Charles Halloway nodded.
The Illustrated Man did not nod or blink, but stared until the janitor wanted to turn away, but did not, and simply gazed as calmly as possible at the impertinent intruder.
"What'll it be?" asked the cafe proprietor.
"Nothing." Mr. Dark watched Will's father. "I'm looking for two boys."
Who isn't? Charles Halloway rose, paid, walked off. "Thanks, Ned." In passing, he saw the man with the tattoos hold his hands out, palms up toward Ned.
"Boys?" said Ned. "How old?"
The door slammed.
Mr. Dark watched Charles Halloway walk off outside the window.
Ned talked.
But the Illustrated Man did not hear.
Outside, Will's father moved toward the library, stopped, moved toward the courthouse, stopped, waited for some better sense to direct him, felt his pocket, missed his smokes, and turned toward the United Cigar Store.
Jim looked up, saw familiar feet, pale face, salt and pepper hair. "Will! Your dad! Call to him. He'll help us!"
Will could not speak.
"I'll call to him!"
Will hit Jim's arm, shook his head, violently, No!
Why not? mouthed Jim.
Because, said Will's lips.
Because ... he gazed up ... Dad looked even smaller up there than he had last night, seen from the side of the house. It would be like calling to one more boy passing. They didn't need one more boy, they needed a general, no, a major general! He tried to see Dad's face at the cigar counter window, and discover whether it looked really older, firmer, stronger, than it did last night washed with all the milk colors of the moon. But all he saw was Dad's fingers twitching nervously, his mouth working, as if he didn't dare ask his needs from Mr. Tetley....
"One ... that is ... one twenty-five cent cigar."
"My God," said Mr. Tetley, above. "The man's rich!"
Charles Halloway took his time removing the cellophane, waiting for some hint, some move on the part of the universe to show him where he was going, why he had come back this way for a cigar he did not really want. He thought he heard himself called, twice, glanced swiftly at the crowds, saw clowns passing with handbills, then lit the cigar he did not want from the eternal blue-gas flame that burned in a small silver jet pipe on the counter, and, puffing smoke, dropped the cigar band with his free hand, saw the band bounce on the metal grille, and vanish, his eyes following it farther down to where ...
It lit at the feet of Will Halloway, his son.
Charles Halloway choked on cigar smoke.
Two shadows there, yes! And the eyes, terror gazing up out of the dark well under the street. He almost bent to seize the grate, yelling.
Instead, incredulous, he only blurted softly, with the crowd around, and the weather clearing:
"Jim? Will! What the hell's going on?"
At which moment, one hundred feet away, the Illustrated Man came out of Ned's Night Spot.
"Mr. Halloway--" said Jim.
"Come up out of there," said Charles Halloway.
The Illustrated Man, a crowd among crowds, pivoted slowly, then walked toward the cigar store.