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Never mind； it's not a trick； not a trick at all…it's magic。 It's magic and I did it before when I was little and I can do it again； Speedy said so that blind singer Snowball said so； too； THE MAGIC JUICE IS IN MY MIND…
He bore down with all his force； all his effort of will 。 。 。 and the ease with which they flipped was stupefying； as if a punch aimed at something which looked like granite hit a cleverly painted papier…maché shell instead； so that the blow you thought would break all your knuckles instead encountered no resistance at all。
4
To Jack； with his eyes screwed tightly shut； it felt as if the floor had first crumbled under his feet 。 。 。 and then disappeared pletely。
Oh shit we're going to fall anyway； he thought dismally。
But it wasn't really a fall； only a minor sideslip。 A moment later he and Wolf were standing firmly； not on hard bathroom tile but on dirt。
A reek of sulphur mingled with what smelled like raw sewage flooded in。 It was a deathly smell； and Jack thought it meant the end of all hope。
'Jason！ What's that smell？' Wolf groaned。 'Oh Jason that smell； can't stay here； Jacky； can't stay…'
Jack's eyes snapped open。 At the same moment Wolf let go of Jack's hands and blundered forward； his own eyes still tightly shut。 Jack saw that Wolf's ill…fitting chinos and checked shirt had been replaced by the Oshkosh biballs in which Jack had originally seen the big herdsman。 The John Lennon glasses were gone。 And…
…and Wolf was blundering toward the edge of a precipice less than four feet away。
'Wolf！' He lunged at Wolf and wrapped his arms around Wolf's waist。 'Wolf； no！'
'Jacky； can't stay；' Wolf moaned。 'It's a Pit； one of the Pits； Morgan made these places； oh I heard that Morgan made them； I can smell it…'
'Wolf； there's a cliff； you'll fall！'
Wolf's eyes opened。 His jaw dropped as he saw the smokey chasm which spread at their feet。 In its deepest； cloudy depths； red fire winked like infected eyes。
'A Pit；' Wolf moaned。 'Oh Jacky； it's a Pit。 Furnaces of the Black Heart down there。 Black Heart at the middle of the world。 Can't stay； Jacky； it's the worst bad there is。'
Jack's first cold thought as he and Wolf stood at the edge of the Pit； looking down into hell； or the Black Heart at the middle of the world； was that Territories geography and Indiana geography weren't the same。 There was no corresponding place in the Sunlight Home to this cliff； this hideous Pit。
Four feet to the right； Jack thought with sudden； sickening horror。 That's all it would have taken…just four feet to the right。 And if Wolf had done what I told him…
If Wolf had done just what Jack had told him； they would have flipped from that first stall。 And if they had done that； they would have e into the Territories just over this cliff's edge。
The strength ran out of his legs。 He groped at Wolf again； this time for support。
Wolf held him absently； his eyes wide and glowing a steady orange。 His face was a grue of dismay and fear。 'It's a Pit； Jacky。'
It looked like the huge open…pit molybdenum mine he had visited with his mother when they had vacationed in Colorado three winters ago…they had gone to Vail to ski but one day it had been too bitterly cold for that and so they had taken a bus tour to the Continental Minerals molybdenum mine outside the little town of Sidewinder。 'It looks like Gehenna to me； Jack…O；' she had said； and her face as she looked out the frost…bordered bus window had been dreamy and sad。 'I wish they'd shut those places down； every one of them。 They're pulling fire and destruction out of the earth。 It's Gehenna； all right。'
Thick； choking vines of smoke rose from the depths of the Pit。 Its sides were veined with thick lodes of some poisonous green metal。 It was perhaps half a mile across。 A road leading downward spiraled its inner circumference。 Jack could see figures toiling both upward and downward upon this road。
It was a prison of some kind； just as the Sunlight Home was a prison； and these were the prisoners and their keepers。 The prisoners were naked； harnessed in pairs to carts like rickshaws…carts filled with huge chunks of that green； greasy…looking ore。 Their faces were drawn in rough woodcuts of pain。 Their faces were blackened with soot。 Their faces ran with thick red sores。
The guards toiled beside them； and Jack saw with numb dismay that they were not human； in no sense at all could they be called human。 They were twisted and humped； their hands were claws； their ears pointed like Mr。 Spock's。 Why； they're gargoyles！ he thought。 All those nightmare monsters on those cathedrals in France…Mom had a book and I thought we were going to have to see every one in the whole country but she stopped when I had a bad dream and wet the bed…did they e from here？ Did somebody see them here？ Somebody from the Middle Ages who flipped over； saw this place； and thought he'd had a vision of hell？
But this was no vision。
The gargoyles had whips； and over the rumble of the wheels and the sounds of rock cracking steadily under some steady； baking heat； Jack heard their pop and whistle。 As he and Wolf watched； one team of men paused near the very top of the spiral road； their heads down； tendons on their necks standing out in harsh relief； their legs trembling with exhaustion。
The monstrosity who was guarding them…a twisted creature with a breechclout twisted around its legs and a patchy line of stiff hair growing from the scant flesh over the knobs of its spine…brought its whip down first on one and then on the other； howling at them in a high； screeching language that seemed to drive silver nails of pain into Jack's head。 Jack saw the same silver beads of metal that had decorated Osmond's whip； and before he could blink； the arm of one prisoner had been torn open and the nape of the other's neck lay in ruined flaps。
The men wailed and leaned forward even farther； their blood the deepest color in the yellowish murk。 The thing screeched and gibbered and its grayish； plated right arm flexed as it whirled the whip over the slaves' heads。 With a final staggering jerk； they yanked the cart up and onto the level。 One of them fell forward onto his knees； exhausted； and the forward motion of the cart knocked him sprawling。 One of the wheels rolled over his back。 Jack heard the sound of the downed prisoner's spine as it broke。 It sounded like a track referee's starter…gun。
The gargoyle shrieked with rage as the cart tottered and then fell over； dumping its load onto the split； cracked； arid ground at the top of the Pit。 He reached the fallen prisoner in two lunging steps and raised his whip。 As he did； the dying man turned his head and looked into Jack Sawyer's eyes。
It was Ferd Janklow。
Wolf saw； too。
They groped for each other。
And flipped back。
5
They were in a tight； closed place…a bathroom stall； in fact…and Jack could barely breathe because Wolf's arms were wrapped around him in a crushing embrace。 And one of his feet was sopping wet。 He had somehow managed to flip back with one foot in a toilet…bowl。 Oh； great。 Things like this never happen to Conan the Barbarian； Jack thought dismally。
'Jack no； Jack no； the Pit； it was the Pit； no； Jack…'
'Quit it！ Quit it； Wolf！ We're back！'
'No； no； n…'
Wolf broke off。 He opened his eyes slowly。
'Back？'
'You bet； right here and now； so let go of me； you're breaking my ribs； and besides； my foot's stuck in the damn…'
The door between the bathroom and the hall burst open with a bang。 It struck the inner tile wall with enough force to shatter the frosted…glass panel。
The stall door was torn open。 Andy Warwick took one look and spoke three furious； contemptuous words：
'You fucking queers。'
He grabbed the dazed Wolf by the front of his checked shirt and pulled him out。 Wolf's pants caught on the steel hood over the toilet…paper dispenser and pulled the whole works off the wall。 It went flying。 The toilet…paper roll broke free and went unspooling across the floor。 Warwick sent Wolf crashing into the sinks； which were just the right height to catch him in the privates。 Wolf fell to the floor； holding himself。
Warwick turned to Jack； and Sonny Singer appeared at the stall door。 He reached in and grabbed Jack by the front of his shirt。
'All right； you fag…' Sonny began； and that was as far as he got。 Ever since he and Wolf had been dragooned into this place； Sonny Singer had been in Jack's face。 Sonny Singer with his sly dark face that wanted to look just like Sunlight Gardener's face （and as soon as it could）。 Sonny Singer who had coined the charming endearment snotface。 Sonny Singer whose idea it had undoubtedly been to piss in their beds。
Jack pistoned his right fist out； not swinging wildly in the Heck Bast style but driving strong and smooth from the elbow。 His fist connected with Sonny's nose。 There was an audible crunch。 Jack felt a moment of satisfaction so perfect it was sublime。
'There；' Jack cried。 He pulled his foot out of the john。 A great grin suffused his face； and he shot a thought at Wolf just as hard as he could：
We ain't do