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One
foot
found
purchase
,
but
now
his
other
pants
leg
had
caught
on
one
of
the
arrow
points
.
And
Christ
,
he
was
n't
going
to
be
able
to
hang
on
much
longer
.
Desperately
,
Louis
jerked
his
leg
.
The
branch
dipped
.
His
hands
slipped
again
.
There
was
a
mutter
of
tearing
cloth
,
and
then
he
was
standing
on
two
of
the
arrow
points
.
They
dug
into
the
soles
of
his
tennis
shoes
,
and
the
pressure
quickly
became
painful
,
but
Louis
stood
on
them
anyway
.
The
relief
in
his
hands
and
arms
was
greater
than
the
pain
in
his
feet
.
What
a
figure
I
must
cut
,
Louis
thought
with
dim
and
dismal
amusement
.
Holding
the
branch
with
his
left
hand
,
he
wiped
his
right
hand
across
his
jacket
.
Then
he
wiped
off
the
left
while
he
held
with
the
right
.
He
stood
on
the
points
for
a
moment
longer
and
then
slipped
his
hands
forward
along
the
branch
.
It
was
slim
enough
for
him
to
be
able
to
lace
his
fingers
together
comfortably
now
.
He
swung
forward
like
Tarzan
,
feet
leaving
the
arrow
points
.
The
branch
dipped
alarmingly
,
and
he
heard
an
ominous
cracking
sound
.
He
let
go
,
dropping
on
faith
.
He
landed
badly
.
One
knee
thudded
against
a
gravestone
,
sending
a
lance
of
pain
up
his
thigh
.
He
rolled
over
on
the
grass
,
holding
the
knee
,
lips
skinned
back
in
something
like
a
grin
,
hoping
that
he
had
n't
shattered
his
kneecap
.
At
last
the
pain
began
to
fade
a
little
,
and
he
found
that
he
could
flex
the
joint
.
It
would
be
all
right
if
he
kept
moving
and
did
n't
allow
it
to
stiffen
up
on
him
.
Maybe
.
He
got
to
his
feet
and
started
to
walk
along
the
fence
back
toward
Mason
Street
and
his
equipment
.
His
knee
was
bad
at
first
,
and
he
limped
,
but
the
pain
smoothed
out
to
a
dull
ache
as
he
went
.
There
was
aspirin
in
the
Honda
's
first-aid
kit
.
He
should
have
remembered
to
bring
that
with
him
.
Too
late
now
.
He
kept
an
eye
out
for
cars
and
faded
back
deeper
into
the
cemetery
when
one
came
.
On
the
Mason
Street
side
,
which
was
apt
to
be
better
traveled
,
he
kept
well
back
from
the
fence
until
he
was
opposite
the
Civic
.
He
was
about
to
trot
down
to
the
fence
and
pull
his
bundle
out
of
the
bushes
when
he
heard
footfalls
on
the
sidewalk
and
a
woman
's
low
laughter
.
He
sat
down
behind
a
large
grave
marker
--
it
hurt
his
knee
too
much
to
squat
--
and
watched
a
couple
walk
up
the
far
side
of
Mason
Street
.
They
were
walking
with
their
arms
about
each
other
's
waists
,
and
something
about
their
movement
from
one
white
pool
of
light
to
the
next
made
Louis
think
of
some
old
TV
show
.
In
a
moment
he
had
it
:
"
The
Jimmy
Durante
Hour
.
"
What
would
they
do
if
he
rose
up
now
,
a
wavering
shadow
in
this
silent
city
of
the
dead
,
and
cried
hollowly
across
to
them
:
"
Goodnight
,
Mrs.
Calabash
,
wherever
you
are
!
"
They
stopped
in
the
pool
of
light
just
beyond
his
car
and
embraced
.
Watching
them
,
Louis
felt
a
kind
of
sick
wonder
and
self-loathing
.
Here
he
was
,
crouching
behind
a
tombstone
like
a
subhuman
character
in
some
cheap
comic-book
story
,
watching
lovers
.
Is
the
line
so
thin
,
then
?
he
wondered
,
and
that
thought
also
had
a
ring
of
familiarity
.
So
thin
you
can
simply
step
over
it
with
this
little
fuss
,
muss
,
and
bother
?
Climb
a
tree
,
shinny
along
a
branch
,
drop
into
a
graveyard
,
watch
lovers
...
dig
holes
?
That
simple
?
Is
it
lunacy
?
I
spent
eight
years
becoming
a
doctor
,
but
I
've
become
a
grave
robber
in
one
simple
step
--
what
I
suppose
people
would
call
a
ghoul
.
