Bullshit you did, Jack thought, feeling a ray of hope. You didn't have time. And if we blow right away, maybe - just maybe - you won't bother.
'We're going,' he said. 'Look, I'm sorry. It's just that . . . my big brother's an epileptic and he just had a seizure. We . . . we forgot his medicine.'
At the word epileptic, the ticket-girl and the counterman recoiled. It was as if Jack had said leper.
'Come on, Wolf.'
He saw the manager's eyes drop, saw his lip curl with distaste. Jack followed the glance and saw the wide dark stain on the front of Wolf's Oshkosh biballs. He had wet himself.
Wolf also saw. Much in Jack's world was foreign to him, but he apparently knew well enough what that look of contempt meant. He burst into loud, braying, heartbroken sobs.
'Jack, I'm sorry, Wolf is so SORRY!'
'Get him out of here,' the manager said contemptuously, and turned away.
Jack put an arm around Wolf and got him started toward the door. 'Come on, Wolf,' he said. He spoke quietly, and with an honest tenderness. He had never felt quite so keenly for Wolf as he did now. 'Come on, it was my fault, not yours. Let's go.'
'Sorry.' Wolf wept brokenly. 'I'm no good, God pound me, just no good.'
'You're plenty good,' Jack said. 'Come on.'
He pushed open the door and they went out into the thin, late-October warmth.
The woman with the child was easily twenty yards away, but when she saw Jack and Wolf, she retreated backward toward her car, holding her kid in front of her like a cornered gangster with a hostage.
'Don't let him come near me!' she screamed. 'Don't let that monster come near my baby! Do you hear? Don't let him come near me!'
Jack thought he should say something to calm her down, but he couldn't think what it might be. He was too tired.
He and Wolf started away, heading across the parking lot at an angle. Halfway back to the road, Jack staggered. The world went briefly gray.
He was vaguely aware of Wolf sweeping him up in his arms and carrying him that way, like a baby. Vaguely aware that Wolf was crying.
'Jack, I'm so sorry, please don't hate Wolf, I can be a good old Wolf, you wait, you'll see . . . '
'I don't hate you,' Jack said. 'I know you're . . . you're a good old - '
But before he could finish, he had fallen asleep. When he woke up it was evening and Muncie was behind them. Wolf had gotten off the main roads and on to a web of farm roads and dirt tracks. Totally unconfused by the lack of signs and the multitude of choices, he had continued west with all the unerring instinct of a migrating bird.
They slept that night in an empty house north of Cammack, and Jack thought in the morning that his fever had gone down a little.
It was midmorning - midmorning of October 28th - when Jack realized that the hair was back on Wolf's palms.
CHAPTER 19 Jack in the Box
1
They camped that night in the ruins of a burned-out house with a wide field on one side and a copse of woods on another. There was a farmhouse on the far side of the field, but Jack thought that he and Wolf would be safe enough if they were quiet and stayed in most of the time. After the sun went down, Wolf went off into the woods. He was moving slowly, his face close to the ground. Before Jack lost sight of him, he thought that Wolf looked like a nearsighted man hunting for his dropped spectacles. Jack became quite nervous (visions of Wolf caught in a steel-jawed trap had begun to come to him, Wolf caught and grimly not howling as he gnawed at his own leg . . .) before Wolf returned, walking almost upright this time, and carrying plants in both hands, the roots dangling out of his fists.
'What have you got there, Wolf?' Jack asked.
'Medicine,' Wolf said morosely. 'But it's not very good, Jack. Wolf! Nothing's much good in your world!'
'Medicine? What do you mean?'
But Wolf would say no more. He produced two wooden matches from the bib pocket of his overalls and started a smokeless fire and asked Jack if he could find a can. Jack found a beer can in the ditch. Wolf smelled it and wrinkled his nose.
'More bad smells. Need water, Jack. Clean water. I'll go, if you're too tired.'
'Wolf, I want to know what you're up to.'
'I'll go,' Wolf said. 'There's a farm right across that field. Wolf! There'll be water there. You rest.'
Jack had a vision of some farmer's wife looking out the kitchen window as she did the supper dishes and seeing Wolf skulking around in the dooryard with a beer can in one hairy paw and a bunch of roots and herbs in the other.
'I'll go,' he said.
The farm was not five hundred feet away from where they had camped; the warm yellow lights were clearly visible across the field. Jack went, filled the beer can at a shed faucet without incident, and started back. Halfway across the field he realized he could see his shadow, and looked up at the sky.