Sydney leaned forward on the couch, his pale eyes almost bulging with intentness. The intersection on the screen had been familiar. The street the cameras were recording—was more so.
Adjust, he thought, I wish it was that easy for me. Adjust to the times, she says—they all say—thereby excusing everything hideous, and violent, and disgusting that exists in the present. Nobody objects to anything. There's nothing constructive for individuals anymore. They just accept. Adjust to being idle and useless at sixty, whether I like it or not. Adjust to A Cars, the boarding up of shops every night, not daring to go out after dark. Get used to violence and fear, sitting in front of this screen as though it were an object of worship. Endure "Manhunt" every night; not knowing—just waiting—waiting ... those of us who live to sixty-five.
Eleanor cleared her throat and then whispered huskily. "They've been up the same street before." She turned to him, her eyes watery with agitation pushed almost to its limit.
He couldn't help it. All his resentment was momentarily stilled by his affection for her. He smiled. "Sure, Ellie. Many times." Involuntarily, he put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed.
Without warning, the two men stopped in front of an apartment house. They glanced quickly around, and then slipped into the building, the camera close upon them.
Sydney took his wife's hand. "Why they've even been in the very same building before." His face felt cold and damp. He added resolutely, "It's a big apartment house, Ellie, a real big one."
Suddenly he found himself listening—listening—hardly breathing. It seemed as though sound didn't exist anymore. There was just silence, grotesque and unnatural.
Then he heard it. First there was a stealthy shuffling sound coming a long ways down the hall. Then the slight regular noise of a wheeled object, following.
Sydney saw that she had not heard. Her eyes were desperately fixed on the screen. It could be, he thought chaotically, it could be the Masons across the hall. They're almost sixty-five.