The Damned by John D. MacDonald Read Free Book Online

model’s walk, she left the store.
    The boy called John gradually became aware that everyone was staring at him. There was contempt in all the glances, Del knew. He saw the sick look in the boy’s eyes. He put his face in his hands. He turned and moved closer to his mother.
    In the silence the teeth began to make a grinding sound against the stick. The boy took her limp hand held it throughout the convulsive flexings.
    “It’s going to be O.K., Mamma,” he said softly. “It’s going to be fine, Mamma.”
    Del left the store, searched for the tan linen dress and white hair, saw her walking slowly toward the shade. He caught up with her. Her lips had begun to puff. She looked at him with eyes that had gone quite dead.
    Del said, “A guy can lose his head when it’s his old lady.”
    “Thanks for the try, my friend.”
    “Your husband, isn’t he?”
    “Let’s say wasn’t he.”
    “Don’t be too rough on the kid. Some guys take a long time to grow up.”
    “I can’t afford to wait for it, Mr.…”
    “Del Ben… son.”
    “I’m Linda Gerrold. Thanks for taking charge. John was useless.”
    The girl in the yellow dress joined them. “Hi, folks. I’m Betty Mooney, by the way. I’m trying to remember some of that stuff I tried to learn out of the nursing books. Honey, that jerk certainly teed off on you, but don’t let it get you down.”
    “Miss Mooney, Mrs. Gerrold. And I’m Del Benson. Remember anything out of the books?”
    “I got a vague idea of a word. Some kind of hemorrhage in the head.”
    “Cerebral?” Linda asked.
    “Honey, that’s exactly it! A stroke, kind of. And if I’m right, there isn’t a hell of a lot you can do except wait and see if she comes out of it. They go into a kind of coma, and you want to feed glucose and so on, you can keep them going until they either kick off or wake up. Lots of times it’s better if they kick off when they have a daisy like that one, because they come out of it paralyzed. Only I wouldn’t tell that kid in there what I’m telling you. He’s nearly lost all his marbles now, it seems like.”
    “Thank you very much, Miss Mooney.”
    “I could be wrong, honey.”
    Linda sighed. “I better go back and give him a chance to slap me again. Maybe I can help a little.”
    She turned back toward the store. Betty watched her go. “There’s quite a gal, Mr. Benson.”
    “A little beauty, and well set up in the guts department.”
    “If I’d been tagged like that, that crumby little store would be upside down by now.” She turned and slanted her eyes at him. They were almost of a height. “Hello, Benson,” she said.
    “Hi, Mooney. Where’s your fella?”
    She gave a suggestion of a sneer. “You mean where’s old sourball? Sitting over there trying to decide whether to bite himself and die of the infection.”
    “Those kind go sour when they get enough.”
    “How about your kind?”
    “For my kind there isn’t enough.”
    “We must have gone to different schools together, Benson.”
    He gave her a flat-lipped grin, and his mind was ticking over, very carefully. The old lady’s sickness had opened things up a little. There might be three cars to play with: the Gerrolds’ Buick, the Cad that this Mooney gal was traveling in, and the Humber he’d taken from the bullfighter. Maybe a nice judicious trade, just for the sake of convenience, would let off some of the pressure. And a guy with a girl, even this flooze, would look better than a guy alone. Maybe it could be worked out so that he and Betty Mooney would eventually wheel into Matamoros in the black Buick. If he was any judge, Betty’s friend looked just as anxious to unload her as she was to walk out on him. “Is that a glint in your eye?”
    “I was wondering how a deal like you got tangled up with that Chamber of Commerce type over there.”
    “It was a mistake, Benson. San Antone was hot and I was bored and I thought well, just once in my life, I might as well kick up my