"That's right," Charley said tiredly. He opened his eyes. The
middle-aged man was leaning toward him, smelling of his cheap cigar.
"Likewise," the man said. His voice was hoarse and unpleasant. "I
thought you might be."
"That's right," Charley said. "Long trip." He hoped desperately that the
man would leave him alone. He wasn't on display now; he wanted the time
to think, to try and figure out what had been happening. He had to have
some questions to ask Professor Lightning, and that meant that he had to
have some sort of plan of action.
"Going to see that doctor," the middle-aged man said. "That right?"
"That's right," Charley said. Apparently Professor Lightning had become
a nine-day wonder; anyone going to New York was presumed to be going to
see him.
Then Charley corrected himself. Not anyone.
Any cripple.
"Get the arms fixed, right?" the middle-aged man said.
"That's right," Charley said for the third time. Maybe the man would
take the hint.
But he had no such luck. "That's a fine thing the doctor is doing," he
said. "I mean, helping all these people. Don't have to be ... well,
look, bud, don't take me personally."
"I don't mind," Charley said. "I'm used to it."
"Sure," the man said. "Hey, by the way. My name's Roquefort. Al
Roquefort."
"Charley de Milo," Charley said.
"Glad to know you," the man said. "So while we're traveling companions,
you might say ... might as well get to be friendly."
"Sure," Charley said tiredly. He looked round the car. A great many
people seemed to be heading East. There were no other seats. Charley
sighed and shrugged himself deeper into the upholstery.
"You know," Roquefort said suddenly, "I can't help thinking."
"Oh?" Charley said, fidgeting his feet.
"That's right," Roquefort said. "I mean, all these people. And Dr.
Schinsake. I remember once, I went to a circus, or a sideshow."
"Carnival, probably," Charley put in, knowing exactly what was coming.
"Something like that," Roquefort said. "Anyhow, they had this sideshow,
and there was a man there without any legs. Did all kinds of tricks--got
along real good. But I can't help thinking now: he wouldn't have to get
along that way any more. Because this doctor would fix him up."
"I guess so," Charley said wearily.
"Sure," Roquefort said. "It's a great thing, what he's doing. All these
freak shows ... you understand, it's just a name for them--"
"I understand," Charley said. "Don't worry about it." He shifted his
feet nervously. Shoes always felt a little uncomfortable, even
lightweight sandals; he felt trapped in them. Now, if he had arms and
hands ...
He choked the thought off before it got any further.
"All these shows," Roquefort said, "why, there isn't any need for them
any more. I mean the people without legs, or arms, anyhow. See? Because
this doctor--"
"I see," Charley said.
"Why, anybody works in a show like that, I mean without arms or
legs--why, he's just crazy, that's all. When he can get help, I mean."
"Sure," Charley said uneasily. "Sure, he's just crazy."
Roquefort chomped on his cigar and looked solemn and well-informed.
Charley shivered slightly, and wondered why.
"Just crazy." Was that what they thought, he wondered. Was that what
they were thinking when they looked up at him?
He shivered again and slipped his shoes off quietly. Immediately, he
felt a little better.
But not very much.
* * * * *
New York was a madhouse worse than any carnival Charley had ever seen.
He made his way, harness and suitcase on his back, through the station
crowds and out into the taxi ramp. A line of the new cabs stood there,
and Charley managed to grab one inches ahead of a woman with a small,
crying child in tow. He gestured to the driver with his head, and the
door slid open. He stepped inside, released the catch that let his
suitcase thump to the floor, and sat down with a sigh.
"Tough, hey?" the cabbie said. His glowing nameplate read _David Peters
Wells_. He turned around, showing a face that had little in common with
the official license photo, under his name. He was swarthy and short,
with large yellowing teeth and tiny eyes. "Where to, Mac?" he said.
Charley licked his lips. "I really don't know," he said.