"You and that act with that Martian worm."
What're you talking about? What worm?
The captain interrupts, nervously.
"Bartz, lay off Halloway. The doctor'll explain why. Ask him."
Bartz goes away, scratching his head.
The captain pats my shoulder.
"You're our strong-arm man, Halloway. You've got muscles from working
on the rocket engines. So keep alert today, eh, on your hike to look
over the territory? Keep your--b.b. gun--ready."
Beavers, do you think, sir?
The captain swallows hard and blinks.
"Unh--oh, beavers, yeah, beavers. Sure. Beavers! Maybe. Mountain lions
and Indians, too, I hear. Never can tell. Be careful."
Mountain lions and Indians in New York in this day and age? Aw, sir.
"Let it go. Keep alert, anyhow. Smoke?"
I don't smoke, sir. A strong mind in a healthy body, you know the old
rule.
"The old rule. Oh, _yes_. The _old_ rule. Only joking. I don't want a
smoke anyway. Like hell."
What was that last, sir?
"Nothing, Halloway, carry on, carry on."
I help the others work, now. Are we taking the yellow street-car to the
edge of town, Gus?
"We're using propulsion belts, skimming low over the dead seas."
How's that again, Gus?
"I said, we're takin' the yellow street-car to the end of the line,
yeah."
We're ready. Everyone's packed, spreading out. We're going in groups of
four. Down Main Street past the pie factory, over the bridge, through
the tunnel, past the circus grounds and we'll rendezvous, says the
captain, at a place he points to on a queer, disjointed map.
_Whoosh!_ We're off! I forgot to pay my fare.
"That's okay, I paid it."
Thanks, captain. We're really traveling. The cypresses and the maples
flash by. _Kaawhoom!_ I wouldn't admit this to anyone but you, sir, but
momentarily, there, I didn't see this street-car. Suddenly we moved in
empty space, nothing supporting us, and I didn't see any car. But _now_
I see it, sir.
The captain gazes at me as at a nine-day miracle.
"You do, eh?"
Yes, sir. I clutch upward. Here's the strap. I'm holding it.
"You look pretty funny sliding through the air with your hand up like
that, Halloway."
How's that, sir?
"Ha, ha, ha!"
Why are the others laughing at me, sir?
"Nothing, son, nothing. Just happy, that's all."
_Ding Ding. Ding Ding._ Canal Street and Washington. _Ding Ding.
Whoosh._ This is real traveling. Funny, though, the captain and his men
keep moving, changing seats, never stay seated. It's a long street-car.
I'm way in back now. They're up front.
By the large brown house on the next corner stands a popcorn wagon,
yellow and red and blue. I can taste the popcorn in my mind. It's been
a long time since I've eaten some ... if I ask the captain's permission
to stop and buy a bag, he'll refuse. I'll just sneak off the car at the
next stop. I can get back on the next car and catch up with the gang
later.
* * * * *
How do you stop this car? My fingers fumble with my baseball outfit,
doing something I don't want to know about. The car is stopping! Why's
that. Popcorn is more important.
I'm off the car, walking. Here's the popcorn machine with a man behind
it, fussing with little silver metal knobs.
"_--murr--lokk--loc--cor--iz--_"
_Tony!_ Tony, bambino! What are you doing here?
"_Click._"
It can't be, but it is. Tony, who died ten long years ago, when I was
a freckled kid! Alive and selling popcorn again. Oh, Tony, it's good
to see you. His black moustache's so waxed, so shining, his dark hair
like burnt oily shavings, his dark shining happy eyes, his smiling red
cheeks! He shimmers in my eyes like in a cold rain. Tony! Let me shake
your hand! Gimme a bag of popcorn, senor!
"_Click-click-click--sput-click--reeeeee-eeeeeeee--_"
The captain didn't see you, Tony, you were hidden so well, only _I_ saw
you. Just a moment while I search for my nickel.
"_Reeeeeee._"
Whew, I'm dizzy. It's very hot. My heads spins like a leaf on a storm
wind. Let me hold onto your wagon, Tony, quick, I'm shivering and I've
got sharp needle head pains....
"_Reeeeeeee._"
I'm running a temperature. I feel as if I have a torch hung flaming in
my head.
Hotter. Pardon me for criticizing you, Tony, but I think its your
popper turned up too high. Your face looks afraid, contorted, and your
hands move so rapidly, why? Can't you shut it off? I'm hot. Everything
melts. My knees sag.
Warmer still. He'd better turn that thing off, I can't take any more.
I can't find my nickel anyhow. Please, snap it off, Tony, I'm sick. My
uniform glows orange. I'll take fire!
Here, I'll turn it off for you, Tony.
You _hit_ me!
Stop hitting me, stop clicking those knobs! It's hot, I tell you. Stop,
or I'll--
Tony. Where are you? Gone.
Where did that purple flame shoot from? That loud blast, what was it?
The flame seemed to stream from my hand, out of my scout flashlight.
Purple flame--eating!