The Flying Eyes by j. Hunter Holly

answered nastily.
    Wes withdrew his hand from Kelly’s grasp, and his face was full of the kindness he always offered. “If you’ve got things on your mind, friend, talk about them. Let us listen and help.”
    â€œYes, talk if you must.” Kelly was watching him, toe. “I thought this was just one of your moods. I didn’t realize you were really troubled.”
    He wanted to accept her offer, to make use of her sudden concern, but he threw it aside, because he didn’t know how to use it. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m going to make a sandwich, and then I’m going to bed. You two have fun.”
    He left the room, torn within himself. On the one hand, he had done what he knew Kelly wanted; but on the other he had thrown them together again. He always threw them together. Wes spent more time with Kelly than he did. Wes might say that it was time he didn’t want, but he never refused it.
    As he sliced the meat, he could hear them in the living room, their voices low, talking and laughing. And piled on top of the other great failures of the day, this one exploded all out of proportion until he finally found a scapegoat for his anger and disappointment: Wes, the professed friend who took every opportunity to stab him in the back, and in the exact spot where he knew it would hurt most.
    * * * *
    It was dark outside, ten o’clock dark, when a knock sounded on his bedroom door. He raised up from the pillow where he hadn’t found even the peace of a nap, and called, “Come in.”
    It was Wes.
    â€œHas Kelly gone home?” Linc asked.
    â€œNo. She’s going to stay the night—in the housekeeper’s room. She’s too frightened to go home. People have gone crazy, Linc. They’re looting private homes now, and a girl isn’t safe alone.”
    â€œAre you sure she’s safe here?”
    Wes glanced up quickly, estimating the meaning behind the words.
    â€œYou two were laughing it up pretty heavy down there. With her staying in the house—”
    â€œNow, wait just a minute!” Wes’ face was red. “Just because you—”
    â€œJust because I nothing. You hand me a long line about not caring a damn for Kelly, but you latch onto her quick enough whenever you get the chance.”
    â€œShe wanted comfort, and you refused to give it, so I did. One human being to another. No more.”
    â€œYou must be a saint. Do you know that? You’re so full of compassion and philosophy, you must be a saint.”
    Wes sighed. “A minute ago, I was a heel, and now I’m a saint. Make up your mind, Linc. Which is it?”
    â€œTime will tell that. Meanwhile, I think I’ll sleep downstairs where I can keep an eye on her door.”
    Wes’ hands were clenched, and the same fighting look Linc had seen in him this morning stared back at him now. “I’d like to knock your head off,” Wes growled. “I’ve taken a lot from you—making excuses, trying to find something in you to like. But I guess I was wrong. Collins and the men at the lab have you pegged. You’re an egotist—an overbearing, swaggering egotist, so sure of yourself and your own cockeyed judgments that you stink. Your trouble is you don’t know how to accept a friend. I thought last night maybe you’d learned. But you only made it sound good. When it comes down to it, you’re still alone, and want it that way.”
    Linc’s own hands were clenching into fists. He wanted to make physical contact. It seemed a certain, sure relief.
    Wes backed off two steps. “I’m not going to fight with you. It’s not worth it—not over this accusation. You’d win, anyway. I’m no match for you physically. But if you measure by heart or decency—then, friend, you fall so short it’s pitiful. And all because of that woman. She’ll ruin you yet, Linc. She’s got you by the tail