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nose was totally clear and he could smell dust and earth and air with perfect fidelity…it was as if he could sense and appreciate every molecule。
Behind him he had left an empty double bed still marked with the shape of his large body。 Here he was sitting on a bench seat plusher than the seat in any Rolls…Royce ever made； riding west toward the end of the Outposts； toward a place which was called Outpost Depot。 Toward a man named Anders。 He knew these things； knew exactly where he was； because Orris was still here； inside his head…speaking to him the way the right side of the brain may speak to the rational left during daydreams； in a low but perfectly clear voice。 Sloat had spoken to Orris in this same low undervoice on the few occasions when Orris had Migrated to what Jack had e to think of as the American Territories。 When one Migrated and entered the body of one's Twinner； the result was a kind of benign possession。 Sloat had read of more violent cases of possession； and although the subject did not greatly interest him； he guessed that the poor； unlucky slobs so afflicted had been taken over by mad hitchhikers from other worlds…or perhaps it was the American world itself which had driven them mad。 That seemed more than possible； it had certainly done a number on poor old Orris's head the first two or three times he had popped over； although he had been wildly excited as well as terrified。
The diligence took a mighty bounce…in the Outposts； you took the roads as you found them and thanked God they were there at all。 Orris shifted in his seat and his clubfoot muttered dull pain。
'Hold on steady； God pound you；' the driver muttered up above。 His whip whistled and popped。 'Roll； you sons of dead whores！ Roll on！'
Sloat grinned with the pleasure of being here； even though it would only be for moments。 He already knew what he needed to know； Orris's voice had muttered it to him。 The diligence would arrive at Outpost Depot…Thayer School in the other world…well before morning。 It might be possible to take them there if they had lingered； if not； the Blasted Lands awaited them。 It hurt and enraged him to think that Richard was now with the Sawyer brat； but if a sacrifice was demanded 。 。 。 well； Orris had lost his son and survived。
The only thing that had kept Jack alive this long was the maddening fact of his single nature…when the whelp flipped to a place； he was always in the analogue of the place he had left。 Sloat； however； always ended up where Orris was； which might be miles away from where he needed to be 。 。 。 as was the case now。 He had been lucky at the rest area； but Sawyer had been luckier。
'Your luck will run out soon enough； my little friend；' Orris said。 The diligence took another terrific bounce。 He grimaced； then grinned。 If nothing else； the situation was simplifying itself even as the final confrontation took on wider and deeper implications。
Enough。
He closed his eyes and crossed his arms。 For just a moment he felt another dull thud of pain in the deformed foot 。 。 。 and when he opened his eyes； Sloat was looking up at the ceiling of his apartment。 As always； there was a moment when the extra pounds fell into him with sickening weight； when his heart reacted with a surprised double…beat and then sped up。
He had gotten to his feet then and had called West Coast Business Jet。 Seventy minutes later he had been leaving LAX。 The Lear's steep and abrupt takeoff stance made him feel as it always did…it was as if a blowtorch had been strapped to his ass。 They had touched down in Springfield at five…fifty central time； just as Orris would be approaching Outpost Depot in the Territories。 Sloat had rented a Hertz sedan and here he was。 American travel did have its advantages。
He got out of the car and； just as the morning bells began to ring； he walked onto the Thayer campus his own son had so lately quitted。
Everything was the essence of an early Thayer weekday morning。 The chapel bells were playing a normal morning tune； something classical but not quite recognizable which sounded a bit like 'Te Deum' but wasn't。 Students passed Sloat on their way to the dining hall or to morning workouts。 They were perhaps a little more silent than usual； and they shared a look…pale and slightly dazed； as if they had all shared a disquieting dream。
Which； of course； they had； Sloat thought。 He stopped for a moment in front of Nelson House； looking at it thoughtfully。 They simply didn't know how fundamentally unreal they all were； as all creatures who live near the thin places between worlds must be。 He walked around to the side and watched a maintenance man picking up broken glass that lay on the ground like trumpery diamonds。 Beyond his bent back Sloat could see into the Nelson House lounge； where an unusually quiet Albert the Blob was sitting and looking blankly at a Bugs Bunny cartoon。
Sloat started across toward The Depot； his thoughts turning to the first time that Orris had flipped over into this world。 He found himself thinking of that time with a nostalgia that was； when one really stopped to think about it； damned near grotesque…after all； he had nearly died。 Both of them had nearly died。 But it had been in the middle fifties； and now he was in his middle fifties…it made all the difference in the world。
He had been ing back from the office and the sun had been going down in a Los Angeles haze of smudged purples and smokey yellows…this had been in the days before the L。A。 smog had really begun to thicken up。 He had been on Sunset Boulevard and looking at a billboard advertising a new Peggy Lee record when he had felt a coldness in his mind。 It had been as if a wellspring had suddenly opened somewhere in his subconscious； spilling out some alien weirdness that was like 。 。 。 like 。 。 。
（like semen）
。 。 。 well； he didn't know exactly what it had been like。 Except that it had quickly bee warm； gained cognizance； and he had just had time to realize it was he； Orris； and then everything had turned topsy…turvy like a secret door on its gimbal…a bookcase on one side； a Chippendale dresser on the other； both fitting the ambience of the room perfectly…and it had been Orris sitting behind the wheel of a 1952 bullet…nosed Ford； Orris wearing the brown double…breasted suit and the John Penske tie； Orris who was reaching down toward his crotch； not in pain but in slightly disgusted curiosity…Orris who had； of course； never worn undershorts。
There had been a moment； he remembered； when the Ford had nearly driven up onto the sidewalk； and then Morgan Sloat…now very much the undermind…had taken over that part of the operation and Orris had been free to go along his way； goggling at everything； nearly half…mad with delight。 And what remained of Morgan Sloat had also been delighted； he had been delighted the way a man is delighted when he shows a friend around his new home for the first time and finds that his friend likes it as much as he likes it himself。
Orris had cruised into a Fat Boy Drive…in； and after some fumbling with Morgan's unfamiliar paper money； he had ordered a hamburger and french fries and a chocolate thick…shake； the words ing easily out o