Horning slumped deeper into the chair. He rubbed at his cheek; squeezed his eyes tight shut and then opened them again. The skin across his forehead seemed to draw tighter and tighter, like a band of steel, till it was all he could do to keep from screaming aloud. He twisted, shifted, slid down further. His counterpart stretched. The dreamy look left the deep-set eyes. "We're dawdling too long. It's time we got started." He straightened. "Come on." "No," said Horning. The man from across the barrier between the parallel worlds half turned, head tilted, brows suddenly knitting. "What--?" "I said no," Horning answered through dry lips. "I'm not going to do it." * * * * * The other's lean face went blank, incredulous. He came a step towards Horning. "Do you know what you're saying, man? Would you actually pass up a chance like this to rid yourself of that harridan you married?" Horning shifted in his seat. He dodged the other's eyes, not speaking. "But why? Why won't you? You'll never have another chance like this." "I don't know why," said Horning. "Or ... maybe I do...." His voice trailed off. The other took a stand directly before him--feet spread apart, face cold and rocky. "Don't give me that! We're really one--remember? I know how you feel. You want to do it!" The fury in the man's voice struck an answering spark in Horning. He came up from the chair. "I want to--but I'm not going to! Now get out! And take her"--he gestured towards the other's unconscious wife--"with you!" His counterpart seemed to grow suddenly taller. "When I'm ready to go, I'll tell you!" "You'll go now!" "No!" Horning started forward. The other whipped up his gun. "I've come too far to quit now," he clipped tightly. "If you're too much of a fool or a coward to go along, then that's your bad luck. I'll handle things a different way." His lips twisted. "Back up against the wall!" For the fraction of a second, Horning hesitated. But the gun in his alter ego's hand stayed steady. Horning backed away. "Maybe this way is better, after all," his counterpart said. "Maybe I should have planned it like this from the start." New lines of strain slashed his lean, sardonic face. The deep-set eyes took on a light almost of madness. Then--lightning fast; without warning--he pivoted. The pistol in his hand made flat, clicking sounds. There was no report, no muzzle flare. Three times he fired--straight at the limp form of his bound, drugged wife. Dust leaped from the plastic wrapper as the slugs smashed home. The woman's body jerked convulsively. Horning gave a hoarse cry and leaped forward. His counterpart jumped aside. He hit Horning hard on the back of the neck with the pistol. Horning slammed to the floor. The room rocked about him. As from afar, he heard his alter ego's voice: "Get up!"