The Talisman

away. It was only stones piled up in patterns.
    Looking farther, Jack saw that the earthquake had not been so violent over here – and there had been less to destroy. He saw a few overturned huts that looked as if they had been built mostly of driftwood; he saw a number of burst coaches that might or might not have been Cadillacs back in the American Territories; here and there he could see a fallen, shaggy body.
    ‘Those who were here and survived have now gone,’ Parkus said. ‘They know what has happened, they know Orris is dead, and they’ll not trouble you more. The evil that was here has gone. Do you know that? Can you feel it?’
    ‘Yes,’ Jack whispered. ‘But . . . Mr Parkus . . . you’re not . . . not . . .’
    ‘Going? Yes. Very soon. You and your friend are going to have a good sleep, but you and I must have a bit of a talk first. It won’t take long, so I want you to try and get your head up off your chest, at least for the moment.’
    With some effort, Jack got his head up and his eyes all – well, most – of the way open again. Parkus nodded.
    ‘When you wake up, strike east . . . but don’t flip! You stay right here for a while. Stay in the Territories. There’s going to be too much going on over there on your side – rescue units, news crews, Jason knows what else. At least the snow will melt before anybody knows it’s there, except for a few people who’ll be dismissed as crackpots—’
    ‘Why do you have to go?’
    ‘I just got to ramble some now, Jack. There’s a lot of work to be done over here. News of Morgan’s death will already be travelling east. Travelling fast. I’m behind that news right now, and I’ve got to get ahead of it if I can. I want to get back to the Outposts . . . and the east . . . before a lot of pretty bad folks start to head out for other places.’ He looked out at the ocean, his eyes as cold and gray as flint. ‘When the bill comes due, people have to pay. Morgan’s gone, but there’s still a debt owing.’
    ‘You’re something like a policeman over here, aren’t you?’
    Parkus nodded. ‘I am what you’d call the Judge General and Lord High Executioner all rolled into one. Over here, that is.’ He put a strong, warm hand on Jack’s head. ‘Over there, I’m just this fella who goes around from place to place, does a few odd jobs, strums a few tunes. And sometimes, believe me, I like that a lot better.’
    He smiled again, and this time he was Speedy.
    ‘And you be seein that guy from time to time, Jacky. Yeah, from time to time and place to place. In a shoppin center, maybe, or a park.’
    He winked at Jack.
    ‘But Speedy’s . . . not well,’ Jack said. ‘Whatever was wrong with him, it was something the Talisman couldn’t touch.’
    ‘Speedy’s old ,’ Parkus said. ‘He’s my age, but your world made him older than me. Just the same, he’s still got a few years left in him. Maybe quite a few. Feel no fret, Jack.’
    ‘You promise?’ Jack asked.
    Parkus grinned. ‘Yeah-bob.’
    Jack grinned tiredly back.
    ‘You and your friend head out to the east. Go until you reckon you’ve done five miles. You get over those low hills and then you’ll be fine – easy walking. Look for a big tree – biggest damn tree you’ve ever seen. You get to that big old tree, Jack, and you take Richard’s hand, and you flip back. You’ll come out next to a giant redwood with a tunnel cut through the bottom of it to let the road through. The road’s Route Seventeen, and you’ll be on the outskirts of a little town in northern California called Storeyville. Walk into town. There’s a Mobil station at the blinker-light.’
    ‘And then?’
    Parkus shrugged. ‘Don’t know, not for sure. Could be, Jack, you’ll meet someone you’ll recognize.’
    ‘But how will we get h—’
    ‘Shhh,’ Parkus said, and put a hand on Jack’s forehead exactly as his mother had done when he was
    ( baby-bunting, daddy’s gone a-hunting, and all that good shit, lala, go to sleep, Jacky, all’s well and all’s well and)
    very small. ‘Enough questions. All will be well with you and Richard now, I think.’
    Jack lay down. He cradled the dark ball in the crook of one arm. Each of his eyelids now seemed to have a cinderblock attached to it.
    ‘You have been brave and true, Jack,’ Parkus said with calm gravity. ‘I wish you were my own son . . . and I salute you for your courage. And your faith. There are people in many worlds who owe you a great