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'Which show？' Her eyes moved back and forth； back and forth； Jack to Wolf and Wolf to Jack。 She looked like a woman watching a hot table…tennis match。
'What's just starting？' Jack asked her。
'Well 。 。 。 ' She glanced down at the paper Scotch…taped beside her。 'There's The Flying Dragon in Cinema Four。 It's a kung…fu movie with Chuck Norris。' Back and forth went her eyes； back and forth； back and forth。 'Then； in Cinema Six； there's a double feature。 Two Ralph Bakshi cartoons。 Wizards and The Lord of the Rings。'
Jack felt relieved。 Wolf was nothing but a big； overgrown kid； and kids loved cartoons。 This could work out after all。 Wolf would maybe find at least one thing in the Country of Bad Smells that would amuse him； and Jack could sleep for three hours。
'That one；' he said。 'The cartoons。'
'That'll be four dollars；' she said。 'Bargain Matinee prices end at two。' She pushed a button and two tickets poked out of a slot with a mechanical ratcheting noise。 Wolf flinched backward with a small cry。
The girl looked at him； eyebrows raised。
'You jumpy； mister？'
'No； I'm Wolf；' Wolf said。 He smiled； showing a great many teeth。 Jack would have sworn that Wolf showed more teeth now when he smiled than he had a day or two ago。 The girl looked at all those teeth。 She wet her lips。
'He's okay。 He just…' Jack shrugged。 'He doesn't get off the farm much。 You know。' He gave her the orphan five。 She handled it as if she wished she had a pair of tongs to do it with。
'e on； Wolf。'
As they turned away to the candy…stand； Jack stuffing the one into the pocket of his grimy jeans； the ticket…girl mouthed to the counterman： Look at his nose！
Jack looked at Wolf and saw Wolf's nose flaring rhythmically。
'Stop that；' he muttered。
'Stop what； Jack？'
'Doing that thing with your nose。'
'Oh。 I'll try； Jack； but…'
'Shh。'
'Help you； son？' the counterman asked。
'Yes； please。 A Junior Mints； a Reese's Pieces； and an extra…large popcorn without the grease。'
The counterman got the stuff and pushed it across to them。 Wolf got the tub of popcorn in both hands and immediately began to snaffle it up in great jaw…cracking chomps。
The counterman looked at this silently。
'Doesn't get off the farm much；' Jack repeated。 Part of him was already wondering if these two had seen enough of sufficient oddness to get them thinking that a call to the police might be in order。 He thought…not for the first time…that there was a real irony in all this。 In New York or L。A。； probably no one would have given Wolf a second look 。 。 。 or if a second look； certainly not a third。 Apparently the weirdness…toleration level was a lot lower out in the middle of the country。 But； of course； Wolf would have flipped out of his gourd long since if they had been in New York or L。A。
'I'll bet he don't；' the counterman said。 'That'll be two…eighty。'
Jack paid it with an inward wince； realizing he had just laid out a quarter of his cash for their afternoon at the movies。
Wolf was grinning at the counterman through a mouthful of popcorn。 Jack recognized it as Wolf's A #1 Friendly Smile； but he somehow doubted that the counterman was seeing it that way。 There were all those teeth in that smile 。 。 。 hundreds of them； it seemed。
And Wolf was flaring his nostrils again。
Screw it； let them call the cops； if that's what they want to do； he thought with a weariness that was more adult than child。 It can't slow us down much more than we're slowed down already。 He can't ride in the new cars because he can't stand the smell of the catalytic convertors and he can't ride in old cars because they smell like exhaust and sweat and oil and beer and he probably can't ride in any cars because he's so goddam claustrophobic。 Tell the truth； Jack…O； even if it's only to yourself。 You're going along telling yourself he's going to get over it pretty soon； but it's probably not going to happen。 So what are we going to do？ Walk across Indiana； I guess。 Correction； Wolf is going to walk across Indiana。 Me； I'm going to cross Indiana riding horseyback。 But first I'm going to take Wolf into this damn movie theater and sleep either until both pictures are over or until the cops arrive。 And that is the end of my tale； sir。
'Well； enjoy the show；' the counterman said。
'You bet；' Jack replied。 He started away and then realized Wolf wasn't with him。 Wolf was staring at something over the counterman's head with vacant； almost superstitious wonder。 Jack looked up and saw a mobile advertising the re…issue of Steven Spielberg's Close Encounters floating around on drafts of convection。
'e on； Wolf；' he said。
8
Wolf knew it wasn't going to work as soon as they went through the door。
The room was small； dim； and dank。 The smells in here were terrible。 A poet； smelling what Wolf was smelling at that moment； might have called it the stink of sour dreams。 Wolf was no poet。 He only knew that the smell of the popcorn…urine predominated； and that he felt suddenly like throwing up。
Then the lights began to dim even further； turning the room into a cave。
'Jack；' he moaned； clutching at Jack's arm。 'Jack； we oughtta get out of here； okay？'
'You'll like it； Wolf；' Jack muttered； aware of Wolf's distress but not of its depth。 Wolf was； after all； always distressed to some degree。 In this world； the word distress defined him。 'Try it。'
'Okay；' Wolf said； and Jack heard the agreement but not the thin waver that meant Wolf was holding on to the last thread of his control with both hands。 They sat down with Wolf on the aisle； his knees accordioned up unfortably； the tub of popcorn （which he no longer wanted） clutched to his chest。
In front of them a match flared briefly yellow。 Jack smelled the dry tang of pot； so familiar in the movies that it could be dismissed as soon as identified。 Wolf smelled a forest…fire。
'Jack…！'
'Shhh； picture's starting。'
And I'm dozing off。
Jack would never know of Wolf's heroism in the next few minutes； Wolf did not really know of it himself。 He only knew that he had to try to stick this nightmare out for Jack's sake。 It must be all right； he thought； look； Wolf； Jack's going right to sleep； right to sleep right here and now。 And you know Jack wouldn't take you to a Hurt…Place； so just stick it out 。 。 。 just wait 。 。 。 Wolf！ 。 。 。 it'll be all right 。 。 。
But Wolf was a cyclic creature； and his cycle was approaching its monthly climax。 His instincts had bee exquisitely refined； almost undeniable。 His rational mind told him that he would be all right in here； that Jack wouldn't have brought him otherwise。 But that was like a man with an itchy nose telling himself not to sneeze in church because it was impolite。
He sat there smelling forest…fire in a dark； stinking cave； twitching each time a shadow passed down the aisle； waiting numbly for something to fall on him from the shadows overhead。 And then a magic window opened at the front of the cave and he sat there in the acrid stink of his own terror…sweat； eyes wide； face a mask of horror； as cars crashed and overturned； as buildings burned； as one man chased another。
'Previews；' Jack mumbled。 'Told you you'd like it ' There were Voices。 One said nosmoking。 One said don't litter。 One said groupratesavailable。 One said Bargain Matinee…priceseveryweekdayuntilfourp。m。
'Wolf； we got screwed；' Jack mumbled。 He started to say something else； but it turned into a snore。
A final voice said andnowourfeaturepresentation and that was when Wolf lost control。 Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings was in Dolby sound； and the projectionist had orders to really crank it in the afternoons； because that's when the heads drifted in； and the heads really liked loud Dolby。
There was a screeching； discordant crash of brass。 The magic window opened again and now Wolf could see the fire…shifting oranges and reds。
He howled and leaped to his feet； pulling with him a Jack who was more asleep than awake。
'Jack！' he screamed。 'Get out！ Got to get out！ Wolf！ See the fire！ Wolf！ Wolf！'
'Down in front！' someone shouted。
'Shut up； hoser！' someone else yelled。
The door at the back of Cinema 6 opened。 'What's going on in here？'
'Wolf； shut up！' Jack hissed。 'For God's sake…'
'OWWWWWW…OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO！'
Wolf howled。
A woman got a good look at Wolf as the white light from the lobby fell on him。 She screamed and began dragging her little boy out by one arm。 Literally dragging him； the kid had fallen to his knees and was skidding up the popcorn…littered carpet of the center aisle。 One of his sneakers had e off。
'OWWWWWWWW…OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHOOOOOOHHHHOOOOOO！'
The pothead three rows down had turned around and was looking at them with bleary interest。 He held a smouldering joint in one hand； a spare was cocked behind his ear。 'Far 。 。 。 out；' he pronounced。 'Fucking werewolves of London strike again； right？'
'Okay；' Jack said。 'Okay； we'll get out。 No problem。 Just 。 。 。 just don't do that anymore； okay？ Okay？'
He started leading Wolf out。 The weariness had fallen over him again。
The light of the lobby