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〃I don't think there was any good reason。〃
〃All we are is mice in a trap。〃
The Walk went on。 Rain fell。 They walked past the places that Garraty knewtumbledown shanties where no one lived； an abandoned one…room schoolhouse that had been replaced by the new Consolidated building； chicken houses； old trucks up on blocks； newly harrowed fields。 He seemed to remember each field； each house。 Now he tingled with excitement。 The road seemed to fly by。 His legs seemed to gain a new and spurious springiness。 But maybe Stebbins was rightmaybe she wouldn't be there。 It had to be considered and prepared for； at least。
The word came back through the thinned ranks that there was a boy near the front who believed he had appendicitis。
Garraty would have boggled at this earlier； but now he couldn't seem to care about anything except Jan and Freeport。 The hands on his watch were racing along with a devilish life of their own。 Only five miles out now。 They had passed the Freeport town line。 Somewhere up ahead Jan and his mother were already standing in front of Woolman's Free Trade Center Market； as they had arranged it。
The sky brightened somewhat but remained overcast。 The rain turned to a stubborn drizzle。 The road was now a dark mirror； black ice in which Garraty could almost see the twisted reflection of his own face。 He passed a hand across his forehead。 It felt hot and feverish。 Jan； oh Jan。 You must know I…
The boy with the hurting side was 59； Klingerman。 He began to scream。 His screams quickly became monotonous。 Garraty thought back to the one Long Walk he had seen…also in Freeport…and the boy who had been monotonously chanting I can't。 I can't。 I can't。
Klingerman； he thought； shut ya trap。
But Klingerman kept on walking； and he kept on screaming； hands laced over his side； and Garraty's watch hands kept on racing。 It was eight…fifteen now。 You'll be there； Jan； right？ Right。 Okay。 I don't know what you mean anymore； but I know I'm still alive and that I need you to be there； to give me a sign； maybe。 Just be there。 Be there。
Eight…thirty。
〃We gettin' close to this goddam town； Garraty？〃 Parker hollered。
〃What do you care？〃 McVries jeered。 〃You sure don't have a girl waiting for you。〃
〃I got girls everywhere； you dumb hump；〃 Parker said。 〃They take one look at this face and cream in their silks。 〃 The face to which he referred was now haggard and gaunt； just a shadow of what it had been。
Eight forty…five。
〃Slow down； fella；〃 McVries said as Garraty caught up with him and started to pass by。 〃Save a little for tonight。〃
〃I can't。 Stebbins said she wouldn't be there。 That they wouldn't have a man to spare to help her through。 I have to find out。 I have to…〃
〃Just take it easy is all I'm saying。 Stebbins would get his own mother to drink a Lysol cocktail if it would help him win。 Don't listen to him。 She'll be there。 It makes great PR； for one thing。〃
〃But…〃
〃But me no buts； Ray。 Slow down and live。〃
〃You can just cram your fucking platitudes！〃 Garraty shouted。 He licked his lips and put a shaky hand to his face。 〃I 。 。 。 I'm sorry。 That was uncalled for。 Stebbins also said I really only wanted to see my mother anyway。〃
〃Don't you want to see her？〃
〃Of course I want to see her！ What the hell do you think I…no…yes…I don't know。 I had a friend once。 And he and I…we…we took off our clothes…and she she…〃
〃Garraty；〃 McVries said； and put out a hand to touch his shoulder。 Klingerman was screaming very loudly now。 Somebody near the front lines asked him if he wanted an Alka…Seltzer。 This sally brought general laughter。 〃You're falling apart； Garraty。 Settle down。 Don't blow it。〃
〃Get off my back！ 〃 Garraty screamed。 He crammed one fist against his lips and bit down on it。 After a second he said； 〃Just get off me。 〃
〃Okay。 Sure。〃
McVries strode away。 Garraty wanted to call him back but couldn't。
Then； for the fourth time； it was nine o'clock in the morning。 They turned left and the crowd was again below the twenty…four of them as they crossed the 295 overpass and into the town of Freeport。 Up ahead was the Dairy Joy where he and Jan sometimes used to stop after the movies。 They turned right and were on U。S。 1； what somebody had called the big highway。 Big or small； it was the last highway。 The hands on Garraty's watch seemed to jump out at him。 Downtown was straight ahead。 Woolman's was on the right。 He could just see it； a squat and ugly building hiding behind a false front。 The tickertape was starting to fall again。 The rain made it sodden and sticky； lifeless。 The crowd was swelling。 Someone turned on the town fire siren； and its wails mixed and blended with Klingerman's。 Klingerman and the Freeport fire siren sang a nightmarish duet。
Tension filled Garraty's veins； stuffed them full of copper wire。 He could hear his heart thudding； now in his guts； now in his throat； now right between the eyes。 Two hundred yards。 They were screaming his name again （RAY…RAY…ALL…THE…WAY！） but he had not seen a familiar face in the crowd yet。
He drifted over to the right until the clutching hands of Crowd were inches from him…one long and brawny arm actually twitched the cloth of his shirt； and he jumped back as if he had almost been drawn into a threshing machine…and the soldiers had their guns on him； ready to let fly if he tried to disappear into the surge of humanity。 Only a hundred yards to go now。 He could see the big brown Woolman's sign； but no sign of his mother or of Jan。 God； oh God God； Stebbins had been right 。 。 。 and even if they were here； how was he going to see them in this shifting； clutching mass？
A shaky groan seeped out of him； like a disgorged strand of flesh。 He stumbled and almost fell over his own loose legs。 Stebbins had been right。 He wanted to stop here； to not go any further。 The disappointment； the sense of loss； was so staggering it was hollow。 What was the point？ What was the point now？
Fire siren blasting； Crowd screaming； Klingerman shrieking； rain falling； and his own little tortured soul； flapping through his head and crashing blindly off its walls。
I can't go on。 Can't； can't； can't。 But his feet stumbled on。 Where am I？ Jan？ Jan？ 。 。 。 JAN！
He saw her。 She was waving the blue silk scarf he had gotten her for her birthday； and the rain shimmered in her hair like gems。 His mother was beside her； wearing her plain black coat。 They had been jammed together by the mob and were being swayed helplessly back and forth。 Over Jan's shoulder a TV camera poked its idiot snout。
A great sore somewhere in his body seemed to burst。 The infection ran out of him in a green flood。 He burst into a shambling； pigeon…toed run。 His ripped socks flapped and slapped his swollen feet。
〃Jan！ Jan！〃
He could hear the thought but not the words in his mouth。 The TV camera tracked him enthusiastically。 The din was tremendous。 He could see her lips form his name； and he had to reach her； had to…
An arm brought him up short。 It was McVries。 A soldier speaking through a sexless bullhorn was giving them both first warning。
〃Not into the crowd！〃 McVries's lips were against Garraty's ear and he was shouting。 A lancet of pain pierced into Garraty's hea