Store of the Worlds: The Stories of Robert Sheckley Read Online Free PDF Page B

at a table, staring into a drink. She didn’t look up as he passed.
    Frelaine walked to the end of the block. He turned the corner and stopped, hands trembling.
    Was the girl crazy, exposing herself in the open? Did she think she had a charmed life?
    He hailed a taxi and had the man drive around the block. Sure enough, she was just sitting there. Frelaine took a careful look.
    She seemed younger than her pictures, but he couldn’t be sure. He would guess her to be not much over twenty. Her dark hair was parted in the middle and combed above her ears, giving her a nunlike appearance. Her expression, as far as Frelaine could tell, was one of resigned sadness.
    Wasn’t she even going to make an attempt to defend herself?
    Frelaine paid the driver and hurried to a drugstore. Finding a vacant telephone booth, he called ECB.
    â€œAre you sure that a Victim named Janet-Marie Patzig has been notified?”
    â€œHold on, sir.” Frelaine tapped on the door while the clerk looked up the information. “Yes, sir. We have her personal confirmation. Is there anything wrong, sir?”
    â€œNo,” Frelaine said. “Just wanted to check.”
    After all, it was no one’s business if the girl didn’t want to defend herself.
    He was still entitled to kill her.
    It was his turn.
    He postponed it for that day, however, and went to a movie. After dinner, he returned to his room and read the ECB pamphlet. Then he lay on his bed and glared at the ceiling.
    All he had to do was pump a bullet into her. Just ride by in a cab and kill her.
    She was being a very bad sport about it, he decided resentfully, and went to sleep.
    The next afternoon, Frelaine walked by the café again. The girl was back, sitting at the same table. Frelaine caught a cab.
    â€œDrive around the block very slowly,” he told the driver.
    â€œSure,” the driver said, grinning with sardonic wisdom.
    From the cab, Frelaine watched for spotters. As far as he could tell, the girl had none. Both her hands were in sight upon the table.
    An easy, stationary target.
    Frelaine touched the button of his double-breasted jacket. A fold flew open and the gun was in his hand. He broke it open and checked the cartridges, then closed it with a snap.
    â€œSlowly, now,” he told the driver.
    The taxi crawled by the café. Frelaine took careful aim, centering the girl in his sights. His finger tightened on the trigger.
    â€œDamn it!” he said.
    A waiter had passed by the girl. He didn’t want to chance winging someone else.
    â€œAround the block again,” he told the driver.
    The man gave him another grin and hunched down in his seat. Frelaine wondered if the driver would feel so happy if he knew that Frelaine was gunning for a woman.
    This time there was no waiter around. The girl was lighting a cigarette, her mournful face intent on her lighter. Frelaine centered her in his sights, squarely above the eyes, and held his breath.
    Then he shook his head and put the gun back in his pocket.
    The idiotic girl was robbing him of the full benefit of his catharsis.
    He paid the driver and started to walk.
    It’s too easy, he told himself. He was used to a real chase. Most of the other six kills had been quite difficult. The Victims had tried every dodge. One had hired at least a dozen spotters. But Frelaine had reached them all by altering his tactics to meet the situation.
    Once he had dressed as a milkman, another time as a bill collector. The sixth Victim he had had to chase through the Sierra Nevadas. The man had clipped him, too. But Frelaine had done better.
    How could he be proud of this one? What would the Tens Club say?
    That brought Frelaine up with a start. He wanted to get into the club. Even if he passed up this girl he would have to defend himself against a Hunter. If he survived, he would still be four hunts away from membership. At that rate, he might never get in.
    He began to pass the café again, then, on