Michael Malone - Weebly

house. Nothing stirred in all the white and green of
Elizabeth Circle, for Lance had left before the hour of
newsboys and grocery boys.
Now nothing there but birds worked for a living.
Nothing moved but light glinting on all the old brass, and
a cardinal that hurried through the debris in Dr. Scaper's
roof gutter like a shopper at a bargain basement sale,
frantic with greed.
Crowded with sports clothes and the instruments of
sports, the crimson Jaguar fled as silently as possible
past the testing grounds of all Lance Abernathy's earlier
triumphs, past the playing fields of Alexander Hamilton,
past the courts of the Dingley Club, past Lake
Pissinowno. If he could have brought back Joy by
parachuting into an enemy fortress, or jumping his car
over a chasm, or taking on, single-handed, a dozen
assailants large as Goliath, he would have done so
smiling. But Death would not fight with him, and there
was nothing he could do about it. He had never been
initiated into the kind of battle that Jack and Peggy
Strummer now waged. Free of the town, the Jaguar
leaped into speed as the sun rose bold and orange like