Authors: Richard Matheson
There is no blood.
He spits out the arm and glares at it vengefully, through shrunken, red-veined eyes, dried-up, motionless eyes.
He snarls. He turns his head away. Get that damn dried up piece of crap out of here! He orders the stranger who keeps whimpering.
* * * *
He tries to tear his clothes off because he is so hot and dry and rattling. His palsied hand tears at buttons and buckle and zipper. It cannot concentrate though. It tears at a button and then slides to the belt, then falls on the zipper, then back to another button. It can’t make up its mind.
Beside, everything is padlocked, double padlocked.
* * * *
The tears stop flowing.
His eyelids stiffen. His eyes stay wide open even when his brain is dead asleep. He cannot wink or blink. He looks at the ceiling with a wide-eyed winkless stare, his eyeballs bulging, hard and dry.
* * * *
He is thinking of himself throwing water away.
He remembers every time he threw away a glass of water. He thinks he remembers. He remembers breaking a bottle of water in Grace’s kitchen. It shattered on the tiles and the cold water ran, wasted over the colored linoleum. And he had said, Oh I’m sorry and
mopped it up
.
He distinctly remembers running the mop over the floor, blotting up and wasting an entirely full bottle of water.
He recalls walking by a hundred park fountains without stopping. He tries very hard to analyze why he hadn’t stopped at every fountain he’d ever passed in his life and drank water down until it filled his chest and his throat and ran out of his mouth.
He remembers walking by fountains at the beach. He remembers only drinking a little of it once in a while and saying—I don’t want to drink much because of this terrible heat.
What a fool!
It is completely unrewarding to investigate thought. There is absolutely no sense to it at all. There is no understanding of why he hadn’t drunk in every drop his body would hold, every moment of the day, every day of the year. His brain just will not accept any argument. There isn’t any. All he knows is that everytime he ignored water, snubbed water, treated water disdainfully was a mistake, a horrible witless mistake.
He remembers not going into the ocean after he ate. You’ll get a cramp mother always said. And he said, Yes mother—and, instead of going to swim in the cold wet ocean he would lie in the hot sun. Yes! Actually lie in the blazing, drying sun when he could have been in the water, letting it soak him. Letting it soften his flesh, cool him. He could even have drunk it. Why, in all the times he went swimming in oceans and lakes and pools did it never occur to him to drink up the water?
There isn’t any answer. He knows that, beyond a doubt. It had just been unutterable stupidity on his part. Blind vacuity that’s all.
He remembers washing in water. Taking baths in water. Taking showers in water.
And, every time, the water ran down the drain and was lost! My God what a fool he’d been, what a wasteful, blind and moronic fool!
Why hadn’t it occurred to him to drink the water in the sink after he’d washed. Why hadn’t he thought of drinking the bathtub full of water after he was through bathing. Why not drink the shower water?
Why wash in the first place?
Why waste all that precious water just to clean the stupid, worthless body.
And to use water to wash clothes! Oh! And
cars!
Oh my God, and
dogs!
He shudders to think of it. How can people be so incredibly ignorant?
He remembers Leo saying that she hated water. She drank milk and coffee and tea and whiskey but she wouldn’t drink water. She
hated
water. It might have been hilarious if it weren’t so disgusting, so revolting, so defiling to his mind.
Hate
water! Oh my God forgive her for she knows not what she …
He remembers times he has spit.
Good God all the times he had gathered together precious saliva into his mouth and spit it out into a toilet, into a sink, into a street. How could he
do
it? Why not take out money and throw it away? Why not cut off arms and throw
them
away, useless hulks. But, oh no, never that.
Oh my God, how stupid he was. How stupid everybody was. Actually spitting out precious saliva. Spitting out valuable water.
He thinks he is shaking his head in astonishment. It is unbelievable. If he didn’t know it was actually so, if he hadn’t done it
himself
, he would scoff and say he was crazy, that such things couldn’t possibly happen.
He remembers times he urinated.
He thinks for ten whole minutes that the far wall of the room has turned into a solid sheet of falling water.
He hears it roar. It sounds like an elevated train. It is white and thundering and smoking mists rise from the bottom.
His is back at the World’s Fair, seeing Victoria Falls with his mother. Mother, let’s go, this makes me thirsty. By George if I haven’t got Victoria Falls in my own room. He thinks that and believes it and chuckles and thinks he’ll get up and get a drink.
* * * *
He tries to tear off his clothes.
* * * *
He scratches his head and scalp.
He rakes his trembling fingers over his forehead, digging in the nails. He plunges his long dirty nails into his bushy, grassy hair and scrapes at the dandruff-thick scalp. He runs his hand back and forth wildly, trying to get inside. His brain itches. He scratches away and the dandruff and the flesh.
Blood dribbles over his head. He doesn’t feel it. He scratches up his face and neck, his dry brittle nails rake back and forth, reddening the skin, drawing little drops of dark and sluggish blood.
He looks at his wrist and sees tooth marks.
Oh my God, he worries, there must be a huge rat loose in the room. I’d better tell the landlord.
His muscles tighten in a great convulsive cramp.
His teeth spread apart and hot, putrid breath gushes out from his dry mouth.
His body shudders as the muscles draw together, pulling their strands into rock-hard bunches.
A million invisible mice swarm over his body, nibbling with hot, razor teeth.
A gurgling protest vibrates his vocal chords. His wooden tongue flops once and clanks on his teeth. An edge of membrane tears and hot air rushes in over the raw flesh. A drop of serum swells up into form, then drips like wax onto his unfeeling tongue and threads its way lethargically down his throat.
He forgets which arm it is he can move. He keeps trying to move his left arm.
He is divided into a hundred, opposing factions. His is a feudal kingdom in flesh, no parts cooperating. He forgets the functions of his body. He forgets how it is fit together. He forgets how it works and what it looks like.
The muscles unfold, little by little. They let his body sag limply again.
Vacuous stars
.
Breath like dying steam
.
That dog barking? Why here? Get out dog Go home won’t wash you clean Feet cold hand cold Hot Hot ice John I’m cold Carbon dioxide Die oxhide All alone Alone here Dying Blow horn Fire burn and I’m dry rattle me …
The ceiling is eleven sheets of paste-board dirty plastered-Bastard Plastered Mastered Mustard On bottom pickles on top Drink anything Lynn Wish I was drowning Such a nice way to Water sir?
Drip drop Raining in desert Missing Falling all around dried up Send out the dogs Max Trent snug tug buggy nuggy he say doggie legs or Long along alone isn’t the ocean beautiful in the rain I wonder when we’ll get to England …
Something there’s something here I it’s there I Feel it It is a body! God a body I see a body I taw a puddy cat Meow Old lady feed your cat Meow Old lady feed your cat Meow …
Lazy Mary will
you
get up, will you get up Will you meant to get a haircut sir but a nickel short What am I to do Let’s see now I … I wish Oh God Ha ha ha Nickel short Shickel nort Wear a hat Nobody know I’ll give a million drops million dollars for a drip drop water …
Water, water, water, water, water, water … what? Water Oh jesus lover of my soul Wait a minute Leo! Head splitting Someone God God oh God don’t spit there Spit her, here!
Fool!
Horror. Unbelieving horror
.
See a wall it’s a room Listen to that rain would you Hitting window on roof leaking down Wow must be twenty nine inches twenty Nine dollars you bastard! I’m glad your shop is failing I’ll never come in anymore Mother I … Mother I’m thirsty can I ha ha
May
I have a glass of water?
Planning face. Lips pursed
.
Let’s see take a shower shave shine shit spit shampoo put on clean khakis God glad it’s Sunday hell with you Foley I’m not cleaning my gun today Go screw yourself you think you were in love with the fucking gun Yeah I know the rifle I do so First the trigger lock the trigger guard unlocks then you take off the stock then you
Come on Ma!
What the hell do you think I asked for water for Golly listen to it pour I hope the tent holds up John hell with that I’m crapping out the front door who could find that trench in this fucking rain …
Smiling. Endlessly
.
There’s a man see? He pulls a string and the stars go on Just like a lamp in big black bedroom Gee Sally I wish it could last forever Like we were in our own house I don’t mind it raining, do you Oh my glass is empty give me my helmet sergeant Ogod Oh darling darling darling I love you so much We’ll go away together I have three hundred and nine dollars minus my watch and we’ll go away I’m sorry I shouldn’t have gone walking my fault she collapses Shit it is It is! It is! I killed her, I killed her, I killed her Got to punish myself I’ll cut off my head I’ll cut off Lynn’s head I’ll
Ava Gardner’s island that’s it! Where the treasure is Dig it up Take a lot of water though Hot there you know what it is without water Like being with Feel like a high school kid again Don’t care if you have a
Water Water Water La da de dum dum Water Boy-yoy-y-yy Cool cool water I think it’s going to rain till the war’s over why does it rain in war Haah? I ever tell you that Alexander the Great had piles Ghengis Khan haha change mind don’t think I’ll rob the old man might pull a gun on me I’m all right this way better safe He might shoot me in the back and I might not be able to move and come on Lynn baby we’ll live on an island together I wonder if Mae West
is
a virgin …
Said I’m not getting up to go to Sunday School till I get that water God damn God damn don’t look so shocked no Oh don’t look so shocked I’m twenty-one what am I a kid What do I have to be ninety-seven I’m getting out of here Oh Leo your breasts are so big and white I’d like to drink from them I ohh pour me a drink pardner
Let’s see up is up and down is across and Listen there is nothing unhappier than unrealized potential, do you understand?
My face!
He is looking into the mirror fragment
.
He held the piece of mirror against his wrist.
He knew it was a piece of mirror and he knew it was his wrist. If he held tight he knew both those things. He knew how to cut one with the other.
He drew the sharp edge across the flesh. It slit, it scraped. A trickle of blood. He sawed weakly. A little more blood. He stared at it. His tongue faltered, fell again. He looked at the blood on his wrist. Something stirred. Something went back.
He stood in front of Lynn’s door and rang the bell. He had his suitcase with him. He didn’t know whether he was about to laugh or cry. That’s what happened sometimes now to him. He was in such an emotional state that all refinements had become lost, the dross of feeling loomed up as a parallel of the delicate. And, in moments of terror, he was likely to break into peals of idiotic laughter and, in moments of excess hilarity, he might find himself crying and suddenly sense a wave of depression breaking over him.
That’s how it was as he stood there in the August afternoon standing in the dimlit apartment house hall and waiting for Lynn to answer.
The door was flung open. He saw Marie’s flushed face looking at him expectantly.
“Hey, it’s Erick!” she cried, “Come on in, the water’s fine!”
He felt his stomach drop abruptly. He backed off a little, almost in fright. His voice sounded like a broken croak rather than a human voice.
“Lynn here?” he asked.
“Honey, we’re
all
here!” she exulted.
It seemed as if they were. Sounds of a cocktail party vaulted into his ears. Trilling woman laughter, the husky affected ha has of advertising executives.
Glancing worriedly over her shoulder, he saw the people standing around in affected groups, mostly men surrounding women like petals around a flower center. The air was filled with smoke and the sound of tinkling glass and tinkling voices.
Erick stood there weakly, wanting to cry out. There was no other place he could go. He had come for what comfort Lynn could give. For quiet words and a strong hand to guide him. He had found noisome gaiety and smoke and strangers.
Then Lynn came out of the kitchen with a tray of canapes. He looked startled, his temples contracted.
“Erick,” he said, concerned.
“Well come
in
, honey!” Marie gushed, “Don’t stand out thar in the snow!”
Lynn said, “Wait a minute” and moved quickly into the living room. He put the tray down on the coffee table and Erick stared sickly at him while he exchanged a few obvious banalities with a paunchy executive who was ensconced on the couch like a fat cherry sitting on the lurid top of a banana split.
Then Lynn turned away and his face sobered as he walked out again into hall.
Marie was asking him questions.
“I said, what’s the suitcase for, did your mistress throw you out?” she giggled. He smelled liquor on her breath. A button on her blouse was loose and he saw the dark lace of her net brassiere, a splash of erect white flesh.
He shook his head as though he took her question seriously.
“No,” he said. He felt himself turning inside out. He thought his stomach would leap into his chest and his heart would burst.