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Jud
's
matches
were
by
the
chair
where
he
had
kept
his
fruitless
watch
,
on
top
of
his
cigarettes
.
Louis
took
them
.
At
the
front
door
he
tossed
a
lighted
match
back
over
his
shoulder
and
stepped
out
.
The
blast
of
the
heat
was
immediate
and
savage
,
making
the
skin
on
his
neck
feel
too
small
.
He
shut
the
door
neatly
and
only
stood
on
the
porch
for
a
moment
,
watching
the
orange
flickers
behind
Norma
's
curtains
Then
he
crossed
the
porch
,
pausing
for
a
moment
,
remembering
the
beers
he
and
Jud
had
drunk
here
a
million
years
ago
,
listening
to
the
soft
,
gathering
roar
of
fire
within
the
house
.
Then
he
stepped
out
.
Steve
Masterton
came
around
the
curve
just
before
Louis
's
house
and
saw
the
smoke
immediately
--
not
from
Louis
's
place
,
but
from
the
house
that
belonged
to
the
old
duck
across
the
street
.
He
had
come
out
this
morning
because
he
had
been
worried
about
Louis
--
deeply
worried
.
Charlton
had
told
him
about
Rachel
's
call
of
the
day
before
,
and
that
had
set
him
to
wondering
just
where
Louis
was
...
and
what
he
was
up
to
.
His
worry
was
vague
,
but
it
itched
at
his
mind
--
he
was
n't
going
to
feel
right
until
he
had
gone
out
there
and
checked
to
see
if
things
were
okay
...
or
as
okay
as
they
could
be
under
the
circumstances
.
The
spring
weather
had
emptied
the
infirmary
like
white
magic
,
and
Surrendra
had
told
him
to
go
ahead
;
he
could
handle
whatever
came
up
.
So
Steve
had
jumped
into
his
Honda
,
which
he
had
liberated
from
the
garage
only
last
weekend
,
and
headed
out
for
Ludlow
.
Maybe
he
pushed
the
cycle
a
little
faster
than
was
strictly
necessary
,
but
the
worry
was
there
;
it
gnawed
.
And
with
it
came
the
absurd
feeling
that
he
was
already
too
late
.
Stupid
,
of
course
,
but
in
the
pit
of
his
stomach
there
was
a
feeling
similar
to
the
one
he
'd
had
there
last
fall
when
that
Pascow
thing
cropped
up
--
a
feeling
of
miserable
surprise
and
almost
leaden
disillusion
.
He
was
by
no
means
a
religious
man
(
in
college
Steve
had
been
a
member
of
the
Atheists
"
Society
for
two
semesters
and
had
dropped
out
only
when
his
advisor
had
told
him
--
privately
and
very
much
off
the
record
--
that
it
might
hurt
his
chances
to
obtain
a
med
school
scholarship
later
on
)
,
but
he
supposed
he
fell
as
much
heir
to
whatever
biological
or
biorhythmic
conditions
passed
for
premonitions
as
any
other
human
being
,
and
the
death
of
Pascow
had
seemed
to
set
a
tone
for
the
year
which
followed
,
somehow
.
Not
a
good
year
by
any
means
.
Two
of
Surrendra
's
relatives
had
been
clapped
in
jail
back
home
,
some
political
thing
,
and
Surrendra
had
told
him
that
he
believed
one
of
them
--
an
uncle
he
cared
for
very
much
--
might
well
now
be
dead
.
Surrendra
had
wept
,
and
the
tears
from
the
usually
benign
Indian
had
frightened
Steve
.
And
Charlton
's
mother
had
had
a
radical
mastectomy
.
The
tough
nurse
was
not
very
optimistic
about
her
mother
's
chances
for
joining
the
Five-Year
Club
.
Steve
himself
had
attended
four
funerals
since
the
death
of
Victor
Pascow
--
his
wife
's
sister
,
killed
in
a
car
crash
;
a
cousin
,
killed
in
a
freak
accident
as
the
result
of
a
barroom
bet
(
he
had
been
electrocuted
while
proving
he
could
shinny
all
the
way
to
the
top
of
a
power
pole
)
;
a
grandparent
;
and
of
course
Louis
's
little
boy
.
He
liked
Louis
enormously
,
and
he
wanted
to
make
sure
Louis
was
all
right
.
Louis
had
been
through
hell
lately
.
When
he
saw
the
billows
of
smoke
,
his
first
thought
was
that
this
was
something
else
to
lay
at
the
door
of
Victor
Pascow
,
who
seemed
,
in
his
dying
,
to
have
removed
some
sort
of
crash
barrier
between
these
ordinary
people
and
an
extraordinary
run
of
bad
luck
.
But
that
was
stupid
,
and
Louis
's
house
was
the
proof
.
It
stood
calm
and
white
,
a
little
piece
of
clean-limbed
New
England
architecture
in
the
mid-morning
sun
.
