The Dead Zone

'Hold it a minute, Chuck.'

'Ahhhhhhh.. .' Chuck sat down again, heavily, his face composing itself into what Johnny already thought of as his now the questions expression. Long-suffering good humor predominated, but beneath it he could sometimes see another Chuck: sullen, worried, and scared. Plenty scared. Because it was a reader's world, the unlettered of America were dinosaurs lumbering down a blind alley, and Chuck was smart enough to know it. And he was plenty afraid of what might happen to him when he got back to school this fall.

'Just a couple of questions, Chuck.'

'Why bother? You know I won't be able to answer them.'

'Oh yes. This time you'll be able to answer them all.'

'I can never understand what I read, you ought to know that by now.' Chuck looked morose and unhappy. 'I don't even know what you stick around for, unless it's the chow.'

'You'll be able to answer these questions because they're not about the book.'

Chuck glanced up. 'Not about the book? Then why ask em? I thought...'

'Just humour me, okay?'

Johnny's heart was pounding hard, and he was not totally surprised to find that he was scared. He had been planning this for a long time, waiting for just the right confluence of circumstances. This was as close as he was ever going to get. Mrs. Chatsworth was not hovering around anxiously, making Chuck that much more nervous. None of his buddies were splashing around in the pool, making him feel self-conscious about reading aloud like a backward fourth grader. And most important, his father, the man Chuck wanted to please above all others in the world, was not here. He was in Boston at a New England Environmental Commission meeting on water pollution.

From Edward Stanney's An Overview of Learning Disabilities:

'The subject, Rupert J., was sitting in the' third row of a movie theater. He was closest to the screen by more than six rows, and was the only one in a position to observe that a small fire had started in the accumulated litter on the' floor. Ru pert J. stood up and cried "F-F-F-F-F -" while the people' behind him shouted for him to sit down and be quiet

.

'"How did that make you feel?" l asked Rupert J

'"I could never explain in a thousand years how it made me feel," he answered. "J was scared, but even more than being scared, 7 was frustrated. I felt inadequate, not fit to be a member of the human race'. The stuttering always made me feel that way, but now I felt impotent, too."

"'Was there' anything else?"

'"Yes, I felt jealousy, because' someone' else would see' the' fire and you know -'"Get the glory of reporting it?"

'"Yes, that's right. I saw the fire starting, I was the only one. And all I could say was F-F-F-F like a stupid broken record. Not fit to be a member of the human race' describes it best."

"'And how did you break the block?"

'"The' day before had been my mother's birthday. l got her half a dozen roses at the florist's. And I stood there with all of them yelling at me and l thought: I am going to open my mouth and scream ROSES! lust as loud as I can. I got that word all ready."

"'Then what did you do?"

"'I opened my mouth and screamed FIRE! at the top of my lungs."'

It had been eight years since Johnny had read that case history in the introduction to Stanney's text, but he had never forgotten it. He had always thought that the key word in Rupert J.'s recollection of what had happened was impotent. If you feel that sexual intercourse is the most important thing on earth at this point in time, your risk of corning up with a limp penis increases ten or a hundredfold. And if you feel that reading is the most important thing on earth...

'What's your middle name, Chuck?' he asked casually. 'Murphy,' Chuck said with a little grin. 'How's that for bad? My mother's maiden name. You tell Jack or Al that, and I'll be forced to do gross damage to your skinny body.'

'No-fear,' Johnny said. 'When's your birthday?'

'September 8.'

Johnny began to throw the questions faster, not giving Chuck a chance to think - but they weren't questions you had to think about.

'What's your girl's name?'

'Beth. You know Beth, Johnny...

'What's her middle name?'

Chuck grinned. 'Alma. Pretty horrible, right?'

'What's your paternal grandfather's name?'

'Richard.'

'Who do you like in the American League East this year?'

'Yankees. In a walk.'

'Who do you like for president?'

'I'd like to see Jerry Brown get it.'

'You planning to trade that Vette?'

'Not this year. Maybe next.'

'Your mom's idea?'

'You bet. She says it outraces her peace of mind.'

'How did Red Hawk get past the guards and kill Danny Jupiter?'

'Sherburne didn't pay enough attention to that trapdoor leading into the jail attic,' Chuck said promptly. without thinking, and Johnny felt a sudden burst of triumph that hit him like a knock of straight bourbon. It had worked. He had gotten Chuck talking about roses, and he had responded with a good, healthy yell of fire!