sk.thetalisman-第57部分

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er　and　it　would　be　pneumonia　for　sure。
　　'Wolf！　Don't　like　it！　Wolf！　Don't　like　it！　Wolf！　Wolf！'
　　But　his　hold　slackened。　A　moment　later　his　arms　dropped　to　his　sides。　When　another　truck　snored　by　overhead；　Wolf　cringed　but　managed　to　keep　from　grabbing　Jack　again。　But　he　looked　at　Jack　with　a　mute；　trembling　appeal　that　said　Get　me　out　of　this；　please　get　me　out　of　this；　I'd　rather　be　dead　than　in　this　world。
　　Nothing　I'd　like　better；　Wolf；　but　Morgan's　over　there。　Even　if　he　weren't；　I　don't　have　the　magic　juice　anymore。
　　He　looked　down　at　his　left　hand　and　saw　he　was　holding　the　jagged　neck　of　Speedy's　bottle；　like　a　man　getting　ready　to　do　some　serious　barroom　brawling。　Just　dumb　luck　Wolf　hadn't　gotten　a　bad　cut　when　he　grabbed　Jack　in　his　terror。
　　Jack　tossed　it　away。　Splash。
　　Two　trucks　this　time…the　noise　was　doubled。　Wolf　howled　in　terror　and　plastered　his　hands　over　his　ears。　Jack　could　see　that　most　of　the　hair　had　disappeared　from　Wolf's　hands　in　the　flip…most；　but　not　all。　And；　he　saw；　the　first　two　fingers　of　each　of　Wolf's　hands　were　exactly　the　same　length。
　　'e　on；　Wolf；'　Jack　said　when　the　racket　of　the　trucks　had　faded　a　little。　'Let's　get　out　of　here。　We　look　like　a　couple　of　guys　waiting　to　get　baptized　on　a　PTL　Club　special。'　
　　He　took　Wolf's　hand；　and　then　winced　at　the　panicky　way　Wolf's　grip　closed　down。　Wolf　saw　his　expression　and　loosened　up　。　。　。　a　little。
　　'Don't　leave　me；　Jack；'　Wolf　said。　'Please；　please　don't　leave　me。'
　　'No；　Wolf；　I　won't；'　Jack　said。　He　thought：　How　do　you　get　into　these　things；　you　asshole？　Here　you　are；　standing　under　a　turnpike　overpass　somewhere　in　Ohio　with　your　pet　werewolf。　How　do　you　do　it？　Do　you　practice？　And；　oh；　by　the　way；　what's　happening　with　the　moon；　Jack…O？　Do　you　remember？
　　He　didn't；　and　with　clouds　blanketing　the　sky　and　a　cold　rain　falling；　there　was　no　way　to　tell。
　　What　did　that　make　the　odds？　Thirty　to　one　in　his　favor？　Twenty…eight　to　two？
　　Whatever　the　odds　were；　they　weren't　good　enough。　Not　the　way　things　were　going。
　　'No；　I　won't　leave　you；'　he　repeated；　and　then　led　Wolf　toward　the　far　bank　of　the　stream。　In　the　shallows；　the　decayed　remains　of　some　child's　dolly　floated　belly…up；　her　glassy　blue　eyes　staring　into　the　growing　dark。　The　muscles　of　Jack's　arm　ached　from　the　strain　of　pulling　Wolf　through　into　this　world；　and　the　joint　in　his　shoulder　throbbed　like　a　rotted　tooth。
　　As　they　came　out　of　the　water　onto　the　weedy；　trashy　bank；　Jack　began　to　sneeze　again。
　　　
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　　This　time；　Jack's　total　progress　in　the　Territories　had　been　half　a　mile　west…the　distance　Wolf　had　moved　his　herd　so　they　could　drink　in　the　stream　where　Wolf　himself　had　later　almost　been　drowned。　Over　here；　he　found　himself　ten　miles　farther　west；　as　best　he　could　figure。　They　struggled　up　the　bank…Wolf　actually　ended　up　pulling　Jack　most　of　the　way…and　in　the　last　of　the　daylight　Jack　could　see　an　exit…ramp　splitting　off　to　the　right　some　fifty　yards　up　the　road。　A　reflectorized　sign　read：　ARCANUM　LAST　EXIT　IN　OHIO　　　　　　　STATE　LINE　15　MILES。
　　'We've　got　to　hitch；'　Jack　said。
　　'Hitch？'　Wolf　said　doubtfully。
　　'Let's　have　a　look　at　you。'
　　He　thought　Wolf　would　do；　at　least　in　the　dark。　He　was　still　wearing　the　bib　overalls；　which　now　had　an　actual　OSHKOSH　label　on　them。　His　homespun　shirt　had　bee　a　machine…produced　blue　chambray　that　looked　like　an　Army…Navy　Surplus　special。　His　formerly　bare　feet　were　clad　in　a　huge　pair　of　dripping　penny　loafers　and　white　socks。
　　Oddest　of　all；　a　pair　of　round　steel…rimmed　spectacles　of　the　sort　John　Lennon　used　to　wear　sat　in　the　middle　of　Wolf's　big　face。
　　'Wolf；　did　you　have　trouble　seeing？　Over　in　the　Territories？'
　　'I　didn't　know　I　did；'　Wolf　said。　'I　guess　so。　Wolf！　I　sure　see　better　over　here；　with　these　glass　eyes。　Wolf；　right　here　and　now！'　He　looked　out　at　the　roaring　turnpike　traffic；　and　for　just　a　moment　Jack　saw　what　he　must　be　seeing：　great　steel　beasts　with　huge　yellow…white　eyes；　snarling　through　the　night　at　unimaginable　speeds；　rubber　wheels　blistering　the　road。　'I　see　better　than　I　want　to；'　Wolf　finished　forlornly。
　　　
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　　Two　days　later　a　pair　of　tired；　footsore　boys　limped　past　the　MUNICIPAL　TOWN　LIMITS　sign　on　one　side　of　Highway　32　and　the　10…4　Diner　on　the　other　side；　and　thus　into　the　city　of　Muncie；　Indiana。　Jack　was　running　a　fever　of　a　hundred　and　two　degrees　and　coughing　pretty　steadily。　Wolf's　face　was　swollen　and　discolored。　He　looked　like　a　pug　that　has　e　out　on　the　short　end　in　a　grudge　match。　The　day　before；　he　had　tried　to　get　them　some　late　apples　from　a　tree　growing　in　the　shade　of　an　abandoned　barn　beside　the　road。　He　had　actually　been　in　the　tree　and　dropping　shrivelled　autumn　apples　into　the　front　of　his　overalls　when　the　wall…wasps；　which　had　built　their　nest　somewhere　in　the　eaves　of　the　old　barn；　had　found　him。　Wolf　had　e　back　down　the　tree　as　fast　as　he　could；　with　a　brown　cloud　around　his　head。　He　was　howling。　And　still；　with　one　eye　pletely　closed　and　his　nose　beginning　to　resemble　a　large　purple　turnip；　he　had　insisted　that　Jack　have　the　best　of　the　apples。　None　of　them　was　very　good…small　and　sour　and　wormy…and　Jack　didn't　feel　much　like　eating　anyway；　but　after　what　Wolf　had　gone　through　to　get　them；　he　hadn't　had　the　heart　to　refuse。
　　A　big　old　Camaro；　jacked　in　the　back　so　that　the　nose　pointed　at　the　road；　blasted　by　them。　'Heyyyyy；　assholes！'　someone　yelled；　and　there　was　a　burst　of　loud；　beer…fueled　laughter。　Wolf　howled　and　clutched　at　Jack。　Jack　had　thought　that　Wolf　would　eventually　get　over　his　terror　of　cars；　but　now　he　was　really　beginning　to　wonder。
　　'It's　all　right；　Wolf；'　he　said　wearily；　peeling　Wolf's　arms　off　for　the　twentieth　or　thirtieth　time　that　day。　'They're　gone。'
　　'So　loud！'　Wolf　moaned。　'Wolf！　Wolf！　Wolf！　So　loud；　Jack；　my　ears；　my　ears！'
　　'Glasspack　muffler；'　Jack　said；　thinking　wearily：　You'd　love　the　California　freeways；　Wolf。　We'll　check　those　out　if　we're　still　travelling　together；　okay？　Then　we'll　try　a　few　stock…car　races　and　motorcycle　scrambles。　You'll　be　nuts　about　them。　'Some　guys　like　the　sound；　you　know。　They…'　But　he　went　into　another　coughing　fit　that　doubled　him　over。　For　a　moment　the　world　swam　away　in　gray　shades。　It　came　back　very；　very　slowly。
　　'Like　it；'　Wolf　muttered。　'Jason！　How　could　anyone　like　it；　Jack？　And　the　smells　。　。　。　'　
　　Jack　knew　that；　for　Wolf；　the　smells　were　the　worst。　They　hadn't　been　over　here　four　hours　before　Wolf　began　to　call　it　the　Country　of　Bad　Smells。　That　first　night　Wolf　had　retched　half　a　dozen　times；　at　first　throwing　up　muddy　water　from　a　stream　which　existed　in　another　universe　onto　the　Ohio　ground；　then　simply　dry…heaving。　It　was　the　smells；　he　explained　miserably。　He　didn't　know　how　Jack　could　stand　them；　how　anyone　could　stand　them。
　　Jack　knew…ing　back　from　the　Territories；　you　were　bowled　over　by　odors　you　barely　noticed　when　you　were　living　with　them。　Diesel　fuel；　car　exhausts；　industrial　wastes；　garbage；　bad　water；　ripe　chemicals。　Then　you　got　used　to　them　again。　Got　used　to　them　or　just　went　numb。　Only　that　wasn't　happening　to　Wolf。　He　hated　the　cars；　he　hated　the　smells；　he　hated　this　world。　Jack　didn't　think　he　was　ever　going　to　get　used　to　it。　If　he　didn't　get　Wolf　back　into　the　Territories　fairly　soon；　Jack　thought　he　might　go　crazy。　He'll　probably　drive　me　crazy　while　he's　at　it；　Jack　thought。　Not　that　I've　got　far　to　go　anymore。
　　A　clattering　farm…truck　loaded　with　chickens　ground　by　them；　followed　by　an　impatient　line　of　cars；　some　of　them　honking。　Wolf　almost　jumped　into　Jack's　arms。　Weakened　by　the　fever；　Jack　reeled　into　the　brushy；　trash…littered　ditch　and　sat　down　so　hard　his　teeth　clicked　together。
　　'I'm　sorry；　Jack；'　Wolf　said　miserably。　'God　pound　me！'
　　'Not　your　fault；'　Jack　said。　'Fall　out。　Time　to　take　five。'　
　　Wolf　sat　down　beside　Jack；　remaining　silent；　looking　at　Jack　anxiously。　He　knew　how　hard　he　was　making　it　for　Jack；　he　knew　that　Jack　was　in　a　fever　to　move　faster；　partly　to　outdistance　Morgan；　but　mostly　for　some　other　reason。　He　knew　that　Jack　moaned　about　his　mother　in　his　sleep；　and　sometimes　cried。　But　the　only　time　he　had　cried　when　awake　was　after　Wolf　went　a　little　crazy　on　the　Arcanum　turnpike　ramp。　That　was　when　he　realized　what　Jack　meant　by　'hitching。'　When　Wolf　told　Jack　he　didn't　think　he　could　hitch　rides…at　least　not　for　a　while　and　maybe　not　ever…Jack　had　sat　down　on　the　top　strand　of　guardrail　cable　and　had　wept　into　his　hands。　And　then　he　had　stopped；　which　was　good　。　。　。　but　when　he　took　his　face　out　of　his　hands；　he　had　looked　at　Wolf　in　a　way　that　made　Wolf　feel　sure　that　Jack　would　leave　him　in　this　horrible　Country　of　Bad　Smells　。　。　。　and　without　Jack；　Wolf　would　soon　go　quite　mad。
　　　
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　　They　had　walked　up　to　the　Arcanum　exit　in　the　breakdown　lane；　Wolf　cringing　and　pawing　at　Jack　each　time　a　car　or　truck　passed　in　the　deepening　dusk。　Jack　had　heard　a　mocking　voice　drift　back　on　the　slipstream：　'Where's　your　car；　faggots？'　He　shook　it　off　like　a　dog　shaking　water　out　of　his　eyes；　and　had　simply　kept　going；　taking　Wolf's　hand　and　pulling　him　after　when　Wolf　showed　signs　of　lagging　or　drifting　toward　the　woods。　The　important　thing　was　to　get　off　the　turnpike　proper；　where　hitchhiking　was　forbidden；　and　onto　the　westbound　Arcanum　entrance　ramp。　Some　states　had　legalized　hitching　from　the　ramps　（or　so　a　road…bum　with　whom　Jack　had　shared　a　barn　one　night　had　told　him）；　and　even　in　states　where　thumbing　was　technically　a　crime；　the　cops　would　usually　wink　if　you　were　on　a　ramp。
　　So　first；　get　to　the　ramp。　Hope　no　state　patrol　happened　along　while　you　were　getting　there。　What　a　state　trooper　might　make　of　Wolf　Jack　didn't　want　to　think　about。　He　would　probably　think　he　had　caught　an　eighties　incarnation　of　Charles　Manson　in　Lennon　glasses。
　　They　made　the　ramp　and　crossed　over　to　the　westbound　lane。　Ten　minutes　later　a　battered　old　Chrysler　had　pulled　up。　The　driver；　a　burly　man　with　a　bull　neck　and　a　cap　which　read　CASE　FARM　EQUIPMENT　tipped　back　on　his　head；　leaned　over　and　opened　the　door。
　　'Hop　in；　boys！　Dirty　night；　ain't　it？'
　　'Thanks；　mister；　it　sure　is；'　Jack　said　cheerfully。　His　mind　was