Ramsey Campbell - The Face That Must Die

I Am It And It Is I

There cant have been much stuff in that cake. Or else it must have been all seeds. I must have had the best of it last night.

I dont want to think about last night. Maybe I should listen to some sounds.

So why shouldnt I think about last night? Im not going to be stoned on this stuff. There were some nice sounds going, and I was listening to them, and that must have been when everyone went out for a walk. Sylvia went to crash with Den and Heather. Shell be back. It was just a temporary thing. I wish I could remember exactly what happened. She wanted to turn the sounds down, thats right, because the gays upstairs were banging on the floor, and we had an argument. I forget what I said. I know I told her to fuck off, and she went out crying with Den and Heather. Theyre not on the phone, or I could tell her Im sorry. I mean, I am, but it was weird because at the time I felt bad about it yet something told me I had to be on my own for a while. Weird.

I cant suss why Im not stoned now. Its nearly two hours since I ate that cake. It was the last piece, right enough, and I know it was full of seeds because we didnt spread them out properly. But last night, I mean, wow, that was cake. Den had brought along some Debussy. I said shit when I saw it, but they were really some sounds when he put it on. Thats right, I had my eyes shut, and I was sailing down out of space through the clouds into this ruined temple, and just as the sounds were really freaking out there was light, brighter and brighter. Had Sylvia gone by then? No, she couldnt have, because Den didnt leave the sounds. I cant remember.

But that was good dope. A friend of Dens was growing it in Sefton Park, right in the middle of all those streets. I mean, all those straights in the streets never knew, that was the incredible part. Just beautiful. And he was making it to Amsterdam, so he sold his plot. Plot of pot. Wow, must remember that. He sold it, half to Den and half to me. Last night was the first crop. Said he scored the seeds in some little village with a ruined temple in the background. It sounds like William Burroughs, I know, he said.

It sounds like William Burroughs, I know he said.

My God, Im slowing down. Its coming on.

Right. Im going to listen to some sounds. See if its as fantastic as last night.

This rooms too purple. Look at those velvet curtains. Its like your spit thickens when youre sick, theyre thickening the sunlight. So are those cars in Lodge Lane. Grinding away and throbbing and rattling theyre interfering with the sunlight. No, they cant be. Who said that? Come on, come out wherever you are.

Im going to hear some sounds.

Look where the records are. Ill never get over there. Itll be a miracle if I can stand up. Jesus, look at that! My purple shadow! Its turning to look at me! Youre turning to look at yourself, you mean. Whos saying these things?

Oh Christ, theres Sylvia. I just flashed her. In the doorway with tears running down her face. Trembling like she wants to shake herself to pieces and never be put together again. Oh Im sorry, love. I didnt want you to go. It was the shit talking. I never wanted you to go.

Why do they call it shit?

Whos there? Oh Jesus, its not Sylvia who came apart, its me. My minds splitting down the middle like a cleavers gone through it.

Of course. Theres a calm side and a paranoid side. Youre on the paranoid side now, man.

Ive had this before. Like my minds a battleground between the strong and the weak. Vietnam in the head. Like that book by someone, Aldiss, Barry was reading us last week. All right, I can play it. What did you say back there?

What? What did I say? Oh, I was wondering why they call dope shit.

Weird question. The colour, maybe, I dont know. Listen, however many of me there are, were famished. Lets make it to the kitchen. You take this leg and Ill get the other.

Go on! You can do it! Listen, you arent turned on to this scene at all. Youve got to become me, man, youve got to become the strong calm side of this mind weve got, then therell be no more paranoia, no more weakness. Merge, man, merge.

Maybe, but how long have we been walking towards that door? The purples pulling us back. We arent going to make it. Anyway, listen, we dont even know whats on the other side of the door. Lets just lie down and maybe hear some sounds.

You crawling cowardly bastard. I could show you things thatd make your experiences look like shit, if you had the courage.

All right. All right! Were out. Dont ask me how I got through that shadow. Felt like cobwebs. My God, is that the bedroom over there? All that way? Oh wow, that orange door is my scene, though. This whole hall, its like those comics Barry had last night, what were they, Marvel Comics.

We arent going over there. Just in the kitchen. There, you made it. Fantastic.

Look at those pans hanging up. What are they, mouths? Mouths on sticks! Sylvia used to feed those mouths. She loved having her own kitchen.

Forget that. Forage, man. Whats this? Duck pate. A duck made into paste. Dont know how you could think of eating that, even if you werent stoned. Sylvia bought it, dont forget. She bought it and you were supposed to eat it.

Dont you say that. I used to walk around the block sometimes when I was stoned and think of coming home to Sylvia when we were old and we could just sit together.

She stuffed a crushed duck down your throat. She didnt care.

Dont you put her down, you fucker! I want to see her! I want to tell her Im sorry!

All right. Theres nothing good here, anyway. Lets take a walk.

See Sylvia?

If you want.

Just so you know whos running things here. Clump. That door sounded satisfied. It wanted me to come out for a walk. There you are, Croxteth Grove. That means all these trees and look, on that wall, that cat sitting like a gargoyle. All its fur with the sun running off like water. Summer is to sit with Sylvia, like that kids book I was reading.

Maybe so, but look: Lodge Lane. Main roads arent good for the summer.

For once I think youre right. Theres something bad about those cars. Its like the cars are using people for parts, you know, cogs or valves. My God, look at all those cars sitting at the side of the road waiting to catch someone! Thats right, they draw off energy somehow and drive about on it.

But what about all these people walking around?

Well, what about them? Look, look at them jerking about! Theres that guy tapping his umbrella, theres a woman brushing her hair back from her face, look, shes doing it again, theres some kids kicking a can. Yes, thats right, theyve been thrown out by the cars because theyve got too much excess energy. But the cars will get them again. Am I walking along Lodge Lane talking to myself?

Yes, I think you probably are. We are.

I thought that guy with the umbrella was looking at us weird. Fuck off, cog! Listen listen, the cars wont get us on the way to Sylvia, will they?

Those cars waiting at the lights look pretty bad. If we run we can make it across the lights and into Sefton Park.

But were going away from Sylvia.

Thats true. Well, its your scene, but I can tell you I dont like those cars. Half an hour in the park and Ill take anything, but not right now. And remember this, man: you need me.

Fair enough, I suppose. Run!

Were across. Dont slow down. Did you see that car straining to get at us past the lights, those eyes? Blind but they could see us.

Right, but I like these trees. The leaves are talking about summer. Listen, we wont get too far away from Sylvia, will we? I can feel my mind stretching. I dont want it to snap. Christ, that would be painful, all my thoughts snapping back together.