Stu woke up the next morning more feverish than ever. The glands under his jaw had swollen to the size of golfballs. His eyes were hot marbles.
I'm dying … yes, that's affirmative.
He called Kojak over and removed the keychain and his note from the Lucite address-holder. Printing carefully, he added what he had seen and replaced the note. He lay back down and slept. And then, somehow, it was nearly dark again. Another spectacular, horrible sunset burned and jittered in the West. And Kojak had brought a gopher for dinner.
"This the best y'could do?"
Kojak wagged his tail and grinned shamefacedly.
Stu cooked it, divided it, and managed to eat his entire half. It was tough, and it had a horrible wild taste, and when he was done he had a nasty bout of stomach cramps.
"When I die, I want you to go back to Boulder," he told the dog. "You go back and find Fran. Find Frannie. Okay, big old dumb dog?"
Kojak wagged his tail doubtfully.
An hour later, Stu's stomach rumbled once in warning. He had just time enough to roll over on one elbow to avoid fouling himself before his share of the gopher came up in a rush.
"Shit," he muttered miserably, and dozed off.
He awoke in the small hours and got up on his elbows, his head buzzing with fever. The fire had gone out, he saw. It didn't matter. He was pretty well done up.
Some sound in the darkness had awakened him. Pebbles and stones. Kojak coming up the embankment from the cut, that's all it was …
Except that Kojak was beside him, sleeping.
Even as Stu glanced at him, the dog woke up. His head came off his paws and a moment later he was on his feet, facing the cut, growling deep in his throat.
Rattling pebbles and stones. Someone-something -coming up.
Stu struggled into a sitting position. It's him, he thought. He was there, but somehow he got away. Now he's here, and he means to do me before the flu can.
Kojak's growl became stronger. His hackles stood, his head was down. The rattling sound was closer now. Stu could hear a low panting sound. There was a pause then, long enough for Stu to arty sweat off his forehead. A moment later a dark shape humped against the edge of the cut, head and shoulders blotting out the stars.
Kojak advanced, stiff-legged, still growling.
"Hey!" a bewildered but familiar voice said. "Hey, is that Kojak? Is it?"
The growling stopped immediately. Kojak bounded forward joyfully, tail wagging.
"No!" Stu croaked. "It's a trick! Kojak … ! "
But Kojak was jumping up and down on the figure that had finally gained the pavement. And that shape … something about the shape was also familiar. It advanced toward him with Kojak at his heel. Kojak was volleying joyful barks. Stu licked his lips and got ready to fight if he had to. He thought he could manage one good punch, maybe two.
"Who is it?" he called. "Who is that there?"
The dark figure paused, then spoke.
"Well, it's Tom Cullen, that's who, my laws, yes. M-O-O-N, that spells Tom Cullen. Who's that?"
"Stu," he said, and his voice seemed to come from far away. Everything was far away now. "Hello, Tom, it's good to see you." But he didn't see him, not that night. Stu fainted.
He came around at ten in the morning on October 2, although neither he nor Tom knew that was the date. Tom had built a huge bonfire and had wrapped Stu in his sleeping bag and his blankets. Tom himself was sitting by the fire and roasting a rabbit. Kojak lay contentedly on the ground between the two of them.
"Tom," Stu managed.
Tom came over. He had grown a beard, Stu saw; he hardly looked like the man who had left Boulder for the West five weeks ago. His blue eyes glinted happily. "Stu Redman! You're awake now, my laws, yes! I'm glad. Boy, it's good to see you. What did you do to your leg? Hurt it, I guess. I hurt mine once. Jumped off a haystack and broke it, I guess. Did my daddy whip me? My laws, yes! That was before he run off with DeeDee Packalotte."
"Mine's broken, too. And how. Tom, I'm awful thirsty-"
"Oh, there's water. All kinds! Here."
He handed Stu a plastic bottle that might once have held milk. The water was clear and delicious. No grit at all. Stu drank greedily and then threw it all up.
"Slow and easy does it," Tom said. "That's the ticket. Slow and easy. Boy, it's good to see you. Hurt your leg, didn't you?"
"Yes, I broke it. Week ago, maybe longer." He drank more water, and this time it stayed down. "But there's more wrong than the leg. I'm bad sick, Tom. Fever. Listen to me."
"Right! Tom's listening. Just tell me what to do." Tom leaned forward and Stu thought, Why, he looks brighter. Is that possible? Where had Tom been? Did he know anything about the Judge? About Dayna? So many things to talk about, but there was no time now. He was getting worse. There was a deep rattling sound in his chest, like padded chains. Symptoms so much like the superflu. It was really quite funny.
"I've got to knock down the fever," he said to Tom. "That's the first thing. I need aspirin. Do you know aspirin?"
"Sure. Aspirin. For fast-fast-fast relief."
"That's the ticket, all right. You start walking up the road, Tom. Look in the glove-box of every car you come to. Look for a first-aid kit-it'll most likely be a box with a red cross on it. When you find some aspirin in one of those boxes, bring it back here. And if you should find a car with camping gear in it, bring back a tent. Okay?"
"Sure." Tom stood up. "Aspirin and a tent, then you'll be all better again, right?"
"Well, it'll be a start."
"Say," Tom said, "how's Nick? I've been dreaming about him. In the dreams he tells me where to go, because in the dreams he can talk. Dreams are funny, aren't they? But when I try to talk to him, he always goes away. He's okay, isn't he?" Tom looked at Stu anxiously.
"Not now," Stu said. "I … I can't talk now. Not about that. Just get the aspirin, okay? Then we'll talk."
"Okay … " But fear had settled onto Tom's face like a gray cloud. "Kojak, want to come with Tom?"
Kojak did. They walked off together, heading east. Stu lay down and put an arm over his eyes.
When Stu slipped back into reality again, it was twilight. Tom was shaking him. "Stu! Wake up! Wake up, Stu!"
He was frightened by the way time seemed to be slipping by in sudden lurches-as if the teeth on the cog of his personal reality were wearing down. Tom had to help him sit up, and when he was sitting, he had to lean his head between his legs and cough. He coughed so long and hard that he almost passed out again. Tom watched him with alarm. Little by little, Stu got control of himself. He pulled the blankets closer around him. He was shivering again.
"What did you find, Tom?"
Tom held out a first-aid kit. Inside were Band-Aids, Mercurochrome, and a big bottle of Anacin. Stu was shocked to find he could not work the childproof cap. He had to give it to Tom, who finally worried it open. Stu washed down three Anacin with water from the plastic bottle.
"And I found this," Tom said. "It was in a car full of camping stuff, but there was no tent." It was a huge, puffy double sleeping bag, fluorescent orange on the outside, the lining done in a gaudy stars-and-bars pattern.
"Yeah, that's great. Almost as good as a tent. You did fine, Tom."
"And these. They were in the same car." Tom reached into his jacket and produced half a dozen foil packages. Stu could hardly believe his eyes. Freeze-dried concentrates. Eggs. Peas. Squash. Dried beef. "Food, isn't it, Stu? It's got pictures of food on it, laws, yes."
"It's food," Stu agreed gratefully. "Just about the only kind I can eat, I think." His head was buzzing, and far away, at the center of his brain, a sweetly sickening high C hummed on and on. "Can we heat some water? We don't have a pot or a kettle."
"I'll find something."
"Yeah, fine."
"Stu-"
Stu looked into that troubled, miserable face, still a boy's face in spite of the beard, and slowly shook his head.
"Dead, Tom," he said gently. "Nick's dead. Almost a month ago. It was a … a political thing. Assassination, I s'pose you'd say. I'm sorry."
Tom lowered his head, and in the freshly built-up fire, Stu saw his tears fall into his lap. They fell in a gentle silver rain. But he was silent. At last he looked up, his blue eyes brighter than ever. He wiped at them with the heel of his hand.
"I knew he was," he said huskily. "I didn't want to think I knew, but I did. Laws, yes. He kept turning his back and going away. He was my main man, Stu-did you know that?"
Stu reached out and took Tom's big hand. "I knew, Tom."
"Yes he was, M-O-O-N, that spells my main man. I miss him awful. But I'm going to see him in heaven. Tom Cullen will see him there. And he'll be able to talk and I'll be able to think. Isn't that right?"
"It wouldn't surprise me at all, Tom."
"It was the bad man killed Nick. Tom knows. But God fixed that bad man. I saw it. The hand of God came down out of the sky." There was a cold wind whistling over the floor of the Utah badlands, and Stu shivered violently in its clasp. "Fixed him for what he did to Nick and to the poor Judge. Laws, yes."
"What do you know about the Judge, Tom?"
"Dead! Up in Oregon! Shot him!"
Stu nodded wearily. "And Dayna? Do you know anything about her?"