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into the cluster of nerves at the base of Mary's spine, growing from it. It had been living coiled up in her
skull, surely waiting for the time when John Carmody would open its bony nest. And it had released its
deadly poison into the flesh of the man who had created it.
Not until the horrible thing had been crushed beneath his heel, smashed into a blob from which
two long curved broken fangs still stuck out, did Carmody cease. Then he fell to the ground beside
Mary, the tissue of his body seeming like dry wood that had burst into flame, and the terror of dissolving
forever wrenching a choked cry from a throat that had seemed too full of a roaring fear to utter ever
again. . .
There was one thought, the only shape in the chaos, the only cool thing in the fire. He had killed
himself.
Somewhere in the moon-tinged purple mist a bell was ringing.
Far off, the referee was chanting slowly, . . .five, six, seven . . .
Somebody in the crowd -- Mary? -- was screaming, Get up, Johnny, get up! You've got to win,
Johnny boy, get up, knock that big brute down! Don't let him count you out, Joh-oh-oh-oh-neeee!
Eight!
John Carmody groaned, sat up and tried, in vain, to get on his feet.
Nine!
The bell was still ringing. Why should he get up when he was saved by the bell?
But then why hadn't the ref quit counting?
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What kind of a fight was this where the round wasn't over even if the bell did ring?
Or was it announcing the opening of a new round, not the closing of an old?
Gotta get up. Fight. Whale hell outa that big bastard, he muttered.
Ninestill hung in the air, as if it had yelled in the mist and was glowing there, faintly, violently
phosphorescent.
Who was he fighting? he asked, and he rose, shakily, his eyes opening for the first time, his body
crouching, his left fist sticking out, probing, his chin behind his left shoulder, his right hand held cocked,
the right that had once won him the welterweight championship.
But there was no one there to fight. No referee. No crowd. No Mary screaming encouragement.
Only himself. Somewhere, though, therewas a bell ringing.
Telephone, he muttered, and looked around. The sound came from the massive granite public
phone booth half a block away. Automatically, he began walking towards it, noticing at the same time
what a headache he had and how stiff his muscles were and how his guts writhed uneasily within him, like
sleepy snakes being awakened by the heat of the morning sun.
He lifted the receiver. Hello, he said, at the same time won-dering why he was answering,
knowing that it couldn't possibly be for him.
John? said Mary's voice.
The receiver fell, swung, then it and the phone box erupted into many fragments as Carmody
emptied a clip at them. Pieces of the red plastic struck him in the face, and blood, real blood, his, trickled
down his cheeks and dripped off his chin and made warm channels down the sides of his neck.
Stiffly, almost falling, he ran away, reloading his gun but saying over and over, You stupid fool,
you might have blinded yourself, killed yourself, stupid fool, stupid fool. To lose your head like that.
Suddenly, he stopped, put the gun back into his pocket, took out a handkerchief, and wiped the
blood off his face. The wounds, though many, were only surface-deep. And his face was no longer
swollen.
Not until then did he perceive the full significance of the voice.
Holy Mother of God! he moaned.
Even in his distress, one part of him stood off, cool observer, and commented that he'd not
sworn since childhood, but now he was on Dante's Joy he seemed to be doing it at every turn. He had
long ago given up using any blasphemous terms because, in the first place, almost everybody did, and he
didn't want to be like everybody, and, in the second place, if you blasphemed, you showed you believed
in what you were blaspheming against, and he certainly didn't believe.
The cool observer said, Come on, John, get a grip on yourself. You're letting this shake you. We
don't let anything shake us, do we?
He tried to laugh, but succeeded only in bringing out a croak, and it sounded so horrible that he
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