ller must be dangerously insane。 。 。 but the plant itself is no deadly nightshade or belladonna or Adder Toadstool （although it may have been any or all of those things in Detweiller's feverish mind； I suppose）。 It's only a very small and very tired…looking mon ivy in a red clay pot。
If not for the 〃nigger reaction〃 （Floyd Walker）…or the 〃human reaction〃 （his brother Riddley）…I might really have dumped the thing。 。 。 but after that fit of the shakes； it seemed to me I had to go through with opening the package or deem myself less a man。 I did so； in spite of any number of gruesome images…high explosive rigged to special pressure…tapes； noxious floods of black widow spiders； a litter of baby copperheads。 And there it was； just a small ivy…plant with yellow…edged leaves （four of them） nodding from one tired； sagging stem。 The soil itself is waxy brown。 It smells swampy and unpleasant。
There was a little plastic sign stuck in the earth which read：
HI！
MY NAME IS ZENITH
I AM A GIFT TO JOHN
FROM ROBERTA
It was that flash of fear which drove me to open the package。 Similarly； it's that same flash which has decided me against making sure that Kenton gets it after all； which would have been easy enough to do （〃Dat plant； Mist Kenton？ Oh； drat！ I g'iss I fo'got whatchoo said。 I am de mos f'gitten'est man！〃）。 Let the ripples end； let him forget Detweiller； if that's what he wants。 I've put Zenith the mon Ivy on a shelf in my janitorial…cum…mailroom cubicle…a shelf well above Kenton's eye…level （not that he stops in much anyway； unlike Gelb with his dice fixation）。 I'll keep it until it dies； and then I really will dump it down the incinerator chute。 That will be the end of Detweiller fo sho。
Got fifty pages done on the novel over the weekend。
Gelb now owes me 75。 40。
From The New York Post； page 1； March 4； 1981： INSANE GENERAL ESCAPES OAK COVE ASYLUM； KILLS THREE！！
（Special to the Post） Major General （ret。） Anthony R。 Hecksler； known to the mandos and partisans who followed him across France during World War II as 〃Iron…Guts〃 Hecksler； escaped from Oak Cove Asylum late last night； stabbing two orderlies and a nurse to death in his bid for freedom。
General Hecksler was remanded to Oak Cove in the small upstate town of Cutlersville twenty…seven months ago； following his acquittal； by reason of insanity； on charges of assault with a deadly weapon and assault with intent to kill。 His victim was Albany bus driver Herman T。 Schneur； whom Hecksler claimed in a signed statement to be 〃one of the twelve North American foremen of the antichrist。〃
The Oak Cove dead have been identified as Norman Ableson； twenty…six； John Piet； forty； and Alicia Penbroke； thirty…four。
State Police Lieutenant Arthur P。 Ford was surprisingly gloomy when asked if he expected to recapture General Hecksler quickly。 〃We hope for a quick arrest； naturally；〃 he said； 〃but this is a man who trained guerilla units in World War II and in Korea； and who was consulted on more than one occasion by General Westmoreland in Viet Nam。 He's seventytwo now； but still strong and amazingly agile； as his escape from Oak Cove shows。〃
Ford indicated he was referring to Hecksler's probable method of escape…a leap from a second floor window in the Oak Cove Administration Wing to the garden below （see photographs on pages 2； 3； and Center Section）。
Ford went on to caution everyone within the immediate area to be on the lookout for the mad General； whom he described as 〃extremely clever； extremely dangerous； and extremely paranoid。〃
In a brief press interview； Ellen K。 Moors； the doctor in charge of Hecksler's case； agreed。 〃He had a great many enemies；〃 she said； 〃or so he imagined。 His paranoid delusions were extremely plex； but he never lost track of the score。 He was； in his way； a model inmate。 。 。 but he never lost track of the score。〃
A source close to the investigation says Hecksler may have stabbed Ableson； Piet； and Pembroke to death with a pair of barber's shears。 The source told the Post that there was no outcry； all three were stabbed in the throat； mando…style。
（Related story P。 12）
From the journals of Riddley Walker
3/5/81
What a difference a day makes！
Yesterday Herb Porter was his usual self…fat； slovenly； smoking a cigar as he stood by the water…cooler； explaining to Kenton and Gelb how the great train of the world would run if he； Herbert Porter； were the engineer。 The man is a walking Reader's Digest of rabbit…punch solutions； a pendium of declarative answers which are delivered amid the effluvium of cigar smoke and exquisitely bad breath。 Close the borders and keep out the spies and wetbacks！ End abortion on demand！ Build more prisons！ Upgrade possession of marijuana to a felony once again！ Sell biochemical stocks！ Buy cable…TV issues！
He is； in his way…or was； until today…a wonderful man： rounded and perfect in his assurances； plated with prejudices； caprisoned about with cant； and possessed of just enough native wit to hold a job in a place like this； Porter is an evocation of the Great American Median。 Even his occasional surreptitious expeditions into Sandra Jackson's office to sniff the seat of her chair please me…an endearing little loophole in the walking castle of placency that is Massa Po'tuh。
Oh； but today！ What a different Herbert Porter crept into my janitorial cubbyhole today！ The placent； ruddy face had bee pallid and trembling。 The blue eyes shifted so regularly from side to side that Porter looked like a man watching a tennis match even when he was trying to stare right at me。 His lips were so shiny with spittle that they looked almost varnished。 And while he was of course still fat； he also looked as if he had somehow lost his surface tension…as if the essential Herb Porter had shrunk away from the borders of his skin； leaving that skin to sag in places where it had been previously stretched smooth。
〃He's out；〃 Porter whispered。
〃Who's dat； Mist Po'tuh？〃 I asked。 I was genuinely curious； I could not imagine what mighty sling or engine could have breached such a gap in Castle Herbert。 Although I suppose I should have guessed。
He proffered me the paper…the Post； of course。 He's the only one around here who reads it。 Kenton and Wade read the Times； Gelb and Jackson bring the Times but secretly read the Daily News （the hand that rocks the cradle may rule the world； but de han which empty de white folks' wastebaskets know de secrets of de worl）； but the Post was made for fellows such as Herb Porter。 He plays Wingo religiously and says if he ever wins a bundle he is going to buy a Winnebago； paint the word WINGOBAGO on the side； and tour the country。
I took it； opened it； and read the headline。
〃The General's escaped；〃 he whispered。 His eyes stopped bouncing back and forth for a moment and he stared at me in dismay and utter horror。 〃It's as if that damned Detweiller cursed us。 The General's escaped and I rejected his book！〃
〃Now； now； Mist Po'tuh；〃 I said。 〃Ain't no need to take on so。 Man lak dis prob'ly got fo…five dozen scores to settle befo he git to you。〃
〃But I could be number one；〃 he whispered。 〃After all； I rejected his goddam book。〃
It was true； and it is ironic how two such fundamentally different men as Kenton and Porter have managed to get themselves into exactly the same situation this late wintereach the target of a rejected author （Detweiller's rejection a bit more dramatic than that of the Major…General； granted； but that was indubitably Detweiller's own fault） who just happens to be insane。 The difference…I know it； even if no one else does （and I believe Roger Wade might）…is that； while Kenton thought there might actually be the germ of a book in Detweiller's obsession； Porter knew better concerning the General's。 But Porter is one of those men who has read omnivorously…and vicariously…about World War II； that Pickett's Charge of western man （western white man） in the 20th century； and he knew who Hecksler was。 。 。 in a war filled with military celebrities Hecksler was； granted； of the Hollywood Squares type （if you see what I mean）； but to Por