Chapter 9

           IrodeupinthecabwithHarrygoingback,andwasdamnedgladtobethere.Theheaterwasbroken,butwewereoutoftheopenair,atleast.WehadgoneabouttenmileswhenHarryspottedalittleturnoutandveeredthetruckintoit.

           "Whatisit?"Iasked."Isitabearing?"Tomymind,theproblemcouldhavebeenthatoranything;everycomponentoftheFarmall’sengineandtransmissionsoundedonthevergeofgoingcataclysmicallywrongorgivinguptheghostentirely.

           "Nope,"Harrysaid,soundingapologetic."Igottotakealeak,isall.Mybackteetharefloatin."

           Itturnedoutthatwealldid,exceptforJohn.WhenBrutalaskedifhewouldn’tliketostepdownandhelpuswaterthebushes,hejustshookhisheadwithoutlookingup.HewasleaningagainstthebackofthecabandwearingoneoftheArmyblanketsoverhisshoulderslikeaserape.Icouldn’tgetanykindofreadonhiscomplexion,butIcouldhearhisbreathing—dryandraspy,likewindblowingthroughstraw.Ididn’tlikeit.

           Iwalkedintoaclumpofwillows,unbuttoned,andletgo.Iwasstilldoseenoughtomyurinaryinfectionsothatthebody’samnesiahadnottakenfullhold,andIcouldbegratefulsimplytobeabletopeewithoutneedingtoscream.Istoodthere,emptyingoutandlookingupatthemoon,IwashardlyawareofBrutalstandingnexttomeanddoingthesamethinguntilhesaidinalowvoice,"HellneversitinOldSparky.