Memoirs Of An Invisible Man (16 page)

I walked back and continued foraging through the offices, beginning with the reception room and working my way down the building. I went as quickly as possible, rummaging through desk drawers and closets, pulling out anything that might conceivably be of value to me, and throwing it into a heap in the center of the room, to be lugged away when I was done. In the reception room I found a couch — really, Morrissey had found the couch — from which I was able to remove six covers from cushions and pillows to serve as sacks for the rest of the booty. My hoard under the tree was growing large. Too large — how could I hope to carry it all? I tried to be more selective, concentrating especially on clothing and cloth. Several of the rooms had curtains, which I pulled down. I came up with another pair of running shoes, and as the sound of my leather-soled footsteps in the uncarpeted corridor had become agonizing to me, I tried them on. They were a half size too small, but with the thin socks I was wearing they seemed quite bearable, so I laced them and threw my shoes on the pile.

I found two more raincoats. Good luck that it had been raining yesterday. Perhaps not. I might not have stayed inside. Pointless to think about these things. I had to keep moving. Soon I would have to face the problem of getting past the fence with all these things. Or even without them. I had no idea. I would keep on going through the rooms and work on the problem of the fence when the time came. Although it was perhaps better thought of as the problem of the guns. The problem of the colonel who had ordered the people to shoot the guns.

Twice Gomez got into the smaller van, drove out through the gate, and returned again several minutes later. Each time he passed in or out, I stopped and watched. The gate would slide open just enough to allow the vehicle to pass, almost scraping on both sides. The area beyond the gate seemed to be enclosed by more fencing and a second gate. Hopeless. Think about it later.

The first time, Gomez had come back with more wire and twine for Tyler and Morrissey. But the second time, he emerged from the rear door of the van holding two leashes in his hand. Attached to the leashes were two dogs. They were the sort of dogs you see in films, pursuing escaped convicts through marshes or across moors. He tied the end of the leashes to the rear bumper and then disappeared again into the other van.

I cannot begin to say how the sight of those dogs discouraged and terrified me. What chance would I have once they set after me? I was in a relatively small, entirely enclosed area. It might turn out to be impossible to get past the fence in any event, but it would certainly be impossible with dogs in pursuit. I would have to make my assault on the fence immediately, and I would probably have to abandon the idea of taking anything much with me.

On reflection, I might have more time after all.

Clellan and the Colonel were over in front of the large van, their attention fixed on Tyler and Morrissey in the building. Gomez was out of sight entirely. I walked out toward the dogs, and as I walked I reached into my pocket, took out the revolver, and slid off the safety.

The dogs lay panting slowly on the lawn. As I came up to within several yards of them, one of them started and clambered awkwardly to his feet. I raised my arm, pointing the gun toward the animal’s head. I realized that my aim was fairly hypothetical, as I could see neither the revolver nor my own arm and, for that matter, did not even know precisely where I was standing. I decided that, if I was to avoid making a horrible mess of an already unpleasant business, I would have to get closer. I took three careful, absolutely noiseless steps toward the creature and tried to move the gun right next to its head. I misjudged the distance and poked him in the nose. Emitting a single pained bark, he snapped and then began a long, low growling sound. I recoiled. Someone more familiar with handguns would doubtless have shot instantly. But I only stood and watched as the other dog climbed to its feet and began barking.

There was, over the course of the next few minutes, a good deal of growling, barking, and sniffing about. However, my initial terror turned suddenly to relief, as I realized that none of this activity was particularly directed at me. They had no idea where I was! They seemed to hear even the slightest noise, but evidently they could not smell me at all. In better spirits again, I turned back to the building to get on with my work.

Morrissey and Tyler were moving along very quickly now. When they had finished delineating Wachs’s office and the bathroom with cable and wire, they outlined the corridor that ran the length of the building and then began on the other offices, working down the building behind me. After a while they ran out of cable and they began outlining the walls with white twine, which showed up beautifully against the black surface of the apparent crater below us. Over the next several hours the building took form all around us like some enormous model constructed of pipe cleaners. Tyler would go first into each new room, waving his detector in front of him, officially to check for radiation but in practice to locate desks, chairs, and walls. Then he and Morrissey would climb awkwardly down on their knees — something their suits were clearly not designed for— and lay out the string, Morrissey doing the perimeter of the room and Tyler marking off the furniture. All the while they would be talking to Clellan: “Large desk here, in the middle of the room. Swivel chair.” Or, “I’ve got two doors here in the west wall. Can you tell me whether one goes into the next room? Do you show a closet on the plan?” Or, “The fucker’s in the next room. He’s moving through ahead of us. I can hear him. I swear to God. He dropped something in the next room… He’s moving through the building ahead of us.”

For a while I was indeed moving through the building just ahead of them, but they were always about to overtake me, and I decided to circle back and follow them, staying a room or two behind. That also let me take advantage of the string and wire they had already laid out, so that I could move around without worrying about crashing into furniture and walls. On the other hand, I had to be careful not to give myself away by moving furniture that had already been marked, and I no longer dared sit in the chairs as I went through the desks.

Morrissey and Tyler were working hard: you could see that what they were doing was exhausting and difficult, especially because of the suits and gloves they had to wear. The mood was poor: everyone remembered the loss of the cat — not to mention the loss of the human being — and Morrissey surely remembered the broomstick shoved into his stomach. They were conscious of my presence, and it made them nervous and irritable; perhaps it made them afraid. It certainly made me nervous and afraid, all of us working together in the same space. I could not help making noise as I moved about pulling open drawers, carrying things from room to room. Once I pulled a drawer too far out and had to listen to it crash to the floor. Tyler and Morrissey came running — or as close to running as their suits would permit. Long before they actually found the right desk and the drawer lying on the carpet beneath it, I was well out of the way, watching from the next room.

“He’s going through the desks,” Morrissey reported. “Like he’s looking for something. You want us to do something about it? … I don’t know what. But it’s creepy. I’d like to get my hands on the fucker. If we could get out of these suits… Yes, sir.”

When several minutes later I knocked over a chair, they did not even bother to get up. They looked up and listened for a few moments and then turned sullenly back to their work.

I should have begun the actual escape sooner. I should have faced the problem of the fence. But I told myself that I was waiting for Morrissey and Tyler to open up the laboratory. I am not sure exactly what I hoped to find there, but I think my reasoning to myself was that there would be useful tools there. And I think I felt that there, at the source of the disaster, I might find some enlightenment, some explanation of my ludicrous condition — why it had happened, or what I might do about it.

By early afternoon we had all finished with the rooms in the front half of the building. I had looted them, and Tyler and Morrissey had outlined them in string. As I was returning from the tree, where I had deposited my last load, I saw that Tyler and Morrissey had come out of the building and were making their way as best they could in their suits to the edge of the crater. Clellan had come right up to the rim to meet them, bringing with him the dogs. The manhunt was about to begin. The dogs no longer frightened me much, now that I knew they could not smell me, but I was still wary of getting close enough so that they could hear me, and I decided to watch the pursuit from the lawn with Clellan. I walked over and waited about ten feet away from him while he turned the dogs over to Morrissey and Tyler.

The dogs were from the outset unenthusiastic about Morrissey and Tyler, perhaps finding their attire unreassuring. I sympathized really. It developed that the lack of enthusiasm was reciprocated: there was a good deal of discussion about which of the men would actually handle the dogs. In the end Tyler was designated — probably because he accepts misfortune with better grace, or at least with a stolid stoicism.

With Clellan’s help, Tyler managed to wrap the two leads around his massively gloved hand, and after some tugging and a few smart jerks he got them to what even a dog must have perceived as the edge of a rather large and deep pit. Tyler proceeded ahead of them onto the invisible surface, but they were apparently not in the least heartened by his ability to float in midair. With a little more pulling and yanking, Tyler managed to get both dogs to place their front paws past the visible rim, but there they stopped decisively. They were evidently willing to be dragged over the edge and down into the void, but they were not at all willing to levitate. They braced their legs and froze. There was not even any barking now. Tyler turned back to face the dogs and pulled on the leashes with both hands. Morrissey came up behind them and bending over with great difficulty tried to coax them and push them with his hands. One of them began to emit a long, low-pitched growl which concluded abruptly with a savage bite into Morrissey’s unfortunately well-protected arm.

Clellan uttered words of encouragement. “That’s it. Just ease ‘em on out. They’ll be all right.”

But there was no sign so far that they would be all right. Tyler had managed by now to drag them several feet onto the invisible surface, but they both continued to resist, growling evilly. He was standing in the doorway, unable to haul them up over the steps.

“That’s good,” said Clellan. “Hold it for a minute. Let ‘em get used to it.”

Tyler stood there for quite a while waiting for them to get used to it. The dogs, now that they were not being pulled forward, ceased pulling back, and the leashes went slack. The two creatures remained cowering there over the void. I was in a position to sympathize with them. On the other hand they, at least, could close their eyes.

Suddenly one of the dogs sprang up and bolted for the rim. Tyler, standing in a posture of sullen resignation, was unprepared for this and was pulled off the doorstep into a heap on top of the other dog. Tyler’s only comment was “Shit!” but the dogs made a great deal of noise, especially the one underneath Tyler. Clellan spoke continuously, saying things like, “Take it easy. Easy there. Let’s get those dogs inside and calm ‘em down.” Despite the reassuring words, there was an overtone of impatience in his voice.

Morrissey took this opportunity to suggest in his whining tone that without the protective suits which he and Tyler were being forced to wear, they could be more effective as well as less uncomfortable. He specifically suggested that “if we could get these fucking suits off, we could get our hands on that fucker in there.”

Clellan was of another mind. “Morrissey, you are going to keep that fucking suit on until you’re told to take it off. And if you say one more word about that fucking suit, you’ll live in that fucking suit until you can’t remember what it was like to be out of it. You’ll eat in it, sleep in it, piss in it, shit in it until next summer. You understand, Morrissey?”

Morrissey, although his reply was inaudible, seemed to understand. He stood there quietly. Tempers were fraying. Clellan turned back to Tyler. “Get those dogs in there and take ‘em through the building. Hear?”

Tyler responded by giving the leashes several savage pulls. The dogs, feeling the slip collars contract violently about their necks, let out startled yelps. Although Tyler was managing to maintain his stony composure, he was clearly angry.

“These dogs are going for a
walk,”
he announced. He wrapped the leads around his glove several more times until his hand was almost under the dogs’ chins, and he began to march up the stairs and into the building. The reluctant, half-strangled animals had their noses pointed desperately up in the air and their legs braced resolutely against any forward movement, but Tyler dragged them determinedly along.

‘That’s right, dogs. We are going for a walk, you and me.” Tyler hauled them into the reception room and made a small circle around the invisible desk. There was an almost manic tone to his controlled rage, as he towed the frantic creatures along the floor. “You don’t smell nothing here? That’s fine. We’re gonna try the next room.” He marched into Wachs’s office, pulling the dogs behind him, and made another angry circle.

“O.K.,” said Clellan uneasily. “Take it easy, Tyler. O.K.” Tyler was dragging the wriggling dogs down the corridor. “O.K., Tyler.
Hold it!”
Tyler stopped and turned slowly to face us. “Tyler, you can tie those dogs up somewhere in there. Maybe they’re gonna get used to it after a while. Maybe not. We’ll let ‘em be. Right now we’re gonna open up the laboratory.” Tyler pulled the animals into an office and looped the ends of the leashes around the leg of a desk. The dogs were understandably unhappy. They could not see the desk leg and in trying to work out their situation I think one or both must have collided painfully with it. They did not seem to adjust very quickly to their new surroundings — or lack of them.