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He drove his hand into his pocket。 The coin was like a chunk of ore in his hand…he made a fist around it； and felt power ram through him in big volts。 Reuel felt it； too。 His triumphant slobberings and grunts became mewlings of fear。 He tried to back away； his one remaining eye rolling wildly。
Jack brought the coin out。 It glowed red…hot in his hand。 He felt the heat clearly…but it was not burning him。
The profile of the Queen glowed like the sun。
'In her name； you filthy； aborted thing！' Jack shouted。 'Get you off the skin of this world！' He opened his fist and slammed his hand into Reuel's forehead。
Reuel and his father shrieked in harmony…Osmond a tenor…verging…on…soprano； Reuel a buzzing； insectile bass。 The coin slid into Reuel's forehead like the tip of a hot poker into a tub of butter。 A vile dark fluid； the color of overbrewed tea； ran out of Reuel's head and over Jack's wrist。 The fluid was hot。 There were tiny worms in it。 They twisted and writhed on Jack's skin。 He felt them biting。 Nevertheless； he pressed the first two fingers of his right hand harder； driving the coin farther into the monster's head。
'Get you off the skin of this world； vileness！ In the name of the Queen and in the name of her son； get you off the skin of this world！'
It shrieked and wailed； Osmond shrieked and wailed with it。 The reinforcements had stopped and were milling behind Osmond； their faces full of superstitious terror。 To them Jack seemed to have grown； he seemed to be giving off a bright light。
Reuel jerked。 Uttered one more bubbling screech。 The black stuff running out of his head turned yellow。 A final worm； long and thickly white； wriggled out of the hole the coin had made。 It fell to the floor of the engine partment。 Jack stepped on it。 It broke open under his heel and splattered。 Reuel fell in a wet heap。
Now such a screaming wail of grief and fury arose in the dusty stockade yard that Jack thought his skull might actually split open with it。 Richard had curled into a fetal ball with his arms wrapped around his head。
Osmond was wailing。 He had dropped his whip and the machine…pistol。
'Oh； filthy！' he cried； shaking his fists at Jack。 'Look what you've done！ Oh； you filthy； bad boy！ I hate you； hate you forever and beyond forever！ Oh； filthy Pretender！ I'll kill you！ Morgan will kill you！ Oh my darling only son！ FILTHY！ MORGAN WILL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE！ MORGAN…'
The others took up the cry in a whispering voice； reminding Jack of the boys in the Sunlight Home： can you gimme hallelujah。 And then they fell silent； because there was the other sound。
Jack was tumbled back instantly to the pleasant afternoon he had spent with Wolf； the two of them sitting by the stream； watching the herd graze and drink as Wolf talked about his family。 It had been pleasant enough 。 。 。 pleasant enough； that is； until Morgan came。
And now Morgan was ing again…not flipping over but bludgeoning his way through； raping his way in。
'Morgan！ It's…'
'…Morgan； Lord…'
'Lord of Orris…'
'Morgan 。 。 。 Morgan 。 。 。 Morgan 。 。 。'
The ripping sound grew louder and louder。 The Wolfs were abasing themselves in the dust。 Osmond danced a shuffling jig； his black boots trampling the steel…tipped rawhide thongs woven into his whip。
'Bad boy！ Filthy boy！ Now you'll pay！ Morgan's ing！ Morgan's ing！'
The air about twenty feet to Osmond's right began to blur and shimmer； like the air over a burning incinerator。
Jack looked around； saw Richard curled up in the litter of machine…guns and ammunition and grenades like a very small boy who has fallen asleep while playing war。 Only Richard wasn't asleep； he knew； and this was no game； and if Richard saw his father stepping through a hole between the worlds； he feared； Richard would go insane。
Jack sprawled beside his friend and wrapped his arms tightly around him。 That ripping…bedsheet sound grew louder； and suddenly he heard Morgan's voice bellow in terrible rage：
'What is the train doing here NOW； you fools？'
He heard Osmond wail； 'The filthy Pretender has killed my son！'
'Here we go； Richie；' Jack muttered； and tightened his grip around Richard's wasted upper body。 'Time to jump ship。'
He closed his eyes； concentrated 。 。 。 and there was that brief moment of spinning vertigo as the two of them flipped。
CHAPTER 37
Richard Remembers
1
There was a sensation of rolling sideways and down； as if there were a short ramp between the two worlds。 Dimly； fading； at last wavering into nothingness； Jack heard Osmond screaming； 'Bad！ All boys！ Axiomatic！ All boys！ Filthy！ Filthy！'
For a moment they were in thin air。 Richard cried out。 Then Jack thudded to the ground on one shoulder。 Richard's head bounced against his chest。 Jack did not open his eyes but only lay there on the ground hugging Richard； listening； smelling。
Silence。 Not utter and plete； but large…its size counterpointed by two or three singing birds。
The smell was cool and salty。 A good smell 。 。 。 but not as good as the world could smell in the Territories。 Even here…wherever here was…Jack could smell a faint underodor； like the smell of old oil ground into the concrete floors of gas…station garage bays。 It was the smell of too many people running too many motors； and it had polluted the entire atmosphere。 His nose had been sensitized to it and he could smell it even here； in a place where he could hear no cars。
'Jack？ Are we okay？'
'Sure；' Jack said； and opened his eyes to see whether he was telling the truth。
His first glance brought a terrifying idea： somehow； in his frantic need to get out of there； to get away before Morgan could arrive； he had not flipped them into the American Territories but pushed them somehow forward in time。 This seemed to be the same place； but older； now abandoned； as if a century or two had gone by。 The train still sat on the tracks； and the train looked just as it had。 Nothing else did。 The tracks； which crossed the weedy exercise yard they were standing in and went on to God knew where； were old and thick with rust。 The crossties looked spongy and rotted。 High weeds grew up between them。
He tightened his hold on Richard； who squirmed weakly in his grasp and opened his eyes。
'Where are we？' he asked Jack； looking around。 There was a long Quonset hut with a rust…splotched corrugated…tin roof where the bunkhouse…style barracks had been。 The roof was all either of them could see clearly； the rest was buried in rambling woods ivy and wild weeds。 There were a couple of poles in front of it which had perhaps once supported a sign。 If so； it was long gone now。
'I don't know；' Jack said； and then； looking at where the obstacle course had been…it was now a barely glimpsed dirt rut overgrown with the remains of wild phlox and goldenrod…he brought out his worst fear： 'I may have pushed us forward in time。'
To his amazement； Richard laughed。 'It's good to know nothing much is going to change in the future； then；' he said； and pointed to a sheet of paper nailed to one of the posts standing in front of the Quonset/barracks。 It was somewhat weather…faded but still perfectly readable：
NO TRESPASSING！
By Order of the Mendocino County Sheriff's Department
By Order of the California State Police
VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED！
2
'Well； if you knew where we were；' Jack said； feeling simultaneously foolish and very relieved； 'why did you ask？'
'I just saw it；' Richard replied； and any urge Jack might have had to chaff Richard anymore over it blew away。 Richard looked awful； he looked as if he had developed some weird tuberculosis which was working on his mind instead of on his lungs。 Nor was it just his sanity…shaking round trip to the Territories and back…he had actually seemed to be adapting to that。 But now he knew something else as well。 It wasn't just a reality which was radically different from all of his carefully developed notions； that he might have been able to adapt to； if given world enough and time。 But finding out that your dad is one of the guys in the black hats； Jack reflected； can hardly be one of life's groovier moments。
'Okay；' he said； trying to sound cheerful…he actually did feel a little cheerful。 Getting away from such a monstrosity as Reuel would have made even a kid dying of terminal cancer feel a little cheerful； he figured。 'Up you go and up you get； Richie…boy。 We've got promises we must keep； miles to go before we sleep； and you are still an utter creep。'
Richard winced。 'Whoever gave you the idea you had a sense of humor should be shot； chum。'
'Bitez mon crank； mon ami。'
'Where are we going？'
'I don't know；' Jack said； 'but it's somewhere around here。 I can feel it。 It's like a fishhook in my mind。'
'Point Venuti？'
Jack turned his head and looked at Richard for a long time。 Richard's tired eyes were unreadable。
'Why did you ask that； chum？'
'Is that where we're going？'
Jack shrugged。 Maybe。 Maybe not。
They began walking slowly across the weed…grown parade ground and Richard changed the subject。 'Was all of that real？' Th