beneath the thin tee-shirt was unnerving; it was like putting an arm around an oven, and when Ed turned to look at him, Ralph had the momentary (but unforgettable) impression that that was exactly what he was looking into. He had never seen such utter, unreasoning fury in a pair of human eyes; had never even suspected such fury might exist.
Ralph's immediate impulse was to recoil, but he suppressed it and stood firm. He had an idea that if he pulled back, Ed would fall on him like a rogue dog, biting and clawing. It was absurd, of course; Ed was a research chemist, Ed was a member of the Book-of-theMonth Club (the kind who took the twenty-pound histories of the Crimean War they always seemed to offer as alternates to the main selection), Ed was Helen's husband and Natalie's Dad. Hell, Ed was a friend.
... except this wasn't that Ed, and Ralph knew it.
Instead of pulling back, Ralph leaned forward, grasped Ed's shoulders (so hot under the tee-shirt, so incredibly, throbbingly hot), and moved his face until it blocked Heavyset from Ed's creepy fixed gaze.
"Ed, quit it!" Ralph said. He used the loud but steadily firm voice he assumed one used with people who were having hysterics.
"You're all right! just quit it!"
For a moment Ed's fixed gaze didn't waver, and then his eyes moved over Ralph's face. It wasn't much, but Ralph felt a small surge of relief just the same.
"What's the matter with him?" Heavyset asked from behind Ralph.
"He crazy, do you think?"
"He's fine, I'm sure," Ralph said, although he was sure of no such thing. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, and didn't take his eyes from Ed. He didn't dare take his eyes from Ed-that contact felt like the only hold he had over the man, and a tenuous one at best.
"Just shaken up from the crash. He needs a few seconds to calm d-"
"Ask him what he's got under that tarp! "Ed yelled suddenly, and pointed over Ralph's shoulder. Lightning flashed, and for a moment the pitted scars of Ed's adolescent acne were thrown into sharp relief, like some strange organic treasure map. Thunder rolled. "Hey, hey, Susan Day!" he chanted in a high, childlike voice that made Ralph's forearms break out in goosebumps. "How many kids did you kill today."
"He ain't shook up," Heavyset said. "He's crazy. And when the cops get here, I'm gonna see he gets tooken in."
Ralph glanced around and saw a blue tarpaulin stretched across the bed of the pickup. It had been tied down with bright yellow hanks of rope. Round shapes bulked beneath it, "Ralph?" a timid voice asked.
He glanced to his left and saw Dorrance Marstellar-at ninety something easily the oldest of the Harris Avenue Old Crocks standing just beyond Heavyset's pickup truck, There was a paperback book in his waxy, liverspotted hands, and Dorrance was bending it anxiously back and forth, giving the spine a real workout.
Ralph supposed it was a book of poetry, which was all he had ever seen old Dorrance read. Or maybe he didn't really read at all; maybe he just liked to hold the books and look at the artfully stacked words.
"Ralph, what's wrong? What's happening?"
More lightning flashed overhead, a purple-white snarl of electricity.
Dorrance looked up at it as if unsure of where he was, who he was or what he was seeing. Ralph groaned inside.
"Dorrance-" he began, and then Ed lunged beneath him, like some wild animal which has lain quiet only to regain its strength.
Ralph staggered, then pushed Ed back against the crumpled hood of his Datsun. He felt panicky-unsure of what to do next or how to do it.
There were too many things going on at once. He could feel the muscles in Ed's arms humming fiercely just below his grip; it was almost as if the man had somehow swallowed a bolt of the lightning now loose in the sky.
"Ralph?" Dorrance asked in that same calm but worried voice.
"How are you. I can't see your hands."
Oh, good. Another lunatic to deal with. just what he needed.
Ralph glanced down at his hands, then looked at the old man.
"What are you talking about, Dorrance?"
"Your hands," Dorrance said patiently. "I can't see your-"
"This is no place for you, Dor-why don't you get lost?"
The old man brightened a little at that. "Yes!" he said in the tone of one who has just stumbled over a great truth. "That's just what I oughtta do!" He began to back up,