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； and a couple of the boys； secure in their immunity； thumbed their noses。 Garnaty didn't approve。 He smiled and nodded to acknowledge the police and wondered if the police thought they were all crazy。
The cars honked； and then some woman yelled out to her son。 She had parked beside the road； apparently waiting to make sure her boy was still along for the Walk。
〃Percy！ Percy！〃
It was 31。 He blushed； then waved a little； and then hurried on with his head slightly bent。 The woman tried to run out into the road。 The guards on the top deck of the halftrack stiffened； but one of the policemen caught her arm and restrained her gently。 Then the road curved and the intersection was out of sight。
They passed across a wooden…slatted bridge。 A small brook gurgled its way underneath。 Garraty walked close to the railing； and looking over he could see； for just a moment； a distorted image of his own face。
They passed a sign which read LIMESTONE 7 MI。 and then under a rippling banner which said LIMESTONE IS PROUD TO WELE THE LONG WALKERS。 Garraty figured they had to be less than a mile from breaking the record。
Then the word came back； and this time the word was about a boy named Curley； number 7。 Curley had a charley horse and had already picked up his first warning。 Garraty put on some speed and came even with McVries and Olson。 〃Where is he？〃
Olson jerked his thumb at a skinny； gangling boy in blue…jeans。 Curley had been trying to cultivate sideburns。 The sideburns had failed。 His lean and earnest face was now set in lines of terrific concentration； and he was staring at his right leg。 He was favoring it。 He was losing ground and his face showed it。
〃Warning！ Warning 7！〃
Curley began to force himself faster。 He was panting a little。 As much from fear as from his exertions； Garraty thought。 Garraty lost all track of time。 He forgot everything but Curley。 He watched him struggle； realizing in a numb sort of way that this might be his struggle an hour from now or a day from now。
It was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen。
Curley fell back slowly； and several warnings were issued to others before the group realized they were adjusting to his speed in their fascination。 Which meant Curley was very close to the edge。
〃Warning！ Warning 7！ Third warning； 7！〃
〃I've got a charley horse！〃 Curley shouted hoarsely。 〃It ain't no fair if you've got a charley horse！〃
He was almost beside Garraty now。 Garraty could see Curley's adam's apple going up and down。 Curley was massaging his leg frantically。 And Garraty could smell panic ing off Curley in waves； and it was like the smell of a ripe； freshly cut lemon。
Garraty began to pull ahead of him； and the next moment Curley exclaimed： 〃Thank God！ She's loosening！〃
No one said anything。 Garraty felt a grudging disappointment。 It was mean； and unsporting； he supposed； but he wanted to be sure someone got a ticket before he did。 Who wants to bow out first？
Garraty's watch said five past eleven now。 He supposed that meant they had beaten the record； figuring two hours times four miles an hour。 They would be in Limestone soon。 He saw Olson flex first one knee； then the other； again。 Curious； he tried it himself。 His knee joints popped audibly； and he was surprised to find how much stiffness had settled into them。 Still； his feet didn't hurt。 That was something。
They passed a milk truck parked at the head of a small dirt feeder road。 The milkman was sitting on the hood。 He waved good…naturedly。 〃Go to it； boys！〃
Garraty felt suddenly angry。 Felt like yelling。 Why don't you just get up off your fat ass and go to it with us？ But the milkman was past eighteen。 In fact； he looked well past thirty。 He was old。
〃Okay； everybody； take five；〃 Olson cracked suddenly； and got some laughs。
The milk truck was out of sight。 There were more roads now； more policemen and people honking and waving。 Someone threw confetti。 Garraty began to feel important。 He was； after all； 〃Maine's Own。〃
Suddenly Curley screamed。 Garraty looked back over his shoulder。 Curley was doubled over； holding his leg and screaming。 Somehow； incredibly； he was still walking； but very slowly。 Much too slowly。
Everything went slowly then； as if to match the way Curley was walking。 The soldiers on the back of the slow…moving halftrack raised their guns。 The crowd gasped； as if they hadn't known this was the way it was； and the Walkers gasped； as if they hadn't known； and Garraty gasped with them； but of course he had known； of course they had all known； it was very simple； Curley was going to get his ticket。
The safeties clicked off。 Boys scattered from around Curley like quail。 He was suddenly alone on the sunwashed road。
〃It isn't fair！〃 he screamed。 〃It just isn't fair！〃
The walking boys entered a leafy glade of shadow； some of them looking back； some of them looking straight ahead； afraid to see。 Garraty was looking。 He had to look。 The scatter of waving spectators had fallen silent as if someone had simply clicked them all off。
〃It isn't…〃
Four carbines fired。 They were very loud。 The noise traveled away like bowling balls； struck the hills； and rolled back。
Curley's angular； pimply head disappeared in a hammersmash of blood and brains and flying skull…fragments。 The rest of him fell forward on the white line like a sack of mail。
99 now； Garraty thought sickly。 99 bottles of beer on the wall and if one of those bottles should happen to fall 。 。 。 oh Jesus 。 。 。 oh Jesus 。 。 。
Stebbins stepped over the body。 His foot slid a little in some of the blood； and his next step with that foot left a bloody track； like a photograph in an Official Detective magazine。 Stebbins didn't look down at what was left of Curley。 His face didn't change expression。 Stebbins； you bastard； Garraty thought； you were supposed to get your ticket first； didn't you know？ Then Garraty looked away。 He didn't want to be sick。 He didn't want to vomit。
A woman beside a Volkswagen bus put her face in her hands。 She made odd noises in her throat； and Garraty found he could look right up her dress to her underpants。 Her blue underpants。 Inexplicably； he found himself aroused again。 A fat man with a bald head was staring at Curley and rubbing frantically at a wart beside his ear。 He wet his large； thick lips and went on looking and rubbing the wart。 He was still looking when Garraty passed him by。
They walked on。 Garraty found himself walking with Olson； Baker； and McVries again。 They were almost protectively bunched up。 All of them were looking straight ahead now； their faces carefully expressionless。 The echoes of the carbines seemed to hang in the air still。 Garraty kept thinking about the bloody footprint that Stebbins's tennis shoe had left。 He wondered if it was still tracking red； almost turned his head to look； then told himself not to be a fool。 But he couldn't help wondering。 He wondered if it had hurt Curley。 He wondered if Curley had felt the gas…tipped slugs hitting home or if he had just been alive one second and dead the next。
But of course it had hurt。 It had hurt before； in the worst； rupturing way； knowing there would be no more you but the universe would roll on just t