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Louis
continued
up
Pleasant
Street
and
turned
right
at
the
next
intersection
.
The
high
iron
fence
marched
along
beside
him
restlessly
.
The
wind
cooled
and
evaporated
the
drops
of
sweat
on
his
forehead
and
in
the
hollows
of
his
temples
.
His
shadow
waxed
and
waned
in
the
streetlights
.
Every
now
and
then
he
glanced
at
the
fence
,
and
then
he
stopped
and
forced
himself
to
really
look
at
it
.
You
're
going
to
climb
that
baby
?
Do
n't
make
me
laugh
.
Louis
Creed
was
a
fairly
tall
man
,
standing
a
bit
over
six-two
,
but
the
fence
was
easily
nine
feet
high
,
each
wrought-iron
stave
ending
in
a
decorative
,
arrowlike
point
.
Decorative
,
that
is
,
until
you
happened
to
slip
while
swinging
your
leg
over
and
the
force
of
your
suddenly
dropping
two
hundred
pounds
drove
one
of
those
arrow
points
into
your
groin
,
exploding
your
testicles
.
And
there
you
would
be
,
skewered
like
a
pig
at
a
barbecue
,
hollering
until
someone
called
for
the
police
and
they
came
and
pulled
you
off
and
took
you
to
the
hospital
.
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The
sweat
continued
to
flow
,
sticking
his
shirt
to
his
back
.
All
was
silent
except
for
the
faint
hum
of
late
traffic
on
Hammond
Street
.
There
had
to
be
a
way
to
get
in
there
.
Had
to
be
.
Come
on
,
Louis
,
face
the
facts
.
You
may
be
crazy
,
but
you
're
not
that
crazy
.
Maybe
you
could
shinny
up
to
the
top
of
that
fence
,
but
it
would
take
a
trained
gymnast
to
swing
over
those
points
without
sticking
himself
on
them
.
And
even
supposing
you
can
get
in
,
how
are
you
going
to
get
yourself
and
Gage
's
body
out
?
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He
went
on
walking
,
vaguely
aware
that
he
was
circling
the
cemetery
but
not
doing
anything
constructive
.
All
right
,
here
's
the
answer
.
I
'll
just
go
on
home
to
Ludlow
tonight
and
come
back
tomorrow
,
in
the
late
afternoon
.
I
'll
go
in
through
the
gate
around
four
o'clock
and
find
a
place
to
hole
up
until
it
's
midnight
or
a
little
later
.
I
will
,
in
other
words
,
put
off
until
tomorrow
what
I
should
have
been
smart
enough
to
think
of
today
.