The Talisman

now!’
    ‘It’s going the wrong way,’ Jack said. ‘Just be calm and let it pass us, Wolf. Get your arms down or he’ll think you’re signalling him.’
    Reluctantly Wolf lowered his arms. The car had come nearly to the bend in the road which would take it directly past Jack and Wolf. ‘No ride in the back now?’ Wolf asked, pouting almost childishly.
    Jack shook his head. He was staring at an oval medallion painted on the car’s dusty white doorpanel. County Parks Commission, this might have said, or State Wildlife Board. It might have been anything from the vehicle of the state agricultural agent to the property of the Cayuga Maintenance Department. But when it turned into the bend, Jack saw it was a police car.
    ‘That’s a cop, Wolf. A policeman. Just keep walking and stay nice and loose. We don’t want him to stop.’
    ‘What’s a coppiceman?’ Wolf’s voice had dropped into a dark brown range; he had seen that the speeding car was now coming straight toward him. ‘Does a coppiceman kill Wolfs?’
    ‘No,’ Jack said, ‘they absolutely never kill Wolfs,’ but it did no good. Wolf captured Jack’s hand in his own, which trembled.
    ‘Let go of me, please, Wolf,’ Jack pleaded. ‘He’ll think it’s funny.’
    Wolf’s hand dropped away.
    As the police car advanced toward them, Jack glanced at the figure behind the wheel, and then turned around and walked back a few paces so that he could watch Wolf. What he had seen was not encouraging. The policeman driving the car had a wide doughy domineering face with livid slabs of fat where he’d once had cheekbones. And Wolf’s terror was plain on his face. Eyes, nostrils flared; he was showing his teeth.
    ‘You really liked riding in the back of that truck, didn’t you?’ Jack asked him.
    Some of the terror disappeared, and Wolf nearly managed a smile. The police car roared past – Jack was conscious of the driver turning his head to inspect them. ‘All right,’ Jack said. ‘He’s on his way. We’re okay, Wolf.’
    He had turned around again when he heard the sound of the police car suddenly begin to grow louder again.
    ‘Coppiceman’s coming back!’
    ‘Probably just going back to Cayuga,’ Jack said. ‘Turn around and just act like me. Don’t stare at him.’
    Wolf and Jack trudged along, pretending to ignore the car, which seemed to hang behind them deliberately. Wolf uttered a sound that was half-moan, half-howl.
    The police car swung out into the road, passed them, flashed its brake lights, and then cut in diagonally before them. The officer pushed open his door and got his feet planted on the ground. Then he hoisted himself out of the seat. He was roughly Jack’s height, and all his weight was in his face and his stomach – his legs were twig-skinny, his arms and shoulders those of a normally developed man. His gut, trussed in the brown uniform like a fifteen-pound turkey, bulged out on both sides of the wide brown belt.
    ‘I can’t wait for it,’ he said, and cocked an arm and leaned on the open door. ‘What’s your story, anyhow? Give.’
    Wolf padded up behind Jack and hunched his shoulders, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his overalls.
    ‘We’re going to Springfield, officer,’ Jack said. ‘We’ve been hitching – I guess maybe we shouldn’t.’
    ‘You guess maybe you shouldn’t. Hol-eee shit. What’s this guy tryinna disappear behind you, a Wookiee?’
    ‘He’s my cousin.’ Jack thought frantically for a moment – the Story had to be bent far enough to accommodate Wolf. ‘I’m supposed to be taking him home. He lives in Springfield with his Aunt Helen, I mean my Aunt Helen, the one who’s a school-teacher. In Springfield.’
    ‘What’d he do, escape from somewhere?’
    ‘No, no, nothing like that. It was just that—’
    The cop looked at him neutrally, his face sizzling. ‘Names.’
    Now the boy met a dilemma: Wolf was certain to call him Jack, no matter what name he gave the cop. ‘I’m Jack Parker,’ he said. ‘And he’s—’
    ‘Hold it. I want the feeb to tell me himself. Come on, you. You remember your name, basket case?’
    Wolf squirmed behind Jack, digging his chin into the top of his overalls. He muttered something. ‘I couldn’t hear you, sonny.’
    ‘Wolf,’ he whispered.
    ‘Wolf. Prob’ly I should have guessed. What’s your first name, or did they just give you a number?’
    Wolf had squeezed his eyes shut, and was twisting his legs together.
    ‘Come on,