Dreamcatcher(168)

Very reluctantly, Freddy said, 'Only Owen. Not the guy with him or the guys they're chasing. Owen's off the road. In a house. Talking with someone.'

'A house in Derry?'

'Yeah.'

And here came the plow's driver, striding through the snow in great green gumrubber boots and a hooded parka fit for an Eskimo. Wrapped around the lower part of his face was a vast woolen muffler, its ends flying out behind him in the wind, and Kurtz didn't have to be telepathic to know the man's wife or mother had made it for him.

The plowman leaned in the window and wrinkled his nose at the lingering aroma of sulfur and ethyl alcohol. He looked doubtfully at Freddy, at the only-half-conscious Perlmutter, then at Kurtz in the back seat, who was leaning forward and looking at him with bright-eyed interest. Kurtz thought it prudent to hold his weapon beneath his left knee, at least for the time being.

'Yes, Cap'n?' Kurtz asked.  

'I've had a radio message from a fella says his name is Randall.' The plowman raised his voice to be heard over the wind. His accent was pure downeast Yankee. 'Gen'rul Randall. Claimed to be talkin to me by satellite relay straight from Cheyenne Mountain in Wyomin.'

'Name means nothing to me, Cap,' Kurtz said in the same bright tone  -  absolutely ignoring Perlmutter, who groaned 'You lie, you lie, you lie.'

The plow driver's eyes flicked to him, then returned to Kurtz. 'Fella gave me a code phrase. Blue exit. Mean anything to you?'

"'The name is Bond, James Bond,"' Kurtz said, and laughed. 'Someone's pulling your leg, Cap.'

'Said to tell you that your part of the mission's over and your country thanks you.'

'Did they mention anything about a gold watch, laddie-buck?' Kurtz asked, eyes sparkling.

The plowman licked his lips. It was interesting, Kurtz thought. He could see the exact moment the plowman decided he was dealing with a lunatic. The exact moment.

'Don't know nawthin bout no gold watch. Just wanted to tell you I can't take you any further. Not without authorization, that is.'

Kurtz produced the nine from where it had been hiding under his knee and pointed it into the plowman's face. 'Here's your authorization, buck, all signed and filed in triplicate. Will it suit?' The plowman looked at the gun with his long Yankee eyes. He did not look particularly afraid. 'Ayuh, that looks to be in order.' Kurtz laughed. 'Good man! Very good man! Now let's get going. And you want to speed it up a little, God love you. There's someone in Derry I have to' Kurtz searched for le mot juste, and found it 'to debrief'

Perlmutter half-groaned, half-laughed. The plowman glanced at him.

'Don't mind him, he's pregnant,' Kurtz said in a confiding tone. 'Next thing you know, he'll be yelling for oysters and dill pickles.'

'Pregnant,' the plowman echoed. His voice was perfectly flat.

'Yes, but never mind that. Not your problem. The thing is, buck'  -  Kurtz leaned forward, speaking warmly and confidentially over the barrel of his nine-millimeter  -  'this fellow I have to catch is in Derry now. I expect he'll be back on the road again before too long, I'd guess he must know I'm coming for his ass - '

'He knows, all right,' Freddy Johnson said. He scratched the side of his neck, then dropped his hand into his crotch and scratched there.

' - but in the meantime,' Kurtz continued, 'I think I can make up some ground. Now do you want to put your elderly ass in gear, or what?'

The plowman nodded and went walking back to the cab of his plow. The light was brighter now. This light very likely belongs to the last day of my life, Kurtz thought with mild wonder.

Perlmutter began uttering a low sound of pain. It growled along for a bit, then rose to a scream. Perlmutter clutched his stomach again.

'Jesus,' Freddy said. 'Lookit his gut, boss. Rising like a loaf of bread.'

'Deep breaths,' Kurtz said, and patted Pearly's shoulder with a benevolent hand. Ahead of them, the plow had begun to move again. 'Deep breaths, laddie. Relax. You just relax and think good thoughts.'

10

Forty miles to Derry. Forty miles between me and Owen, Kurtz thought. Not bad at all. I'm coming for you, buck. Need to take you to school. Teach you what you forgot about crossing the Kurtz Line.

Twenty miles later and they were still there  -  this according to both Freddy and Perlmutter, although Freddy seemed less sure of himself now. Pearly, however, said they were talking to the mother  -  Owen and the other one were talking to the mother. The mother didn't want to let him go.

'Let who go?' Kurtz asked. He hardly cared. The mother was holding them in Derry, allowing them to close the distance, so God bless the mother no matter who she was or what her motivations might be.

'I don't know,' Pearly said. His guts had been relatively still ever since Kurtz's conversation with the plowman, but he sounded exhausted. 'I can't see. There's someone, but it's like there's no mind there to look into.'

'Freddy?'

Freddy shook his head. 'Owen's gone for me. I can barely hear the plow guy. It's like . . . I dunno . . . like losing a radio signal.'

Kurtz leaned forward over the seat and took a close look at the Ripley on Freddy's cheek. The stuff in the middle was still bright red - orange, but around the edges it appeared to be turning an ashy white.