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He tipped the bottle up； and the awful cold taste of rotted grapes filled his mouth for the last time。 The bottle was empty。 As he swallowed； he heard it shatter as one of Morgan's bolts of lightning struck it。 But the sound of the breaking glass was faint 。 。 。 the tingle of electricity 。 。 。 even Morgan's screams of rage。
He felt as if he were falling over backward into a hole。 A grave； maybe。 Then Wolf's hand squeezed down on Jack's so hard that Jack groaned。 That feeling of vertigo； of having done a plete dipsy…doodle； began to fade 。 。 。 and then the sunlight faded； too； and became the sad purplish gray of an October twilight in the heartland of America。 Cold rain struck Jack in the face； and he was faintly aware that the water he was standing in seemed much colder than it had only seconds ago。 Somewhere not far away he could hear the familiar snoring drone of the big rigs on the interstate 。 。 。 except that now they seemed to be ing from directly overhead。
Impossible； he thought； but was it？ The bounds of that word seemed to be stretching with plastic ease。 For one dizzy moment he had an image of flying Territories trucks driven by flying Territories men with big canvas wings strapped to their backs。
Back； he thought。 Back again； same time； same turnpike。 He sneezed。
Same cold； too。
But two things were not the same now。
No rest area here。 They were standing thigh…deep in the icy water of a stream beneath a turnpike overpass。
Wolf was with him。 That was the other change。
And Wolf was screaming。
CHAPTER 18
Wolf Goes to the Movies
1
Overhead； another truck pounded across the overpass； big diesel engine bellowing。 The overpass shook。 Wolf wailed and clutched at Jack； almost knocking them both into the water。
'Quit it！' Jack shouted。 'Let go of me； Wolf！ It's just a truck！ Let go！'
He slapped at Wolf； not wanting to do it…Wolf's terror was pathetic。 But； pathetic or not； Wolf had the best part of a foot and maybe a hundred and fifty pounds on Jack； and if he overbore him； they would both go into this freezing water and it would be pneumonia for sure。
'Wolf！ Don't like it！ Wolf！ Don't like it！ Wolf！ Wolf！'
But his hold slackened。 A moment later his arms dropped to his sides。 When another truck snored by overhead； Wolf cringed but managed to keep from grabbing Jack again。 But he looked at Jack with a mute； trembling appeal that said Get me out of this； please get me out of this； I'd rather be dead than in this world。
Nothing I'd like better； Wolf； but Morgan's over there。 Even if he weren't； I don't have the magic juice anymore。
He looked down at his left hand and saw he was holding the jagged neck of Speedy's bottle； like a man getting ready to do some serious barroom brawling。 Just dumb luck Wolf hadn't gotten a bad cut when he grabbed Jack in his terror。
Jack tossed it away。 Splash。
Two trucks this time…the noise was doubled。 Wolf howled in terror and plastered his hands over his ears。 Jack could see that most of the hair had disappeared from Wolf's hands in the flip…most； but not all。 And； he saw； the first two fingers of each of Wolf's hands were exactly the same length。
'e on； Wolf；' Jack said when the racket of the trucks had faded a little。 'Let's get out of here。 We look like a couple of guys waiting to get baptized on a PTL Club special。'
He took Wolf's hand； and then winced at the panicky way Wolf's grip closed down。 Wolf saw his expression and loosened up 。 。 。 a little。
'Don't leave me； Jack；' Wolf said。 'Please； please don't leave me。'
'No； Wolf； I won't；' Jack said。 He thought： How do you get into these things； you asshole？ Here you are； standing under a turnpike overpass somewhere in Ohio with your pet werewolf。 How do you do it？ Do you practice？ And； oh； by the way； what's happening with the moon； Jack…O？ Do you remember？
He didn't； and with clouds blanketing the sky and a cold rain falling； there was no way to tell。
What did that make the odds？ Thirty to one in his favor？ Twenty…eight to two？
Whatever the odds were； they weren't good enough。 Not the way things were going。
'No； I won't leave you；' he repeated； and then led Wolf toward the far bank of the stream。 In the shallows； the decayed remains of some child's dolly floated belly…up； her glassy blue eyes staring into the growing dark。 The muscles of Jack's arm ached from the strain of pulling Wolf through into this world； and the joint in his shoulder throbbed like a rotted tooth。
As they came out of the water onto the weedy； trashy bank； Jack began to sneeze again。
2
This time； Jack's total progress in the Territories had been half a mile west…the distance Wolf had moved his herd so they could drink in the stream where Wolf himself had later almost been drowned。 Over here； he found himself ten miles farther west； as best he could figure。 They struggled up the bank…Wolf actually ended up pulling Jack most of the way…and in the last of the daylight Jack could see an exit…ramp splitting off to the right some fifty yards up the road。 A reflectorized sign read： ARCANUM LAST EXIT IN OHIO STATE LINE 15 MILES。
'We've got to hitch；' Jack said。
'Hitch？' Wolf said doubtfully。
'Let's have a look at you。'
He thought Wolf would do； at least in the dark。 He was still wearing the bib overalls； which now had an actual OSHKOSH label on them。 His homespun shirt had bee a machine…produced blue chambray that looked like an Army…Navy Surplus special。 His formerly bare feet were clad in a huge pair of dripping penny loafers and white socks。
Oddest of all； a pair of round steel…rimmed spectacles of the sort John Lennon used to wear sat in the middle of Wolf's big face。
'Wolf； did you have trouble seeing？ Over in the Territories？'
'I didn't know I did；' Wolf said。 'I guess so。 Wolf！ I sure see better over here； with these glass eyes。 Wolf； right here and now！' He looked out at the roaring turnpike traffic； and for just a moment Jack saw what he must be seeing： great steel beasts with huge yellow…white eyes； snarling through the night at unimaginable speeds； rubber wheels blistering the road。 'I see better than I want to；' Wolf finished forlornly。
3
Two days later a pair of tired； footsore boys limped past the MUNICIPAL TOWN LIMITS sign on one side of Highway 32 and the 10…4 Diner on the other side； and thus into the city of Muncie； Indiana。 Jack was running a fever of a hundred and two degrees and coughing pretty steadily。 Wolf's face was swollen and discolored。 He looked like a pug that has e out on the short end in a grudge match。 The day before； he had tried to get them some late apples from a tree growing in the shade of an abandoned barn beside the road。 He had actually been in the tree and dropping shrivelled autumn apples into the front of his overalls when the wall…wasps； which had built their nest somewhere in the eaves of the old barn； had found him。 Wolf had e back down the tree as fast as he could； with a brown cloud around his head。 He was howling。 And still； with one eye pletely closed and his nose beginning to resemble a large purple turnip； he had insisted that Jack have the best of the apples。 None of them was very good…small and sour and wormy…and Jack didn't feel much like eating anyway； but after what Wolf had gone through to get them； he hadn't had the heart to refuse。
A big old Camaro； jacked in the back so that the nose pointed at the road； blasted by them。 'Heyyyyy； assholes！' someone yelled； and there was a burst of loud； beer…fueled laughter。 Wolf howled and clutched at Jack。 Jack had thought that Wolf would eventually get over his terror of cars； but now he was really beginning to wonder。
'It's all right； Wolf；' he said wearily； peeling Wolf's arms off for the twentieth or thirtieth time that day。 'They're gone。'
'So loud！' Wolf moaned。 'Wolf！ Wolf！ Wolf！ So loud； Jack； my ears； my ears！'
'Glasspack muffler；' Jack said； thinking wearily： You'd love the California freeways； Wolf。 We'll check those out if we're still travelling together； okay？ Then we'll try a few stock…car races and motorcycle scrambles。 You'll be nuts about them。 'Some guys like the sound； you know。 They…' But he went into another coughing fit that doubled him over。 For a moment the world swam away in gray shades。 It came back very； very slowly。
'Like it；' Wolf muttered。 'Jason！ How could anyone like it； Jack？ And the smells 。 。 。 '
Jack knew that； for Wolf； the smells were the worst。 They hadn't been over here four hours before Wolf began to call it the Country of Bad Smells。 That first night Wolf had retched half a dozen times； at first throwing up muddy water from a stream which existed in another universe onto the Ohio ground； then simply dry…heaving。 It was the smells； he explained miserably。 He didn't know how Jack could stand them； how anyone could stand them。
Jack knew…ing back from the Territories； you were bowled over by odors you barely noticed when you were living with them。 Diesel fuel； car exhausts； industrial wastes； garbage； bad water； ripe chemicals。 Then you got used to them again。 Got used to them or ju