were flushed again, but not with excitement. He seemed to be having trouble with his breath.
“Go over and get two round-trippers on the seven o’clock,” he told Blaze. “Give her a fifty. I don’t think it’ll be more, but have a twenty ready, just in case. Have it in your hand. Don’t let her see the roll.”
A policeman walked over, tapping his nightstick. Blaze felt his bowels turn to water. This was where it ended, before it had even gotten started. Their money would be taken away. The cop might turn it in, or he might keep it for himself. As for them, they would be driven back to HH, maybe in handcuffs. Black visions of North Windham Training Center rose before his eyes. And The Tin.
“Mornin, boys. Here kinda early, ain’tcha?” The clock on the depot wall read 6:22.
“Sure are,” John said. He nodded toward the ticket-cage. “Is that where a fella goes to get his ticket?”
“You bet,” the cop said, smiling a little. “Where you headed?”
“Boston,” John said.
“Oh? Where’s you boys’ folks?”
“Oh, him and me aren’t related,” John said. “This fella’s retarded. His name’s Martin Griffin. Deaf n dumb, too.”
“Is that so?” The cop sat down and studied Blaze. He didn’t look suspicious; he just looked like someone who had never seen a person before who’d scored the trifecta — deaf, dumb, and retarded.
“His mumma died last week,” John said. “He stays with us. My folks work, but since it’s summer vacation, they said to me, would you take ‘im, and I said I would.”
“Big job for a kid,” the cop said.
“I’m a little scared,” John said, and Blaze bet he was telling the truth there. He was scared, too. Scared plenty.
The cop nodded to Blaze and said, “Does he understand…?”
“What happened to her? Not too good.”
The cop looked sad.
“I’m takin him to his auntie’s house. That’s where he’s gonna stay for a few days.” John brightened. “Me, I might get to go to a Red Sox game. As sort of a reward for…you know…”
“Well, I hope you do, son. It’s an ill wind that don’t blow somebody a little good.”
They were both silent, considering this. Blaze, newly mute, was silent, too.
Then the cop said, “He’s a big one. Think you can handle him?”
“He’s big, but he minds. Want to see?”
“Well —”
“Here, I’ll make ‘im stand up. Watch.” John made a number of meaningless finger-gestures in front of Blaze’s eyes. When he stopped, Blaze stood up.
“Say, that’s pretty good!” the cop said. “He always mind you? Because, a big boy like this on a bus full a people —”
“Naw, he always minds. No more harm in ‘im than a paper sack.”
“Okay. I take your word for it.” The cop got to his feet. He hitched up his gunbelt and pushed on Blaze’s shoulders. Blaze sat back down again on the bench. “You take care, young fella. You know his auntie’s phone number if you get in trouble?”
“Yes sir, I sure do,” John said.
“Okay, keep em flyin, sarge.” He flipped John a little salute and went strolling out of the bus station.
When he was gone, they looked at each other and almost broke into giggles. But the ticket agent was now watching and they looked down at the floor instead, Blaze biting the insides of his lips.
“You got a bathroom in here?” John called to the ticket agent.
“Over there.” She pointed.
“C’mon, Marty,” John said, and Blaze just about had to howl at that. When they got into the john, they finally collapsed into each other’s arms.
“That was really good,” Blaze said when he could talk again without laughing. “Where’d you get that name?”
“When I saw him, all I could think of was how The Law was going to get us again. And Griffin, that’s the name of a mythical bird — you know, I helped you with that story in your English book —”
“Yeah,” Blaze said delightedly, not remembering the griffin at all. “Yeah, sure, right.”
“But they’ll know it was us when they find out we’re gone from Hell House,” John said. He had turned serious. “That cop’ll remember for sure. He’ll be mad, too. Christ, won’t he!”
“We’re gonna get caught, aren’t we?”
“Naw.” John still looked tired, but the exchange with the cop had put the sparkle back in his eyes. “Once we get to Boston, we’ll drop right out of sight. They aren’t gonna look too hard for a couple of kids.”
“Oh. Good.”
“But I better buy the tickets. You keep on bein a mutie until we get to Boston. It’s safer that way.”
