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Show -106 themselves to clear their heads and then climbed to the high places to have visions. We don't make such simple connections with the world any more: look for them all your life and you'll get nothing but disappointment and grief. If we did hear a voice we'd turn ourselves in to the nearest clinic or, if we had a religious turn of mind, be afraid it was the Devil speaking. The savages had no devil to worry about- they heard and they took counsel. But they're all dead. Bit by bit Tucson turned itself off. A squad car slipped down Stone Avenue, shining its spotlight suspiciously into doorways and other dark places; the beam swept over my yellow truck without a pause. The neon signs blinked out one by one; the last to go was the Great American Bowling Emporium, designed by Wayne Thorneberry, a twelve-foot face of Abraham Lincoln with blue neon eyes. I helped Thorneberry build it in the shop and he and I bolted it to the roof while his orange-haired wife steadied it from below, working the boom controls with a sure touch. She was an ugly but capable woman, a demon typist and book-keeper; in a pinch she could paint backgrounds and drive the truck. I liked her because she hated Maybelle, but she considered me a Carter by marriage and wouldn't speak to me at all. I shivered. Above me the cool white stars wheeled silently, marking slow time. By way of contrast I conjured up Mary-Ellen's breasts, with delicious nipples no bigger |