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Then Jack's voice was calling him back from far away： 'Hey； Richie！ Jason！ You almost fell over the side！'
Finally they were in the cab again。
Jack pushed the lever into the forward gear； pressed down on the accelerator bar； and Morgan of Orris's oversized flash…light started to move forward again。 Jack glanced down at the floor of the cab： four Uzi machine…guns； almost twenty piles of clips； ten to a pile； and ten hand grenades with pull…pins that looked like the pop…tops of beercans。
'If we haven't got enough stuff now；' Jack said； 'we might as well forget it。'
'What are you expecting； Jack？'
Jack only shook his head。
'Guess you must think I'm a real jerk； huh？' Richard asked。
Jack grinned。 'Always have； chum。'
'Don't call me chum！'
'Chum…chum…chum！'
This time the old joke raised a small smile。 Not much； and it rather highlighted the growing line of lip…blisters on Richard's mouth 。 。 。 but better than nothing。
'Will you be okay if I go back to sleep？' Richard asked； brushing machine…gun clips aside and settling in a corner of the cab with Jack's serape over him。 'All that climbing and carrying 。 。 。 I think I really must be sick because I feel really bushed。'
'I'll be fine；' Jack said。 Indeed； he seemed to be getting a second wind。 He supposed he would need it before long。
'I can smell the ocean；' Richard said； and in his voice Jack heard an amazing mixture of love； loathing； nostalgia； and fear。 Richard's eyes slipped closed。
Jack pushed the accelerator bar all the way down。 His feeling that the end…some sort of end…was now close had never been stronger。
4
The last mean and miserable vestiges of the Blasted Lands were gone before the moon set。 The grain had reappeared。 It was coarser here than it had been in Ellis…Breaks； but it still radiated a feeling of cleanness and health。 Jack heard the faint calling of birds which sounded like gulls。 It was an inexpressibly lonely sound； in these great open rolling fields which smelled faintly of fruit and more pervasively of ocean salt。
After midnight the train began to hum through stands of trees…most of them were evergreens； and their piney scent； mixed with the salty tang in the air； seemed to cement the connection between this place he was ing to and the place from which he had set out。 He and his mother had never spent a great deal of time in northern California…perhaps because Bloat vacationed there often…but he remembered Lily's telling him that the land around Mendocino and Sausalito looked very much like New England； right down to the salt…boxes and Cape Cods。 Film panies in need of New En…gland settings usually just went upstate rather than travelling all the way across the country； and most audiences never knew the difference。
This is how it should be。 In a weird way； I'm ing back to the place I left behind。
Richard： Are you expecting to fight an army？
He was glad Richard had gone to sleep； so he wouldn't have to answer that question…at least； not yet。
Anders： Devil…things。 For the bad Wolfs。 To take to the black hotel。
The devil…things were Uzi machine…guns； plastic explosive； grenades。 The devil…things were here。 The bad Wolfs were not。 The boxcar； however； was empty； and Jack found that fact terribly persuasive。
Here's a story for you； Richie…boy； and I'm very glad you're asleep so I don't have to tell it to you。 Morgan knows I'm ing； and he's planning a surprise party。 Only it's werewolves instead of naked girls who are going to jump out of the cake； and they're supposed to have Uzi machine…guns and grenades as party…favors。 Well； we sort of hijacked his train； and we're running ten or twelve hours ahead of schedule； but if we're heading into an encampment full of Wolfs waiting to catch the Territories choo…choo…and I think that's just what we're doing…we're going to need all the surprise we can get。
Jack ran a hand up the side of his face。
It would be easier to stop the train well away from wherever Morgan's hit…squad was； and make a big circle around the encampment。 Easier and safer； too。
But that would leave the bad Wolfs around； Richie； can you dig it？
He looked down at the arsenal on the floor of the cab and wondered if he could really be planning a mando raid on Morgan's Wolf Brigade。 Some mandos。 Good old Jack Sawyer； King of the Vagabond Dishwashers； and His atose Sidekick； Richard。 Jack wondered if he had gone crazy。 He supposed he had； because that was exactly what he was planning…it would be the last thing any of them would expect 。 。 。 and there had been too much； too much； too god…dam much。 He had been whipped； Wolf had been killed。 They had destroyed Richard's school and most of Richard's sanity； and； for all he knew； Morgan Sloat was back in New Hampshire； harrying his mother。
Crazy or not； payback time had e。
Jack bent over； picked up one of the loaded Uzis； and held it over his arm as the tracks unrolled in front of him and the smell of salt grew steadily stronger。
5
During the small hours of the morning Jack slept awhile； leaning against the accelerator bar。 It would not have forted him much to know such a device was called a dead…man's switch。 When dawn came； it was Richard who woke him up。
'Something up ahead。'
Before looking at that； Jack took a good look at Richard。 He had hoped that Richard would look better in daylight； but not even the cosmetic of dawn could disguise the fact that Richard was sick。 The color of the new day had changed the dominant color in his skin…tone from gray to yellow 。 。 。 that was all。
'Hey！ Train！ Hello you big fuckin train！' This shout was guttural； little more than an animal roar。 Jack looked forward again。
They were closing in on a narrow little pillbox of a building。
Standing outside the guardhouse was a Wolf…but any resemblance to Jack's Wolf ended with the flaring orange eyes。 This Wolf's head looked dreadfully flattened； as if a great hand had scythed off the curve of skull at the top。 His face seemed to jut over his underslung jaw like a boulder teetering over a long drop。 Even the present surprised joy on that face could not conceal its thick； brutal stupidity。 Braided pigtails of hair hung from his cheeks。 A scar in the shape of an X rode his forehead。
The Wolf was wearing something like a mercenary's uniform…or what he imagined a mercenary's uniform would look like。 Baggy green pants were bloused out over black boots…but the toes of the boots had been cut off； Jack saw； to allow the Wolf's long…nailed； hairy toes to protrude。
'Train！' he bark…growled as the engine closed the last fifty yards。 He began to jump up and down； grinning savagely。 He was snapping his fingers like Cab Calloway。 Foam flew from his jaws in unlovely clots。 'Train！ Train！ Fuckin train RIGHT HERE AND NOW！' His mouth yawned open in a great and alarming grin； showing a mouthful of broken yellow spears。 'You guys some kinda fuckin early； okay； okay！'
'Jack； what is it？' Richard asked。 His hand was clutching Jack's shoulder with panicky tightness； but to his credit； his voice was fairly even。
'It's a Wolf。 One of Morgan's。'
There； Jack； you said his name。 Asshole！
But there was no time to worry about that now。 They were ing abreast of the guardhouse； and the Wolf obviously meant to swing aboard。 As Jack watched； he cut a clumsy caper in the dust； cut…off boots thumping。 He had a knife in the leather belt he wore across his naked chest like a bandoleer； but no gun。
Jack flicked the control on the Uzi to single…fire。
'Morgan？ Who's Morgan？ Which Morgan？'
'Not now；' Jack said。
His concentration narrowed down to a fine point…the Wolf。 He manufactured a big； plastic grin for his benefit； holding the Uzi down and well out of sight。
'Anders…train！ All…fuckin…right！ Here and now！'
A handle like a big staple stuck off from the right side of the engine； above a wide step like a running board。 Grinning wildly； drizzling foam over his chin and obviously insane； the Wolf grabbed the handle and leaped lightly up onto the step。
'Hey； where's the old man？ Wolf！ Where's…'
Jack raised the Uzi and put a bullet into the Wolf's left eye。
The glaring orange light puffed out like a candle…flame in a strong gust of wind。 The Wolf fell backward off the step like a man doing a rather stupid dive。 He thudded loosely on the ground。
'Jack！' Richard pulled him around。 His face looked as wild as the Wolf's face had been…only it was terror； not joy； that distorted it。 'Did you mean my father？ Is my father involved in this？'
'Richard； do you trust me？'
'Yes； but…'
'Then let it go。 Let it go。 This is not the time。'
'But…'
'Get a gun。'
'Jack…'
'Richard； get a gun！'
Richard bent over and got one of the Uzis。 'I hate guns；' he said again。
'Yeah； I know。 I'm not particularly keen on them myself； Richie…boy。 But it's payback time。'
6
The tracks were now approaching a high stockade wall。 From behind it came grunts and yells； cheers； rhythmic clapping； the sound of bootheels punching down on bare earth in steady rhythms。 There were other； less ide