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'I only want to get in the back with him。'
'Why？'
Henry spoke clearly enough； although his voice trembled slightly。 'Because he's dying；' he said。 'He's dying； but I think he has one more thing to tell me first。'
5
Owen looked in the rearview mirror； saw Henry with his arms around Duddits； saw they were both wearing their seatbelts； and fastened his own。
'Hold him good；' he said。 'There's going to be a hell of a jounce。
He reversed a hundred feet； put the Hummer in low； and drove forward； aiming for the spot between the abandoned Subaru and the righthand ditch。 The crack in the road looked a little narrower on that side。
There was indeed a hell of a jounce。 Owen's seatbelt locked and he saw Duddits's body leap in Henry's arms。 Duddits's bald head bounced against Henry's chest。 Then they were over the crack and once more rolling up East Street。 Owen could just make out the last phantom shapes of shoeprints on the now…white ribbon of the road。 Mr Gray was on foot and they were still rolling。 If they could catch up before the bastard cut into the woods…
But they didn't。
6
With a final tremendous effort； Duddits raised his head。 Now； Henry saw with dismay and horror； Duddits's eyes were also filling with blood。
Clack。 Clack…clack。 The dry chuckles of old men as someone acplishes the fabled triple jump。 The phone began to swim into his field of vision again。 And the signs over it。
'No； Duddits；' Henry whispered。 'Don't try。 Save your strength。'
But for what？ For what if not for this？
The sign on the right： PLEASE LIMIT ALL CALLS TO 5 MINS； Smells of tobacco； smells of woodsmoke； the old brine of pickles。 His friend's arms around him。
And the sign on the left： CALL JONESY NOW。
'Duddits 。 。 。' His voice floating in the darkness。 Darkness； his old friend。 'Duddits； I don't know how。'
Duddits's voice came to him a final time； very tired but calm： Quick； Henry … I can only hold on a little longer … you need to talk to him。
Henry picks the telephone's receiver out of its cradle。 Thinks absurdly （but isn't the whole situation absurd？） that he doesn't have any change not so much as a crying dime。 Holds the phone to his ear。
Roberta Cavell's voice es； impersonal and businesslike： 'Massachusetts General Hospital； how may I direct your call？'
7
Mr Gray flailed Jonesy's body along the path which ran up the east side of the Reservoir from the point where East Street ended； slipping； falling； grabbing branches； getting up again。 Jonesy's knees were lacerated； the pants tom open and soaked with blood。 His lungs were burning； his heart beating like a steam…hammer。 Yet the only thing that concerned him was Jonesy's hip； the one he'd broken in the accident。 It was a hot and throbbing ball； shooting pain all the way down the thigh to the knee； and up to the middle of his back along the road of his spine。 The weight of the dog made things worse。 It was still asleep； but the thing inside was wide awake； held in place only by Mr Gray's will。 Once； as he was rising to his feet； the hip locked up entirely and Mr Gray had to beat it repeatedly with Jonesy's gloved fist to make it let go again。 How much farther？ How much farther through the cursed； stifling； blinding； neverending snow？ And what was Jonesy up to？ Anything？ Mr Gray didn't dare let go of the byrum's restless hunger … it had nothing even approaching a mind … long enough to go to the door of the locked room and listen。
A phantom shape appeared ahead in the snow。 Mr Gray paused； gasping and peering at it； and then fought his way forward again； holding the dog's limp paws and dragging Jonesy's right foot。
Here was a sign nailed to the trunk of a tree： ABSOLUTELY NO FISHING FROM SHAFT HOUSE。 Fifty feet beyond it； stone steps rose up from the path。 Six of them 。 。 。 no； eight。 At the top was a stone building on a stone foundation that jutted out into the snowy gray nothing where the Reservoir lay … Jonesy's ears could hear water lapping against stone even over the rushing； labored beat of his heart。
He had e to the place。
Clutching the dog and using the last of Jonesy's depleted strength； Mr Gray began to totter up the snow…covered steps。
8
As they passed between the stone posts marking the entrance to the Reservoir； Kurtz said： 'Pull over； Freddy。 Side of the road。'
Freddy did as he was asked without question。
'You got your auto； laddie？'
Freddy lifted it。 The good old M…16； tried and true。 Kurtz nodded。
'Sidearm？'
'。44 Magnum； boss。'
And Kurtz with the nine； which he liked for close work。 He wanted this to be close work。 He wanted to see the color of Owen Underhill's brains。
'Freddy？'
'Yes； boss。'
'I just wanted you to know that this is my final mission； and I couldn't have hoped for a finer panion。' He reached out and gave Freddy's shoulder a squeeze。 Beside Freddy； Perlmutter snored with his Ma Joad face tipped up toward the roof Five minutes or so before reaching the stone pillars he had passed several long； spectacularly odoriferous farts。 After that； Pearly's distended gut had gone down again。 Probably for the last time； Kurtz thought。
Freddy's eyes； meanwhile； had grown gratifyingly bright。 Kurtz was delighted。 He had not entirely lost his touch even now； it seemed。
'All right； buck；' Kurtz said。 'Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes。 Right？'
'Right； sir。' Kurtz guessed sir was okay again now。 They could pretty well put the protocols of the mission behind them。 They were Quantrill's boys； now； two final jayhawkers riding the western Massachusetts range。
With an unmistakable little grimace of distaste； Freddy jerked a thumb at Perlmutter。 'Want me to try waking him up； sir？ He may be too far gone； but…'
'Why bother？' Kurtz asked。 Still gripping Freddy's shoulder； he pointed ahead； where the access road disappeared into a wall of white： the snow。 The goddam snow that had chased them all his way； a grim fucking reaper dressed in white instead of black。 The tracks of the Subaru were now entirely gone； but those of the Humvee Owen had stolen were still visible。 If they moved along briskly； praise God； following these tracks would be a walk in the park。 'I don't think we need him anymore； which I personally find a great relief Go； Freddy。 Go。'
The Humvee flirted her tail and then steadied。 Kurtz drew his nine and held it against his leg。 ing for you； Owen。 ing for you； buck。 And you better get your speech ready for God； because you're going to be making it just about an hour from now。
9
The office which he had furnished so beautifully … furnished out of his mind and his memories … was now falling apart。
Jonesy limped restlessly back and forth； looking around the room； lips pressed so tightly together they were white； forehead beaded with sweat even though it had gotten damned cold in here；
This was The Fall of the Office of Jonesy instead of the House of Usher。 The furnace was howling and clanking beneath him； making the floor shake。 White stuff … frost crystals； maybe … puffed in through the vent and left a powdery triangular shape on the wall。 Where it touched it went to work on the wood paneling； simultaneously rotting it and warping it。 The pictures fell one by one； tumbling to the floor like suicides。 The Eames chair … the one he'd always wanted； the very one … split in two as if it had been hacked by an invisible axe。 The mahogany panels on the walls began to split and peel free like dead skin。 The drawers juddered out of their places in the desk and clattered one by one to the floor。 The shutters Mr Gray had installed to block his view of the outside world were vibrating and shaking； producing a steady metallic squalling that set Jonesy's teeth on edge。
Crying out to Mr Gray； demanding to know what was going on； would be useless 。 。 。 and besides； Jonesy had all the information he needed。 He had slowed Mr Gray down； but Mr Gray had first risen to the challenge and then above it。 Viva Mr Gray； who had either reached his goal or almost reached it。 As the paneling fell off the walls； he could see the dirty Sheetrock beneath： the walls of the Tracker Brothers office as f