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"What is it that they do?"
"They keep shops in Albany, and twice a year they give a fair—spring and fall. They carry all sort of things we need—needles, thread, pepper, kettles, pans, seed, guns and ammo, all kind of things—and the fairs are pretty good times, too. Most anybody between here and there would help you along. Hope you make it. We'll get you off to a good start again."
They reached higher, drier ground.
"You mean it's pretty clear sailing after this?"
"Well, no. But I'll help you on a map and tell you what to look out for,"
"I got mine with me," said Ta
"Correct. It ain't much further now. Real easy walkin' —an' you just lean on my shoulder if you get tired."
"I can make it," said Ta
"You'll get to sleep real soon now. And when you're awake again, we'll go over that Jnap of yours, and you can write in all the places I tell you about."
"Good scene," said Ta
After a hazy eternity be saw the house before him, then the door. The door swung open, and he felt himself falling forward, and that was it.
XII Sleep. Blackness, distant voices, more blackness. Wherever he lay, it was soft, and he turned over onto his other side and went away again.
When everything finally flowed together into a coherent ball and he opened his eyes, there was light streaming in through the window to his right, falling in rectangles upon the patchwork quilt that covered him. He groaned, stretched, rubbed his eyes and scratched his beard.
He surveyed the room carefully; polished woodenfloors with handwoven rugs of blue and red and gray scattered about them, a dresser holding a white enamel basin with a few black spots up near its lip where some of the enamel had chipped away, a mirror on the wall behind him and above all that, a spindly looking rocker near the window, a print cushion on its seat, a small table against the other wall with a chair pushed in beneath it, books and paper and pen and ink on the table, a handstitched sampler on the wall asking God To Bless, a blue and green print of a waterfall on the other wall.
He sat up, discovered he was naked, looked around for his clothing. It was nowhere in sight As he sat there, deciding whether or not to call out, the door opened, and Sam walked in. He carried Ta
"Heard you stirring around," he said. "How you feeling now?"
"A lot better, thanks."
"We've got a bath all drawn. Just have to dump in a couple buckets of hot, and it's all yours. I'll have the boys carry it in in a minute, and some soap and towels."
Ta
"That'll be fine."
"... And there's a razor and a scissors on the dresser •—whichever you might want."
He nodded again- Sam set his clothes down on the rocker and his boots on the floor beside it, then left the room.
Soon Roderick and Caliban brought in the tub, spread some sacks and set it upon them.
"How you feeling?" one of them asked. (Ta
"Real good," he said.
"Bet you're hungry," said the other. "You slep* all afternoon yesterday and all night and most of this morning."
"You know it," said Ta
The nearer one shook his head. "Still sleeping andsickly," he said. "The doc should be here soon. Our kid brother went after him last night."
They turned to leave, and the one who had been speaking added, "Soon as you get cleaned up, Ma'U fix you something to eat. Cal and me are going out now to try and get your rig loose. Dad'U tell you about the roads while you eat."
"Thanks."
"Good morning to you."
" 'Morning."
They closed the door behind them as they left.
Ta
Then he washed his face and trimmed his beard and cut his hair.
Then, gritting his teeth, he lowered himself into the tub, soaped up and scrubbed. The water grew gray and scummy beneath the suds. He splashed out and toweled himself down and dressed.
He was starched and crinkly and smelled faintly of disinfectant. He smiled at his dark-eyed reflection and lit a cigarette. He combed his hair and studied the stranger. "Damn! I'm beautiful!" he chuckled, and then he opened the door and entered the kitchen.
Sam was sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee, and his wife who was short and heavy and wore long gray skirts was facing in the other direction, leaning over the stove. She turned, and he saw that her face was large, with bulging red cheeks that dimpled and a little white scar in the middle of her forehead. Her hair was brown, shot through with gray, and pulled back into a knot. She bobbed her head and smiled a "Good morning" at him.
" 'Morning," he replied. "I'm afraid I left kind of a mess in the other room."
"Don't worry about that," said Sam. "Seat yourself. and we'll have you some breakfast in a minute. The boys told you about your friend?"
Ta
As she placed a cup of coffee in front of Ta
"How do," she said.
"Hi."
"Now, then, I got your map here. Saw it sticking out of your jacket. That's your gun hanging aside the door,too. Anyhow, I've been figuring and I think the best way you could head would be up to Albany and then go along the old Route 9, which is in pretty good shape." He spread the map and pointed as he talked. "Now, it won't be all of a picnic," he said, "but it looks like the cleanest and fastest way in—"
"Breakfast," said his wife and pushed the map aside to set a plate full of eggs and bacon and sausages in front of Ta
He told him about the gangs that ran between Boston and Albany on bikes, hijacking anything they could, and that was the reason most cargo went in convoys with shotgun riders aboard. "But you don't have to worry, with that rig of yours, do you?" he asked.
Ta
Ta
The door opened, and a boy ran into the kitchen. Ta
"We're here! We're here!" cried the boy, and Sam stood and shook hands with the man, so Ta
The doctor, a dark-haired man, probably in his late forties, wore a dark suit. His face was heavily lined, and his eyes looked tired. He nodded.
Sam said, "I'll take you to him," and he led him out through the door at the other end of the kitchen.
Ta