man　well　qualified　to　teach　that　great

mystery；　creative　writing。　He　had　published　two　dozen　short　stories。　He　was

working　on　a　play；　and　thought　there　might　be　a　novel　incubating　in　some　mental

back　room。　But　now　he　was　not　producing　and　his　teaching　had　bee　erratic。

It　had　finally　ended　one　night　less　than　a　month　after　Jack　had　broken　his

son's　arm。　That；　it　seemed　to　him；　had　ended　his　marriage。　All　that　remained　was

for　Wendy　to　gather　her　will　。。。　if　her　mother　hadn't　been　such　a　grade　A

bitch；　he　knew；　Wendy　would　have　taken　a　bus　back　to　New　Hampshire　as　soon　as

Danny　had　been　okay　to　travel。　It　was　over。

It　had　been　a　little　past　midnight。　Jack　and　Al　were　ing　into　Barre　on　U。S。

31；　Al　behind　the　wheel　of　his　Jag；　shifting　fancily　on　the　curves；　sometimes

crossing　the　double　yellow　line。　They　were　both　very　drunk；　the　martians　had

landed　that　night　in　force。　They　came　around　the　last　curve　before　the　bridge　at

seventy；　and　there　was　a　kid's　bike　in　the　road；　and　then　the　sharp；　hurt

squealing　as　rubber　shredded　from　the　Jag's　tires；　and　Jack　remembered　seeing

Al's　face　looming　over　the　steering　wheel　like　a　round　white　moon。　Then　the

jingling　crashing　sound　as　they　hit　the　bike　at　forty；　and　it　had　flown　up　like

a　bent　and　twisted　bird；　the　handlebars　striking　the　windshield；　and　then　it　was

in　the　air　again；　leaving　the　starred　safety　glass　in　front　of　Jack's　bulging

eyes。　A　moment　later　he　heard　the　final　dreadful　smash　as　it　landed　on　the　road

behind　them。　Something　thumped　underneath　them　as　the　tires　passed　over　it。　The

Jag　drifted　around　broadside；　Al　still　jockeying　the　wheel；　and　from　far　away

Jack　he