Twilight Zone The Movie by Robert Bloch Read Free Book Online

intuitions seldom fail me in that regard.” She stared at him quizzically, pale gray eyes narrowing behind the lenses of rimless spectacles. “You’re a Pisces, aren’t you?”
    Bloom was definitely not a Pisces, but he shook his head in wonder. “Remarkable,” he murmured. “Absolutely remarkable!”
    Miss Cox’s sallow cheeks flushed with pride. “Nothing to it,” she declared. “Just a matter of practice and observation. Working in a retirement home like this, you see so many people come and go—”
    She broke off hastily now, abruptly aware of the unfortunate connotation of her remark, but Bloom pretended he hadn’t noticed.
    “Enough of that,” Miss Cox was saying. “Welcome to Sunneyvale!”
    Raising her left wrist, she glanced down quickly at the watch that rested atop it. “My goodness, it is getting late! We’d better get you squared away before it’s time for your din-din.”
    Turning, she started down the hall and Mr. Bloom fell into step beside her. An observer might have found them a curious combination: the tall bony woman in the nurse’s uniform towering over the frail little old man at her side. The frail little old man was still carrying his suitcase; Miss Cox had not offered to relieve him of his burden.
    As they moved down the hallway, Mr. Bloom glanced curiously through the open doorway on his left.
    The room was large, large enough to contain half a dozen beds. Above each was a small shelf and against the opposite wall stood six identical plywood storage cabinets, apparently used to house wardrobes and personal belongings. Beside every bed was a single chair, only two of which were occupied.
    “That’s our ladies’ dormitory,” Miss Cox told him. “As you can see, we don’t have a full house at the moment. There were four here until last week, when Mrs. Schanfarber passed away. And Mrs. Tomkins is in the infirmary now. Poor thing. Dr. Ryan looked in on her last night. Says she has viral pneumonia. Just between us, I’m afraid she isn’t going to make it.”
    Bloom glanced at the two seated ladies, both of whom were eating dinner from trays set atop the small folding chairs before them.
    One wore an elaborate housecoat trimmed with an overabundance of ribbons and lace. It was the sort of garment that might be chosen by a girl in her twenties who had just told a visiting boyfriend that she wanted to slip into something more comfortable. But this lady was at least fifty years removed from girlhood; although her white hair was curled tightly by the recent application of a home-permanent and her sunken cheeks had been heavily rouged, Bloom judged her to be well into her seventies.
    “That’s Mrs. Dempsey,” the nurse told him. “She’s a widow.” Now her smile soured into disapproval as she gestured toward the long-haired white cat snuggling in Mrs. Dempsey’s lap. “And that’s Mickey,” she said. “I keep telling her not to feed him from the table, but she doesn’t pay any attention.”
    Bloom nodded, staring at the other occupant of the dormitory. She was a plump, neatly dressed woman with dark hair and a jolly expression; the hair was obviously a wig, but her smile was genuine.
    Miss Cox followed his gaze. “That’s Mrs. Weinstein. Would you believe it, she’s over eighty and still going strong. Her husband is with us, too. Of course, he’s in the men’s dormitory. They spend a lot of time together, but we don’t have a regular dining room here, so we prefer our residents to take their meals separately. You know how it is. If they all ate together, there’d be too much confusion. Besides, some of them are on special diets.” A slight frown creased her forehead. “For example, the Weinsteins only eat Kosher. You can’t imagine the trouble that makes in the kitchen.”
    Bloom nodded again, but listening to Miss Cox’s remarks about the residents made him just a trifle uncomfortable; he felt like a visitor being taken on a guided tour of the zoo by the head