“SQUAT DOWN IN FRONT OF ME,” RYDER ORDERED LEE, “SO I can watch you. You try to slip off again, and I’ll kill you.”
Ryder wished he’d placed the bomb snug against the bricks of the building. Instead, he’d left the bomb half a foot away. Crouching in the deep shadow of a building, Ryder dug his fingernails into the top of Lee’s shoulder and pushed down hard on her. He didn’t just use his fingertips, he made his fingernails dig into the flesh where her sleeveless blouse left off.
“It’s just a school,” she whispered.
“Shut up! God damn it! They’re coming out! Look at that!”Why would they leave now? he wondered. Why?
The bomb was against the back wall where there were no windows, and people were coming out the front.
“They’re coming this way!” he said. He waited, ready to run, but the students went another way. Ryder hadn’t realized that a college school, unlike high school, had a lot of different buildings.
The campus was mostly deserted, but he’d seen them—integrated—through the windows. They were walking rapidly away from the building. Ryder thought they looked scared.
“There’s one of them white teachers.” He said the word white like he was tearing it off with his teeth. “Bitch!”
“Honey, let’s please go.”
He paid no attention to Lee.
“We can hear the boom from the car,” she said.
“I want to see it,” he whispered. “I want to god damn see that shoe box blow sky high.”
“You’re hurting my shoulder,” she sniveled.
He dug his nails in deeper, and he was glad they were dirty with car grease. Piano music drifted their way. “It’s that redheaded fool,” Ryder said.
“What’s he singing?”
“Hell if I know. I’m gonna get him, too, someday. Look at that bitch over there. Her blond-headed and standing with all them niggers.”
“It looks like nobody’s left inside.”
“Yes, there is. The wheelchair girl’s still in there. They left her in there.”
“They ought to take her out,” Lee said anxiously. “It’s just about time. They ought not have left her there. She can’t even stand up.”
“Tough luck. She’s a nigger lover. How much longer?” He’d get one. At least one.
Lee balanced herself on her knees and the knuckles of one hand so she could hold up her wrist to see Bobby’s Mickey Mouse watch.
“It’s ten more minutes,” Ryder said.
When he heard them starting up their protest song, he ground his teeth. Once again, he looked carefully for the wheelchair in the group, but it wasn’t there. He’d get her. Then he saw that the older woman was walking back toward the night school building. Earlier, when he peeked through the window, he’d seen her. She’d been about the only middle-aged woman in there. Her hose were twisted into a knot to keep them up, just behind her fat knee. Talking to herself, she had been fanning like crazy. He’d never seen anybody look so stupid. And now she was walking straight into death when she could have been safe.
“She’s too stupid to live,” he muttered.
Then a young nigger bitch started after the old one: three. He’d get three, almost as many as Bob got at the church. To his great joy, the skinny Jew piano player walked toward the night school. He was going to die, too. Hurry up, hurry up, Ryder thought. I sure don’t want you to miss the party. Ryder could hardly breathe he was so excited. Four! The hot night air slipped back and forth, shallowly, over his tongue. Ryder didn’t feel anxious anymore. Just eager. He’d get four.
With his fingers locked into Lee’s slimy shoulder, they waited. After a few minutes, when he didn’t have anything else to think about, he realized his nails must have brought blood. In the comic book, Dracula’s fingernails were pointed like a woman’s so he could gouge. Ryder removed his hand and slowly took his fingertips to his lips. He didn’t want her to notice he was tasting her blood.
He was getting away with it. He felt himself stiffen with pleasure.
“Lie down, honey,” he whispered urgently.
“What?”
“Lie down so no flying brick’ll hit you.”
Obediently, she stretched out on the grass and dirt. He began to lift her skirt.
She giggled. “Honey, stop it,” she said.
He hesitated. Stroking the hollow behind her knee, he thought how soft and smooth the skin was. Except the crease where it bent. The skin was hot and sweaty there. He thought about the black mammy’s coffee-colored hose twisted into a knot behind her knee.
“I like that,” Lee said. “That’s so gentle.”
He ventured up, exploring the back of her thigh. If she made a fuss, people might see them. They were in deep shadow, but her blouse was white and her skirt was a light tan.
“Honey,” Lee said to her husband. “Lie down here beside me, so you won’t get hit.” Invitingly, she patted the ground beside her.
He knew they’d get dirty because there wasn’t much grass to speak of, but he stretched out on his stomach. Several times, he secretly squeezed his pelvis as flat as he could against the flank of bare ground and released. It was strangely satisfying.
“How many minutes?” he asked, and she looked at the watch.
“We’re almost there.”
But the time came and went, and nothing happened.
The wheelchair girl came out onto the little porch, and the black girl twirled her around and backed her off the step. The mammy and the Jew followed them. They all joined the others beside the piano building, and they talked and jabbered like folks let out of church. His bomb sat abandoned against a brick wall.
Still, he begged the building to blow. Just to show them. Just to warn them.
“Maybe it’s not going to,” she said.
“Didn’t you check them wires? Didn’t you?”
“About ten times.”
“Don’t get smarty.”Blow, baby, blow. He’d never been so tense, wanted something to happen so bad, except maybe for Lee to say yes, when he asked her to marry him.
“Oh well,” she said.
“What do you mean Oh well? You don’t care!”
Just then the whole group started to move away. He watched them drift across the campus. Sometimes one of them would laugh. They sounded happy. Not a care in the world. Off for a good-time Friday night.
“They’re getting away,” he said, full of wonder. “Scot free.” He didn’t know how God could let them off.
Then all his wonder turned to fury. It was Lee’s fault. She’d done something wrong, he knew it. She was always thwarting him. Taking Bobby’s side. She didn’t care—that was the proof of it. He doubled up his fists and pounded the ground.
She giggled. “You look like a baby having a temper tantrum,” she said lightly.
He leapt on her. He straddled her back and pinned her down and pounded her shoulders with his fists. She begged him to stop, but she kept her voice down. He stopped only briefly to unzip himself.
Lifting her skirt and throwing the tail of it up over her shoulders, he ripped down her panties, yes, there was her bare ass, yes, he was on her, fierce as a Comanche warrior riding his horse. With one hand, he shoved her face into the dirt because she was trying to buck him off. He was wild with his need, wilder than Dracula. He heaved and panted, explained, as he continued.
“I got to get some pleasure,” he gasped. “I—got—to have—it.”