thinking. He's mine. Not yours. He wants it to be me.

He braced himself, rose, walked a step, then listed, contending for his balance. If he fell, he was certain he would never be able to raise himself again. He had to hold himself steady, balancing as he wove up the lawn toward the house. I know it, Trautman, he was thinking. He wants it to be me. Not you. Me.