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Childe's armpits and back and face were wet but the perspirationonly cooledhim a little. His crotch and his feet were also sweating, and hewished that he could wear swimming trunks or a towel. It was better outside than inthe hospital, however. The stench of sweaty frightened people had beenpowerful, butthe noise and the sight of the misery and pain had made it lessoffensive. Now he was aware that Jeremiah, who was, despite being a "hippie," alover of baths, a true "water brother" as he liked to say, stank. The odor was apeculiarcombination of pipe tobacco, marijuana, a pungent heavyunidentifiable somethingsuggestive of spermatic fluid, incense, a soupcon of rosewater oncunt, frightened sweat, extrusion of excited shit, and, perhaps, inhaled smog beingsweat out.
Jeremiah looked at Childe, coughed, smiled, and said, "You smelllike something washed up out of the Pacific deeps and two weeks deadyourself, ifyou'll forgive my saying so."
Childe, although startled, did not comment. Jeremiah had giventoo manyevidences of telepathy or mindreading. However, there were otherexplanationswhich Childe did not really believe. Childe's expression could havetold Jeremiah what he was thinking, although Childe would have said thathis face was unreadable.
He walked along with Jeremiah. They seemed to be in a tu
CHAPTER 6
"You see, Ham," Childe said, "the vampire motif in the film couldmean nothing--as a clue--but I feel that it's very important and, in fact, the onlything I can follow up. But the chances..."
His voice died. He and Jeremiah stood on the curb of the north side of Burton Way and waited. The cars were like elephants in the grayness, grayelephants with trunks to tails, huge eyes glowing in the gloom. Thelanes here were one-way for westward traffic, but all traffic was movingeastward.
There was only one thing to do if they wished to cross today. Childe steppedout into the traffic. The cars were going so slowly that it was easyto climb upon the hood of the nearest and jump over onto the next hood and ontoa third and then a fourth and onto the grass of the divider.
Startled and outraged drivers and passengers cursed and howled atthem, butJeremiah only laughed and Childe jeered at them. They crossed thedivider and jumped from hood to hood again until they got to the other side. Theywalked down Willaman, and every house was unlit. At Wilshire and Willaman, the street lights were operating, but the drivers were paying no attention tothem. All were going eastward on both sides of Wilshire.
The traffic was a little faster here but not too fast. Childe and Jeremiah got over, although Jeremiah slipped once and fell on top of a hood.
"Middle of this block," Jeremiah said.
The houses and apartments were middle middle-class. The homeswere the usual California-Spanish bungalows; the apartment buildings were four orfive storyboxes with some attempts at decoration and terracing outside. Therewere lightsin a few windows but the house before which Jeremiah stopped wasdark.
"Must not be home," Childe said.
"Doesn't mean a thing. His windows are always dark. Once you getinside, you'll see why. He may not be home just now; he might've gone to thestore or the gas station; they're supposed to be open, at least the governorsaid theywould. Let's see."
They crossed the yard. The front window looked boarded up. Atleast, something dark and woody looking covered it on the inside. Closer, hesaw that the man-sized figure, which had stood so silently and which he hadthought wasan iron statute, was a wooden and painted cutout of Godzilla.
They went around the side of the house to the driveway. There wasa largered sign with glaring yellow letters: MISTER HORROR IS ALIVE AND WELLIN HERE.
Beyond was a sort of courtyard with a tree which bent at forty- five degreesand the top of which covered the porch roof and part of the houseroof like a great greenish hand. The tree trunk was so gray and twisted andknobbed that Childe thought for a moment that it was artificial. It looked as ifit had been designed and built as background to a horror movie.
There were many signs on the door and the walls beside the door, some of them "cute" and others "in" jokes. There were also masks ofFrankenstein, Dracula, and the WolfMan nailed against the walls. And several NOSMOKING ABSOLUTELY signs. Another forbade any alcoholic beverages to bebrought in.
Jeremiah pressed the button, which was the nose of a gargoyleface paintedaround it. A loud clanging noise as of large bells came from withinand then several bars of organ music: Gloomy Sunday.
There was no other response. Jeremiah waited a moment and thenrang the bellagain. More bells and organ music. But no one at the door.
Jeremiah beat on the door and shouted, "Open up, Woolie! I knowyou're inthere! It's OK! It's me, Hamlet Jeremiah, one of your greatest fans!"
The little peep-window slid back and light rayed out. The lightwas cut off, came back, was cut off again as the peep-window swung shut. The dooropened witha screeching of rusty hinges. A few seconds later, Childe understood that the noise was a recording.
"Welcome," a soft baritone said. Jeremiah tapped Childe'sshoulder to indicate he should precede him. They walked in, and the man shut thedoor, rammed home three large bolts, and hooked two chains.
The room was too confusing for Childe to take it in all at once. He concentrated on the man, whom Jeremiah introduced as Woolston Q. Heepish.
"Woolie" was about six feet in height, portly and soft-looking, moderatelypaunched, with a bag of skin hanging under his chin, bronze walrusmoustache, square rimless spectacles, a handsome profile from the mouth up, afull head of dark-red, straight, slick hair, and pale gray eyes. He hunchedforward as if he had spent most of his life over a desk.
The walls and windows of the room were covered with shelves of books and various objects and with paintings, movie stills, posters, masks, plastic busts, framed letters, and blow-ups of movie actors. There was a sofa, several chairs, and a grand piano. The room beyond looked much the same except forits lack of furniture.
If he wanted to learn about vampires, he was at the right place.
The place was jammed with anything and everything concerningGothic literature, folklore, legendary, the supernatural, lycanthropy, demonology, witch-craft, and the movies made of these subjects.
Woolie shook Childe's hand with a large, wet, plump hand. "Welcome to the House of Horror," he said. Jeremiah explained why they were there. Woolie shook his head and
said that he had heard about Colben over the radio. The a
Childe told him the details. Heepish shook his head and tsk-tskedwhile his gray eyes seemed to get brighter and the corners of his lips dimpled.
"How terrible! How awful! Sickening! My God, the savages still inour midst! How can such things be?"
The soft voice murmured and seemed to become lost, as if it werebreaking upinto a half dozen parts which, like mice, scurried for the dark inthe corners. The pale, soft wet hands rubbed together now and then and severaltimes were clasped in a gesture which at first looked prayerful but also gavethe impression of being placed around an invisible neck.