Free Phantom by Thomas Tessier Page A

worse in the school yard. Michael had to laugh
though-these old-timers sure loved to play the part.
    Peeler went back into the baithouse,
snatched a can of Iron City from the tank and sat down in his
favorite falling-apart armchair. He hadn't invited Ned's father in
to sit down and have a drink because you just didn't do that with a
taxman, even if he was on a social call (funny how he had neglected
to say who employed him as an accountant!). But Peeler had to admit
that Michael Covington was a reasonable enough man, of his kind. A
bit better than he might have been. Good at his job, probably, but
otherwise pretty useless, a city type who would always be a city
type, no matter how much he tried to settle in out here. But not an
offensive man. The important thing was that he apparently had no
objection to Ned's spending time with Peeler and Cloudy. I may be a
washed up old fart, Peeler thought, but I sometimes have a sense
about things, and right now it tells me that something is coming, a
change of a sort, and that it's important I have that boy near to
hand.
    Otherwise ...
     
     
    * * *
     
     
    7. In the Ruins
     
    ... there would be death here.
    No one thing sparked the thought in Ned's
mind, but he couldn't doubt it. He had followed the track bed of
the old rail line and climbed the hill to reach this gloomy spot.
It was the long way, Ned knew from a previous scouting mission, but
it was his decision to approach the place from the back. The hill
wasn't steep, but it was thickly covered with bushes and brambles,
so the going had been slow, and there were always enough trees to
obstruct the view ahead-making it hard to know how far he had
wandered from a straight line on the way up. He had started this
expedition shortly after lunch, but already the afternoon seemed to
be winding down and he had only reached the outside wall. It was a
mass of gray-brown bricks, at least ten feet high but rotting. The
wall stretched away to the right and left as far as Ned could see.
Even on a hot day like this the bricks were cold and clammy to the
touch.
    He followed the wall for what seemed a
considerable distance before it curved sharply. Beyond that bend,
Ned found a tree that had fallen down, its upper branches caught on
the top of the wall. Blown over in a storm, probably, Ned thought.
He figured it was the best point of entry he was likely to find, so
he took it. Parasite suckers had claimed the tree, smothering it
with hundreds of viney arms that made it difficult for Ned to find
a place to put his feet. Slipping, wedging his sneakers into the
tangled, decaying mess, he pulled himself up the trunk of the tree.
Ned stopped when he got near the top of the wall. He reached out,
but his whole body began to slide and he quickly clamped his
fingers around a sucker as fat as a bullwhip. His position was
precarious: he needed both hands and feet just to stay where he
was. How could he get onto the top of the wall only a yard or so
away? Not far, but too far, it seemed. Ned looked down and was
alarmed to find that the distance of ten feet to the ground looked
far greater from up here. Perhaps he could ease his way back down
the tree trunk a few inches at a time. But when he tested his
maneuver Ned rediscovered the principle of many old traps. The
suckers all grew up the tree, of course, pointing in his direction,
and it was virtually impossible to go back down against them. He
couldn't see what he was trying to do and his feet could find no
hold. Ned felt like a foolish kitten stuck in the tree of
curiosity, but he knew that no firemen would ever come to this
place and get him down.
    He looked at the wall again. Maybe it wasn't
as much as a yard away. Besides. it was the only way to go. Ned
hauled himself a little higher, narrowing the gap slightly. This
would have to do; any farther and the clump of dead branches and
slimy suckers would make it too tricky to use the top of the wall.
Ned knew he shouldn't do it, but he looked down again. It