Wolf came up as reluctantly as a waterlogged tree-trunk, his eyes now glazed and half-closed, water streaming from his ears and nose and mouth. His lips were blue.
Twin forks of lightning blazed to the right and left of where Jack stood holding Wolf, the two of them looking like a pair of drunks trying to waltz in a swimming pool. On the far bank, another cow-sheep flew in all directions, its severed head still bawling. Hot rips of fire zigzagged through the marshy area, lighting the reeds on the tussocks and then find-ing the drier grass of the field where the land began to rise again.
'Wolf!' Jack screamed. 'Wolf, for Christ's sake!'
'Auh,' Wolf moaned, and vomited warm muddy water over Jack's shoulder. 'Auhhhhhhhhhhh . . . '
Now Jack saw Morgan standing on the other bank, a tall, Puritanical figure in his black cloak. His hood framed his pallid, vampirelike face with a kind of cheerless romance. Jack had time to think that the Territories had worked their magic even here, on behalf of his dreadful uncle. Over here, Morgan was not an overweight, hypertensive actuarial toad with piracy in his heart and murder in his mind; over here, his face had narrowed and found a frigid masculine beauty. He pointed the silver rod like a toy magic wand, and blue fire tore the air open.
'Now you and your dumb friend!' Morgan screamed. His thin lips split in a triumphant grin, revealing sunken yellow teeth that spoiled Jack's blurred impression of beauty once and forever.
Wolf screamed and jerked in Jack's aching arms. He was staring at Morgan, his eyes orange and bulging with hate and fear.
'You, devil!' Wolf screamed. 'You, devil! My sister! My litter-sister! Wolf! Wolf! You, devil!'
Jack pulled the bottle out of his jerkin. There was a single swallow left anyway. He couldn't hold Wolf up with his one arm; he was losing him, and Wolf seemed unable to support himself. Didn't matter. Couldn't take him back through into the other world anyway . . . or could he?
'You, devil!' Wolf screamed, weeping, his wet face sliding down Jack's arm. The back of his bib overalls floated and belled in the water.
Smell of burning grass and burning animals.
Thunder, exploding.
This time the river of fire in the air rushed by Jack so close that the hairs in his nostrils singed and curled.
'OH YES, BOTH OF YOU, BOTH OF YOU!' Morgan howled. 'I'LL TEACH YOU TO GET IN MY WAY, YOU LITTLE BASTARD! I'LL BURN BOTH OF YOU! I'LL POUND YOU DOWN!'
'Wolf, hold on!' Jack yelled. He gave up his effort to hold Wolf up; instead, he snatched Wolf's hand in his own and held it as tightly as he could. 'Hold on to me, do you hear?'
'Wolf!'
He tipped the bottle up, and the awful cold taste of rotted grapes filled his mouth for the last time. The bottle was empty. As he swallowed, he heard it shatter as one of Morgan's bolts of lightning struck it. But the sound of the breaking glass was faint . . . the tingle of electricity . . . even Morgan's screams of rage.
He felt as if he were falling over backward into a hole. A grave, maybe. Then Wolf's hand squeezed down on Jack's so hard that Jack groaned. That feeling of vertigo, of having done a complete dipsy-doodle, began to fade . . . and then the sunlight faded, too, and became the sad purplish gray of an October twilight in the heartland of America. Cold rain struck Jack in the face, and he was faintly aware that the water he was standing in seemed much colder than it had only seconds ago. Somewhere not far away he could hear the familiar snoring drone of the big rigs on the interstate . . . except that now they seemed to be coming from directly overhead.
Impossible, he thought, but was it? The bounds of that word seemed to be stretching with plastic ease. For one dizzy moment he had an image of flying Territories trucks driven by flying Territories men with big canvas wings strapped to their backs.
Back, he thought. Back again, same time, same turnpike. He sneezed.
Same cold, too.
But two things were not the same now.
No rest area here. They were standing thigh-deep in the icy water of a stream beneath a turnpike overpass.
Wolf was with him. That was the other change.
And Wolf was screaming.
CHAPTER 18 Wolf Goes to the Movies
1
Overhead, another truck pounded across the overpass, big diesel engine bellowing. The overpass shook. Wolf wailed and clutched at Jack, almost knocking them both into the water.
'Quit it!' Jack shouted. 'Let go of me, Wolf! It's just a truck! Let go!'
He slapped at Wolf, not wanting to do it - Wolf's terror was pathetic. But, pathetic or not, Wolf had the best part of a foot and maybe a hundred and fifty pounds on Jack, and if he overbore him, they would both go into this freezing water and it would be pneumonia for sure.
'Wolf! Don't like it! Wolf! Don't like it! Wolf! Wolf!'