Farewell Summer ~ Ray Bradbury - Marimarister

Bong!
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Calvin C. Quartermain stirred in his sleep and slowly rose to an upright position.
Bong!
The great clock, striking midnight.
He felt himself, half-crippled, making it to the window and opening it wide to the sound
of the great clock.
Bong!
―It can‘t be,‖ he murmured to himself. ―Not dead.
Not dead. They fixed the damned thing. Call the others first thing in the morning. Maybe
it‘s over. Maybe it‘s done. Anyway, the town‘s running again the way it‘s supposed to, and
tomorrow I have to figure out what to do next.‖
He reached up and found an odd thing on his mouth. A smile. He put his hand up to catch
it, and, if possible, examine it.
Could be the weather, he thought. Could be the wind, it’s just right. Or maybe I had some
sort of twisted dream—what was I dreaming?—and now that the clock is alive again . . . I’ve got
to figure it out. The war is almost over. But how do I finish it? And how do I win ?
Quartermain leaned out the window and gazed at the moon, a silver sliver in the midnight
sky. The moon, the clock, his creaking bones. Quartermain recalled numberless nights spent
looking out the window at the sleeping town, although in years past his back was not stooped, his
joints not stiff ; in years past, looking out this very window, he was young, fit as a fiddle, full of
piss and vinegar, just like those boys . ..
Wait a minute! Whose birthday‘s next? he wondered, trying to call up school record
sheets in his mind. One of the monsters? What a chance that would be. I‘ll kill them with
kindness, change my spots, dress in a dog suit, hide the mean cat inside!
They won‘t know what hit them.