"Early," I reiterated.

"Are you hungry?"

"Sure."

"Let's me and you fix us something to eat. I've decided that you are on a journey, Wally. If you'll allow me, I'd like to help you. Due to legal restrictions, I can't take you wherever you need to go but I'll take you as far as I can."

"I just want to get out of Milltown."

"Oh, getting out of Milltown's no problem. We can be out of here in no time at all."

"Thanks, Uncle Skad."

"I notice your shoes are looking a little worn."

"Yeah, I've had them for a couple of years."

"Looks like you've grown right out of them. Let me see what I can find."

"That'd be great."

"For now, though, I must find food."

"Well, I better be going," Dr. Blast said and then we were all standing up, our faces grimed with the soot sediment that poured out of the barrel.

n.o.body said anything. There were a few moments of uncomfortable shifting and we all went back into the house. Skad and Dr. Blast raced for the front door, both of them slamming out of it and leaving me standing there in the dim house.

I felt good. Yesterday's miseries had faded away. The house was almost dark. Black plastic had been nailed over all the windows but the morning sunlight came in through all the cracks and holes in the ceiling and walls, pressing inward through the wads of paper shoved in there to keep the wind and as much of the rain as possible out.

I sat down and watched the c.o.c.kroaches. Our house back on Walnut had the occasional roach or two. The mother said that was because we lived by train tracks or the plumbing was old or some f.u.c.kness like that. Those c.o.c.kroaches at home never made themselves visible during the daylight. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, if I went into the kitchen and threw on a light, I'd see one or two of them scurry to some dark area. Apparently, the more roaches there were, the more brazen they became. Uncle Skad's roaches shuffled slowly around on the floor as though they had as much right to this place as Uncle Skad. I got bored, I guess. It never really did take much for me to get bored. I reached down and managed to grab a couple of the roaches. I found a clear spot on the floor, no easy task, and sat them down side by side, hoping they would race. They were slow to move at first and, once they did, my plans were completely foiled. They sprouted off into two opposite directions like the concept of a contest was completely foreign to them. I watched as they each went to join their separate packs.

It wasn't long before Uncle Skad came back. Bundled in his arms were a loaf of bread, a carton of eggs, a few cheese slices and a pair of shoes. He slammed the door behind him and, breathing quickly, made his way to the back of the house where he dumped his finds.

"I still think they might be trying to poison me so now I just borrow food from other people. I went over to see if old Otto had any food and, strangest thing, old Otto's dead."

There was an old, woodburning stove back there. Skad swung the small iron door open, stuffed some newspapers and old boards in there, and lit it up. "Unbelievable, he was just sprawled out there in the middle of the floor." He held a hand over the stove's surface to see if it was getting warm. "That's where I got the shoes. Looked like he was about a size ten, so these might be a little small for you but they have to be better than what you have now." He dug underneath the stove and cracked a couple eggs over it. "See, most of these houses here in the Tar District are actually condemned. No one's really supposed to be living in them. What happens is that, whenever someone dies, we make use of whatever resources we can so no traces are left behind. Old Otto's place didn't look too picked over. I'm guessing he died sometime last night. Possibly the night before. As for the bodies, those usually disappear. It is my a.s.sumption that some master chef here in the Tar District can probably cook up a mean leg of human. How do egg sandwiches sound?"

"Anything is fine."

Uncle Skad went about making the food over the small stove. I sat on the couch, the greasy smells flooding my senses. My stomach rumbled. Sitting there, I ran my fingers over my face, feeling its new lumpy form. I was sure my nose was broken. It didn't hurt, but I couldn't really breathe through it very well. Up to that point, I had tried not to be a mouth breather. Mainly so people wouldn't look at me right off the bat and a.s.sume I was even dumber than I really was. I mean, I spent a lot of time just fazing out and staring off into s.p.a.ce anyway. Now I figured I'd be doing that with my mouth open, also. People would walk by and interrupt my daydreaming to ask if I was trying to catch flies. f.u.c.k them, I thought.

Skad brought me the egg and cheese sandwich on a folded up piece of newspaper. The grease had already soggied the paper. I hungrily went about devouring the sandwich. I had gone all day yesterday without eating a thing and that sandwich tasted like the best thing I'd eaten in I don't know how long. My mouth watered and my stomach made deep gurgling sounds as it disintegrated the food.

We both finished our sandwiches quickly and threw the greasy newspapers in the barrel. A satisfying belch forced its way out of my throat and I retasted breakfast. We sat in silence for a few moments, both of us digesting. Uncle Skad lit another one of his cigarettes. It smelled like a campfire.

Skad finished his cigarette and looked at me contemplatively, c.o.c.king his head from one side to the other, studying the horns.

"Those things have been in our family for years. I think they were pa.s.sed down from our grandfather. No one really knew where they came from, like what kind of horns they are or anything. We used to play with them as kids. I didn't know what had happened to them. I guess Sadie took them, huh?" He quietly studied me again and then said, real out of the blue, "You know, Wally, even though I think they add a good deal of flair and character, I can tell by the look in your eyes that you would sooner live without those egregious horns."

"Yeah," I said. "It's just... well, I have a hard time fitting in anyway."

"I'll see what I can do."

He went into the back of the house. I was beginning to realize anything of importance was located in the back of the house. He returned with a small box.

"Let me see one of those horns," he said.

I proffered my head toward him. He moved my hair around and felt around the base of one of the horns with his fingers.

"What'd she do, super glue the suckers on there?"

"No, they had a strap but it came off when I tried to unbuckle it."

"Like magic."

"I guess."

He gave the horn a little tug, trying to work it back and forth.

"That kind of hurts," I said.

"Yeah, they're in there pretty good. Guess I'll have to try another way."

Skad fished through the little cardboard box and pulled out a piece of sandpaper. He ran a finger along the surface, testing the texture. Holding the square of paper in the palm of his hand, he began rubbing it around in circles on the top of the left horn. There wasn't any feeling in the horn but, I guess with them actually being attached to my head, the scratching sound of that sandpaper sounded like he was sc.r.a.ping at my ear. The dust from the powdering of the horn settled on the back of my neck. I guess I kind of got my hopes up. I imagined the horns would be little more than nubbins in an hour.

But there was no progress to be made.

"My G.o.d," Skad said. "This could take days. Those horns are dense little objects. You know what?"

"What?"

"Maybe the horns were just meant to stay on."

"I hope not."

But Skad had echoed my thoughts exactly. Maybe the horns were meant to stay on. And what if they were? My life had already been filled with f.u.c.kness, the horns could only a.s.sure the rest of my life would be filled with the same kind of f.u.c.kness and, most probably, even more f.u.c.kness than I'd previously ever experienced. If the horns were meant to stay on, then it wouldn't matter how well I could act. If I ever grew out of my awkward stage and learned how to stop twitching and hooting, the horns would ensure that I would always remain an outcast. The horns would become my poverty. What I said before about never being able to get rid of the poor would be the same thing. Like whenever a poor person actually made something of himself, there's always someone standing around and saying, "Can you imagine, he used to be so poor?" I could be the well-behaved boy with horns. The well- dressed boy with horns. The smart boy with horns. But I would still be the boy with horns.

"Look," Skad said. "I don't think the horns are really going to matter much. You might even find somebody who likes you better with the horns."

"Really?" I was hopelessly incredulous about that.

"Sure. There are lots of people who aren't as shallow as the ones you've been around. What did you so adequately refer to them as?"

"Blobs."

"Yes. Blobs. That's perfect. Blobs have no character, do they? They're just shapeless ma.s.ses of flesh and blood. I've met my share of blobs. I even started drinking with the hopes that I might become a blob, like all of my senses would be dulled and I wouldn't be able to feel anything. Ah, but that didn't work. I simply fell out of society. I couldn't become a blob. I didn't have the instincts."

"I think you have to be born that way."

Uncle Skad laughed and then said, "Wally, I think it would be best if we got on our way before we've wasted the whole d.a.m.ned day. Have you ever flown before?"

"No."

"Well, get ready for the experience of a lifetime. Are you ready?"

"Sure."

I followed Skad outside. This was the first time I got to really get a good look at the Tar District. Unlike the rundown area up by Main Street, where I'd seen the homeless folks the night before, this section, the "riverfront" as Uncle Skad called it, contained actual houses. They could only be called houses in the sense that they had what pa.s.sed as walls and ceilings and people living in them-they all looked so run down and broken. Standing there and looking around made Walnut seem like a row of palaces. None of these houses were taller than one story. A few of them were up on stilts. I guess that was so they'd be safe when the Saints rose but the stilts looked so decayed it seemed like they would make them fall even quicker.

The sun was huge and warm and threw crazy shadows all over the Tar District. The sun's heat made all of those smells rise up and the whole strip reeked, fishy and oily. There wasn't any gra.s.s to be seen. The ground was covered with what looked like roofing shingles. The only signs of life were the anemic wisps of smoke coming from the metal-looking makeshift chimneys.

Black seemed to be the dominant color here. Further up the Saints, on the opposite side, loomed the oldest of those death factories. They were already at work, pumping their black smoke up into that rich blue sky. Uncle Skad's house sat a few yards further back than the rest of the other houses and was about half the size. It was stained a few shades darker than the other houses and the right side of it looked like it was sliding into the Saints. The black plastic covered the outside of the windows, also. In front of the house hung a black flag from a rusted flagpole.

Uncle Skad clapped his thick hands together and my attention snapped back to him. I'd been standing there staring with my mouth wide open.

"I'm so excited you're here, Wally. I've been waiting to show someone my invention."

"Invention?"

"Yes, I've taught my bicycle to fly."

I became incredibly excited at him saying this. Immediately, I began picturing all sorts of things. A flying bike. It sounded magnificent but I figured it was probably about as real as the people who were following him or his visit to h.e.l.l.

"Let me go get it, Wally."

Uncle Skad disappeared around the far side of the house. I tapped my foot on the ground, looked up at the sun, and threw my head from shoulder to shoulder. Whenever I was able to move around like that, it made all of the other thoughts go away and the time pa.s.sed twice as quickly.

Skad came around from the other side of the house and I stopped my thrashing. He was pedaling the bike, struggling to keep it balanced. It was a tandem bicycle, one with two seats and two sets of pedals on it. Extending from the sides were two huge white wings. If it did fly, I was sure it would be able to fly higher than any bird I'd ever seen.

Uncle Skad rang a bell on the front of it and motioned for me to hop on. Truthfully, I was almost scared. I wondered what would happen if we got going too high. I didn't see any sort of seatbelts or anything like that on it and I wasn't very coordinated anyway so it seemed like it would be really easy to just sort of fall right off.

"Have you been up in this thing, yet?" I asked him.

"Oh yeah... It'll be the experience of a lifetime, Wally. You have my utmost rea.s.surance of that. In no time at all, we will be fully ascended and flying right next to the sun, out of all this blackness."

"What if we fall off?"

"Then it was meant to be!"

Given my theories of the game, what Uncle Skad said kind of disturbed me. I figured if someone were meant to fall off something then that someone was me. So far, I still had not technically left Milltown and I was still waiting for my rotten luck to change. I looked at the bike as though it was the grim reaper, nearly certain it would be the death of me.

"Hop on! Hop on, Wally! You worry too much! We'll be safe as angels in this sad-looking contraption."

Even with my premonitions of death, I was very excited to get on the winged bicycle. I rushed over and hopped on.

"You just have to be very careful not to lean. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Okay. We have to pedal very, very fast in order to get this thing to take off."

We both hunched our backs and laid into those pedals. The bicycle's tires skidded in the dirt, we started pedaling so hard. I took a look back at Uncle Skad's shack, my eyes fixing on that flagpole. I noticed the flag wasn't entirely black, like I'd thought at first. It was the American flag, covered in dirt and pollution. The flag got smaller and smaller.

And we kept pedaling and pedaling, leaving the Tar District behind and heading for the rolling pale green meadows and sheared down, brown cornfields surrounding Milltown. I kept waiting for us to lift, wanting the closeness of the sun to melt away the chill of the wind.

We were going so fast the wind whistled in our ears. In order to be heard everything had to be shouted.

"Feel that, Wally! We are so high! Like a giant bird! I told you this was amazing!"

One of us was obviously hallucinating. We were still on the ground and, although we were going very fast, we were nowhere near flying. I decided to let Uncle Skad keep his fantasy. I needed it as much as he did. The more I played along with him, the more it felt like we were flying.

"This is great! Hooray, Uncle Skad! I can't believe that we're actually flying!"

"We'll be there in no time at all!"

"Where exactly are we going!"

"No idea!"

It sounded like as good a place as any!

"How much longer!"

"Not much! You'll know when we get there!"

Excitement mounted within me. I had no idea where we were going and I didn't care. The momentum, the movement felt good. It was the first time since starting out that I felt like I was taking more than slowly plodding baby steps. And we pedaled and pedaled and pedaled until we were so close to that fat sun it should have melted the rubber off our tires. I wouldn't have cared if it melted the flesh from my bones.

I've done it, I thought. I've finally left Milltown. And I had no regrets at all.

Chapter Nineteen.

The Hilltop Cafe It was amazing how much ground we covered on the bicycle. It wasn't long before we were away from Milltown completely. It truly was a beautiful day. Out there in the countryside, the sky was a wild vibrant blue. Those fat white clouds hung there, floating slowly along like giant ships. The hillsides around us were nearly artificial-looking green. There had been enough warm days the past week and it felt like spring was here. The heat was palpable in the air. I had worked up a pretty good sweat. Uncle Skad had worked up a completely horrendous stink.

This was probably the most physical effort I had expended in years and it wasn't long before I really started to feel it. I wanted to think my thoughts. I wanted to be able to look around at the beautiful day but I ended up bearing down, concentrating on moving my legs up and down, and focusing on the dead roach caught up in the back of Uncle Skad's hair. Trying not to lean was another issue altogether. My head whummed with exhaustion and strain. It felt like my heart was pumping a bunch of blood into my head and it would only be a matter of time before it exploded like a red balloon. I wondered how many sixteen-year-olds who weren't speed addicts had heart attacks. The only thing I wanted to do was lay my head on Uncle Skad's back and take a snooze. I wondered if he would notice if I stopped pedaling completely.

Uncle Skad rang the bell on the bicycle, something he had done the entire way in order to get my attention. The sound of the wind and the heavy glubbub of the whumming made conversation nearly impossible.

"It won't be long, Wally!"

My mouth was painfully dry. It felt like my tongue was swollen enough to take up my entire mouth so I wasn't able to give him any type of response. My eyes just stayed bulgy and glued to the back of Skad's head, ragged breaths rhythmically ripped out of my mouth, my lungs furiously burning.

"Up there! That's where we'll stop off!"