The Talisman

“Figured you would. Because you sure did get a whole mess down the road, didn’t you?”

Now an earlier question recurred to Jack, and although it was off the subject, he had to know. “Did I disappear, Speedy? Did you see me disappear?”

“You went,” Speedy said, and clapped his hands once, sharply, “just like that.”

Jack felt a slow, unwilling grin stretch his mouth . . . and Speedy grinned back.

“I’d like to do it sometime in Mr. Balgo’s computer class,” Jack said, and Speedy cackled like a child. Jack joined him—and the laughter felt good, almost as good as those blackberries had tasted.

After a few moments Speedy sobered and said, “There’s a reason you got to be in the Territories, Jack. There’s somethin you got to git. It’s a mighty powerful somethin.”

“And it’s over there?”

“Yeah-bob.”

“It can help my mother?”

“Her . . . and the other.”

“The Queen?”

Speedy nodded.

“What is it? Where is it? When do I—”

“Hold it! Stop!” Speedy held up a hand. His lips were smiling, but his eyes were grave, almost sorrowing. “One thing at a time. And, Jack, I can’t tell you what I don’t know . . . or what I’m not allowed to tell.”

“Not allowed?” Jack asked, bewildered. “Who—”

“There you go again,” Speedy said. “Now listen, Travellin Jack. You got to leave as soon as you can, before that man Bloat can show up an bottle you up—”

“Sloat.”

“Yeah, him. You got to get out before he comes.”

“But he’ll bug my mother,” Jack said, wondering why he was saying it—because it was true, or because it was an excuse to avoid the trip that Speedy was setting before him, like a meal that might be poisoned. “You don’t know him! He—”

“I know him,” Speedy said quietly. “I know him of old, Travellin Jack. And he knows me. He’s got my marks on him. They’re hidden—but they’re on him. Your momma can take care of herself. At least, she’s gonna have to, for a while. Because you got to go.”

“Where?”

“West,” Speedy said. “From this ocean to the other.”

“What?” Jack cried, appalled by the thought of such distance. And then he thought of an ad he’d seen on TV not three nights ago—a man picking up goodies at a deli buffet some thirty-five thousand feet in the air, just as cool as a cucumber. Jack had flown from one coast to another with his mother a good two dozen times, and was always secretly delighted by the fact that when you flew from New York to L.A. you could have sixteen hours of daylight. It was like cheating time. And it was easy.

“Can I fly?” he asked Speedy.

“No!” Speedy almost yelled, his eyes widening in consternation. He gripped Jack’s shoulder with one strong hand. “Don’t you let nuthin git you up in the sky! You dassn’t! If you happened to flip over into the Territories while you was up there—”

He said no more; he didn’t have to. Jack had a sudden, appalling picture of himself tumbling out of that clear, cloudless sky, a screaming boy-projectile in jeans with a red-and-white-striped rugby shirt, a sky-diver with no parachute.

“You walk,” Speedy said. “And thumb what rides you think you can . . . but you got to be careful, because there’s strangers out there. Some are just crazy people, sissies that would like to touch you or thugs that would like to mug you. But some are real Strangers, Travellin Jack. They people with a foot in each world—they look that way and this like a goddam Janus-head. I’m afraid they gonna know you comin before too long has passed. And they’ll be on the watch.”

“Are they”—he groped—“Twinners?”

“Some are. Some aren’t. I can’t say no more right now. But you get across if you can. Get across to the other ocean. You travel in the Territories when you can and you’ll get across faster. You take the juice—”

“I hate it!”

“Never mind what you hate,” Speedy said sternly. “You get across and you’re gonna find a place—another Alhambra. You got to go in that place. It’s a scary place, a bad place. But you got to go in.”

“How will I find it?”

“It will call you. You’ll hear it loud and clear, son.”

“Why?” Jack asked. He wet his lips. “Why do I have to go there, if it’s so bad?”

“Because,” Speedy said, “that’s where the Talisman is. Somewhere in that other Alhambra.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You will,” Speedy said. He stood up, then took Jack’s hand. Jack rose. The two of them stood face-to-face, old black man and young white boy.

“Listen,” Speedy said, and his voice took on a slow, chanting rhythm. “Talisman be given unto your hand,