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49

           Perhapstheywoulddaretocrosstheirsuburbanstreetandhangapaperskeletononthewrought-ironbarsofthehighfence,gigglingattheoldjokes:It’sthemostpopularplaceintown;peoplearedyingtogetin.Whyisitwrongtolaughinthegraveyard?Becauseeveryonewholivesthereisalwaysinagravemood.

           "Gage,"hemuttered.Gagewasinthere,behindthatwrought-ironfence,unjustlyimprisonedunderablanketofdarkearth,andthatwasnojoke.Gonnabreakyouout,Gage,hethought.Gonnabreakyououtbigguy,ordietrying.

           Louiscrossedthestreetwithhisheavybundleinhisarms,steppedupontheothercurb,glancedbothwaysagain,andtossedthecanvasrolloverthefence.Itclinkedsoftlyasitstruckthegroundonthefarside.Dustinghishands,Louiswalkedaway.Hehadmarkedtheplaceinhismind.Evenifheforgot,allhereallyhadtodowasfollowthefenceontheinsideuntilhewasstandingoppositehisCivic,andhewouldfalloverit.

           Butwouldthegatebeopenthislate?

           HewalkeddownMasonStreettothestopsign,thewindchasinghimandworryinghisheels.Movingshadowsdancedandtwinedontheroadway.

           HeturnedthecornerontoPleasantStreet,stillfollowingthefence.Carheadlightssplashedupthestreet,andLouissteppedcasuallybehindanelmtree.Itwasn’tacopcar,hesaw,onlyavanmovingtowardHammondStreetand,probably,theturnpike.Whenitwaswellpasthim,Louiswalkedon.

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