Fear the Night by John Lutz Page B

synthesis of the physical senses and internal mathematics. He was proud of his increasing abilities, his growth. What he was doing had become an art within a game that itself would become an art.
    The sign was supported about two feet higher than the parapet by a sturdy steel frame that was rusting badly. There were diagonal cross braces forming a kind of wide latticework. He knew he’d be able to crouch behind the steel braces and use one of them to help steady the rifle.
    Staying low, he moved sideways along the bottom edge of the billboard, gazing through the steel framework, until he had a clear view of the spot he’d chosen in the street below. It was about fifty feet beyond the intersection, where a fire hydrant was located, and he’d noticed it was a natural place for people to try to hail taxis pulling away from the green light or turning the corner onto Forty-fourth Street. He smiled. He had the clear shot he’d imagined from ground level.
    In his mind he aimed his imaginary rifle at a couple frantically waving at a cab. He stared unblinkingly through the night scope and centered the crosshairs, holding steady ... steady on the woman in jeans and what looked from this height like a bright scarf or bandana around her neck.
    There was a deep calm within him; right now he was as still as anything on earth. He waited for the moment, and when it came he squeezed the trigger and the woman fell.
    Only she didn’t fall. She climbed into the cab that had pulled up to the curb near her.
    Her lucky night.
    She’d never know.

13
    Ralph Evans walked with Venus, guiding her gently by the elbow as they wove through the mass of pedestrians on the sidewalks of West Forty-fourth Street. Vehicular traffic was heavy but moving swiftly, horns blaring, cabs jouncing over the potholed street. At the corner was a swirl of sound and activity.
    “All the people, all the cars,” Venus said, keeping pace with Evans. “Kind of exciting.”
    “Not like Ohio,” Evans said. “Wakes you up.”
    “Ohio has its charms.”
    “When you’re there.”
    They walked along for a while, deftly avoiding collisions with people coming the other way, and stopped now and then to glance in a shop window.
    “I like it here,” Venus said, “noise, exhaust fumes, and all, but I won’t be sorry to get back to Columbus.”
    “You’re not in New York mode yet. You’ll see, hon, the place’ll grow on you. I didn’t like the city either, first time the company sent me here . . . what, five years ago?”
    “More like ten, Ralph. Time’s rushing past like that traffic.”
    “I guess it is. Faster’n we know.”
    They stopped at an intersection to wait for a walk signal, then stepped down off the curb swiftly to avoid being trampled.
    “Know what?” Venus said. “These high heels are killing me. How far is it to where we’re gonna buy tickets?”
    Evans slowed their pace. He realized he’d been walking too fast, forcing her to keep up. It got to be habit, after you visited this city enough. Five minutes and you were a New Yorker living by the New York minute. “It’s a way yet. We can get a cab if you’d rather.”
    She paused to lift one foot and bent sideways, balancing herself, to adjust her shoe. It was a graceful pose he’d never tired of appreciating. “I think I’d rather.”
    As they continued walking, only more slowly, Evans glanced from time to time at the traffic. Now that they needed a cab, there were none in sight.
    At the next intersection, he steered Venus away from the pedestrians packed at the corner waiting to cross when the light changed. He gazed down the line of parked cars.
    “There’s a space where we can stand. Let’s move away from all these people to where we can hail a cab.”
    They stepped off the curb, then waited for a break in traffic. Evans led the way as they walked single file alongside the parked cars to where there was a clear spot near a fire hydrant, where Venus could stand behind him well away