The damp’s bad in here under the giant rocks, but the fire feels good, for the sudden rain which caught them on their way here has brought a chill to the day, more felt in wet clothes. There’s a nice smell, too. Chepe Pacheco in his blue-red-and-yellow headband and embroidered Mexican shirt is frying up green bananas. No idea where or when he picked them up, but they’ve all learned to like them. Nat is not completely stripped down like Deacon, who is still strutting around naked, reciting apocalyptic lines from the Bible (he claims to have once been a preacher, also an actor, a politician, a university professor, a lawyer, an auctioneer, a faith healer, a carny barker, and he may actually have been some of those things), but he has hung his dripping high-collared leather jacket from a jutting rock and his shirt is off and near the fire next to Deacon’s, drying out. Red hair is sprouting on his chest now, as if having been shaved off his head it had to find someplace else to grow. His old man has chest hair like that, going gray now. The only guy in the gang carrying a clean dry change is Rupert, who has a bagful of colored T-shirts and loud ties to go with the satin-striped black pants he always wears. Right now it’s a canary yellow shirt under a green and lilac tie. During house burglaries, Rupe likes to find an iron and press these things, then leave the hot iron plugged in and face down on the ironing board. His style is the very opposite of his pal Brainerd, who hasn’t changed clothes or shaved or washed since the day he joined up. He says he doesn’t think he has any socks left below the ankle, that they’ve just rotted away in there, but he hasn’t taken his old muddy farm brogans off to check. City dude and mountain man. Hard to say which is meaner, though. Brainerd claims to know about a Colorado ghost town they could all go to after this is over. If he can be believed. He’s a folksy bullshitter, now into a tall tale, thumbs in his suspenders, about a wild man of the woods who thought he was a bear and in most ways became a bear, and who was finally tracked down by his scat, which wasn’t bearlike, and was caught in a net and used in a circus sideshow until one day he clawed himself to death.
Sick, wearing Juice’s boots, which weren’t his originally either (maybe that’s how the old man picked Juice out; yeah, sure it was), says, “Y’know what? When I peeled Juice’s feet outa these boots, I found out he only had two toes on the left foot and they wasn’t next to each other.” “Probably shot them off or else stobbed them fooling around on his bike,” Thaxton says, and Nat adds: “Or got them caught in a paper cutter.” Everybody laughs at that, thinking he’s making a joke. But one day he did chop off part of a kid’s finger with a paper cutter, and Juice’s missing toes made him think of it. It was when his dad was the preacher at the Church of the Nazarene, and there was one in the office for trimming mimeographed church programs. The kid was a sissy-type piano player who sang in the choir and always made good grades, so you might say he deserved it. First it was just a threat, but then, almost not realizing he was doing it, Nat brought the blade down. Zop! End of piano lessons. Considerable trouble after that, but Nat threatened the kid with a lot worse (“If you rat on us, buddy, next time it’s your weenie!”) and the kid told everyone it was an accident, though later, when Nat’s family was getting kicked out of West Condon, the story came up again and earned him another licking. Sick found the word “Apache” inked into the red boots on the inside, and has been collecting feathers from the birds they’ve killed and eaten, including bright-colored bluebirds, orioles, and cardinals, to fashion a waistband and necklace for himself, turning himself into a warrior brave.
Nat steps out onto the ledge at the mouth of the rock pile. There’s a break in the rain, though it won’t last long — hot and muggy and more thunder and lightning off to the west. Houndawg has left with Paulie’s head and a mine pick. Nat can see him now limping into a marked trail in the woods. He needs Houndawg and wants him to get over whatever weirdness he’s going through. Toad’s bike, silvery, luminous in the cloudy light like the ghost of a bike, is parked just below him with all the others. It’s a good moment to take it for a spin, get to know it, and at the same time make sure they’re alone here in the park. While he’s checking out the power plant (the kickstart ignition nearly took his leg off the first time, he’ll have to get used to that), Deacon comes out with some of the stuff he took from Toad’s pockets. The ugly photo on the license could be anybody; could be him. Toad’s last name was Rivers and Deacon says they used to call him that before he got so big, and then he became Toad. “But you’re still a kid.” Deacon pauses to think about that. “That seems right. Kid Rivers.” He grins. “Already a legend.” He pats the rear fender of the bike tenderly as if it were a girl. “A pale horse,” he says, and grins his whiskery grin. “Give her a run, Kid. See what she’ll do.”
He does, and after trolling the park’s paved roads, he takes it up a hiking trail and back. It’s not as heavy as Midnight, but it’s longer and he’s not used to the hanger bars; he takes a spill on a tight narrow turn. But no harm done. Beginning to feel good. It’s powerful and easy to handle with its springer front end, and its popping growl gives him a thrill. And Houndawg will help make it even sleeker and faster, chopping it to fit him, making it his. The Phantom. One of Face’s favorite strips. He’ll find a Phantom comic, ask Spider to paint the character on the gas tank. Gray on gray. When he comes down out of the trail, Houndawg is waiting for him, leaning on his good leg. Carrying the pick but without the head. That’s over. He pulls up and offers the bike to Houndawg for a test ride, and when he gets back — Houndawg, even driving it one-legged, shows why it’s a great racer bike — they sit there on a bench and have a talk. About the bike, things they can do to it, but also about what happens when the rain stops.