as police cars began pouring into the area. I ran until my side hurt and breathing was an agony.
I sat down at last with my back against the concrete of the seawall. Rain drummed on the brim of my hat. Now they knew I was back in Sanport. And I’d lost Suzy. I didn’t know her address or her phone number, and even if I could find another outside phone booth and look it up in the book, I couldn’t call her. I had a hundred and seventy dollars in my pocket, but I didn’t have a dime.
Five
My teeth began to chatter as water penetrated my clothes. I had to find some place to get out of the rain, and unless I discovered a hiding place before daybreak they’d have me. Every cop in town was alerted by now, and my description would be broadcast over the radio. With this black eye and the stubble of ginger-colored beard to give me away, I couldn’t move a foot without being recognized.
How about a hotel, a skid-row flophouse? No. That would be suicidal. I still had a key to my own apartment in the Wakefield, but they’d have that covered front and rear. Maybe I could find my way to the railroad yards again and catch another freight. I fought down an impulse to cry out or laugh. I must be going crazy. That would put me right back where I’d started forty-eight hours ago. I was going around and around in an endless circle in a nightmare. I was a mechanical rabbit running forever in front of a pack of hounds along a dark racetrack in a rain that had been going on since the beginning of time. I thought of the bridge of the Dancy, and hot coffee, and my own room and the rows of books, and the poker games in the steam-heated messroom.
I tore my mind away from the picture, and then I was thinking of Suzy’s apartment, and of warmth and safety, and of Suzy herself. I swore wearily. Jesus, I’d been so near. Then I sprang up. What the hell was the matter with me? I could still get there. All I had to do was find another telephone booth and look up her address. I didn’t have to call her. The whole night was ahead of me—it couldn’t be much after eight—and I could-make it on foot. I wouldn’t be able to ask directions, but I knew the city fairly well, and the chances were it would be on a street I’d recognize. And if it weren’t, maybe the directory would have a map in it. I’d forgotten, but some of them did.
The first thing to do was get clear of this area—get miles away. They’d be searching it block by block. I walked westward along the beach. Now and then a car went past on the roadway to the right and above me. I stayed out of the range of their headlights. After a long time I crossed the road and struck inland. I found a shell-surfaced country road following a sluggish creek. Rain kept falling. The topcoat was soaked now and heavy. I was seized with uncontrollable fits of shaking that lasted for minutes at a time. Whenever I saw a car coming, I dived off the road and hid.
Far off to the left I could see beacons flashing. That would be the International Airport. Then there were more lights up ahead. I was approaching the highway that came into Sanport from the west, from the direction of Carlisle. I began to pass more houses, and then I was in a suburban housing development. Few cars were moving, and there were no pedestrians. Some of the houses were dark. That seemed strange, until I had to pass another unavoidable street light and looked at my watch. It was eleven thirty-five. I’d been walking for at least three hours. In another seven, or a little more, it would be daybreak. I wondered if I could keep going that long, or if I could even get to her place in that length of time. It might be clear across town, ten or twelve miles from here. I saw a police car up ahead, and ducked down a shadowy side street. A dog barked at me. My teeth chattered again, and I clenched my jaws to stop them. I turned again, still going toward the highway. I had to find a telephone booth, and there wouldn’t