The Lost Ego

by Rog Phillips

I turned into the driveway and slid the car into my garage stall.

The left headlight was broken. I thanked my lucky stars for being the cautious type. I always carried a spare. I got it, and tools, from the trunk of the car. Ten minutes later the job was done.

Now I had one more job to do. I'd put it off long enough. I realized that now. Thordsen's discovery of my secret identity had precipitated things. He was dead now, but while I was in the mood I might as well get it all done.

It was wrong. I knew it was wrong. But I was Fred Martin and it was something to cling to, to hold to forever. It was better to be Fred Martin than to be nothing.

In the glove compartment was a gun, a small size thirty-eight automatic. It belonged to Orville Snyder. I took it out and put it in my pocket. Then I backed my car out of the garage and turned it into the driveway. As I edged across the sidewalk I looked up the street. Police cars were there with their ogling red eyes. And an ambulance. Fear clutched at me. Maybe Thordsen wasn't dead.

I fought down the fear. If Thordsen lived, I was done. That possibility made it all the more imperative that I kill—

I didn't know her name. Even now I couldn't get her name. Some psychological block kept it from me.

I sat back, mentally, and looked at the situation. The realization slowly simmered through that it wasn't I who had killed Thordsen. It wasn't I who was driving so intently, with my fingers gripping the steering wheel so tensely. I had thought so because I seemed to possess thoughts, tie myself to them and believe them mine.

I tried to feel regret for Dave Thordsen. I couldn't, because Fred Martin didn't. I tried to feel horror at what was coming. I couldn't. All I could feel was an overwhelming desire to point the gun at that woman and fire, and see her crumble to the floor.

I didn't recognize the house. I remembered the concrete porch painted with red enamel. I parked the car at the curb and walked to the porch with swift nervous steps. But I was taking care to keep my footsteps silent.