Dark Rivers of the Heart

out."
        "Temporarily. A consultation."
        "They'll let you out again, won't they?"
        "Let's hope it doesn't take another sixteen years." He smiled, as if his bleeding hands had suffered only paper cuts. "But, yes, we're in an age that's giving birth to a new breed of fascists, and I would hope that from time to time they might find my expertise useful to them."
        "You're figuring you won't even go back," Spencer said. "You think YOu'll get away from them tonight, don't you?"
        "Too many of them, Mikey. Big men with big guns in shoulder holsters.
        Big black Chrysler limousines. Helicopters whenever they want them. No, no I'll probably have to-"
        "Lying, mother-killing sonofabitch," Spencer said.
        "Oh, don't try to frighten me," his father said. "I remember sixteen years ago, this room. You were a little pussy then, Mikey, and you're a little pussy now. That's some scar you've got there, baby boy. How long did you have to recuperate before you could eat solid foods?"
        "I saw you beat her to the ground by the swimming pool."
        "If confession makes you feel good, go right ahead."
        "I was in the kitchen for cookies, heard her scream."
        "Did you get your cookies?"
        "When she was down, you kicked her in the head."
        "Don't be tedious, Mikey. You were never the son I might have wished to have, but you were never tedious before." 'The man was unshakably calm, self-possessed. He had an aura of power that was daunting-but no look of madness whatsoever in his eyes.
        He could preach a sermon and be thought a priest. He claimed that he wasn't mad, but evil.
        Spencer wondered if that could be true.
        "Mikey, you really owe me, you know. Without me, you wouldn't exist.
        No matter what you think of me, I am your father."
        "Without you, I wouldn't exist. Yeah. And that would be okay.
        That would be fine. But without my mother-I might have been exactly like you. It's her I owe. Only her. She's the one who gave me whatever salvation I can ever have."
        "Mikey, Mikey, you simply can't make me feel guilty. You want me to put on a big sad face? Okay, I'll put on a big sad face. But your mother was nothing to me. Nothing but useful cover for a while, a helpful deceit with nice knockers. But she was too curious. And when I had to bring her down here, she was just like all the others-although less exciting than most."
        "Well, just the same," Spencer said, "this is for her." He fired a short burst from the Uzi, blowing his father to Hell.
        There were no ricochets to worry about. Every bullet found its mark, and the dead man carried them down to the floor with him, in a pool of the darkest blood that Spencer had ever seen.
        Rocky leaped in surprise at the gunfire, then cocked his head and studied Steven Ackblom. He sniffed him as if the scent was far different from any he had encountered before. As Spencer stared down at his dead father, he was aware of Rocky gazing up curiously at him.
        Then the dog joined Ellie at the door.
        When at last he went to the door too, Spencer was afraid to look at Ellie.
        "I wondered if you would actually be able to do it," she said.
        "If you hadHe met her eyes. She wasn't trying to make him feel better about what he had done. She had meant what she'd said.
        "I didn't enjoy it," he said.
        "I would have."
        "I don't think so."
        "Immensely."
        "I didn't hate doing it, either."
        "Why should you? You have to stomp a cockroach when you get a chance."
        "How's your shoulder?"
        "Hurts like hell, but it's not bleeding all that much." She flexed her right hand, wincing. "I'll still be able to work the computer keyboard with both hands. I just hope to God I can work it fast enough."
        The three of them hurried through the depopulated catacombs, toward the blue room, the yellow vestibule, and the strange world above.
        Roy had no pain. In fact, he could feel nothing at all. Which made it easier for him to play dead. He feared that they would finish him off if they realized he was alive. Spencer Grant, ala Michael Ackblom, was indisputably as insane as his father and capable of any atrocity.
        Therefore, Roy closed his eyes and used his paralysis to his advantage.
        After the singular opportunity that he had given the artist, Roy