ACT V
Sam tried to make small talk with Colleen on the way to school, but he soon discovered that Al had been right on the money in saying she was a mouse. Colleen was clearly astonished that Nick was even talking to her, and she couldn't seem to find anything much to say. By the time Sam thought to see if Al was right and ask Colleen if she had a date for the evening, they'd already reached the school and Sam had to concentrate on finding an empty parking space in the thick traffic.
Once they reached the field, Colleen vanished into the crowd almost immediately, nullifying Al's suggestion that Sam keep an eye on her. So far Sam hadn't heard from Al yet and had to wonder just what the story was here. Al had gotten pretty excited about Colleen getting dressed up, but in all honesty Sam didn't see what the fuss was. Surely Colleen must have at least one friend. But then again, why would anyone dress up just to meet a friend to see a football game? No, maybe Al was onto something. But Sam couldn't understand why Al was so interested in Colleen. For all Sam knew, Colleen reminded Al of his sister Trudy.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Some three-quarters of the way through the game, Cord Ericson finally chose to act. Sam had the ball and was pelting madly for the end zone when an Alderton player veered right out in front of him. Before he could react, Sam had slammed straight into the other boy, and no sooner had they landed on the turf than Sam got the breath knocked out of him by what felt like a dropped piano. The football squirted out of Sam's grasp, and a roar went up in the stands as it waddled comically a few feet over the grass before being pounced upon by a Maple Crossing player. That was all Sam saw, because the piano atop him growled, "Tonight's revenge night, Becker," and then drove a boulder of a fist deep into Sam's left side at a shockingly high speed for someone trapped midway up in a pile of human beings.
The next few minutes were hazy for Sam; he was dimly aware of having four or five other bodies pulled off him and being helped across the field to the bench. The coach poked and prodded at him while Sam fought to hold down the contents of his stomach. All the while his head whirled with Cord's words.
"I'm not sure, Coach," he suddenly heard Cord say, from very near by. It was as if Cord's voice alone was programmed to stand out from the massive pain in his side and the nausea he was trying so hard to combat. "I guess somebody fell on him wrong. Are his ribs broken?"
"Can't quite tell, son," the coach replied. "We're going to keep him out of the rest of the game. You get back in and see if you can finish what Nick started. Helluva run he was on before that Alderton kid jumped in front of him like that. Kid must've had a death wish or something."
"Got it, coach," Cord answered. But once the coach had moved out of earshot, Cord bent down and shoved his face right up into Sam's. "That's just the beginning, Becker," he hissed so that only Sam could hear him. "And it's not stoppin' with you. I got me a little date tonight and you're not gettin' in my way." He bared his teeth in a skull's grin before backing off and jogging onto the field.
Sam stared after him. What did he care if Cord went out with someone? He was hurting too much to think straight, so that when Al reappeared at last, it was the first thing he said. "Why should I care if Cord Ericson has a date tonight, Al?"
Al stared at him in confusion. "Huh?" Then he noticed Sam's expression, and a look of horror began to creep over his features. "What happened to you? You're as green as a Vulcan."
Sam, wondering what a Vulcan was, swallowed thickly and managed to explain it to Al in as few words as possible. "The nozzle," Al said tightly. "Well, we knew he was up to no good anyway. I just wish we could figure out what's next."
"Cord's got a date," Sam said, breathing heavily.
Al scowled. "Why the hell would anybody want to go out with a . . . " His voice died out and he turned slowly to Sam, his eyes going nearly perfectly round. "Sa-aammmmm . . . Colleen was all dressed up. You don't get dressed up just for a football game. What if she . . . "
Sam took a long moment to get the connection, but when he did, he scoffed. "Oh, come on, Al. Cord and Colleen? You can't be serious."
"Oh yes I can," Al informed him and shifted his gaze to something Sam couldn't see. "Gooshie! Gooshie, see if Ziggy can find out anything that connects Cord Ericson with Colleen Becker, and on the double. We got only a quarter or so left to take action here." Al paused a moment, as if waiting for someone to acknowledge his request, and then moved closer to Sam to examine him more carefully. "Jeeeeeez, Sam, when you get yourself banged up, you don't do it halfway, do ya?"
"I had some help," Sam mumbled. The nausea had finally receded, but the pain was constant and he wanted only to concentrate on breathing. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. The primality of it was comforting.
The game had gotten back under way again and Sam realized he didn't care whether Maple Crossing won or lost. Waiting for the game to end, waiting for the information Al had requested from Gooshie, waiting for the pain in his side to fade . . . waiting to Leap. Waiting to go home. For that, Sam feared he would be waiting forever, though he dared not examine this too closely or for too long. It was as if he was afraid that if he did bring the question under conscious study, God or Fate or Whoever would read his mind and permanently deny him the one thing he wanted most in all the world. Sam closed his eyes and let his mind wander wherever it wanted.
"Sam. Sam! Don't fall asleep, Sam," Al cautioned, his voice rising in Sam's ear. Sam opened his eyes and squinted slightly in the blinding stadium lights. "Sam, I got it. I was right! Gooshie says Ziggy found a newspaper article dated October 27, 1984, that mentions both Cord Ericson and Colleen Becker." Al hesitated, and Sam stared expectantly at him.
"Well, come on," he said at last, annoyed because Al had made him talk when he just wanted to breathe. Inhale, exhale . . . "What were you right about?"
"My hunch," Al said and cleared his throat, casting one killing glance at the football field before reluctantly revealing, "Colleen does have a date. With Cord Ericson."
Sam tried to make small talk with Colleen on the way to school, but he soon discovered that Al had been right on the money in saying she was a mouse. Colleen was clearly astonished that Nick was even talking to her, and she couldn't seem to find anything much to say. By the time Sam thought to see if Al was right and ask Colleen if she had a date for the evening, they'd already reached the school and Sam had to concentrate on finding an empty parking space in the thick traffic.
Once they reached the field, Colleen vanished into the crowd almost immediately, nullifying Al's suggestion that Sam keep an eye on her. So far Sam hadn't heard from Al yet and had to wonder just what the story was here. Al had gotten pretty excited about Colleen getting dressed up, but in all honesty Sam didn't see what the fuss was. Surely Colleen must have at least one friend. But then again, why would anyone dress up just to meet a friend to see a football game? No, maybe Al was onto something. But Sam couldn't understand why Al was so interested in Colleen. For all Sam knew, Colleen reminded Al of his sister Trudy.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Some three-quarters of the way through the game, Cord Ericson finally chose to act. Sam had the ball and was pelting madly for the end zone when an Alderton player veered right out in front of him. Before he could react, Sam had slammed straight into the other boy, and no sooner had they landed on the turf than Sam got the breath knocked out of him by what felt like a dropped piano. The football squirted out of Sam's grasp, and a roar went up in the stands as it waddled comically a few feet over the grass before being pounced upon by a Maple Crossing player. That was all Sam saw, because the piano atop him growled, "Tonight's revenge night, Becker," and then drove a boulder of a fist deep into Sam's left side at a shockingly high speed for someone trapped midway up in a pile of human beings.
The next few minutes were hazy for Sam; he was dimly aware of having four or five other bodies pulled off him and being helped across the field to the bench. The coach poked and prodded at him while Sam fought to hold down the contents of his stomach. All the while his head whirled with Cord's words.
"I'm not sure, Coach," he suddenly heard Cord say, from very near by. It was as if Cord's voice alone was programmed to stand out from the massive pain in his side and the nausea he was trying so hard to combat. "I guess somebody fell on him wrong. Are his ribs broken?"
"Can't quite tell, son," the coach replied. "We're going to keep him out of the rest of the game. You get back in and see if you can finish what Nick started. Helluva run he was on before that Alderton kid jumped in front of him like that. Kid must've had a death wish or something."
"Got it, coach," Cord answered. But once the coach had moved out of earshot, Cord bent down and shoved his face right up into Sam's. "That's just the beginning, Becker," he hissed so that only Sam could hear him. "And it's not stoppin' with you. I got me a little date tonight and you're not gettin' in my way." He bared his teeth in a skull's grin before backing off and jogging onto the field.
Sam stared after him. What did he care if Cord went out with someone? He was hurting too much to think straight, so that when Al reappeared at last, it was the first thing he said. "Why should I care if Cord Ericson has a date tonight, Al?"
Al stared at him in confusion. "Huh?" Then he noticed Sam's expression, and a look of horror began to creep over his features. "What happened to you? You're as green as a Vulcan."
Sam, wondering what a Vulcan was, swallowed thickly and managed to explain it to Al in as few words as possible. "The nozzle," Al said tightly. "Well, we knew he was up to no good anyway. I just wish we could figure out what's next."
"Cord's got a date," Sam said, breathing heavily.
Al scowled. "Why the hell would anybody want to go out with a . . . " His voice died out and he turned slowly to Sam, his eyes going nearly perfectly round. "Sa-aammmmm . . . Colleen was all dressed up. You don't get dressed up just for a football game. What if she . . . "
Sam took a long moment to get the connection, but when he did, he scoffed. "Oh, come on, Al. Cord and Colleen? You can't be serious."
"Oh yes I can," Al informed him and shifted his gaze to something Sam couldn't see. "Gooshie! Gooshie, see if Ziggy can find out anything that connects Cord Ericson with Colleen Becker, and on the double. We got only a quarter or so left to take action here." Al paused a moment, as if waiting for someone to acknowledge his request, and then moved closer to Sam to examine him more carefully. "Jeeeeeez, Sam, when you get yourself banged up, you don't do it halfway, do ya?"
"I had some help," Sam mumbled. The nausea had finally receded, but the pain was constant and he wanted only to concentrate on breathing. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. The primality of it was comforting.
The game had gotten back under way again and Sam realized he didn't care whether Maple Crossing won or lost. Waiting for the game to end, waiting for the information Al had requested from Gooshie, waiting for the pain in his side to fade . . . waiting to Leap. Waiting to go home. For that, Sam feared he would be waiting forever, though he dared not examine this too closely or for too long. It was as if he was afraid that if he did bring the question under conscious study, God or Fate or Whoever would read his mind and permanently deny him the one thing he wanted most in all the world. Sam closed his eyes and let his mind wander wherever it wanted.
"Sam. Sam! Don't fall asleep, Sam," Al cautioned, his voice rising in Sam's ear. Sam opened his eyes and squinted slightly in the blinding stadium lights. "Sam, I got it. I was right! Gooshie says Ziggy found a newspaper article dated October 27, 1984, that mentions both Cord Ericson and Colleen Becker." Al hesitated, and Sam stared expectantly at him.
"Well, come on," he said at last, annoyed because Al had made him talk when he just wanted to breathe. Inhale, exhale . . . "What were you right about?"
"My hunch," Al said and cleared his throat, casting one killing glance at the football field before reluctantly revealing, "Colleen does have a date. With Cord Ericson."