The animal's response distressed Erwin, He'd never owned a dog, but by and large he liked the species. was being a phantom so profoundly unnatural a state that the nearest whiff of him was enough to make the beasts crazy?
He went down on his haunches, and softly called to the bitch.
"It's okay... it's okay... " he said, extending his hand, "I'm not going to hurt anybody-" The animal barked on ferociously, while Maisie watched her husband pursue the other dog. Erwin crept a little closer,' still murmuring words of reassurance, and the bitch showed signs of hearing him. She cocked her head, and her barking became more sporadic.
"That's it," Erwin said, "that's it. See, that's not so bad, now is it?" His open hand was now maybe two feet from her nose. Her din had lost all its ferocity, and was now reduced to little more than an occasional bark. Erwin reached a little further, and touched her head.
She stopped barking entirely now, and lay down, rolling onto her back to have her stomach scratched.
Maisie Waits looked down at her. "Katy, what on earth are you doing?" she said. "Get up." She lugged on the leash, to raise the animal, but Katy was enjoying Erwin's attentions too much. She made a little growl as though vaguely remembering that her stroker had frightened her a minute or two before, and then gave up even on that.
"Katy," Maisie Waits said, exasperated now, then, to her husband, "Did you find him?"
"Does it look like I found him?" Bill gasped. "He's headed off down towards the creek. He'll find his way home."
"But the traffic-"
"There is no traffic," Bill said. "Well, hardly any. And he's got lost before, for God's sake." Bill had reached the corner of the street now, and he stared at the recumbent Katy. "Look at you, you soft old thing," he said fondly, and went down on his haunches beside the dog. "I don't know what spooked him that way."
"Me," Erwin said, stroking the bitch's belly along with Bill. The dog heard. She pricked her ears and looked at Erwin. Bill, of course, heard nothing. Erwin kept talking anyway, the words tumbling out. "Listen, will you, Waits? If a mutt can hear me you damn well can. Just listen. I'm Erwin Toothaker-"
"As long as you're sure," Maisie was saying.
"Erwin Toothaker." "I'm sure," Bill replied. "He'll probably be home before He patted Katy's solid belly, and got to his feet. "Come us. on, old girl," he said. Then, with a sly glance at his wife: "You too, Katy."
Maisie Waits nudged him in the ribs. "William Waits," she said in a tone of mock outrage.
Bill leaned a little closer to her. "Want to fool around some?" he said to her.
"It's late-"
"It's Saturday tomorrow," Bill said, slipping his arm around his wife's waist. "It's either that or I ravish you in your sleep."
Maisie giggled, and with one quick jerk on the leash got Katy to her feet. Bill kissed Maisie's cheek, and then whispered something into his wife's ear. Erwin wasn't close enough to hear everything, but he caught pillow and like always. Whatever he said, Maisie returned his kiss, and they headed off down the street, with Katy casting a wistful glance back at her phantom admirer.
"Were you ever married, Erwin?"
It was Dolan. He was sitting in the doorway of Lively's Lighting and Furniture Store, picking his nose.
"No, I wasn't."
"Mine went off to Seattle after I passed over. Took her seven weeks and two days to uproot and go. Sold the house, sold most of the furniture, let the lease go on the store. I was so mad. I howled around this damn town for a month, weeping and wailing. I even tried to go after her."
.'And?"
Dolan shook his head. "I don't advise it. The further I went from Everville the more... vague... I became." "Any idea why?"
"Just guessing, but I suppose me and this place must be connected, after all these years. Maybe I can't imagine myself in any other place.
Anyhow, I don't weep and wail any more. I know where I belong." He looked at Erwin. "Speaking of which, I came looking for you for a reason."
"What?" "I was talking to a few friends of mine. Telling them about you and what happened outside my old store, and they wanted to see you."
"This is more-"
"Go on. You can say it." "Ghosts?"
"We prefer revenants. But yeah, ghosts'll do it." "Why do they want to see me?" Dolan got up. "What the hell does it matter to you?" he hollered, suddenly exasperated, "got something better to be doing?"
"No," Erwin said after a moment.
"So are you coming or not? Makes no odds to me."
"I'm coming."
Buddenbaum woke up in a white room, with a splitting headache. There was a sallow young man standing at the bottom of the bed, watching him.
"There you are," the young man said.
Clearly the youth knew him. But Buddenbaum couldn't put a name to his face. His puzzlement was apparently plain, because the kid said, "Owen? It's me. It's Seth." "Seth." The name made a dozen images flicker in Buddenbaum's head, like single frames of film, each from a different scene, strung together on a loop. Round and round they went, ten, twenty times. He glimpsed bare skin, a raging face, sky, more faces, now looking down at him. "I fell."
"Yes.
Buddenbaum ran his palms over his chest, neck, and stomach. "I'm intact."
"You broke some ribs, and cracked some vertebrae and fractured the base of your skull."
"I did?" Buddenbaum's hands went to his head. It was heavily bandaged.
"How long have I been unconscious?"
"Coming up to eight hours." "Eight hours?" He sat up in bed. "Oh my Lord."
"You have to lie down."
"No time. I've got things to do. Important things." He put his hand to his brow. "There's people coming. I've got to be... got to be... Jesus, it's gone out of my head." He looked up at Seth, with desperation on his face. "This is bad," he said, "this is very bad." He grabbed hold of Seth, and drew him closer. "There was some liaison, yes?" Seth didn't know the word. "You and 1, we were coupling-"
"Oh. That. Yes. Yes, we were going' at it, and this gu Bosley, he's a real Christian-"
"Never mind the Christians." Buddenbaum snarled. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course I trust you," Seth said, putting his hand to Buddenbaum's face. "You told me what's going to happen."
"I did, did I? And what did I say?"
"You said there's avatars coming." Seth pronounced the word haltingly.
"They're more than angels, you said." Comprehension replaced the despair on Buddenbaum's face. "The avatars," he said. "Of course." He started to swing his legs off the bed.
"You can't get up," Seth said, "you're hurt."
"I've survived worse than this, believe me," Buddenbaum said. "Now where are my clothes?" He stood up, and made for the small dresser in the corner of the room. "Are we still in Everville?"
"No, we're in Silverton."
"How far's that?" "T'hirty-five miles."
"So how did you get here?" "I borrowed my mother's car. But Owen, you're not well-"
"fhere's more at risk here than a cracked skull," Buddenbaum replied, opening the dresser, and taking out his clothes. "A lot more."
"Like what?"
"It's too complicated-"
"I catch on quickly," Seth replied. "You know I do. You said I do."
"Help me dress." "Is that all I'm good for?" Seth protested. "I'm not just some idiot kid you picked up."
"Then stop acting like one!" Buddenbaum snapped.
Seth immediately withdrew. "Well I guess that's plain enough," he said.
"I didn't mean it that way."
"You want somebody to dress you, ask the nurse. You want a ride back home, hire a cab."
"Seth@'
It was too late. The boy was already out of the door, slamming it behind him. Owen didn't try to go after him. This was no time to waste energy arguing. The boy would come round, given time. And if he didn't, he didn't. In a few hours he would not need the aid-or the affection@f Seth or any other selfwilled youth. He would be free of every frailty, including love; free to live out of time, out of place, out of every particular. He would be unmade, the way divinities were unmade, because divinities were without beginning and without end: a rare and wonderful condition.