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All
the
booths
were
empty
.
The
sound
of
laughter
had
died
like
a
stir
of
autumn
leaves
.
Jack
stared
at
the
empty
lounge
for
a
tick
of
time
,
his
eyes
wide
and
dark
.
A
pulse
beat
noticeably
in
the
center
of
his
forehead
.
In
the
very
center
of
him
a
cold
certainty
was
forming
and
the
certainty
was
that
he
was
losing
his
mind
.
He
felt
an
urge
to
pick
up
the
bar
stool
next
to
him
,
reverse
it
,
and
go
through
the
place
like
an
avenging
whirlwind
.
Instead
he
whirled
back
around
to
the
bar
and
began
to
bellow
:
"
Roll
me
over
In
the
clo
-
ho
-
ver
,
Roll
me
over
,
lay
me
down
and
do
it
again
.
"
Danny
’
s
face
rose
before
him
,
not
Danny
’
s
normal
face
,
lively
and
alert
,
the
eyes
sparkling
and
open
,
but
the
catatonic
,
zombielike
face
of
a
stranger
,
the
eyes
dull
and
opaque
,
the
mouth
pursed
babyishly
around
his
thumb
.
What
was
he
doing
,
sitting
here
and
talking
to
himself
like
a
sulky
teen
-
ager
when
his
son
was
upstairs
,
someplace
,
acting
like
something
that
belonged
in
a
padded
room
,
acting
the
way
Wally
Hollis
said
Vic
Stenger
had
been
before
the
men
in
the
white
coats
had
to
come
and
take
him
away
?
(
But
1
never
put
a
hand
on
him
!
Goddammit
,
1
didn
’
t
!
)
"
Jack
?
"
The
voice
was
timid
,
hesitant
.
He
was
so
startled
he
almost
fell
off
the
stool
whirling
it
around
.
Wendy
was
standing
just
inside
the
batwing
doors
,
Danny
cradled
in
her
arms
like
some
waxen
horror
show
dummy
.
The
three
of
them
made
a
tableau
that
Jack
felt
very
strongly
;
it
was
just
before
the
curtain
of
Act
II
in
some
oldtime
temperance
play
,
one
so
poorly
mounted
that
the
prop
man
had
forgotten
to
stock
the
shelves
of
the
Den
of
Iniquity
.
"
I
never
touched
him
,
"
Jack
said
thickly
.
"
I
never
have
since
the
night
I
broke
his
arm
.
Not
even
to
spank
him
.
"
