RED NIGHTS
575
Olsen appeared from one of the corridors. His big feet clomped
noisily on the tile floor. "Time for lights out?"
"O.K." Guy answered, rolling Freddie away. "Frank, you can
go in the office." He pointed to an open doorway.
Freddie rocked back and forth in the chair. "Lice-out. Lice-out.
Lice-out."
Olsen reached out and slapped his immense dome with an open
hand. "Shut up, idiot." They rolled him down one of the corridors.
The office was a small room with a desk, a chair and a cot.
There was no door to close. I sat on the cot and watched the blank
wall.
As
Guy and Olsen progressed through the building turning out
lights the screaming gradually subsided, falling to a steady murmur
like the crowd noises in a movie. It was less nerve wracking, but
somehow more ominous. The mood in the building was changing from
wildness to slyness. Plans were beginning to cook in coundess heads,
and as a novelty, a break in the routine, it seemed to me that I would
be the focus. I jumped up nervously as Olsen came in. He looked
down at me, his big white eyes embedded in their surrealistic lenses.
"I'm going off now. I want to show you something."
I followed him out of the office, sticking close behind. We took
a few steps into a hallway and stopped. In the gloom stray rays of
light collected in his glasses like fireflies.
"The boys are harmless. They're scareder of you than you are
of them, so you got nothing to worry about. I want to show you this
guy so you know what he looks like. A couple of times he's grabbed a
broom and snuck up behind somebody and belted them.
If
he ever
tries anything all you got to do is look him in the eye and he backs
down."
"Maybe it's better
if
he doesn't see me."
"He won't. He can't see past the light."
There was a snapping sound and a powerful flashlight beam
showed us a glowing circle of green wall. We took a few steps and the
beam spilled into a small room. With a flick of
his
wrist Olsen found
the occupant, sitting on his bed, knees drawn up to his chest, rocking
slowly back and forth. (In the South they call it hunkering.) He
looked young, and strong ... completely normal except for his naked–
ness and the fixed expression of anger on his face. His eyes blinked
in the strong light but he didn't look away. The creaking of the bed–
springs stopped as he held himself rigid. He seemed to be looking
