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"Dad, we can't! Don't look at us down here!"

The Illustrated Man was some eighty feet away.

"Boys," said Charles Halloway. "The police--"

"Mr. Halloway," said Jim, hoarsely, "we're dead if you don't look up! The Illustrated Man, if he--"

"The what?" asked Mr. Halloway.

"The man with the tattoos!"

From the cafe counter, five electric blue-inked eyes fixed Mr. Halloway's memory.

"Dad, look over at the courthouse clock, while we tell you what happened--"

Mr. Halloway straightened up.

And the Illustrated Man arrived.

He stood studying Charles Halloway.

"Sir," said the Illustrated Man.

"Eleven-fifteen." Charles Halloway judged the courthouse clock, adjusted his wrist watch, cigar in mouth. "One minute slow."

"Sir," said the Illustrated Man.

Will held Jim, Jim held Will fast in the gum-wrapper, tobacco-littered pit, as the four shoes rocked, shuffled, tilted above.

"Sir," said the man named Dark, probing Charles Halloway's face for the bones there to compare to other bones in other half-similar people, "the Cooger-Dark Combined Shows have picked two local boys, two! to be our special guests during our celebratory visit!"

"Well, I--" Will's father tried not to glance at the sidewalk.

"These two boys--"

Will watched the tooth-sharp shoe nails of the Illustrated Man flash, sparking the grille.

"--these boys will ride

all rides, see each show, shake hands with every performer, go home with magic kits, baseball bats--"

"Who," interrupted Mr. Halloway, "are these lucky boys?"

"Two selected from photos snapped on our midway yesterday. Identify them, sir, and you will share their fortune. There are the boys!"

He sees us down here! thought Will. Oh, God!

The Illustrated Man thrust out his hands.

Will's father lurched.

Tattooed in bright blue ink, Will's face gazed up at him from the palm of the right hand.

Ink-sewn to the left palm, Jim's face was indelible and natural as life.

"You know them?" The Illustrated Man saw Mr. Halloway's throat clench, his eyelids squinch, his bones struck vibrant as from a sledge-hammer blow. "Their names?"

Dad, careful! Will thought.


Tags: Ray Bradbury Green Town Fiction